“Oh, no, darling, you must lie down first for half an hour. You and the little girls can have a happy time together after dinner.” Paul looked anything but pleased, but was forced to submit, and the children saw the door of the guest-room resolutely closed against them. “How funny to have to lie down in the daytime,” said Maud, as they proceeded on their way up-stairs. “Is Paul sick?” “I think he must be rather delicate,” answered Daisy. “Perhaps he studies too much.” “But Dulcie studies a lot, too,” persisted Maud, “and she never lies down in the daytime.” “I think Aunt Julia is a very fussy lady,” said Molly. “Don’t you remember how she always had to take medicine before her meals the last time she was here? She took afternoon naps, and we had to keep very quiet while she was asleep. Perhaps she’s fussy about Paul, too.” Aunt Julia certainly was “fussy” about Paul, as the children very soon discovered. When Paul appeared at dinner, with a clean face, but otherwise unchanged, his mother told Grandma that she was obliged to be very particular about his diet. “He will eat so few things,” she said. “O dear! I have forgotten to bring down his tonic. Don’t you want to run up-stairs for it, Paul darling? The bottle is on mother’s bureau.” “No, I don’t,” replied Paul, with decision. “I hate that nasty stuff, and the doctor said I wouldn’t need to take it any more when I had a change of air.” “Oh, my boy,” remonstrated his mother, “the doctor didn’t mean that you could leave it off at once. Now run and bring me the bottle, like a good child, and let these little girls see how obedient you are.” “I’ll get it if Paul is tired,” proposed Molly good-naturedly, and somewhat to the children’s surprise the offer was accepted. Paul swallowed the medicine, over which he made a wry face, and dinner began. “Take your soup, Paul dear,” his mother admonished gently; “you are only playing with it.” “There’s rice in it,” objected Paul; “I hate rice.” Grandma frowned. “Little boys should learn to eat what is put before them, and not make remarks about their food,” she said, reprovingly. If this remark had been addressed to Molly or Maud, she would have been reduced to instant submission. Not so Paul. “I never eat things I don’t like,” he said, without the slightest sign of embarrassment. “A great many things disagree with me, don’t they, Mother?” “I am afraid they do,” answered Mrs. Chester, with a sigh. “And that reminds me, Mother, he must have squeezed meat every day for his lunch, and I always let him have ice-cream at least three times a week. The doctor considers it good for him.”