tions as to how he was to arrange
each branch and spray, but, presently, he began to try little effects of
his own so much more charming than hers, that she called Marian in to
see.

"You certainly have a knack for decoration, Sherm. I never dreamed you
were artistic. Why didn't you tell us? That spray against the curtain is
exquisite. Have you ever taken drawing lessons?" Marian was both
surprised and interested to discover this unexpected talent in the
self-contained lad.

"No, I have never taken real drawing--I used to copy little geometrical
designs at school along with the rest."

"Well, you surely ought to have lessons. I shouldn't wonder if you had
the making of an artist in you." Marian hurried back to her custards.

Chicken Little went on tying evergreen into ropes, but Marian had put
several new ideas into her head.

"Do you want to be an artist, Sherm?"

"No, I want to be an architect."

"You never said anything about it before."

"What's the use of talking? Doesn't look as if I would ever get the
education to be one now."

"Why, you can't tell. Even if your father can't send you, maybe you
could work your own way--Mr. Clay has." Chicken Little looked troubled;
Sherm's tone revealed a yearning she had not suspected.

"Yes, I could work my way if I had the chance. I guess Father is never
going to be well again and----" He paused for a moment as if it were
hard to go on. "Even if he lives, I may have to keep at work to support
the family. Mother never says anything, and Father never told me much
about his business--I don't know how much we have, but I'm afraid there
isn't a great deal left."

There was a hopeless ring in his voice that hurt Chicken Little. She
wanted to double up her fist and attack somebody or something in Sherm's
behalf.

"I think they--your mother ought to tell you."

"Oh, Mother doesn't realize I am most grown--she--she doesn't think I
amount to much I guess." The boy had been brooding; his manhood
affronted because he had not been permitted to share in the family
councils.

"Don't feel that way--she doesn't mean to leave you out, Sherm. You know
it's awfully hard to write things and you have been away most a year."

"That's just it. I've been away most a year, and Mother doesn't even
hint at my coming back!"

"But Sherm, she's so worried all the time about your father."

"All the same, I bet your mother wouldn't forget about Ernest if your
father was ill. I am the on