And they got down on their knees, side by side. And the father poured out
his heart in prayer. And the boy listened. Somehow he saw himself in the
looking-glass of his knee-joints as he hadn't before. It is queer about
that mirror of the knee-joints, the things you see in it. Most people
don't like to use it much. And they got up from their knees. The father's
eyes were wet. And Phil's eyes were not dry.

Then the father said, "My boy, there's a law of life, that where there is
sin there is suffering. You can't get those two things apart. Wherever
there is suffering there has been sin, somewhere, by somebody. And
wherever there is sin there will be suffering, for some one, somewhere;
and likely most for those closest to you."

"Now," he said, "my boy, you have done wrong. So we'll do this. You go
up-stairs to the attic. I'll make a little bed for you there in the
corner. We'll bring your meals up to you at the usual times. And you stay
up in the attic three days and three nights, as long as you've been a
living lie." And the boy didn't say a word. They climbed the attic steps.
The father kissed his boy, and left him alone.

Supper-time came, and the father and mother sat down to eat. But they
couldn't eat for thinking of their son. The longer they chewed on the food
the bigger and drier it got in their mouths. And swallowing was clear out
of the question. And the mother said, "Why don't you eat?" And he said
softly, "Why don't you eat?" And, with a catch in her throat, she said,
"I can't, for thinking of Phil." And he said, "That's what's bothering
me."

And they rose from the supper-table, and went into the sitting-room. He