but the more formal Father. In his embarrassment he had forgotten himself.
"I—I—I’m sorry, sir,” he stuttered, flushing painfully.
Mr. Carver laughed to hide his own embarrass¬ ment. “That’s all right, Hugh.” His smile was very kindly. “Let it be Dad. I think I like it better.”
“That’s fine!” Hugh exclaimed.
The tension was broken, and Mr. Carver began to give the dreaded talk.
“I hardly know what to say to you, Hugh,” he began, “on the eve of your going away to college. There is so much that you ought to know, and I have no idea of how much you know already.”
Hugh thought of all the smutty stories he had heard—and told. Instinctively he knew that his father referred to what a local doctor called “the facts of life.”
He hung his head and said gruffly, “I guess I know a good deal—Dad.”
“That’s splendid!” Mr. Carver felt the full weight of a father’s responsibilities lifted from his shoulders. “I believe Dr. Hanson gave you a talk at school about—er, sex, didn’t he?”
“Yes, sir.” Hugh was picking out the design in the rug with the toe of his shoe and at the same time unconsciously pinching his leg. He pinched so
