not disturb us; we are in the middle of a serious discussion.'

The son heard an irritating sniff from the gray cloud; he was provoked
at the scorn implied in his interposition being regarded as disturbing a
serious conversation.

He therefore replied somewhat sharply.

The father, who instantly remarked the tone, suddenly changed his own
manner.

'Are you serious in coming here and saying that your father is talking
nonsense?'

'I did not say that; I only said that you were mistaken.'

'The words are of little moment, but the meaning was there,' said the
merchant, who was beginning to get angry. For he heard a gentleman say
to his neighbour:

'If this had only happened in my father's time!'

One word now drew forth another, and the situation became extremely
painful.

The hostess, who had always an attentive ear for the gentlemen's
conversation, as she knew her husband's hasty temper, immediately came
and looked in at the door.

'What is it, Adjunct [Footnote: Assistant-teacher.] Hansen?'

'Ah,' replied Hansen, 'your son has forgotten himself a little.'

'To his own father! He must have had too much to drink. Dear Hansen, try
and get him out.'

The Adjunct, who was more well-meaning than diplomatic, and who, besides
(a rarer thing with old teachers than is generally supposed) was
esteemed by his former pupils, went and took the student without
ceremony by the arm, saying: 'Come, shall we two take a turn in the
garden?'

The young man turned round violently, but when he saw that it was the
old teacher, and received, at the same time, a troubled, imploring
glance from his mother, he passively allowed himself to be led away.

While in the doorway, he heard the lawyer, whom he had never been able
to endure, say something about the egg that would teach the hen to lay,
which witticism was received with uproarious laughter. A thrill passed
through him; but the Adjunct held him firmly, and out they went.

It was long before the old teacher could get him sufficiently quieted to
become susceptible to reason. The disappointment, the bitter sense of
being at variance with his father, and, not least, the affront of being
treated as a boy in the presence of so many--all this had to pour out
for awhile.

But at last he became calm, and sat down with his old friend, who now
pointed out to him that it must be very painful to an elderly man to be
corrected by a mere youth.

'Yes, but I was right,' said the stude