a block of patchwork, catch-up work,
when she had to wait two minutes. She went out in the hall taking the
last stitch, and called up the stairway:

"John Robert Charles!"

Meals were generally very quiet. Charles had been trained not to speak
unless he was spoken to. Once or twice his father looked at him. A
pinafore was rather ridiculous on such a big boy. How very large his
white collar was! His hair looked too sleek. He was a regular Miss
Nancy.

He helped his mother take out the dishes and wiped them for her.

"Come out on the stoop, Charles," said his father afterward, as he
picked up his paper.

Mrs. Reed wondered if Charles had committed some overt act that she knew
nothing about. _Could_ anything elude her sharp eyes?

Mr. Reed pretended to be busy with his paper, but he was thinking of his
son. In his early years the child had been a bone of contention. His
mother always knew just what to do with him, just what was proper, and
would brook no interference. What with her cleanliness, her inordinate
love of regularity and order, she had become a domestic tyrant. He had
yielded because he loved peace. There was a good deal of comfort in his
house. He went out two or three evenings in the week, to the lodge, to
his whist club, and occasionally to call on a friend. Mrs. Reed never
had any time to waste on such trifling matters. He had not thought much
about his boy except to place him in a good school.

"Charles, couldn't you have asked me about the singing-school?" he said
rather sharply.

"About--the singing-school?" Charles was dazed.

"Yes. It wasn't very manly to set a lot of little girls asking a favor
for you. I'm ashamed of you!"

"Oh, father--who asked? We were talking of it over to Josie Dean's. I
knew mother wouldn't let me go. I--I said so." Charles' fair face was
very red.

"You put them up to ask!"

"No, I didn't. They never said a word about it. Why, I wouldn't have
asked them to do it."

Mr. Reed looked suspiciously at his son.

"You don't care to go?"

"Yes, I do, very much." The boy's voice was tremulous.

"Why couldn't _you_ ask me?"

"Because you would leave it to mother, and she would say it was not
worth while."

"Was that what you told them?" Mr. Reed was truly mortified. No man
likes to be considered without power in his own household.

"I--I think it was," hesitated the boy. The girls had started an
insurrection, sure enough. Well, the poor lad had no chance before.