"
"Mother gave it to me," said Ogden simply. As he had anticipated,
the shot silenced the enemy's battery. Mr. Pett grunted, but made
no verbal comment. Ogden celebrated his victory by putting
another piece of candy in his mouth.
"Got a grouch this morning, haven't you, pop?"
"I will not be spoken to like that!"
"I thought you had," said his step-son complacently. "I can
always tell. I don't see why you want to come picking on me,
though. I've done nothing."
Mr. Pett was sniffing suspiciously.
"You've been smoking."
"Me!!"
"Smoking cigarettes."
"No, sir!"
"There are two butts in the ash-tray."
"I didn't put them there."
"One of them is warm."
"It's a warm day."
"You dropped it there when you heard me come in."
"No, sir! I've only been here a few minutes. I guess one of the
fellows was in here before me. They're always swiping your
coffin-nails. You ought to do something about it, pop. You ought
to assert yourself."
A sense of helplessness came upon Mr. Pett. For the thousandth
time he felt himself baffled by this calm, goggle-eyed boy who
treated him with such supercilious coolness.
"You ought to be out in the open air this lovely morning," he
said feebly.
"All right. Let's go for a walk. I will if you will."
"I--I have other things to do," said Mr. Pett, recoiling from the
prospect.
"Well, this fresh-air stuff is overrated anyway. Where's the
sense of having a home if you don't stop in it?"
"When I was your age, I would have been out on a morning like
this--er--bowling my hoop.
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