But Junior could not be easy and natural, as with Aunt Mary. He blushed as in the presence of a stranger. He heard his own raucous voice and hated it. He took unnecessary sips of water. He felt better and bolder after the delicious food arrived. Phil looked on with amusement, amazement at the amount the youngster consumed. “Next year I hope you can find time to come down to see us at school,” Junior ventured with his double portion of ice cream. “All the fellows want to meet you.” “I want to meet them,” said his father. “This fall on the way back, maybe.” “Oh, you’re going away again?” “Next week I’m going up into the woods with Billy Norton on a long canoe trip. Some new country I want to show him. Trout streams never yet fished by a white man.” “Gosh! That’ll be great,” said Junior. “Some day I’ll take you up there. It’s time you learned that game. Fly casting, like swinging a golf club, should begin before your muscles are set. Would you care to go on a camping trip with me?” Care to! Of course it was the very thing he was doing all the time in his daydreams, but he could not say that to his father. He said, “Yes, thanks,” and paused for another sip of water. “You wouldn’t--no, of course, you wouldn’t want me to go along this time.” “Not this time. You see, I promised Billy. Some day though--you and I alone. Much better, don’t you think?” “Yes, sir.” “Don’t call me sir! Makes me feel like a master. I’m your father.” They laughed at that and went back to the office. “Only take me a second to sign these letters,” said Phil. Junior looked at the neat pile of them, again impressed by his father’s importance. “That’s awfully nice paper,” he said, coveting the engraved letterhead with his father’s name on it, which was also his name. “If you like it, take some,” said Phil as he rapidly signed that name. “Help yourself, all you want. Wait, I’ll get you a whole box.” He touched a bell and a boy came in. “Get a box of my stationery and ship it to this address.” He turned to his letters again. “Then you won’t have to pack it all the afternoon.” Pack it? Oh, yes, out-of-doors men said “pack” instead of “carry.” He would say it hereafter. On the way from the elevator, as they passed through the arcade, Junior stopped to gaze with admiration at a camera in a shop window. “Like one of those?” asked Phil. He led the way in. “Take your pick,” he said. And then, “Ship it to this address.” It was the only way this shy father knew how to express his affection. It was not easy to say much to this boy. He seemed keen and critical under his quiet manner. Before the baseball game was over--a dull, unimportant game--they were both talked out, each wondering what was the matter. “I suppose I bore him,” said Phil to himself, and soon began thinking about his business. When their grand old time together was finished each felt a horrible sense of relief, though neither would acknowledge it to himself.