per" was bad enough, but "ain't" was unendurable! They rebuked him
for that and he put in another irrelevant plea: "I had a kind of sick
spell at the store. I had to lay down."

"Lie down!" Beatrice corrected.

"Lie down," he accepted. "But as soon as I laid down--"

"Lay down!"

"Lay down--I had chills and shootin' pains; and I--"

"It's the weather," _Mere_ interrupted, impatiently. "I've had a
headache all day--such a headache as never was known! It seemed as if
hammers were beating upon my very brain. It was--"

"I'm not feeling at all well myself," said Consuelo.

There was almost a tournament of rivalry in describing sufferings.

Pop felt as if he had wakened a sleeping hospital. He sank back ashamed
of his own outburst. He rarely spoke of the few ailments he could
afford. When he did it was like one of his new clerks pulling a bolt of
goods from the shelf and bringing down a silken avalanche.

The clinic was interrupted by the crisp voice of Nora: "Dinner is
served!"

Everybody rose and moved to the door with quiet determination. Pop alone
failed to rise. _Mere_ glowered at him. He pleaded: "I don't feel very
good. I guess I'd better leave my stummick rest."

The children protested politely, but he refused to be moved and _Mere_
decided to humor him.

"Let him alone, children. It won't hurt him to skip a meal."

They said: "Too bad, Pop!"--"You'll be all right soon," and went out and
forgot him.

Pop heard them chattering briskly. It was polite talk. If slang were
used it was the very newest. He gleaned that Pen and Gerald were
opposing Julie's mission to San Francisco on the ground of the expense.
He smiled bitterly to hear that word from them. He heard Julie's retort:

"I suppose you boys want the money yourselves! Well, I've got first
havers at Pop. I saw him first!"

At about this point the conversation lost its coherence in Pop's ears.
It was mingled with a curious buzzing and a dizziness that made him grip
his chair lest it pitch him to the floor. Chills, in which his bones
were a mere rattlebox, alternated with little rushes of prairie fire
across his skin. Throes of pain wrung him.

Also, he was a little afraid--he was afraid he might not be able to get
to the store in the morning. And important people were coming! He had to
make the first payment on the invoice of that bankrupt stock. A
semiannual premium was overdue on his life insurance. The month of grace
had nearly expired, and i