"It looked like a rat," Sube fabricated.

"What did you do with it?"

"Threw it on the ash pile."

"I can soon tell," declared Mr. Cane.

"But an ol' cat grabbed it and carried it away," romanced Sube.

The plumber came and scrubbed the tank, the clothes went to the cleaner, and Sube proceeded to school hardened and set for the cruel grinding of another day. And he was not disappointed. Miss Wheeler was very pressing in her demands for documentary excuses for his absence of the day before. But when Sube reached home at noon he found his father in no proper mood to frame diplomatic communications. To be exact, Mr. Cane was grouchy.

"I don't know what can be the matter with me," he complained as he took his place at the head of the table. "Do I look sick?"

Mrs. Cane made a very careful examination of his face, and noted the vigorous erectness of his body, while Sube's gaze was shifting uneasily back and forth from one parent to the other.

"You haven't looked so well in years," she declared at length. "What's the matter? Aren't you feeling well?"

"Never felt better in my life. Now I wonder what's getting into everybody."