"Worse than that! he joins in all the low sports of the place. Why, he is training rat-terriers in the stable and game-chickens in the barnyard. I caught him fighting them this very morning."
"Oh, John!" exclaimed the woman, ready to accuse any one rather than her only child; "if you had only listened to me when we took him out of school, and given him a bit more learning."
"He's got more learning by half than I ever had," answered the old man, moodily.
"But you had your way to make and no time for much study; but we are well-to-do in the world, and our son need not work the farm like us."
"I don't know but you are right, old woman. Dick never will make a good farm-hand. He wants to be master or nothing."
"Hark—he is coming!" answered the wife, brightening up and laying her hand on the old man's arm.
CHAPTER IV.
THE SON'S RETURN.
WHEN Richard Storms entered his father's house that night it was with the air of a man who had some just cause of offence against the old people who had been so long waiting for him. His sharp and rather handsome features were clouded with temper as he pushed open the kitchen door and held it while two ugly dogs crowded in, and his first words were insolently aggressive.