e sideboard, where it lay
against the carved mahogany base, winking in the sun.

"Peter!" said Jean, severely. "No, don't ring, Sidney! He did that by
his own carelessness, and mother can't ask poor, busy Julia to pick up
things for boys who are noisy and rude at the table. Go pick up your
mug, dear!"

"Yes. Quite right!" approved Sidney, under his breath.

Peter, who had been laughing violently a moment before seemed rather
inclined to regard the incident as a tribute to his own brilliancy. He
caught his heels in a rung of his chair, raised himself to a standing
position, and turned a bright little face to his mother.

"But--but--but what if I don't WANT to pick it up, mother?" he said
gayly.

The little Moore boys, still bubbling, giggled outright, and Peter's
cheeks grew pink. He was innocently elated with this new role of clown.

"What do you mean?" said Sidney's big voice, very quietly. There was a
pause. Peter slowly turned his eyes toward his father.

"Oh, please, Sidney!" said Jean, a shade impatiently. "He thinks he has
some reason." She turned to Peter. "What do you mean, dear?" she asked
pleasantly.

Peter looked about the group. He was confused and excited at finding
himself so suddenly the centre of attention.

"Well--well--why are you all looking at me?" he asked in his confident
little treble, with his baffling smile.

"Dearie, did you hear mother tell you to get quietly down and pick up
your mug?" demanded Jean, authoritatively.

"Well--well, you know, I don't want to, mother, because Billy and I
were both reaching for that mug," drawled Peter, "and maybe it was
Billy who--"

"Now, look here, son!" said his father, controlling his impatience with
difficulty, "we've had enough of this! You do it because your mother
told you to, and you do it right NOW!"

"And don't let anything spoil this happy day," pleaded Jean's tender
voice.

"Can't I let it stay there, mother?" suggested Peter, brilliantly, "and
have my milk in a glass? I don't want my mug! It can just lie there--"

His mother unsmilingly interrupted this pleasantly offered solution.

"Peter! Father and mother are waiting."

"Gee--I'll pick it up!" said Billy Moore, good-naturedly, slipping to
the floor.

Sidney reached for the little boy, and brought him to anchor in the
curve of his big arm, without once glancing at him.

"Thank you, Billy," he said, "but Peter will pick it up himself. Now,
Peter! We don't care who knocked