With his lighted candle in his hand Hoag went down-stairs and turned into his own room, adjoining the one in which Jack and his grandmother slept. Putting his candle on a table, he began to undress. He had finished and was about to lie down when he heard a light footfall in the next room. A connecting door was pushed open and a tall, slender boy in a white nightgown stood in the moonlight which streamed through a vine-hung window and fell on the floor. “Is that you, Daddy?” “Yes, son.” There was an odd note of affection in Hoag's welcoming tone. “Do you want anything?” The boy crept forward slowly. “I got scared. I woke and heard you talkin' up-stairs like you was still quarreling with Henry.” “You must have been dreaming.” The father held out his arms and drew the boy into a gentle embrace. “Do you want to sleep with your old daddy?” “Oh yes!” Jack crawled from his father's arms to the back part of the bed and stretched out his slender white legs against the plastered wall. “May I sleep here till morning, and get up when you do?” “Yes, if you want to. Do you railly love to sleep in my bed?” Hoag was now lying down, and Jack put his arm under his big neck and hugged him. “Yes, I do; I don't like my little bed; it's too short.” “Thar, kiss daddy on the cheek and go to sleep,” Hoag said, under the thrill of delight which the boy's caresses invariably evoked. “It's late--awful late fer a chap like you to be awake.” Jack drew his arm away, rolled back against the cool wall, and sighed. “Daddy,” he said, presently, just as Hoag was composing himself for sleep, “I don't want Grandma to tag after me so much. She watches me like a hawk, an' is always saying if I don't look out I'll grow up and be good for nothing like Henry. Daddy, what makes Henry that way?” “I don't know; he's just naturally lazy. Now go to sleep.” “Some folks like Henry very, very much,” the boy pursued, getting further and further from sleep. “Grandma says he really is trying to be good, but don't know how. Was you like him when you was young, Daddy?” “No--I don't know; why, no, I reckon not. Why do you ask such silly questions?” “Grandma told Aunt Dilly one day that you always did drink, but that you didn't often show it. She said Henry had quit, and that was wonderful for any one who had it in his blood like Henry has. Is it in my blood, too, Daddy?” “No.” Hoag's patience was exhausted. “Now go to sleep. I've got to rest, I'm tired, and must work to-morrow.” “Are you a soldier, Daddy?” Jack pursued his habit of ignoring all commands from that particular source. “No, I'm not. Now go to sleep; if you don't, I'll send you back to your own bed.” “Then why does Mr. Trawley call you 'Captain'?” “Who said--who told you he called me that?” Hoag turned his massive head on his pillow and looked at the beautiful profile of his son, as it was outlined against the wall.