Dangerous Days

He waited until Graham had joined the office force in the mill

lunchroom, and invented an errand back to Graham's office. Anna was

there, powdering her nose with the aid of a mirror fastened inside her

purse.

Joey had adopted Clayton with a sort of fierce passion, hidden behind a

pose of patronage.

"He's all right," he would say to the boys gathered at noon in the mill

yard. "He's kinda short-tempered sometimes, but me, I understand him.

And there ain't many of these here money kings that would sit up in a

hospital the way he did with me."

The mill yard had had quite enough of that night in the hospital. It

would fall on him in one of those half-playful, half-vicious attacks

that are the humor of the street, and sometimes it was rather a battered

Joey who returned to Clayton's handsome office, to assist him in running

the mill.

But it was a very cool and slightly scornful Joey who confronted Anna

that noon hour. He lost no time in preliminaries.

"What do you think you're doing, anyhow?" he demanded.

"Powdering my nose, if you insist on knowing."

They spoke the same language. Anna knew what was coming, and was on

guard instantly.

"You cut it out, that's all."

"You cut out of this office. And that's all."

Joey sat down on Graham's desk and folded his arms.

"What are you going to get out of it, anyhow?" he said with a shift from

bullying to argument.

"Out of what?"

"You know, all right."

She whirled on him.

"Now see here, Joey," she said. "You run out and play. I'll not have any

little boys meddling in my affairs."

Joey slid off the desk and surveyed her with an impish smile. "Your

affairs!" he repeated. "What the hell do I care about your affairs? I'm

thinking of the boss. It's up to him if he wants to keep German spies on

the place. But it's up to some of us here to keep our eyes open, so that

they don't do any harm."

Sheer outrage made Anna's face pale. She had known for some time that

the other girls kept away from her, and she had accepted it with the

stolidity of her blood. She had no German sympathies; her sympathies in

the war lay nowhere.

But--she a spy!

"You get out of here," she said furiously, "or I'll go to Mr. Spencer

and complain about you. I'm no more a spy than you are. Not as

much!--the way you come sneaking around listening and watching! Now you

get out."