rfectly.

Hugh waited silently. Mr. Carver ran a thin hand through his hair and
then sharply desisted; he mustn't let the boy know that he was nervous.
Then he settled his horn-rimmed pince-nez more firmly on his nose and
felt in his waistcoat for a cigar. Why didn't Hugh say something? He
snipped the end of the cigar with a silver knife. Slowly he lighted the
cigar, inhaled once or twice, coughed mildly, and finally found his
voice.

"Well, Hugh," he said in his gentle way.

"Well, Dad." Hugh grinned sheepishly. Then they both started; Hugh had
never called his father Dad before. He thought of him that way always,
but he could never bring himself to dare anything 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 embarrassment. "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 hard that he afterward found a black and blue spot, but he never
knew how it got there.

"Excellent thing, excellent thing, these talks by medical men." He was
beginning to feel at ease. "Excellent thing. I am glad that you are so
well informed; you are old enough."

Hugh wasn't well informed; he was pathetically ignorant. Most of what he
knew had come from the smutty stories, and he often did not understand
the stories that he laughed at most heartily. He was consumed with
curiosity.

"If there is anything you want to know, don't hesitate to ask," his
father continued. He had a moment of panic lest Hugh would ask
something