"He didn't shuffle, Harry; it's just his feet growing so fast he can't manage them."
"Well, just the samey, I—I ain't going into the theayter business. I—I—"
Mr. Ross flung down his napkin, facing him. "You're going where I put you, young man. You're going to get the right kind of a start that I didn't get in the biggest money-making business in the world."
"I won't. I'll get me a job in an aeroplane-factory."
His father's palm came down with a small crash, shivering the china. "By Gad! you take that impudence out of your voice to me or I'll rawhide it out!"
"Harry!"
"Leave the table!"
"Harry, he's only a child—"
"Go to your room!"
His heavy, unformed lips now trembling frankly against the tears he tried so furiously to resist, Edwin charged with lowered head from the room, sobs escaping in raw gutturals.