lace. Her
day always began with a light but nutritious breakfast, at which a
peculiarly uninviting cereal, which looked and tasted like an old straw
hat that had been run through a meat chopper, competed for first place
in the dislike of her husband and son with a more than usually offensive
brand of imitation coffee. Mr. McCall was inclined to think that he
loathed the imitation coffee rather more than the cereal, but Washington
held strong views on the latter's superior ghastliness. Both Washington
and his father, however, would have been fair-minded enough to admit
that it was a close thing.

Mrs. McCall regarded her offspring with grave approval.

"I am glad to see, Lindsay," she said to her husband, whose eyes sprang
dutifully over the glass fence as he heard his name, "that Washy has
recovered his appetite. When he refused his dinner last night, I was
afraid that he might be sickening for something. Especially as he had
quite a flushed look. You noticed his flushed look?"

"He did look flushed."

"Very flushed. And his breathing was almost stertorous. And, when he
said that he had no appetite, I am bound to say that I was anxious. But
he is evidently perfectly well this morning. You do feel perfectly well
this morning, Washy?"

The heir of the McCall's looked up from his cereal. He was a long, thin
boy of about sixteen, with pale red hair, sandy eyelashes, and a long
neck.

"Uh-huh," he said.

Mrs. McCall nodded.

"Surely now you will agree, Lindsay, that a careful and rational diet
is what a boy needs? Washy's constitution is superb. He has a remarkable
stamina, and I attribute it entirely to my careful supervision of his
food. I shudder when I think of the growing boys who are permitted by
irresponsible people to devour meat, candy, pie--" She broke off. "What
is the matter, Washy?"

It seemed that the habit of shuddering at the thought of pie ran in the
McCall family, for at the mention of the word a kind of internal shimmy
had convulsed Washington's lean frame, and over his face there had come
an expression that was almost one of pain. He had been reaching out
his hand for a slice of Health Bread, but now he withdrew it rather
hurriedly and sat back breathing hard.

"I'm all right," he said, huskily.

"Pie," proceeded Mrs. McCall, in her platform voice. She stopped again
abruptly. "Whatever is the matter, Washington? You are making me feel
nervous."

"I'm all right."

Mrs. McCall had lost th