Mr. Smith rushed forward and knocked up his arm, so that at this most critical moment in the young man's career the weapon went off without injuring him, and the ball lodged in the ceiling.
It was a narrow escape.
"Idiot," cried Smith, "what are you thinking of?"
Clarence Holt looked repentant and abashed.
"I have spent your money," he replied. "I repulsed my wife. I am a wretch, unworthy to live."
"Get up and go home."
"Alas! I have no home now. My money is gone and——"
Mr. Smith interrupted him by allowing to flutter down at his side a one hundred-dollar bill, giving it to him as carelessly as one casts a bone to a dog.
"For me!" asked Clarence, eagerly snatching it.
"No, for Elise and your child," was the reply. "Give it to her. A fellow like you deserves nothing but a good thrashing."