confusion of knives and scimitars over the chiffonier. But then, maybe
you're intending Billy for a soldier; eh?"

"Do you know? I AM getting interested in that boy," beamed William, with
some excitement. "What kind of things do you suppose he does like?"

"There's no telling. Maybe he's a sissy chap, and will howl at your guns
and spiders. Perhaps he'll prefer autumn leaves and worsted mottoes for
decoration."

"Not much he will," contested the other. "No son of Walter Neilson's
could be a sissy. Neilson was the best half-back in ten years at
Harvard, and he was always in for everything going that was worth while.
'Autumn leaves and worsted mottoes' indeed! Bah!"

"All right; but there's still a dark horse in the case, you know. We
mustn't forget--Spunk."

The elder man stirred uneasily.

"Bert, what do you suppose that creature is? You don't think Cyril can
be right, and that it's a--monkey?"

"'You never can tell,'" quoted Bertram, merrily. "Of course there ARE
other things. If it were you, now, we'd only have to hunt up the special
thing you happened to be collecting at the time, and that would be it: a
snake, a lizard, a toad, or maybe a butterfly. You know you were always
lugging those things home when you were his age."

"Yes, I know," sighed William. "But I can't think it's anything like