To-night you will tell me about your trip, and--and--we'll have a talk." "Good old dad!" said Barry.

"You do understand a chap.

See you later, then," he called back as he passed through the door.
His father sat gazing before him for some moments with a deep shadow on his face.
"There is something wrong with that boy," he said to himself.

"I wish I knew what it was." He set his house in order, moving heavily as if a sudden weight of years had fallen upon his shoulders, and took his way slowly down the street.
"I wonder what it is," he mused, refusing to give form to a horrible thought that hovered like a spectre about the windows of his soul.
The first glance at his son's face at the time of the evening meal made his heart sing within him.
"He's all right again! He's all right!" he said to himself jubilantly.
"Hello, dad," cried Barry, as his father entered the room.

"Supper's just ready.