Evening star., 1925-02-15
The Growing Boy 5z ?: 6: Weas5eass
n ArcheF the eFnnshng gandP e Iead
By p. G.. Wodehouse

| it to him to do something, you know,
| because 1t was your jolly old mater 8
| lecture last night that made the
nominee quit. You must charge In
| and take his place. Sort of poetic
| justice, don't you know, and what
| not" He turned to Mr.. Blake. when
| is the conflict supposed to startr
| Two-thirty? You haven't any impor-
tant engagement for thirty, have
| you?"
mo. Mothers lunching at some
ladies' club and giving a lecture aft
erward. I can slip away"
Archie patted his head.
Then leg it where glory waits you,
| old beam
The long boy was gazing earnestly
| st the poster
| A T about 9 o'clock on the following
"A morning in suite at the Hotel
| Cosmopolis Mrs. Cora Bates Mccall,
| the eminent lecturer on rational eat
Ing was seated at breakfast with her
family. Before her sat Mr.. Mccall, a
| little hunted-looking man, the nat
ural peculiarities of whose face were
accentuated by a pair of glasses Of
semi-circular shape, like half-moons
with the horns turned up. Behind
these Mr.. McCalls eyes played a per-
petual game of peek boo, now peer
ing up over them, anon ducking down
and hiding behind them. He was sip
ping a cup of anti-caffein. On his
right. toying listlessly with plate
full of cereal, sat his son, Washing
ton.
Mrs. Mccall herself was eating a
slice of health bread and nut butter.
for she practiced as well as preached
l 4l,a i 1T =. L., L.
for SO many years to inculcate in an
unthinking populace. Her day always
| began with a light but nutritious
breakfast, at which a peculiarly un-
inviting cereal. which looked and
tasted like an old straw hat that had
been run through a meat chopper,
competed for first place in the dislike
of her husband and son with a more
| than usually offensive brand of imi-
tation coffee. Mr.. Mccall was in
clined to think that he loathed the
near-coffee rather more than the ce-
real. but Washington held strong
views on the latter's superior ghast-
illness. Both Washington and his
father, however, would have been
fair-minded enough to admit that 1t
was a close thing.
Mrs. Mccall regarded her offspring
with grave approval.
y,
said to her husband, whose eyes
sprang dutifully over the glass fence
| as he heard his name, that Washy
has recovered his appetite. When he
refused his dinner last night, l was
afraid that he might be sickening for
something. Especially as he had
quite a flushed look. You noticed his
flushed look?"
HE did look flushed"
| that he had no appetite, l am bound
TO say that j was anxious. But he is
evidently perfectly well this morning.
You do feel perfectly well this morn
ing, Washy?"
The heir of the McCalls looked up
from his cereal.
"Uh-huh," he said.
Mrs. Mccall nodded.
Surely now you will agree. Lind
say, that a careful and rational diet
is what a boy needs. / shudder when
l think of the growing boys who are
permitted by irresponsible people to
devour meat-candy-pie- She
broke off. What is the matter,
Washy?"
1t seemed that the habit of shud-
-dering at the thought of pie ran in
the Mccall family. for, at the men,
tion of the word, a kind of internal
shfmmy had convulsed Washington s
lean frame, and over his face there
had come an expression that was
almost one of pain.
pie proceeded Mrs. Mccall. in
her platform voice. She stopped again
abruptly. Whatever is the matter,
Washington? You are making me
nervous"
I'm all right"
X X X X
MRS, MCCALL had lost the thread
A'A of her remarks. Moreover. hav-
ing now finished her breakfast she
was inclined for little light read
ing. One of the subjects allied to
the matter of dietary on which she
felt deeply was the question of read
ing at meals. She was Of the opinion
that the strain on the eye, coinciding
with the strain on the digestion,
could not fail to give the latter the
short end of the contest; and 1t was
a rule at her table that the morning
paper should mot even be glanced at
till the conclusion of the meal. She
said that it was upsetting to begin
the day by reading the paper, and
events were to prove that she was
occasionally right.
All through breakfast, the Chron-
fcle had been lying neatly folded be-
side her plate. She now opened It,
and, with remark about looking for
the report of her yesterdays lectuI e
at the Butterfly Club, directed her
gaze at the front page, on which she
hoped that city editor with the best
interests of the public at heart, had
decided to place her.
Mr.. Mccall. jumping up and down
behind his glasses, scrutinize.l her
face closely as she began to read
He always did this on these occasions
for none knew better than he that
his comfort for the day depended
largely on some unknown reporter
whom he had never met.
Today he noted with relief, all
seemed to be well. The story actually
was on the front page.
Mrs. Mccall gave sharp shrek,
and the paper f1uttered from her
hand.
MY dear!" said Mr.. Mccall, with
concern.