"Why, what the h—ll tarnation do you mean?"
Alfred was frightened, his voice trembled and sounded unlike his own, but he was determined.
"Father, I want to talk to you, come upstairs to my room."
If Alfred had not been so earnest, the scene would have been a laughable one, as it was like burlesquing many similar scenes when the parent addressed the boy in the same words. Alfred walked up the steps very slowly, hoping thereby to cause the parent to follow. It was a long time (to Alfred) ere the father entered the room.
"What's the trouble now?" began the man, as he gazed inquiringly at the boy.
"Who is this man Palmer whom you are so greatly taken up with?" inquired Alfred.
"Why, what's that to you? He's a friend of mine."
"Has he a show?" was the boy's next query.
"A show? Not a show like you know anything of. He has a painting, a work of art, that will be exhibited soon."
"Father, you have always berated, abused and condemned shows and show people. Did this man Palmer borrow money from you?"