"That means I shall be losing my lecture audience," he mourned playfully. "You will no longer be a spoiled child, Theo, after those crutches come. We shan't serve all your meals in your room, nor give you the biggest fish in the catch. You will have to come down to common fare like the rest of us." "You won't find me doing any fussing on that score," laughed Theo. "As for the lectures--why, I have a season ticket, and shall expect a lecture every day." "Mercy on us!" gasped Mr. Croyden. "Do you realize, young man, that I came into these woods to rest? If I am to make pottery and porcelain with you every day I might just as well be at home." Nevertheless it was plain that the elder man was pleased. "Well, so long as you have secured a season ticket in advance I suppose there is no help for it," he added with a comic expression of resignation. "When, by the by, does the next lecture come?" Theo pretended to produce an imaginary ticket from his pocket and consult it. "The next lecture seems to be listed for this evening just after dinner," he replied gravely. "It does, does it!" exclaimed Mr. Croyden. "Very well; the lecturer will be ready at seven sharp. I make it a point never to disappoint an audience." With a good-natured laugh he was gone. "I hope I don't bother Mr. Croyden too much, Father," observed Theo reflectively, after the older man was out of hearing. "I guess you don't," answered the Doctor. "At first I was afraid you might be taking too much of his time, so I asked him; but I soon found he enjoyed these talks quite as much as you. He is a good talker, and like the rest of us finds it pleasant to discuss his hobby. I begged him to be frank and tell you whenever he was too tired or busy to talk, and he promised he would." "He has been mighty good to me." "He certainly has," agreed Dr. Swift. "He likes boys very much. It is a pity he has no son of his own." "It is a shame!" exclaimed Theo. "He would make such a splendid father for some boy." Dr. Swift nodded. "Boys are of course a great nuisance, and they make us lots of trouble," he remarked dryly, "but they are good things to have in the house in spite of that." As he rose to go he cast a whimsical glance at his son. "I'll leave you this book to read," he said. "Mother sent it. And here are some letters. Here, too, is a picture puzzle which looks as if it might keep you busy for some time. I guess you won't be idle before I get back." Theo met his eye with a bright smile. "I guess I won't have a chance to be," he replied. The book proved to be an aeroplane story of just the kind Theo liked; and the puzzle was so hard that he worked on it at intervals most of the day. Then came twilight and with it a game of cribbage with his father, after which he had a deliciously cooked dinner of fried perch, browned potatoes, and a marvelous three-story chocolate pie, a masterpiece of Franz's cookery.