Johnny crept into the backyard and looked around to see that no one was watching, and then vanished into the shed where the fireplace logs were stacked neatly along the wall. He had a guilty look on his face. He stood up as straight as he could under the low, slanting ceiling, and pulled a half-empty package of cigarettes out of his pants pocket.

Ever since he had met Phil, the poor kid down the street, Johnny's conscience had been pricking him for a couple of new habits he had picked up. The sneering words of Phil kept ringing in his ears. 

You're just like a...