It had been deemed necessary to spank Bobby. When it was all over with the exception of the subdued, spasmodic snuffle, Bobby, whose palpitating heart was sorely grieved, found his way to the library, where his Uncle Will had fled. The door was closed, for Uncle Will claimed he could n't bear to hear little boys cry. Bobby knocked, and rattled the door-knob.

"Come in," called Uncle Will. "What-snff-what are you doin', Uncle Will?" asked Bobby, in a plaintive pipe. "Reading about lions," was the reply; and Uncle Will bent again over his book. Bobby advanced, sniffing, and took an humble stand by the arm of his uncle's chair. In Uncle Will's lap, sure enough, lay a large book, on the open page of which was a picture, in colors, of an immense and ferocious lion in the act of rending a mild gazelle. To look at the scene was to shudder, and Bobby put his finger in his mouth, dreading to think what might happen if the lion should suddenly leap out of

the book.

“Does the subject interest you?" Uncle Will asked encouragingly, putting an arm about his nephew. Bobby climbed into the chair. He felt safer, at any rate, near Uncle Will.

"He won't hurt us, will he?" he remarked, with an air of boldness. "Would he eat us, Uncle Will?"

"When satiated with food, which he devours while the blood of his prey is yet warm with life," read Uncle Will from the book,

"I thought we would soon come to our point," said he to himself. Then aloud: “We certainly did, Bobby. They were 'corkers,' too, were n't they?"

"Uncle Will," cried Bobby, squirming with excitement at so reckless a thought, "supposin' a grea', grea' big lion comed right in this liberry-w'y-"

"Yes," encouraged Uncle Will-"seeking whom he might devour. I follow you. Go on."

"W'y, we'd -we'd just tell him to go 'way again," said Bobby, with a sweeping gesture of contempt. "And - and he 'd go, too, would n't he, Uncle Will? ”

"Yes; with the exercise of some diplomacy and a stern but polite dismissal, I think we might readily free our library of lions. Now look here, young man,” Uncle Will went on, shutting his book and drawing Bobby closely to him, so that the yellow curls clustered confidingly upon his shoulder and a warm little breath swept his cheek," what was all that trouble I heard awhile ago? Were you a party to it?"

"I got a spankin'," Bobby remarked, with a

yawn.

"So? What was that for?"

"I was naughty."

"Oh, that is very painful news!" Uncle Will exclaimed.

"Nurse would n't let me eat my doughnut,"

with ease and safety.

It is when hungry that

he is most dangerous to the hunter. The na

tives build

"Once at the circus, Uncle Will," breathlessly broke in Bobby, wriggling, "w'y-w'y

you tooked me to the circus!"

"Very good, so far," said Uncle Will, with a knowing smile; "and very true.

Go on."

"Did mama say you might eat your doughnut?"

"Just like the lion when he is hungry," suggested Uncle Will, kissing the childish forehead tenderly. "Snarling and biting, and saying bad, bad words," he added as if to himself; "just like the lion. I am surprised and shocked to think that my nephew would do such things." Bobby cuddled closer to Uncle Will, and hid his face.

"I was hungry," he murmured.

Uncle Will smiled, and stroked the downy cheek. To be hungry explained so much! Even the ravenous lion was docile when his hunger had been satisfied. And wherein lay the difference? Boy-lion; lion-boy? Uncle Will had been hungry himself. Once, in the Philippines, on a long march, he had been so terribly hungry it had seemed to him he would have to break the military rules for the sake of food, even at risk of being court martialed. He had bitten no one, it was true; but as he now thought of that time it appeared to him his salvation had rested in the fact that he had not been forbidden to bite. The first sign of opposition would have thrown him and many another into open revolt.

He condensed this chain of thought into a few simple words, and Bobby listened while he told of that fearful march, and of the reward of waiting that came with the sinking sun.

"Uncle Will," said Bobby, drowsily, as the narrative drew to a close, "did you shoot any lions in the war?"

"No, Bobby," answered Uncle Will. "I saw some, though."

"Really truly live ones, Uncle Will?"

"Well er- it amounted to that, yes." "And you tooked me to the circus; did n't you, Uncle Will?”

"What in the world are you two doing in here all this time by yourselves?" exclaimed Bobby's mother, entering the room. at this moment.

Uncle Will held up a warning finger. "Sh-h-h!" he whispered. "He is asleep." "What were you doing, Will? "Taming lions," answered Uncle Will, rising carefully with the unconscious child in his arms. arms. Bobby's curls, matted in tangled webs of gold, lay upon his breast, and the tender flush of the boy's cheeks was like the first suggestion of a lovely sunrise, delicate and pink and pure.

"Here is the lion cub, Alice," Uncle Will remarked. "Where shall we put him?"

Then, as they went together into another room, and while Bobby, thoroughly tamed, slept sweetly in his crib before them, the uncle and the mother looked at each other and smiled.

"Alice," said Uncle Will, putting an affectionate arm about the young mother, "Bobby is yours, bless him, but I wish you would n't whip him any more. He does n't need it. I may be a wicked old uncle, but I am sure he thought he was justified in biting Nora. And why should n't he bite her?" continued Uncle Will, with a fierce pull at his mustache.

"Oh, you perfectly ridiculous boy!" responded his sister. "But do you know I had

also come to the conclusion that I was too severe with Bobby."

"That is a great comfort to me," sighed Uncle Will.

"Nora did n't quite understand, and I was just coming to talk it over with you and Bobby," said the mother.

Uncle Will wagged his head knowingly.

"I tell you, Alice," said he, "it runs in the family."