f short trousers.

His name was Paul--"Paul Vionel Olgavitch Spencer," he sometimes proudly
recited it, and whenever we heard of that we thought of his mother.

The older Paul grew, the handsomer he grew. And the handsomer he grew,
the wilder he became and the less the truth was in him. At times he would
go all right for a while, although he was always too fond of the river
for his aunts' peace of mind.

At a bend below the dam he had found a sheltered basin, covered with
grass and edged with trees. And there he liked to lie, staring up into
the sky and dreaming those dreams of youth and adventure which are the
heritage of us all.

Or else he would sit and watch the river, although he couldn't do it
long, for its swift movement seemed to fascinate him and excite him, and
to arouse in him the desire to follow it--to follow it wherever it went.
These were his quieter moods.

Ordinarily there was something gipsy-like, something Neck-or-Nothing
about him. A craving for excitement seemed to burn under him like a fire.
The full progression of correction marched upon him and failed to make
impression: arguments, orders, warnings, threats, threshings and the
stoppage of funds: none of these seemed to improve him in the least.

Josiah's two sisters did their best, but they could do nothing, either.

"I wouldn't whip him again, Josiah," said Miss Cordelia one night,
timidly laying her hand upon her brother's arm. "He'll be all right when
he's a little older.... You know, dear ... you were rather wild, yourself
... when you were young.... Patty and I were only saying this morning
that if he takes after you, there's really nothing to worry about--"

"He's God's own punishment," said Josiah, looking up wildly. "I
know--things I can't tell you. You remember what I say: that boy will
disgrace us all...."

He did.

One morning he suddenly and simply vanished with the factory pay-roll and
one of the office stenographers.

In the next twelve months Josiah seemed to age at least twelve years--his
cousin Stanley watching him closely the while--and then one day came the
news that Paul Spencer had shot and killed a man, while attempting to
hold him up, somewhere in British Columbia.

If you could have seen Josiah Spencer that day you might have thought
that the bullet had grazed his own poor heart.

"It's God's punishment," he said over and over. "For seven generations
there has been a Spencer & Son--a trust that was left to m