Tom Slade

ts

legs to the floor, yawned, rubbed his eyes, felt

ich had dwelt in the Slade apartment all winter, the stuffy smell of bed clothes and dirty matting, of kerosene and

became aware of his father seated in his

window w

, gracious and democratic, was pouring in amid the squalor just as it was pouring in

winder, didn'

what I done," re

it afte

git yer cap 'n' beat it u

oin' to hav

ts. You tell Barney to give ye a c

give me no pint

wouldn' he? I

' ter graft o

in Billy's comin' back 'n' tell him

imme the

laugh if ye don't beat it. I lef

said Tom. "Yer only woke u

, will ye?" roared

r moved ominously around it, kept the full width of it between them. When he reached a po

red it, according to the classic hoodlum formula, so that it read, "Post No Bills," and headed up through the square for Barney Galloway's saloon. B

was bouncing a ball. This was Mary Temple, and what business "old" John Temple h

said Tom, "an' I'll

o the garden, then turned, an

d I'll chuck it back-

gns of collapse. She wanted to have

e to toss it bac

ur

and

ur

your

ur

hesitated,

omise to thr

e to die.

a little,"

ught it, gave a yell of triumph, beat a tatto

from Tony, the bootblack, on his father's

lk was a mere shrub compared with it. Nothing was farther from John Temple's thoughts that beautiful Saturday than to pay a visit to Barrel Alley. On the con

d to "warn" Bill Slade with the usual threat of eviction. Bill had never paid the rent in full after the second month of his residence in Barrel Alley. When he was working and Temple ha

through Barrel Alley on his way out to the Country Club, but as it was, when Tom turned into the

usine car. Even an Italian organgrinder did not offer the mischievous possibilities of a limousine.

strategic word or two of cordiality, he grasped the siren horn, tooted it frantically, pulled the timer aroundr opened one of

utiously, sidled up to the house doo

the room whence emanated the stern voice of John Temple and the lying excuses of his father. He went down an

no lousy Cho-f

nty-five dollars a week) did no

s all de time-you

d straight ahead an

wuzn't fer old John pay

o knew his place,

n't do a thing but cop de c

hauffeur stir

lled Tom, jumping d

en the portly form of John Temple

ck you up!" said he with the air of o

led me a liar!

f this town spent less for canvas uniforms to put on their boys to make tram

to go into it!" Tom yelled, as T

said Temple, tu

ht to its mark, removing "old" John's spring hat as effectually a

t they're a-doin?"