machine he was trying to make, but his father promptly checked him.

"That won't do, Roswell. Work is strictly forbidden."

"But this is for myself."

"No matter. It is not play. You had better go to the village and play."

Roswell got up angrily, put away the machine and went out. In an hour he
came back, saying he had had a quarrel with Perry Gantley, and had a
headache. So he went to bed.

The next morning he rigged up a swing in the woods back of the house,
and amused himself for an hour, and then went fishing, but, as he had no
luck, he hardly spoke a word at dinner-time.

During the afternoon he read for a few minutes, and then took a walk
through the woods, returning so tired that he was glad to go to bed
right after supper.

Thursday was simply dreadful. It rained all day, and Roswell read until
his eyes ached. Then he tried to sleep, romped with Rollo awhile, and at
last went to the barn.

Mrs. Hofford followed him presently, and found him currying Prince.

"Come, Roswell, this won't do," she said, quickly. "No work."

Roswell threw down the currycomb with an impatient exclamation, and
returned to the house.