"That is the trouble of it; he never will understand," replied Smithers, with a complacent smile.
"He's a good boy enough, and he and my Charley get along together first rate."
"Stay to supper, and we'll talk this thing over."
"Well, I don't mind if I do, though it's more for Tommy's sake than for anything else," answered Barker.
"Tommy, our neighbor is right," said his father. "You probably did not mean to do wrong, and I will not whip you this time. Now, you can go down to your mother and see if there is anything you can do in the preparation of supper."
"Yes, sir, certainly, sir," responded Tommy, his face beaming with smiles, as he saw that Barker had got him off the thrashing he expected.
His father kept a rattan in the corner of the room, which he devoted to Tommy's sole use, it never being employed upon the favored persons of Harold Stamford and Alice Regina.
"Now, Smithers," said Barker, "you ought to let up on that boy."
"Why should I, when he's the fool of the family?"
"He can't help it."