sently; "warm but
balmy." With a benevolent smile he addressed Penrod, who sat opposite
him. "I suppose, little gentleman, you have been indulging in the usual
outdoor sports of vacation?"

Penrod laid down his fork and glared, open-mouthed at Mr. Kinosling.

"You'll have another slice of breast of the chicken?" Mr. Schofield
inquired, loudly and quickly.

"A lovely day!" exclaimed Margaret, with equal promptitude and emphasis.
"Lovely, oh, lovely! Lovely!"

"Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful!" said Mrs. Schofield, and after a
glance at Penrod which confirmed her impression that he intended to
say something, she continued, "Yes, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful,
beautiful, beautiful beautiful!"

Penrod closed his mouth and sank back in his chair--and his relatives
took breath.

Mr. Kinosling looked pleased. This responsive family, with its ready
enthusiasm, made the kind of audience he liked. He passed a delicate
white hand gracefully over his tall, pale forehead, and smiled
indulgently.

"Youth relaxes in summer," he said. "Boyhood is the age of relaxation;
one is playful, light, free, unfettered. One runs and leaps and enjoys
one's self with one's companions. It is good for the little lads to play
with their friends; they jostle, push, and wrestle, and simulate little,
happy struggles with one another in harmless conflict. The young muscles
are toughening. It is good. Boyish chivalry develops, enlarges, expands.
The young learn quickly, intuitively, spontaneously. They perceive the
obligations of noblesse oblige. They begin to comprehend the necessity
of caste and its requirements. They learn what birth means--ah,--that
is, they learn what it means to be well born. They learn courtesy in
their games; they learn politeness, consideration for one another in
their pastimes, amusements, lighter occupations. I make it my pleasure
to join them often, for I sympathize with them in all their wholesome
joys as well as in their little bothers and perplexities. I understand
them, you see; and let me tell you it is no easy matter to understand
the little lads and lassies." He sent to each listener his beaming
glance, and, permitting it to come to rest upon Penrod, inquired:

"And what do you say to that, little gentleman?"

Mr. Schofield uttered a stentorian cough. "More? You'd better have some
more chicken! More! Do!"

"More chicken!" urged Margaret simultaneously. "Do please! Please! More!
Do! More!"

"Beautiful, be