words had their wonted effect, and he dropped off once more into the
deep, deathlike slumber of childhood.

The air remained tense in the household for several days, but nothing
further happened until one night when the father arrived a little later
than usual from his work, looking just as he did the night of the
quarrel. Again his speech was a little thick, and the mother's face
assumed an ominous look. She said nothing about what was nearest her
heart, however, she started instead to complain of some petty
disobedience on the part of Keith.

"If you spanked him a little more and humoured him la little less, he
would obey more readily," said the father.

His words carried no particular menace, and there seemed no reason why
the boy should be scared. But perhaps there was something else in the
atmosphere that affected his sensitive nerves and sent him unexpectedly
into a paroxysm of weeping.

"Stop it," cried his father dark with sudden anger. "Stop it, I tell
you."

"You leave the boy alone," cried the mother, her face as white as the
father's was red.

"We'll see whether he'll obey or not!"

As he spoke, the father sat down on the nearest chair, picked up the boy
and put him face down across his knees.