"Don't be afraid, Granny," he sang out. "I won't shoot you. 'Sides,
I've only got one arrer, Aunt Hettie."

His grandfather took him on his knee, and then and there told him
the truth about his father. He spoke very slowly and did not say
any of those great big words that he always used when he was with
grown-up people, or even with the darkies.

"Now, pay strict attention, Kenneth. You must understand everything I
say to you. Do you hear? Your father is never coming home. We told
you he had gone to the war. We thought it was best to let you think
so. It is time for you to know the truth. You are always asking
questions about him. After this, when you want to know about your
father, you must come to me. I will tell you. Do not bother your
grandma. You make her unhappy when you ask questions. You see, your
Ma was once her little girl and mine. She used to be as little as
you are. Your Pa was her husband. You know what a husband is, don't
you?"

"Yes, sir," said Kenneth, wide-eyed. "It's a boy's father."

"You are nearly six years old. Quite a man, my lad." He paused to
look searchingly into the child's face, his bushy eyebrows meeting
in a frown.

"The devil of it is," he burst out, "you are the living image of
your father. You are going to grow up to look like him." He groaned
audibly, spat viciously over his shoulder, and went on in a strange,
hard voice. "Do you know what it is to steal? It means taking
something that belongs to somebody else."