y dear," she said; "you must
know that both your father and myself disapprove of all such places."

"But I don't intend to play, mother; only to look on; the boys say the
tables are splendid; and besides, what could I tell Jim Ward after
promising to go with him? He is waiting outside for me. Please say 'yes'
only this once."

"Tell Jim that we rather you would remain at home; and ask him to walk
in and spend the evening," said Harry's father, as he looked up from the
paper.

"Oh, I know he'll not do that!" and Harry stood turning the door handle,
till, finding that his parents did not intend to say anything more, he
walked slowly to the front step.

"Why don't you hurry along," called Jim, "and not keep a fellow standing
all night in the cold?"

"I am not going. Won't you come in?" said Harry.

"Not going! Your mother surely doesn't object to your looking at a
billiard table!"

"She would prefer I should not go," said Harry, and Jim's only reply was
a significant whistle, as he walked off.

[Illustration: _"I wonder if my son feels too old for a story?"_]

"He'll be sure to tell all the boys!" said Harry, half aloud, as he shut
the front door with rather more force than was necessary. "I don't see
what does make father and mother so particular." Then, entering the
parlor, he took the first book that came to hand from the table, and,
taking a seat very far from the light, looked exceedingly unamiable.

His father laid aside the paper, and without seeming to notice Harry's
mood, said pleasantly, "I wonder if my son feels himself too old for a
story; if not I have one to tell him which might well be named, 'Only
This Once.'" The book was returned to the table; but Harry still kept
thinking of what the boys would say when Jim told an exaggerated story,
and his countenance remained unchanged.

"When I was about your age, Harry," began his father, "we lived next
door to Mr. Allen, a very wealthy gentleman, who had one son. As Frank
was a good-natured, merry boy, and had his two beautiful ponies, several
dogs, and a large playground, he soon made friends.

"Many an afternoon did we spend together, riding the ponies, or playing
ball on the playground, and one summer afternoon in particular, I never
expect to forget, for it seems to me now, looking back upon it, as the
turning point of Frank's life; but we little thought of such a thing at
the time.

"It was a very warm afternoon; and, becoming tired of playing