ned if I stand this kind of thing one moment longer," he
shouted hoarsely.

But even as he spoke, his eyes fell on the boy. As if by magic, his
self-control returned.

"The boy is awake," he said in his usual tone of stern reserve.

There was a moment's silence. A few more sobs came from the mother. Then
she sat up, wiped her eyes, and spoke in a tone that was almost calm:

"Go to sleep again, Keith. Your father and I were merely talking about
some things that you don't understand yet."

When she saw that the boy was crying, she came over to him, kneeled down
beside him and put her arms about him. Soon her kisses and her soothing
words had their wonted effect, and he dropped off once more into the
deep, deathlike slumber of childhood.

The air remained tense in the household for several days, but nothing
further happened until one night when the father arrived a little later
than usual from his work, looking just as he did the night of the
quarrel. Again his speech was a little thick, and the mother's face
assumed an ominous look. She said nothing about what was nearest her
heart, however, she started instead to complain of some petty
disobedience on the part of Keith.

"If you spanked him a little more and humoured him la little less, he
would obey more readily," said the father.

His words carried no particular menace, and there seemed no reason why
the boy should be scared. But perhaps there was something else in the
atmosphere that affected his sensitive nerves and sent him unexpectedly
into a paroxysm of weeping.

"Stop it," cried his father dark with sudden anger. "Stop it, I tell
you."

"You leave the boy alone," cried the mother, her face as white as the
father's was red.

"We'll see whether he'll obey or not!"

As he spoke, the father sat down on the nearest chair, picked up the boy
and put him face down across his knees.

Keith's heart seemed to stop. He even ceased weeping. Then he heard his
mother cry out:

"If you touch the boy, I'll throw myself out of the window!"

"Oh, hell!" came back from the father. With that he half dropped and
half flung the boy to the floor, so that the latter rolled across the
room and landed under the chaiselongue.

There Keith lay, still as a mouse, until he was pulled out by his
mother. He didn't begin to cry again, and he was no longer scared or
upset. A few moments later he was undressing and going to bed as if
nothing had happened.

Another week had ha