ot to be."

"Did you like school," asked Keith, not having the slightest idea of
what a school might be like.

"Yes, I liked all about it but one thing. There was a big boy who
bullied all the rest, and no one cared to fight him. He went for me the
very first day of the term, and when I fought back, he gave me such a
licking that I could hardly walk into the schoolroom afterwards. The
next day he asked if I had had enough, and I told him I meant to go on
till he had enough. So we started right in again, and he licked me worse
than the day before. But I just couldn't give in. For three whole months
we fought every day, and each day I made it harder for him. And one day
I got the upper hand of him at last, and gave it to him until he began
to cry and begged for mercy. Then I let him go, but no sooner had I
turned my back on him, than he picked up a small sapling that was lying
around and struck me over the head with it. There was a piece of root
standing straight out, and it hit me right on top of my head so that the
blood squirted out and I fainted on the spot. Then he had to leave
school, and the last thing I heard of him was that the police had got
him for something still worse."

"Oh, Carl," the mother cried with a shudder, "you should have complained
to the teacher!"

"The teacher was watching us all the time, although I didn't know it.
He told me afterwards that he would have helped me any time I asked, but
that he would have thought less of me for asking."

Keith stared hard at his father and tried to imagine himself doing the
same thing, but his fancy did not seem to work well in that direction.
Later, when he was in bed, the father's story came back to him. Somehow
it made him feel very proud, but also uneasy. He felt that there nothing
more wonderful than to fight some one stronger than oneself and win, and
soon he was busy slaying giants and dragons and bears and other monsters
that he had heard Granny tell about. But he tried to think of himself as
fighting a real boy in the way as his father, his dreams seemed to peter
out ignominiously.

Then his mother came to in to tuck him in and make him say his prayers
and kiss him good-night. Suddenly he flung his arms about her neck in a
passion of craving for tenderness and protection. Putting his mouth
close to her ear, he whispered a question that had nothing to do with
the father's story or his fancies of a few moments ago.

"Why must I eat things I don't