"Why isn't she here to get my supper?" asked the gin-worshipper irritably. Dan made no reply; but, although he appeared to be continuing his reading, a quivering of his lips denoted that his attention was not wholly given to his book. "Do you hear me?" continued Mr. Taylor after a pause, thumping his fist upon the table. "Why isn't she here to get my supper? What business has she to go to bed without getting my supper?"
"She was up at five this morning to do the washing, and has been working all day."
Dan spoke very quietly, and did not look at his father.
"Her mother wouldn't have done it," whimpered Mr. Taylor. "Here am I without two pence in my pocket, and my very children rebel against me. Is there any thing in the house for supper?--tell me that."
"I don't know. I don't think there is."
"You don't know! You don't think there is!" sneered Mr. Taylor. "You've had yours, I suppose?"
"No, sir, I have not had any."
"What do you mean by 'sir'?" cried Mr. Taylor furiously. "How dare you call your father 'sir'? Is that what you learned from your friend Joshua?"
Dan clasped his hands nervously together; he was agitated and indignant, and he did not dare to give expression to his thoughts.
"Why don't you speak?" demanded Mr. Taylor with unreasoning anger. "What do you mean by sitting there mocking your father?"