n at first. It must have been a hard battle for him.

And it was. Edith was far from realizing what a temper Neal had. He had
felt that morning that his only safety lay in flight, and he had tramped
many miles through the woods in the endeavor to overcome his anger.

After luncheon he took the scissors and set to work upon Bob's other
side. He could not repress a groan of dismay once or twice.

"If they had only done it decently!" he said. "In some places it looks
as if it had been torn out by the roots, they've cropped it so close,
and here again are these long pieces. Well, well, Bobby, my boy, I fancy
we were too vain of our appearance. Here goes!"

In a short time Bob had the appearance of a closely shaven French
poodle.

Edith watched the process for a few minutes, but presently went to her
room.

"I shall be held accountable for this too, I suppose," she said to
herself. "Oh, _why_ did those Gordons ever come?"

[TO BE CONTINUED.]

BUILDING OF MODERN WONDERS.

THE BOOK.

BY KIRK MUNROE.

Although we are apt to speak of the "writing" or the "making" of a book,
rather than of its "building," each of these is a distinct operation:
and when a book, first written, then made, is finally ready for the
reader, it has been built as truly as a house or a ship is built. It has
demanded an equal amount of careful planning, skilled labor, and close
attention to the thousand details that go to the making of a completed
whole. In reading an interesting book how very little we think of this,
or realize the amount of time and hard work expended in thus giving us a
few hours of pleasure. Most people consider writing to be a very easy
method of making a living, and nothing is more common in an author's
experience than to have his friends express surprise when he speaks of
going to his work.

"Work!" they exclaim. "Surely you do not call it work to occupy a
pleasant room at home, and write for hours each day? That's more like
play than work. If you want to know what real work is, come with us and
see what we have to do."

So every one, except those who know, imagines book-writing to be so easy
that most of those who desire to earn a livelihood without very hard
work try their hands at it. The girl of brains and education thrown upon
her own resources decides to become an author; and, after a desperate
struggle, fails because she has no real experiences to draw from. The
sea-captain who is too old to follow hi