s not until the arrival of Archie that he had had
leisure to think; but since Archie's entrance he had been thinking
rapidly and deeply.

For many years Mr. McCall had been in a state of suppressed revolution.
He had smouldered, but had not dared to blaze. But this startling
upheaval of his fellow-sufferer, Washy, had acted upon him like a
high explosive. There was a strange gleam in his eye, a gleam of
determination. He was breathing hard.

"Washy!"

His voice had lost its deprecating mildness. It rang strong and clear.

"Yes, pop?"

"How many pies did you eat yesterday?"

Washy considered.

"A good few."

"How many? Twenty?"

"More than that. I lost count. A good few."

"And you feel as well as ever?"

"I feel fine."

Mr. McCall dropped his glasses. He glowered for a moment at the
breakfast table. His eye took in the Health Bread, the imitation
coffee-pot, the cereal, the nut-butter. Then with a swift movement he
seized the cloth, jerked it forcibly, and brought the entire contents
rattling and crashing to the floor.

"Lindsay!"

Mr. McCall met his wife's eye with quiet determination. It was plain
that something had happened in the hinterland of Mr. McCall's soul.

"Cora," he said, resolutely, "I have come to a decision. I've been
letting you run things your own way a little too long in this family.
I'm going to assert myself. For one thing, I've had all I want of this
food-reform foolery. Look at Washy! Yesterday that boy seems to have
consumed anything from a couple of hundredweight to a ton of pie, and
he has thriven on it! Thriven! I don't want to hurt your feelings, Cora,
but Washington and I have drunk our last cup of anti-caffeine! If you
care to go on with the stuff, that's your look-out. But Washy and I are
through."

He silenced his wife with a masterful gesture and turned to Archie. "And
there's another thing. I never liked the idea of that lawsuit, but I let
you talk me into it. Now I'm going to do things my way. Mr. Moffam, I'm
glad you looked in this morning. I'll do just what you want. Take me to
Dan Brewster now, and let's call the thing off, and shake hands on it."

"Are you mad, Lindsay?"

It was Cora Bates McCall's last shot. Mr. McCall paid no attention to
it. He was shaking hands with Archie.

"I consider you, Mr. Moffam," he said, "the most sensible young man I
have ever met!"

Archie blushed modestly.

"Awfully good of you, old bean," he said. "I wonder if you'd min