“You can’t do that,” said Joel in amazement.  “He’s engaged the state-rooms.”

“That makes no difference,” said Mrs. Fisher, “when a woman has a boy who needs her, nothing should stand in the way.  And I must stay at home and take care of you, Joel.”

Joel sprang to his feet and began to prance up and down the floor.  “I’m big enough to take care of myself, mother,” he declared, coming up to her, to prance off again.

“So I thought,” said Mrs. Fisher composedly, “or I shouldn’t have placed you at Mr. Marks’s school.”

“The idea, Mamsie, of your staying at home to take care of me,” said Joel excitedly.  “Why, feel of that.”  He bared his arm, and coming up, thrust it out for inspection.  “Isn’t that splendid?  I do verily believe I could whip any fellow in school, I do,” he cried, regarding his muscles affectionately.  “If you don’t believe it, just pinch them hard.  You don’t mean it really, Mamsie, what you said, of course.  The idea of staying at home to take care of me,” and he began to prance again.

“I don’t care how many boys you can whip,” observed Mother Fisher coolly, “as long as you can’t whip your own self when you’re naughty, you’re too weak to go alone, and I must stay at home.”

Joel stopped suddenly and looked at her.

“And before I’d give up, a boy of thirteen, and beg to be taken away from school because the lessons were hard, and I didn’t like to study, I’d work myself to skin and bone but I’d go through creditably.”  Mrs. Fisher sat straight now as an arrow in her corner of the sofa.  “I’ve said my say, Joel,” she finished after a pause, “and now I shall go down and tell Mr. King.”

“Mother,” howled Joel, dashing across the room to her, “don’t go!  I’ll stay, I will.  Don’t say that again, about my having to be taken care of like a baby.  I’ll be good, mother, and study.”

“Study doesn’t amount to much unless you are glad of the chance,” said Mrs. Fisher sharply.  “I wouldn’t give a fig for it, being driven to it,” and her lips curled scornfully.

Joel wilted miserably.  “I do care for the chance,” he cried; “just try me, and see.”

Mrs. Fisher took his sunburnt face between her two hands.  “Do you really wish to go back to school, and put your mind on your books?  Be honest, now.”

“Yes, I do,” said Joel, without winking.

“Well, you never told me a lie, and I know you won’t begin now,” said Mother Fisher, slowly releasing him.  “You may go back, Joe; I’ll trust you.”

“Phronsie,” said Jasper, as the sound of the two voices could be heard in Mother Fisher’s room, “don’t you want to come into my den?  I’ve some new bugs in the cabinet—­found a regular beauty to-day.”

Phronsie stood quite still just where Joel had left her; her hands were clasped and tears were rolling slowly down her cheeks.  “No,” she said, without looking at him, “Jasper, I don’t.”

“Do come, Phronsie,” he begged, going over to her, and holding out his hand.  “You can’t think how nice the new one is, with yellow stripes and two long horns.  Come and see it, Phronsie.”