a cut as that from these cross-roads stores, and no such
material by a long shot. I'm going to say something and I'm afraid you
will be hurt, but I hope you will remember that I feel like a father to
you."

"Shoot it out!" John laughed. "Fire away."

"Well, you can't accuse me of being foolish about what is style and what
ain't, John, but there are a few things that I wish you'd remember not
to do any more. You see, I never lived with you down home--never set
with you at the table and the like, and so I didn't notice anything out
of the way, but--" The contractor was avoiding John's questioning stare
and suddenly broke off.

"Why, what do you mean?" John asked. "Have I been doing anything wrong?"

"Oh no, and maybe not a single one has ever noticed what I have, but I
must say there are a few things that sometimes I wish you wouldn't do.
Oh, I'm going to tell you and be done with it, because if I don't some
young lady may and that would hurt worse. John, I don't like the way you
act at the table sometimes. I hope you won't get mad, but I don't."

"Well, what's wrong?" John asked, a look of shame crossing his face as
he stood mechanically brushing his coat-sleeve with his big, splaying
hand.

"There are several little things," Cavanaugh went on, lamely. "For
instance, there is always a big spoon on the bean-dish or the
cabbage-plate, and we are expected to use it when we are asked to help
ourselves, but I've seen you take your knife, fork, or teaspoon and
rake it out exactly as if you was scraping mortar from a board."

"Oh, I see, I see." John smiled in a sheepish sort of way. "So that is
wrong, eh?"

"Yes, and then you stick your knife in your mouth loaded to the brink
with stuff, and I've seen you use your fingers, John. I've seen you pick
up a chunk of meat with your fingers and ram it in like you was plugging
a hole in a sinking boat. You begin eating before the rest do, too, and
that don't look nice, I must say. You are all right--all right, but it
is just a few little things like those that you ought to watch out for
and try to avoid. These are plain-living folks, but still they seem to
have pretty good manners--that is, except the old man. He does a lot o'
things that he ought not to do. He drinks coffee out of a saucer, and,
although I saw him rubbing the back of a cat just before we sat down
yesterday, he broke off a piece of bread with his hands and handed it to
me that way, and not on a fork or a pla