th the kissing
had all been done, he established himself in his familiar boyish
attitude on the window-seat, kicking his heels against the mopboard,
with his elbows on his knees, and the three talked away steadily till
the shop-bell rang, and Mrs. Steele sprang up in a panic, exclaiming:
"Father will be here in five minutes, and the currants are on the floor.
Come, Amy, quick; we must pick some more, and you shall help, Arthur."

But though he went out into the garden with them readily enough, it
was quite another thing to make him pick currants, for he insisted on
wandering all over the place and demanding what had become of everything
he missed, and the history of everything new. And pretty soon Mr.
Steele also appeared in the garden, having found no one in the house on
reaching home. He had learned on the street that Arthur had arrived, and
came out beaming. It was good to see the hearty affection with which the
two shook hands.

The transition of the son from the pupilage of childhood and youth to
the independence of manhood is often trying to the filial relation.
Neither party fully realizes that the old relation is at an end, or just
what the new basis is, or when the change takes place. The absence
of the son for two or three years at this period has often the best
results. He goes a boy and returns a man; the old relation is forgotten
by both parties, and they readily fall into the new one. So it had fared
with Arthur and his father.

"You've got a splendid lot of watermelons," said the former, as
they arrived at the upper end of the ample garden in their tour of
inspection.

"Yes," replied Mr. Steele, with a shrug; "only thus far they've been
stolen a little faster than they 've ripened."

"What made you plant them so near the fence?"

"That was my blunder; but you see the soil is just the thing, better
than lower down."

"Why don't you buy a bulldog?"

"I think it's more Christian to shoot a man outright than to set one of
those devils on him. The breed ought to be extirpated."

"Put some ipecac in one or two. That 'll fetch 'em. I know how sick it
made me once."

"I did; but more were stolen next night. I can't afford to medicate the
whole village. Last night I sat up to watch till twelve o'clock, when
mother made me go to bed."

"I'll watch to-night," said Arthur, "and give 'em a lesson with a good
load of beans from the old shotgun."

"It would n't pay," replied his father. "I concluded last