He had to think hard to recall what he and Tim had quarreled about yesterday afternoon and was surprised to find how small a thing it had been. Tim had insisted that a carpenter and contractor had to know more than a newspaper proprietor and editor, and Pud had taken the other end of the argument. Tim, you see, had already determined to follow in his father’s steps and Pud had already decided to become a newspaper man like his dad. In the heat of the argument things had been said that stung, and finally the two had parted, hurling recriminations at each other across the fence. Already the coldness had lasted longer than any previous breach of their friendship, and Pud was convinced that the time for reconciliation was already past, but――and here he let the screen door slam behind him vehemently――he’d be jiggered if he’d speak first! After dinner was over and he had helped his mother with the few dishes, without, for once, having to be commanded, he sauntered carelessly into the dining-room and from there to the parlor. For a minute he gazed out into the shade-mottled glare of the street, whistling loudly. Presently, though, the whistling ceased and, with a furtive glance toward the kitchen, he eased himself noiselessly into the hall, out the front door, and onto the porch. Then he made his way quietly around the farther side of the house, and, keeping close to the tangle of bushes that hid the high board fence dividing their yard from the Kepharts’ he gained the stable door and, glancing once more toward the kitchen, disappeared from view. It was fairly cool in the stable until he had creakingly ascended the narrow stairway to the loft. Up there the heat was almost discouraging. But the sun had moved away from the end window, and, seated on a dilapidated buggy cushion close to the casement, it was possible to get an occasional breath of air. The loft held Pud’s most precious belongings; his printing-press, his patent exerciser, Indian clubs, roller skates, old games, and a valuable miscellany of treasures. This was Pud’s _sanctum sanctorum_, his office, playroom, and harbor of refuge. There was an unwritten law, rigidly respected by Mr. and Mrs. Pringle, that prohibited grown-ups from ascending the stairway beyond the turn.