present importance, but his wife had
suggested it--though vaguely--and he had meant to speak to Roscoe about
it. However, Roscoe had not come into his father's office for several
days, and when Sheridan had seen his son at home there had been no
opportunity.

He waited until the greater part of his day's work was over, toward four
o'clock, and then went down to Roscoe's office, which was on a lower
floor. He found several men waiting for business interviews in an outer
room of the series Roscoe occupied; and he supposed that he would
find his son busy with others, and that his question would have to
be postponed, but when he entered the door marked "R. C. Sheridan.
Private," Roscoe was there alone.

He was sitting with his back to the door, his feet on a window-sill, and
he did not turn as his father opened the door.

"Some pretty good men out there waitin' to see you, my boy," said
Sheridan. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing," Roscoe answered indistinctly, not moving.

"Well, I guess that's all right, too. I let 'em wait sometimes myself!
I just wanted to ask you a question, but I expect it'll keep, if you're
workin' something out in your mind!"

Roscoe made no reply; and his father, who had turned to the door, paused
with his hand on the knob, staring curiously at the motionless figure in
the chair. Usually the son seemed pleased and eager when he came to the
office. "You're all right, ain't you?" said Sheridan. "Not sick, are
you?"

"No."

Sheridan was puzzled; then, abruptly, he decided to ask his question. "I
wanted to talk to you about that young Lamhorn," he said. "I guess your
mother thinks he's comin' to see Edith pretty often, and you known him
longer'n any of us, so--"

"I won't," said Roscoe, thickly--"I won't say a dam' thing about him!"

Sheridan uttered an exclamation and walked quickly to a position
near the window where he could see his son's face. Roscoe's eyes were
bloodshot and vacuous; his hair was disordered, his mouth was distorted,
and he was deathly pale. The father stood aghast.

"By George!" he muttered. "ROSCOE!"

"My name," said Roscoe. "Can' help that."

"ROSCOE!" Blank astonishment was Sheridan's first sensation. Probably
nothing in the world could have more amazed his than to find Roscoe--the
steady old wheel-horse--in this condition. "How'd you GET this way?" he
demanded. "You caught cold and took too much for it?"

For reply Roscoe laughed hoarsely. "Yeuh! Cold! I been d