," and patted
him gently on the cheek. John raised dull eyes and looked into his
father's. Far within him a great wrath was gathering through his fear.
Another voice, another self, seemed to whimper, with dull iteration,
"I'll _kill_ him; I'll _kill_ him; by God, I'll _kill_ him--if he doesna
stop this--if he keeps on like this at me!" But his present and material
self was paralyzed with fear.

"Open your mouth!" came the snarl--"_wider, damn ye! wider!_"

"Im-phm!" said Gourlay, with a critical drawl, pulling John's chin about
to see into him the deeper. "Im-phm! God, it's like a furnace! What's
the Latin for throat?"

"Guttur," said John.

"Gutter," said his father. "A verra appropriate name! Yours stinks like
a cesspool! What have you been doing till't? I'm afraid ye aren't in
very good health, after a-all.... Eh?... Mrs. Gourla', Mrs. Gourla'!
He's in very bad case, this son of yours, Mrs. Gourla'! Fine I ken what
he needs, though.--Set out the brandy, Jenny, set out the brandy," he
roared; "whisky's not worth a damn for him! Stop; it was you gaed the
last time--it's _your_ turn now, auld wife, it's _your_ turn now! Gang
for the brandy to your twa John Gourla's. We're a pair for a woman to be
proud of!"

He gazed after his wife as she tottered to the pantry.

"Your skirt's on the gape, auld wife," he sang; "your skirt's on the
gape; as use-u-al," he drawled; "as use-u-al. It was always like that;
and it always scunnered me, for I aye liked things tidy--though I never
got them. However, I maunna compleen when ye bore sic a braw son to my
name. He's a great consolation! Imphm, he is that--a great consolation!"

The brandy bottle slipped from the quivering fingers and was smashed to
pieces on the floor.

"Hurrah!" yelled Gourlay.

He seemed rapt and carried by his own devilry. The wreck and ruin strewn
about the floor consorted with the ruin of his fortunes; let all go
smash--what was the use of caring? Now in his frenzy, he, ordinarily so
careful, seemed to delight in the smashings and the breakings; they
suited his despair.

He saw that his spirit of destruction frightened them, too, and that was
another reason to indulge it.

"To hell with everything," he yelled, like a mock-bacchanal. "_We_'re
the hearty fellows! We'll make a red night now we're at it!" And with
that he took the heel of a bottle on his toe and sent it flying among
the dishes on the dresser. A great plate fell, split in two.

"Poor f