The unnatural father saw that he had gone too far. He had not expected such an issue. He had long been accustomed to follow the lead of his brutal passions, but had now reached a point where he felt he must stop, as his wife said. Turning on his heel, he sullenly took his place at the table, muttering:
"It's a pretty pass when there's mutiny in a man's own house." Then to his son, "You won't get a d—n cent out of me for your college business, mind that."
Rose, the daughter, who had been crying and wringing her hands on the door-step, now came timidly in, and at a sign from her mother she and her brother went into another room.
The man ate for a while in dogged silence, but at last in a tone that was meant to be somewhat conciliatory said:
"What the devil did you mean by putting the boy up to such foolishness?"
"Hush!" said his wife imperiously, "I'm in no mood to talk with you now."
"Oh, ah, indeed, a man can't even speak in his own house, eh? I guess I'll take myself off to where I can have a little more liberty," and he went out, harnessed his old white horse, and started for his favorite groggery in the village.
His father had no sooner gone than Arden came out and said passionately:
"It's no use, mother, I can't stand it; I must leave home to-day. I guess I can make a living; at any rate I'd rather starve than pass through such scenes."
The poor, overwrought woman threw herself down in a low chair and sobbed, rocking herself back and forth.