Mr. Cane softened instantly. He thought he had discovered an undreamed-of spark of reverence in his son. "That's a very good book for you to read," he said kindly. "I hope you'll read it every day." If Mr. Cane had looked into the parlor two minutes later, he would have realized his mistake. For Sube carefully tore from the Holy Writ a single page which he folded up compactly and thrust deep into his hip-pocket. At that moment he heard his mother's voice calling him; and hurriedly thrusting aside the screen his father had so carefully adjusted, he leaped from the window and was gone. As Sube's showmanship developed, his manners dwindled. Sometimes it seemed to his family that his reason was tottering. One evening at dinner he humiliated his parents and irritated beyond words a dyspeptic jurist who was his father's guest, by interjecting into the conversation observations regarding the peculiarities of the blood-sweathing behemoth. And this in spite of the fact that his mother had previously warned him that any attempt on his part to participate in the talk at the table would be considered as an unfriendly act. Finally his enthusiasm ran away with him to such an extent that he forced upon the diners over the _sotto voce_ protests of his mother, an off-hand description of the creature of Job's fancy, so detailed and so unexpurgated that his instant dismissal from the table became imperative. He left the room more outraged than chastened, muttering something about being able to "prove it" and fumbling sulkily in his hip pocket apparently for evidence. A few moments later he was standing before his beloved poster regarding his heart's desire with a sense of peculiar proprietorship. After a little he sat down on the grass; and while Sport, his old spotted dog, lay at his feet lazily digging at one ear with a rheumatic hind-foot, Sube drew from his pocket and read aloud in a halting monotone certain portions of the fortieth chapter of the Book of Job, often pausing between verses to verify the observations of the Patient Prophet by comparison with the portrait taken from life. When the gathering dusk made further reading impossible, and began to blur the features of the behemoth into less pleasing form Sube stood up. "Sport," he said, "you'll prob'ly make a bum job of it, but you're goin' to be a blood-sweatin' behemoth of Holy Writ." The dog received this announcement with equanimity, little realizing the inconvenience it was to cause him.