"My father's dead," replied Johnnie.
"Ah. Then Mr. Barber's your uncle, eh?"
"He ain't no relation," declared Johnnie, proudly.
The clock alarm announced the hour of five. Johnnie fed the fire and put the supper over. Still the man stayed. Once he got up and walked about, stared into the blackness of Big Tom's bedroom, and held the lamp so that he might have a look at Cis's closet. He grumbled to himself when he put the lamp down.
All this made Johnnie uneasy. He could think of only one reason for such strange and suspicious conduct. The books! Could this by any chance be Mr. J. J. Hunter?
When Barber came in, it was plain to Johnnie that the longshoreman knew instantly why the man had come. At least he showed no surprise at seeing him there. Also, he was indifferent—even amused. After nodding to the visitor, and flashing at him that dangerous white spot, he sat and pushed at first one cheek and then the other with his tongue.
"My name's Maloney," began the man, using a severe tone. "I'm here about this boy."
Johnnie started. The man's visit concerned himself! He felt sure now that it was about the book. He wondered if there would be a search.
Barber thrust out his lip. "You're a long time gittin' here," he returned impudently. And laughed.
At that the man seemed less sure of himself. "Don't know how I've missed him," he declared, as if troubled.