ooking for a piece of cinnamon to chew," he explained. "Guess
I'll be going to school now."

His mother glanced at the alarm clock which ticked noisily in its place
on the wall over the sink.

"Only twenty-five minutes to nine, son. Isn't it a bit early?"

He explained that he had to be up at school at first bell. A geography
notebook had been left in his desk, and entries must be made in it
before the class began. He was gathering his scattered belongings
together in the hall when the maternal voice called him back to the
kitchen.

"Yes, Mother?" with his head in the doorway.

"Will you ever learn to shut a drawer when you're through with it?"

He shoved it back with a sulky bang. "Where's my hat?"

"Did you look in the front hall?"

"'Tain't on the floor by the big chair. That's where I most always leave
it."

"How about the closet hat rack?"

A moment later, a surprised shout told that the lost had been found. The
front door slammed noisily and he was off to school.

The dishes were washed and dried, the plates and saucers stacked on the
pantry shelves, the cups hung neatly on the appointed hooks in the
cupboard, and the silver put away in the sideboard drawer. Then Mrs.
Fletcher turned her attention to the tidying of the house. She made
innumerable circles and criss-crosses with the carpet sweeper over the
parlor rug, and was dusting the big rocker by the bay window when a
chance glance up the street revealed two small figures playing far at
one end of the strip of macadam. Her son, without doubt, was one of
them. No one else wore a cap tilted back at quite so ridiculous an
angle. The other stocky figure looked and acted like Bill Silvey.

Why weren't they at school? Hookey? No, for truants never allowed
themselves within sight of home and easy detection. And there was a
certain brazen righteousness about their actions. At the big, green
house, Silvey challenged John to a game of tag. A lamppost nearer, they
ceased the mad, dodging chase and engaged in earnest conversation. A
hundred yards from the Fletcher house, footsteps lagged to an
astonishing degree and an air of lassitude overcame them that was
inexplicable in view of recent activities. The boys mounted the front
steps wearily. John pressed the bell as if the act consumed the last
atom of strength in his arm.

His mother swung back the door anxiously. "What on earth's the matter?"

"School doctor sent me home," her son explained. "Think's I'v