“Not asylum-crazy—­mean-crazy.”  Jimmy’s head nodded first negatively, then with affirmation.  “She’s come up from the beginning place, and used to be a fire-eater before she got to be boss of our bunch, and the men say people like that, people who ain’t used to driving, drive harder than any other kind when they get the chance.  She’s a bully to the under ones, but the uppers—­” Jimmy’s eyes were lifted to mine and his lips made a whistling sound.  “If Mr. Pritchard kicked her in the face, she’d lick the soles of his shoes when he was doing it, if she could.  She wants to be boss of the room up-stairs and Mr. Pritchard can put her where he pleases.  If he don’t do it, he’d better, the women say, ’count of her knowing more about him than he knows she knows.  I don’t know what ’tis, but I hate her.  All of us hate her.”

“Why doesn’t some one speak to Mr. Johns?  Certainly he can’t know—­”

“Yes ’m, he does.  Joe Dickson and Bob Beazley told him once, and the next week they got a hand-out.  High-Spy made Mr. Pritchard do it.  Mr. Johns leaves those kinds of things to him.  Swell folks like him ’ain’t got time to look after folks like us.  He’s awful rich, ain’t he?”

“He isn’t poor.  When are you going to have your lunch?” I looked at my watch.  “Can’t you go out and have it with me?  I’ll ask Mr. Johns.  Come on, quick.  I’ll see the other rooms when I come back.”

Jimmy shook his head.  “I can’t go.  I ain’t being docked ’count of being with you, because Mr. Pritchard sent me, but he wouldn’t let me come back if I went out.  I been sent down to him once to-day, and please ’m don’t ask him, please ’m don’t!”

In Jimmy’s voice was something of terror, and his hands slipped in and out of his trousers’ pockets with nervous, frightened movements.  His usually merry little mouth with its pale lips quivered oddly, and in his eyes, as he turned away, were tears I could not understand.

I put my hand on his shoulder, lifted his face to mine.  “What is it, Jimmy?  What has happened that you don’t want me to ask Mr. Johns to tell Mr. Pritchard you can go with me?  Why are you afraid?”

“I ain’t afraid.  Yes ’m, I am.  I—­I’ve been docked once to-day.  Please ’m don’t ask Mr. Pritchard nothing!  High-Spy makes him punish me whenever—­”

“Punish you!” I straightened indignantly.  “Why does he punish you?  What right—­”

“I don’t mean licking.  But he keeps me out of the room when I’m sent out, and docks me at the end of the week.  Mother needs every cent.  She’s back in the rent.  I was sent out to-day.”

“But why?  What were you doing?”

“Nothing—­leastways I didn’t mean to.  There wasn’t none of us sick this morning, and Billy Coons was acting down behind High-Spy’s back, and I tried not to laugh.  She don’t let us laugh.  But she said I did.  I didn’t laugh—­” Jimmy’s voice was protesting.  “I just smiled and it—­it busted.”