for him to manipulate. But he would do his best, desperate over the
threat, his whole nature rebelling, not so much at the task, as at the
interruption of the pleasant stream of pictures which had been flowing
so excitingly through his mind. Always it was like this--just when he
was most blissfully happy, he was jerked back to some mean, dirty job by
the stern, driving demands of his tireless father.

Without regard to the fact that harness is heavy, and a horse's back
high, Martin would order him to hitch up. He was perfectly aware that
it was too much for the child, but lack of affection, and a vague,
extenuating belief that especially trying jobs developed one, made
him merciless. The boy frequently boiled with rage, but he was so
weaponless, so completely in his father's power--there was no escape
from this tyranny. He knew he could not live without him; even his
mother could not do that. His mother! What a sense of rest would
come over him when he sat in her capacious lap, his head on her soft
shoulder. With her cheek against his and her kind hand gently patting
the back of his still chubby one, something hard in him always melted
away.

"Why do I love you so, mama," he asked once, "and hate papa so?"

Mrs. Wade realized what was in his sore heart and hers ached for
him, but she answered quietly: "You mustn't hate anybody, dear. You
shouldn't."

"I don't hate anybody but him. I hate him and I'm afraid of him--just
like you are."

"Oh, Billy," cried Rose, shocked to the quick. "You must never, never
say I hate your father--when you're older you'll understand. He is a
wonderful man."

"He's mean," said Billy succinctly. "When I get big I'm going to run
away."

"From me? Oh, darling, don't think such thoughts. Papa doesn't intend
to be mean. He just doesn't know what fun it is to play. You see, dear,
when he was a boy like you, he had to work, oh, ever and ever so
much more than you do--yes, he did," she nodded solemnly at Bill's
incredulous stare. "And his mother never talked with him or held him
close as I do you. She didn't have time. Aunt Nellie has told me all
about it. He just worked and worked and worked--they all did. That's
all there was in their life--just work. Why, when he was your age, his
father was at war and papa and Grandmother Wade had to do everything.
He did a man's share at fourteen and by the time he was fifteen, he ran
this whole farm. Work has gotten to be a habit with him and it's ma