author - "Honoré Willsie"

ou're saying, Jason?" asked his father sharply as he brought the little oil lamp from the sitting room into the kitchen. Mrs. Wilkins followed. This was a detestable job, the sorting of the donation debris, and was best gotten through with, at once. Jason, shading the candle light from his eyes, with one slender hand, looked at his father belligerently."I was saying," he said, "that it was too bad you don't have to wear some of the old rags sometimes, then you'd know how

ld son, have you been a good boy to-day?" asked Mr. Moore as Roger slid into his place at the table."No, sir. I've been pretty bad. Say, Papa, how much would it cost to build a railroad, under the ground, from our house to Prebles'?" "A good deal of money. What way were you bad, Rog?" "Oh, about every way, temper and all. Papa, I guess I'll build that railroad. I got a big piece of pipe and a gauge that might work. Guess I might begin to make a engine. Aren't I a