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When William Parlin was a boy, he walked and even talked in his sleep. Mostly he sat in his little red chair by the fire, beloved by the guests of his father's bar. Willy was rather contrarily made up; a ""singular child; there was no regulation to him,"" ""impudent,"" ""very bright and stirring."" He often brought home the class medal-a quarter on a red string-and kept an orderly company for the sport of training: drilling and marching with fire-arms. But he also vexed his family with tales he thought were true, and kept friendship with some who led him to do wrong. This is the story of how he shaped up into the future grandfather the Parlins and Cliffords love.

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