any odds you like to offer, from matching pennies to
backing an unknown horse."

Mrs. Saunders sighed. It was a wicked world into which her boy had to
go to earn his living, evidently.

"And now, mother, I really must be off. I'll stay at home to-morrow
night and take my scolding like a man. Good-night."

He kissed her and hurried away before she could say anything more,
leaving her sitting there with folded hands to await, with her
customary patience and just a trifle of apprehension, the coming of her
husband. There was no mistaking the heavy footfall. Mrs. Saunders
smiled sadly as she heard it, remembering that Dick had said once that,
even if he were safe within the gates of Paradise, the sound of his
father's footsteps would make the chills run up his backbone. She had
reproved the levity of the remark at the time, but she often thought of
it, especially when she knew there was trouble ahead--as there usually
was.

"Where's Richard? Isn't he home yet?" were the old man's first words.

"He has been home, but he had to go out again. He had an appointment."

"Did you tell him I wanted to speak with him?"

"Yes, and he said he would stay home to-morrow night."

"Did he know what I said to-night?"

"I'm not sure that I told him you----"

"Don't shuffle now. He either knew or he did not. Which is it?"

"Yes, he knew, but he thought it might not be urgent, and he----"

"That will do. Where is his appointment?"

"At the club, I think."

"Ah-h-h!" The old man dwelt on the exclamation as if he had at last
drawn out the reluctant worst. "Did he say when he would be home?"

"No."

"Very well. I will wait half-an-hour for him, and if he is not in by
that time I will go to his club and have my talk with him there."

Old Mr. Saunders sat grimly down with his hat still on, and crossed his
hands over the knob of his stout walking-stick, watching the clock that
ticked slowly against the wall. Under these distressing circumstances
the old woman lost her presence of mind and did the very thing she
should not have done. She should have agreed with him, but instead of
that she opposed the plan and so made it inevitable. It would be a
cruel thing, she said, to shame their son before his friends, to make
him a laughing-stock among his acquaintances. Whatever was to be said
could be said as well to-morrow night as to-night, and that in their
own home, where, at least, no stranger would overhear. As the old man
made no