He had pleaded strongly for a “dress-suit” as a fitting recognition of his seventeenth birthday anniversary, but he had been denied by his father with a jocularity more crushing than rigor. Since then--in particular since the arrival of Miss Pratt--Mr. Baxter’s temper had been growing steadily more and more even. That is, as affected by William’s social activities, it was uniformly bad. Nevertheless, after heavy brooding, William decided to make one final appeal before he resorted to measures which the necessities of despair had brought to his mind. He wished to give himself every chance for a good effect; therefore he did not act hastily, but went over what he intended to say, rehearsing it with a few appropriate gestures, and even taking some pleasure in the pathetic dignity of this performance, as revealed by occasional glances at the mirror of his dressing-table. But in spite of these little alleviations, his trouble was great and all too real, for, unhappily, the previous rehearsal of an emotional scene does not prove the emotion insincere. Descending, he found his father and mother still sitting upon the front porch. Then, standing before them, solemn-eyed, he uttered a preluding cough, and began: “Father,” he said, in a loud voice, “I have come to--” “Dear me!” Mrs. Baxter exclaimed, not perceiving that she was interrupting an intended oration. “Willie, you _do_ look pale! Sit down, poor child; you oughtn’t to walk so much in this heat.” “Father,” William repeated. “Fath--” “I suppose you got her safely home from church,” Mr. Baxter said. “She might have been carried off by highwaymen if you three boys hadn’t been along to take care of her!” But William persisted heroically. “Father--” he said. “Father, I have come to--” “What on earth’s the matter with you?” Mr. Baxter ceased to fan himself, Mrs. Baxter stopped rocking, and both stared, for it had dawned upon them that something unusual was beginning to take place. William backed to the start and tried it again. “Father, I have come to--” He paused and gulped, evidently expecting to be interrupted, but both of his parents remained silent, regarding him with puzzled surprise. “Father,” he began once more, “I have come--I have come to--to place before you something I think it’s your duty as my father to undertake, and I have thought over this step before laying it before you.” “My soul!” said Mr. Baxter under his breath. “My soul!”