The plumber came and scrubbed the tank, the clothes went to the cleaner, and Sube proceeded to school hardened and set for the cruel grinding of another day. And he was not disappointed. Miss Wheeler was very pressing in her demands for documentary excuses for his absence of the day before. But when Sube reached home at noon he found his father in no proper mood to frame diplomatic communications. To be exact, Mr. Cane was grouchy. "I don't know what can be the matter with me," he complained as he took his place at the head of the table. "Do I look sick?" Mrs. Cane made a very careful examination of his face, and noted the vigorous erectness of his body, while Sube's gaze was shifting uneasily back and forth from one parent to the other. "You haven't looked so well in years," she declared at length. "What's the matter? Aren't you feeling well?" "Never felt better in my life. Now I wonder what's getting into everybody." "Why, what do you mean?" asked Mrs. Cane nervously. "Everybody seems to think I'm sick," grumbled Mr. Cane. "Why, the thing began before I had reached my office this morning. The first person who spoke of it was Joe McInness, the barber. He stopped me on the street and asked very particularly how I was feeling to-day. I told him in an off-hand way that I was never better, and he seemed to be quite surprised. 'Why, I understood you were--were not feeling well,' he sort of stammered out. "I laughed at him. 'Do I look sick, Joe?' I asked. "'No, you don't _look_ bad,' he said; 'but sometimes folks look perfectly well physically when they ain't well at all in--in other ways. And sometimes the worse off they are, the better they _think_ they are.' "'Well, Joe,' I said as I started on, 'you can mark me down as sound mentally, morally and physically.' "He looked at me and said, 'Judge, what day's to-day?' "'Why, this is Thursday,' I said. "'And what day of the month is it?' he asked in the strangest way. And, do you know, for the life of me I couldn't think what day of the month it was. At that, the idiot shook his head and went into his barber shop." "That's the queerest thing I ever heard of," said Mrs. Cane. "You don't suppose he had been drinking, do you?" "Why, I did think so until other people began to drop into the office and ask after my health. At first I was rather amused, and then it began to annoy me. The consensus of opinion seemed to be that I was afflicted with some insidious ailment that made me think I was brimming over with good health when I was really on my last legs. And the most incomprehensible feature of the thing was that I couldn't seem to convince them of my soundness of limb and mind!" "Have you been seen going into any doctor's office lately?" asked Mrs. Cane apprehensively. "Why, yes; I've been going to Dr. Richards' office frequently." Sube sighed and took up the disposal of his neglected food as his father continued.