ime of his nickname-sake Tubalcain, the ancient
artificer in brass; to his anger when the name was combined with Seward
and made into Subal Cane; to his relief when it was worn down by use
into Sube Cane; and finally it got round to the apprehension that now
seized him whenever he was called by his own baptismal name--and he
squirmed in the chair as his father went on in a tone that was
alarmingly gentle.

"--you are twelve years old. You are at the portal of manhood. You are
old enough to take a little pride in your personal appearance, and your
personal--ah--your personal--well, you should be careful never to permit
yourself to become in any way offensive to others. You should take pride
in keeping sweet and clean. Now, my son, you got into something this
morning that has made you very distasteful company for man or beast.
Have you any idea what it is?"

As Mr. Cane resumed the vigorous puffing of his cigar, Sube's heart gave
a leap; his father hadn't recognized the smell! His mustache was safe!

"Why," the boy romanced easily, "if you mean the linimunt I put on my
leg, I know what _that_ is."

"Great heavens!" his father burst out. "Do you mean to say that you
intentionally contaminated yourself with any such evil-smelling stuff
as that?"

Sube quailed before his father's accusing stare and his more accusing
gestures. "I guess I hurt it, didn't I?" he mumbled defensively. "And
didn't I have to put some'pm on it? And that was the only linimunt--"

"Liniment!" snorted Mr. Cane. "Where did you ever get any such
'liniment' as that?"

"Sir?-- Why, out of a bottle," Sube managed to squirm out at last.

"Out of a bottle, eh? Well, bring me the bottle!"

Sube half started for the door, then halted. "I can't," he whimpered.

"Can't? Why not?" demanded his father.

"'Cause I dropped it and broke it," Sube faltered.

Mr. Cane was obviously relieved. "Oh, well," he said, "if that's the
case, never mind. But just as soon as one hour has elapsed I want you to
take a good hot bath. Now don't forget it!"

As Sube uttered a scowling but respectful "No, sir," and started to
leave the room his father noticed for the first time that he was limping
badly.

"Is your leg really hurt, my son?" he asked more kindly.

Sube's face was a study of excruciating pain as he paused to reply that
it was pretty bad and he was afraid a bath would make it a good deal
worse.

Mr. Cane was not a hard man. He wished to inflict no unnece