simism rang in his tones.

"Why?"

"Got to tidy my room and dust the bookcase and hang up my clothes in the
closet and cut the front grass. Mother says so."

"Aw-w-w, shucks! Can't you get out of it?" His friend fumbled in one of
his bulging pockets. "Look!"

The laborer at household tasks stared with sudden interest. "Ji-miny,
cukes! Where'd you get 'em?"

"'Long the railroad tracks. Vines are loaded. Nice and ripe, too.
Watch."

He hurled the greeny, spiny oval against the window ledge where it burst
with the peculiar "plop," which only a wild cucumber of a certain stage
of juicy plumpness can make.

"The fellows are going to have a big fight," Silvey continued--"Perry
Alford and Sid and the Harrison kids and all the rest of the gang. Ask
your mother can you leave the work until afternoon. Tease her _hard_."

Cucumbers ripe so early? That was fine! But could he evade the Saturday
tasks. He would try.

As he descended the stairs, the elation left his face and his step grew
heavy and lifeless. He was framing a plea for freedom and his manner
must fit the occasion. Had you seen him, you might have thought that his
best bamboo fishing pole had been broken, or that the key to his
bookcase was in maternal possession as punishment for some misdeed. All
boys are splendid professional mourners anyway, and John was by no means
an exception to the rule.

He halted in the dingy coat closet to listen. Through the closed kitchen
door came his mother's voice uplifted in song.

Nita, Oh, Ju-a-a-nita,
Ala-a-s that we must part!

He sighed deeply. Bitter experience had taught that never was moment so
unpropitious for errands like the present as when that cheerful dirge
filled the air. But the thought of the waiting Silvey nerved him. He
turned the doorknob and coughed hesitantly. His mother looked up from
the pan of apples on her lap and smiled. She knew that lagging step and
drooping mouth of old.

"Well, John?"

Her son fidgeted from one foot to the other. Beginnings were always so
difficult. At last he blurted out:

"Mother! Bill's outside with a lot of cucumbers. Says the fellows are
going to have a sham battle and wants me to come along."

"Did you put your shoes away in the bag on the door and hang up your
good knickerbockers and coat?"

His eyes began to fill. "N-no," he admitted.

"Well, you've been upstairs nearly an hour," Mrs. Fletcher went on
inexorably. "I suppose your room is tidied and du