"But why does she want to?"

"It is her way--a sort of pride she has. And I have long ago given up
trying to persuade her."

Her tone indicated clearly that further discussion of the subject was
not desirable.



X

Keith was playing in his own corner that very evening, trying to keep as
quiet as possible while his father had an unusually late dinner. His
mother had gone out into the kitchen a few moments earlier. Thence she
returned suddenly with a half empty bottle in her hand and a look of
extreme annoyance on her face.

"Carl," she said, "look what I just found in a corner of the cupboard."

"Humph," the father grunted with a sideglance at the bottle. "Ours is
locked up, is it not?"

"Yes, but that is neither here nor there. She would rather die, she
says, than touch a drop of ours."

"Where does she get it?"

"I can't make it out. Somebody must bring it in, of course. I fear it