There was evidently some great matter of business in this young man's
mind, for he scarcely ate his breakfast, and had left the table, eagerly
cramming the remainder of his meal in his pockets.
"I wonder what he's up to now?" mused his mother as she watched his
little form sturdily trudging the track in the face of the wind, his
head, with the rimless cap thrust close on the shock of black hair, bent
low, his hands thrust deep in the bulging pockets.
"A new snake, perhaps," ventured the father; "he's a queer child."
But the next day Titee was late for school. It was something unusual,
for he was always the first on hand to fix some plan of mechanism to
make the teacher miserable. She looked reprovingly at him this morning,
when he came in during the arithmetic class, his hair all wind-blown,
cheeks rosy from a hard fight with the sharp blasts. But he made up for
his tardiness by his extreme goodness all day; just think, Titee didn't
even eat in school. A something unparalleled in the entire history of
his school-life.
When the lunch-hour came, and all the yard was a scene of feast and fun,
one of the boys found him standing by one of the posts, disconsolately
watching a ham sandwich as it rapidly disappeared down the throat of a
sturdy, square-headed little fellow.
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