us Woodbridge, Jr.
Before ordering luncheon read Env. No. 8. C. W. Jr.

The boy lost no time in obeying this command, and sank into his chair in
the designated alcove with a sigh of relief. He mopped his brow and
drank off a glass of ice water at a gulp. It was a warm October day, and
the sixteen flights had been somewhat trying. He asked for his father's
card, and then sat studying the attractive menu. The Cafe Reynard was a
place famous the country over for its cookery.

"I think I'll have--" he mused for a moment then said helplessly with a
laugh--"well, I'm about hungry enough to eat the whole thing. Bring me
the----"

Then he recollected, paused, and reluctantly pulled out "Env. No. 8" and
broke the seal. "Just a minute," he murmured to the waiter. Then his
face turned scarlet, and he stammered under his breath, "Why--why--this
can't be----"

"Env. No. 8" ought to have been bordered with black, judging by the
dismay it caused the famished lad. It read remorselessly:

Leave Cafe immediately, without stopping for luncheon,
remembering to fee waiter for place retained. Proceed to
box office, Metropolitan Theatre, buy a parquet ticket for
matinee--"The Pied Piper." At end of first act read Env.
No. 9. C. W. Jr.

The Woodbridge blood was up now, and it was with an expression
resembling that of his Grandfather Cornelius under strong indignation
that Cyrus stalked out of that charming place to proceed grimly toward
the Metropolitan Theatre.

"Who wants to see a matinee on an empty stomach?" he groaned. "I suppose
I'll be ordered out, anyway, the minute I sit down and stretch my legs.
Wonder if father can be exactly right in his mind. He doesn't believe in
wasting time, but I'm wasting it to-day by the bucketful. Suppose he's
doing this to size me up some way; he isn't going to tire me out as
quick as he thinks. I'll keep going till I drop."

Nevertheless, when at the end of the first act of a pretty play by a
well-trained company of school children he was ordered to go three miles
to a football field, and then ordered away again without a sight of the
game he had planned for a week to see, his disgust was intense.

All through that long, warm afternoon he raced about the city and
suburbs, growing wearier and more empty with every step. The worst of it
was the orders were beginning to assume the form of a schedule, and
commanded that he be here at 3:15, and there at 4:05, and