this was the reason that she was so lenient to the loud dispute that was heard the next morning. What it was all about one couldn't gather; one only knew that it was between Laurie and Robert. When Alice appeared upon the scene of action they spoke at once. Laurie said:
"He won't put his necktie on, ma'am."
"She chokes me," grumbled Robert.
"I don't, then," replied Laurie.
"I can do it myself," said Robert.
"You cannot, then," promptly contradicted Laurie. "And he threw himself down on the floor, ma'am, like Jamie for all the world, in a tantrum."
Next day he appeared at breakfast with a necktie whose knot was about at the middle of his stomach.
"What ails your tie, son?" Tom asked.
"He tied it himself," said Sara.
"Go and fix your tie," suggested Tom. Robert returned without any.
"Is that what you call fixing your tie?" Tom asked him.
"Yes," replied Robert, brazenly.
"What's the matter with you?" Tom inquired. There was an edge of curiosity in his tone as he looked at Robert. He saw vaguely that it wasn't just naughtiness. Then Robert broke through the inarticulateness of childhood.
"I won't be tweaked and pinched and pulled!" said irritable manly pride, speaking for itself. With a "this won't do" look, Robert was told to fetch his necktie. His father tied it tight; he tied it with emphasis. Tom left the house a little after his son and in a moment Tom returned. In his hand was a noose of blue silk; it was the necktie. He had found it on the door-step.
"Can you beat it?" was his comment.
