"Come here for a minute."

The boy stood up and went to him.

"Tell me, why have you been so gloomy lately, my boy?"

"I'm not gloomy, Daddy."

"You hardly speak to me or your mother. And it's not like you, to sulk.
Are you angry with us?"

"No, Daddy."

"Aren't you angry with us?"

"No, Daddy: what should I be angry for?"

"Then be as you used to be, Addie. When you're not cheerful, everything
in the house is so sad."

The boy smiled.

"I'll try, Daddy."

"But why try? Just be it, be it!"

No, Van der Welcke would not, could not tell him.

"I'll try, Daddy."

And he moved to go back to his books.

"Addie!"

"What is it, Papa?"

"Come here, come to me."

"I have my work to do."

"Come along, I want you."

The boy came.

"Come to me, here, on my lap. Perhaps it is the last time, Addie, that I
shall take you on my knee. You are my little boy still; and presently,
presently perhaps you will be a big son to me, with whom I shall discuss
things ... and who will no longer sit on my lap."

He sat down on his father's knee:

"What is it?" he asked, quietly, sensibly.

"I am going to tell you, Addie."

The child understood:

"No, don't tell me," he said. "I am not inquisitive. And I am too young,
perhaps, to know. It doesn't matter. I dare say I shall know, later on.
For the present, I'm just your little boy."

He nestled against his father, in his arm:

"It's so jolly, sitting with you like this. Uncle Paul always says, when
he sees us bicycling, that we are just like chums, but he has never seen
us like this."

Should he tell him? thought Van der Welcke. Should he not tell him? If
he told him, this would be the last time that he would take his son on
his knees.

"I had made up my mind to tell you, Addie."

"No, don't."

He did not tell him that evening. And the boy tried to be as he used to,
especially at meals, but he was not very successful; his cheerfulness
sounded forced. Then, two evenings later, Van der Welcke said:

"Come here, Addie. Come and sit on my lap."

And that was the last time.

"Listen, I want to tell you all about it. When you know, perhaps you
will feel a little older than you do now; but, when you know, you will
be my child again, my son, won't you? My son, yes, who is becoming a
man, but still my son, my friend as always. I'll tell you now. It's
better that I should tell you...."

Then he told him, very simply....

And it was very easy, very simple t