"
"What is the matter? Isn't he well?"
"Yes, only rather listless. It isn't his health I am worrying about; it
is his character."
"He will come out all right," Theodora said cheerily, for it was rare to
see her father in a despondent mood, and the sight distressed her.
"Perhaps; but it seems to me that something is wrong with the boy. He
isn't like the rest of you."
"Mercifully not; and yet we were all queer sticks," Theodora observed
tranquilly. "We appear to be working out our own salvation, though,
whether it's writing or bones, and Allyn will probably follow our example
when he is old enough."
"I wish he might. He is giving me more trouble than all the rest of you
put together, and the worst of it is that I don't know whether he needs a
tonic or a thrashing." The good doctor knitted his brows and endeavored
to look stern. "I suspect it is the latter," he added.
Theodora shook her head gayly.
"It wouldn't be of any use, papa. We must bide our time. Allyn is queer,
most mortal queer; but these may be the mutterings of genius, a volcanic
genius that is getting ready to erupt."
"I never regarded bad temper as a sign of genius."
"Perhaps not. But, even if it isn't, thrashings only leave callous spots.
You'd better try the tonic."
They had been walking up and down the front lawn. Now they turned, as
by common consent, and strolled away towards a more distant part of
the grounds.
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