enough to cover expenses. Susan had an awful time to get enough to buy
their food with sometimes. She was always telling dad that she'd GOT
to have a little to buy eggs or butter or meat with.

And there were her wages--dad was always behind on those. And when the
bills came in at the first of the month, it was always awful then: dad
worried and frowning and unhappy and apologetic and explaining; Susan
cross and half-crying. Strange men, not overpleasant-looking, ringing
the doorbell peremptorily. And never a place at all where a boy might
feel comfortable to stay. Dad was always talking then, especially, how
he was sure he was going to sell THIS picture. But he never sold it.
At least, Keith never knew him to. And after a while he would begin a
new picture, and be SURE he was going to sell THAT.

But not only was dad different from other boys' dads, but the house
was different. First it was very old, and full of very old furniture
and dishes. Then blinds and windows and locks and doors were always
getting out of order; and they were apt to remain so, for there was
never any money to fix things with. There was also a mortgage on the
house. That is, Susan said there was; and by the way she said it, it
would seem to be something not at all attractive or desirable. Just
what a mortgage was, Keith did not exactly understand; but, for that
matter, quite probably Susan herself did not. Susan always liked to
use big words, and some of them she did not always know the meaning
of, dad said.

To-day, in the hallway, Keith stood a hesitant minute before his
father's door. Then slowly he pushed it open.

"Did you want me, dad?" he asked.