ething had been happening all the time, even to this
Saturday afternoon, when all the silver had to be scoured. Mr. Reed
inspected his son as he sat at the supper-table. He had a rather
poetical appearance with his long hair curling at the ends, but it was
no look for a boy.

"Don't you want to take a walk down the street with me?" said his
father.

Charles started as if he had been struck.

"I'm dead tired and I want him to wipe my dishes. I haven't been off my
feet since five o'clock this morning only at meal-time. Then he must go
to the store."

"I'll wait until then."

Mrs. Reed looked sharply at them. Had Charles done something that had
escaped her all-sided vision and was his father going to take him to
task? Or was there a conspiracy?

"What do you want him for?" she inquired sharply.

"Oh, I thought we'd walk down the street."

"Smoking a cigar, of course," as Mr. Reed took one out of his case. "It
certainly won't be your fault if the child hasn't every bad tendency
under the sun. I've done _my_ best. And you know smoking is a vile
habit."

Mr. Reed had long ago learned the wisdom of silence, which was even
better than a soft answer.

Charles put on a pinafore that hung in the kitchen closet. He could dry
dishes beautifully.

"You've been cutting behind on stages," said his mother. "Some one has
told your father."

"No, I haven't. Upon my word and honor."

"That's next to swearing, John Robert Charles. How often have I told you
these little things lead to confirmed bad habits."

John Robert Charles was silent.

"Well, you've done something. And if your father does once take you in
hand----"

The boy trembled. This awful threat had been held over him for years.
Nothing _had_ come of it, so it couldn't as yet be compared to Mrs. Joe
Gargery's "rampage."

Mr. Reed sat comfortably on the front stoop smoking and reading. The
wind drove the smoke straight down the street, and not into the house.
How it could get in with the windows shut down was a mystery, but it
seemed to sometimes.

Charles brushed his hair and washed his hands.

"I _must_ cut your hair. I ought to do it this very night, tired as I
am. Now brush your clothes and go out to your father. I'll be thinking
up what I want. Pepper is one thing. Go down to the old man's and get
some horseradish. If there is anything else I'll come out and tell you."

Charles went reluctantly out to the front stoop.

"Hillo!" said his father che