TALKS WITH A KID BROTHER
last." And they hurried him along over the dark road toward the canal.
"You'd better not," he announced; "my father is Professor Blank."
"We know that," was the answer; "that's the reason. Now then," they added, "here's for your father," as they ducked him in a business-like manner under the cool, moon-lit ripples of the canal. "And here," they repeated as he came up spluttering, "is one for you. Now will you be good?"
"You will suffer for this," he roared when he got breath enough; "my father"
"Ah? then here's for our suffering. Now will you be good?" In the course of time he said he would, and he was. He has been a better man for it ever since. They saw to it that he had exercise enough on the way home to keep from dying of pneumonia, and he has lived to return thanks for it—as father used to tell us we should do, you may remember when he led the way into his study and closed the door.
The canal cure reminds me of the celebrated case of young Pollington, and I tell
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