"Now, Hal—" began Ruth.
"Now, grandmother," reiterated Hal, striking an attitude, "don't reel off more than a yard of lecture before breakfast."
"Henry, behave," commanded a stern voice from the other side of the room, which caused a noticeable decline in Hal's spirits.
There stood Mr. Leonard, having just come down-stairs unnoticed by the young scapegrace. He held little Lou by the hand, a delicate, sensitive child, older than Hal, though scarcely taller than her sturdy brother.
"Here come the provisions," remarked Hal, as Ruth brought in a smoking omelet from the kitchen.
"Go call Scott," said his father; which, cruel mandate obliged the young gentleman to remove his admiring gaze from the repast.
"Ay, ay, sir," he responded, and in a few minutes he reappeared with Scott, who was very red in the face, and howling most frantically. Hal had the little fellow's skirts gathered tightly in one hand, while with the other he firmly grasped the neck of his dress, just as he had picked him up from the ground, "making him walk Spanish," as he termed it.
The family gathered around the table, and Mr. Leonard asked a blessing on the food in a sad, pleading voice. For several minutes the children seemed awed into silence. At length Ruth broke the stillness.
"Did you see the doctor again last night, father?"
"Yes, daughter."