His father was frowning. He stopped and pondered. He had seen that
frown on his father's face many times before, and it had always puzzled
him. Sometimes it would come while you watched, and you couldn't think
what made it come. Or it would go away in the strangest manner,
without anything having happened at all. It was a great mystery.

The frown did not go away this time; and presently Everychild
approached his father timidly. It was rather difficult for him to
speak; but he managed to say:

"Daddy, do you think you could fix it for me?" He brought the torn
kite further forward and held it higher.

His father did not look at him at all!

Everychild's heart pounded loudly. How could one go on speaking to a
person who would not even look? Yet he persisted. "Could you?" he
repeated.

His father moved a little, but still he did not look at Everychild. He
said rather impatiently: "Never mind now, son."

Then his mother spoke. She had glanced up from her magazine. "You've
left the door open, Everychild," she said.

Everychild put his kite down with care. He returned to the door. It
was a stubborn door. He pulled at it once and again. It closed with a
bang.

"Everychild!" exclaimed his mother. The noise had made her jump a