condition of Lionel Clarence's health and his sudden untoward fretfulness. Old Doctor Ridley, in fact, had suggested that Lionel Clarence be taken away from his books for a few months, and be made to knock around and rough it a bit. And surely, thought Mrs. Sampson, as she put the reluctant Lonely through his catechism, here was a child who held the key to rough and rugged health.
"I could do something with him, mebbe," confessed Lonely, with airy condescension, "if you'd only get them curls o' his cut off!"
"And you would try to stand an example to my boy?"
"Sure," said Lonely, eagerly. "I 'd learn him tumblin' and slack-wire work in less 'n a week!"
"Do you still smoke, Lonely?"
"'Most every day," answered the boy, truthfully. "Got to do it, swimmin'-time, to keep down fever and ague!"
"But surely that is bad for you?"
"Yep, cane is—turns your blood into water! I go in for grapevine, mostly, with punk for swimmin' days!"
