ks him to do it. Don't you think he ought to do
that?"

"I isn't Tony Robeson, I'se ve fire chief."

"Were you the fire chief when you woke up, and mother washed you and
dressed you and gave you your lunch? I don't think she thought you were.
If you had been the fire chief she would have left you to take care of
yourself."

Tony thought about it. "I dess I'se Tony wiv muvver," he said.

"Then you aren't Tony with me?"

The thick locks shook vehemently in the sir with the negative response. "I
said I was ve fire chief, and I'se got to _be_ ve fire chief," he
reiterated.

Without question it was a battle of wills. But Anthony's mind was made up.
For lack of time to deal with them previous similar issues had been dodged
in various ways, compromises had been effected. It was plain that argument
and reasoning, the wiles of the affectionately wise adversary who does not
want to bring the matter to a direct conflict, had been tried. Anthony
could see no way out except to dominate the child by the force of his own
resolute character. It was not the way by which he wanted to obtain the
mastery, but it was becoming plain to him that, in this case, at least, it
was the only way left.

His face grew stern all at once, his eyes, though still kind, met his
son's with determination. "Tony," he said very gravely--and there was a
new quality in his tone to which the child was not accustomed--"You are
not the fire chief now. You are Tony Robeson. _I shall not let you be the
fire chief any longer._ Do you understand?"

There was no threat in the words, only a decisiveness of the sort before
which men give way, because they see that there is no alternative. Tony
stared into his father's eyes curiously. His own grew big with wonder,
with something which was not alarm, but akin to it. He gazed and gazed, as
if fascinated. Anthony's look held his; the man's powerful eyes did not
flinch--neither did the boy's. It is possible that both pulses quickened a
beat.

Little Tony drew his eyes away at last, turned and started for the door.
Silently Anthony watched him as he reached for the knob, turned again, and
looked back at his father. On the very threshold the child stood still and
stared back. His brown eyes filled, his red lips quivered. The stern face
which watched his melted into a winning smile, and Anthony held out his
arms. An instant longer, and his son had run across the floor and flung
himself into them.

When the childish