"No tongue can tell my great delight,
At seeing you again to-night.
"Of course it isn't night yet, you know, but the pressing exigencies of rhyme often demand the elimination, as it were, of a small portion of time."
Ralph was glancing uneasily about the room. "Gran'pa Simon ain't anywheres around is he?" he asked, letting his eyes rest, with careful scrutiny, on a drunken man asleep in a chair in a dark corner.
"No, my boy," answered Joe, "he isn't. I haven't seen the dear old saint, for, lo, these many moons. Ah!—let me see! did you not leave the patriarch's sweet home circle, somewhat prematurely, eh?
"Gave the good old man the slip
Ere the cup could touch the lip?"
"Yes," said Ralph, "I did. I run away. He didn't use me right."
"No, he didn't, that's so. Come, be seated—tell me about it. Oh! you needn't fear. I'll not give it away. Your affectionate grandpa and I are not on speaking terms. The unpleasant bitterness of our estrangement is sapping the juices of my young life and dragging the roses from my cheeks.
"How sad when lack of faith doth part
The tender from the toughened heart!"
Rhyming Joe had drawn two chairs near to the stove, and had playfully forced Ralph into one of them, while he, himself, took the other.
The bar-tender came out from behind his bar and approached the couple.