Very clean as to his hands and face, and dressed in the clothes his father had bought in Chicago, Peewee sat on the haircloth sofa in the small, formal parlor of the farmhouse. His arrayal in these unaccustomed garments for a week day, and his lonely isolation in the parlor presaged another change in his existence. No indication of the nature of this change had been given him, and the uncertainty filled him with anxiety. He studied at times the brilliantly colored pictures on the parlor walls and the wax flowers under a glass ball on the round table, but for the most part he merely listened. The reason for this was that he had been told not to get off the sofa, and that from it he could not see out at the window. He appreciated that whatever was now about to happen to him would
