ll would. But in the meantime as I see it you are not quite a
free agent. Granny is old and very, very feeble. She hasn't gotten over
your father's death. She grieves over it still. If you went to war I
think it would kill her. She couldn't bear the strain and anxiety.
Patience, laddie. You don't want to hurt her, do you?"

"I s'pose not," said Ted a little grudgingly. "Then it is no,
Uncle Phil?"

"I think it ought to be no of your own will for Granny's sake. We don't
live to ourselves alone in this world. We can't. But aside from Granny I
am not at all certain I should approve of your leaving college just
because it doesn't happen to be exciting enough to meet your fancy and
means work you are too lazy and irresponsible to settle down to doing.
Looks a little like quitting to me and Holidays aren't usually quitters,
you know."

He smiled at the boy but Ted did not smile back. The thrust about
Holidays and quitters went home.

"I suppose it has got to be college again if you say so," he said
soberly after a minute. "Thank heaven there are three months ahead clear
though first."

"To play in?"

"Well, yes. Why not? It is all right to play in vacation, isn't it?" the
boy retorted, a shade aggressively.

"Possibly if you have earned the vacation by working beforehand."

Ted's eyes fell at that. This was dangerously near the ground of those
uncomfortable, inevitable confessions which he meant to put off as long
as possible.

"Do you mind if I go out now?" he asked with unusual meekness after a
moment's rather awkward silence.

"No, indeed. Go ahead. I've had my say. Be back for supper with us?"

"Dunno." And Ted disappeared into the adjoining room which connected with
his uncle's. In a moment he was back, expensive panama hat in one hand
and a lighted cigarette held jauntily in the other. "I meant to tell you
you could take the car repairs out of my allowance," he remarked casually
but with his eye shrewdly on his guardian as he made the announcement.

"Very well," replied the latter quietly. Then he smiled a little seeing
his nephew's crestfallen expression. "That wasn't just what you wanted me
to say, was it?" he added.

"Not exactly," admitted the boy with a returning grin. "All right, Uncle
Phil. I'm game. I'll pay up."

A moment later his uncle heard his whistle as he went down the driveway
apparently as care free as if narrow escapes from death were nothing in
his young life. The doctor shook his he