head. "He used to go with our friends' boys, but I don't think he does now."
"Why, how could he?" Mrs. Adams protested. "That isn't his fault, poor child! The boys he knew when he was younger are nearly all away at college."
"Yes, but he doesn't see anything of 'em when they're here at holiday-time or vacation. None of 'em come to the house any more."
"I suppose he's made other friends. It's natural for him to want companions, at his age."
"Yes," Alice said, with disapproving emphasis. "But who are they? I've got an idea he plays pool at some rough place down-town."
"Oh, no; I'm sure he's a steady boy," Mrs. Adams protested, but her tone was not that of thorough-going conviction, and she added, "Life might be a very different thing for him if only your father can be brought to see———"
"Never mind, mama! It isn't me that has to be convinced, you know; and we can do a lot more with papa if we just let him alone about it for a day or two. Promise me you won't say any more to him until—well, until he's able to come downstairs to table. Will you?"
