“Hello, Dad! Nice morning,” he smiled in a weak attempt at joviality, but the smile faded as he sensed a change in his father.
“My son arrested in a low gambling den!” the father said bitterly. “Donald, you have disgraced the family name. Your drinking carousals and gambling can have but one end. I have been too easy with you. For your own good I’m going to turn you loose. Until such time as you can return to me rid of your bad habits, and have proven yourself a man, you are not a son of mine. I—I’m done with you.”
Donald’s father turned abruptly on his heel and strode swiftly down the passage. It had been a tremendous test of his will power to make this short speech, and to resist the almost overmastering desire to take his boy in his arms.
The young man stood with mouth agape, a stupefied look in his eyes, and stared after the retreating form of his parent. The sheriff broke the silence. “We’ll go upstairs, Don!”
On the upper floor the desk sergeant handed the released prisoner his watch and money, taken from him, as is the custom, the night before. The sheriff motioned to a seat.
“Sit down. I want to talk with you.”
Donald listlessly obeyed.
“Sorry, boy, but I had to do it,” the sheriff said in a kindly voice.
“It’s all right, Jim. There’s no hard feelings.”
“What are you going to do?”