g I've been on yet--bless her heart, or her
memory, or whatever a poor devil on earth may bless an angel for! But
here I am."

The fever in Robert blazed out under a pressure of extinguishing tears.

"There, go along in," said Jonathan, who considered drunkenness to be
the main source of water in a man's eyes. "It's my belief you've been at
it already this morning."

Robert passed into the house in advance of his father, whom he quite
understood and appreciated. There was plenty of paternal love for him,
and a hearty smack of the hand, and the inheritance of the farm, when
he turned into the right way. Meantime Jonathan was ready to fulfil
his parental responsibility, by sheltering, feeding, and not publicly
abusing his offspring, of whose spirit he would have had a higher
opinion if Robert had preferred, since he must go to the deuce, to go
without troubling any of his relatives; as it was, Jonathan submitted
to the infliction gravely. Neither in speech nor in tone did he solicit
from the severe maiden, known as Aunt Anne, that snub for the wanderer
whom he introduced, which, when two are agreed upon the infamous
character of a third, through whom they are suffering, it is always
agreeable to hear. He said, "Here, Anne; here's Robert. He hasn't
breakfasted."

"He likes his cold bath beforehand," said Robert, presenting his cheek
to the fleshless, semi-transparent woman.

Aunt Anne divided her lips to pronounce a crisp, subdued "Ow!" to
Jonathan after inspecting Robert; and she shuddered at sight of
Robert, and said "Ow!" repeatedly, by way of an interjectory token of
comprehension, to all that was uttered; but it was a horrified "No!"
when Robert's cheek pushed nearer.

"Then, see to getting some breakfast for him," said Jonathan. "You're
not anyway bound to kiss a drunken--"

"Dog's the word, sir," Robert helped him. "Dogs can afford it. I never
saw one in that state; so they don't lose character."

He spoke lightly, but dejection was in his attitude. When his aunt Anne
had left the room, he exclaimed,--

"By jingo! women make you feel it, by some way that they have. She's a
religious creature. She smells the devil in me."

"More like, the brandy," his father responded.

"Well! I'm on the road, I'm on the road!" Robert fetched a sigh.

"I didn't make the road," said his father.

"No, sir; you didn't. Work hard: sleep sound that's happiness. I've
known it for a year. You're the man I'd imitate, if I cou