“What else could I think when you—”
“Wait! And so, my son, all these months in Dayton your thought was that you were the son of a thief?”
“There was no other—” began Tommy, with an impersonal indignation that rang in his voice.
“Wait! I have another question to ask you, Thomas. All these months, have you loved that thief?” Mr. Leigh looked at Tommy with eyes so fiercely hungry that Tommy answered very quickly:
“Of course I did.” Then he added, huskily: “Sure thing, daddy. But it was—”
“Wait!” interrupted Mr. Leigh, very sternly now. “Since we are talking on this subject you might as well hear me out. God bless you, my son, for that love. I can tell you now what I feared I might never be able to tell you. I can tell you, because you loved me when I was not worthy of your love.” There was a pause. Then Mr. Leigh looked at Tommy unflinchingly and said, “Thomas, you are the son of a thief!”
The world once more crashed down about Tommy's head. His breath failed him. Darkness came. But as a stricken man might say it, with his last breath, Tommy said:
“I don't care! You are my father—”
“I am your father, yes,” said Mr. Leigh, gravely. “And for that reason, in order that you may live your own life wisely, I should like to tell you all. Will you listen patiently, my son, while I make my confession?”
In his father's voice Tommy detected a pleading note that went to his heart and increased the boy's agony.