"The more she said 'Whoa!'
They cried, 'Let her go!'
And the swing went a little bit higher,"

if only his grandfather could hear this, one of the funniest and noisiest
songs in the world, perhaps he would come right down stairs. But his
father laughed away the suggestion, saying that the old gentleman had no
ear for music; which, of course, was a joke, for he had two, like any
person.

Clytemnestra, too, was at first strangely cool to the incomparable father,
though at last she proved not wholly insensible to his charm, providing
for his refection her very choicest cake and the last tumbler of
crab-apple jelly. She began to suspect that a man of manners so engaging
must have good in him, and she gave him at parting the tracts of "The
Dying Drummer Boy" and "Sinner, what if You Die To-day?" for which he
professed warm gratitude.

The little boy afterward saw his perfect father hand these very tracts to
Milo Barrus, when they met him on the street, saying, "Here, Barrus, get
your soul saved while you wait!" Then they laughed together.

The little boy wondered if this meant that Milo Barrus had come to the
Feet, or been born again, or something. Or if it meant that his father
also spelled God with a little g. He did not think of it, however, until
it was too late to ask.

The flawless father went away at the end of the week, "over the County
Fair circuit, selling Chief White Cloud's Great Indian Remedy," the little