WHEN Tom Marcey came home that afternoon, they agreed that something had to be done. "That child has got to learn to mind," Tom asserted.
"I can't bear to think of spanking him, he is only two and a half. He was always a perfectly reasonable child until the goldfish came," said Alice hotly.
"Mother's fish are only the immediate cause," Tom argued. "He's always had the germ of this unreasonableness."
They walked together into the library. Between the windows stood the globe. Before it, absorbed as a scientist, was Robert. His yellow head was as shining as the goldfish. His fat hand was clutching in the water, while the desire of his heart forever eluded him. He did not even turn at the sound of his parents' footsteps. He had not learned fear. He had decided to catch a fish, and he didn't care who knew it.
Something indeed had to be done.
"Robert!" said Tom.
He looked around, a frown on his face.
"I couldn't get him," he told his father.
"You disobeyed father!" Tom began.
"Oh, Tom! Don't do anything rash! I hated my parents every time they spanked me. It never did any good. Oh, if you make Robert hate you"
"See here, Alice," said Tom, "he's got to understand, hasn't he?"
The object of this discussion stood before them. He
