Mrs. McInnes was dumbfounded. "Your father told you that!" she cried at length. "Why, I always thought he was one of the kindest men I ever knew!" "He's kind in--in his office--and--and on the street," stammered Sube; "but the minute he gets home his nerves fly up and he loses control of himself--" "And your father told you never to darken his door again?" she asked incredulously. "Yes, ma'am," Sube replied with emotion as he stared hard at the toe of his shoe. "Not till I'd got my hair cut." Mrs. McInness drew her husband aside and conversed with him in a low tone. "Pretty fishy--" Sube heard him mumble. "But when a person's mind is affected ... there's no telling--" he heard Mrs. McInness saying. [Illustration: "LOOK HOW HE LEFT ME!"] After a moment came the barber's bass rumble again: "That'd be rulable if he'd been in the chair, or even in the shop waitin', but--" This gave Sube another idea. "When my father drove me out of the house," he said modestly, "I did my best to satisfy him. I ran as fast as I could to the nearest barber shop--that's Bill Grayson's. Maybe it ain't exactly the nearest, but it's the quickest because I don't have to turn any corners--you know I always come to your shop if I can. Well, I got to Bill Grayson's just before six o'clock. I got in the chair and Bill started on me with the clippers; but the minute the whistles blew, he fired me right out of the chair and wouldn't finish the job! Why! Jus' look here!" he cried dramatically, snatching off his cap. "Look how he left me! I don't dare go home like this!" The barber and his wife were astounded. "Bill Grayson done that to you!" exclaimed Mr. McInness. "Yes, sir, he did," replied Sube virtuously. Mrs. McInness turned quickly to her husband. "There!" she challenged. "He was in the chair at six o'clock and his hair was partly cut! You said that would be rulable yourself!" "But he wasn't in _my_ chair, or even in _my_ shop! There's somethin' doggone' funny about this. Just as like as not Bill Grayson has fixed a frame-up on me to get me in bad with the union. I ain't goin' to take no chances--" "Joe McInness!" his wife bristled defiantly, "_you_ may belong to the union, but _I_ don't!--Give me the key to that shop! I'm going to finish clipping that boy's hair!" Sube was a little late for supper, but he came in with a broad smile--broad though rather forced--and a neatly shingled head. "Hey, everybody look at me!" he called cheerfully. "I've got the first shingle of the season, and I paid for it with my own money, too! And, mama, can I go to prayer meeting with Giz Tobin to-night? I'm all dressed for it." Mrs. Cane had gladly given her consent when Cathead threw a bomb into the happy home circle. "Sube wasn't at school this afternoon," he announced. "What's that?" demanded Mr. Cane glaring at Sube. "Do you mean to say that after all I said to you--?" Sube had begun to shrivel under his father's relentless gaze when Cathead interjected: