He laughed. His mother smelt the smoke.
"My boy, I'm ashamed of you," she said, coming into the parlor.
He smiled around the cigarette, and said inarticulately:
"I don't smoke many."
"Why don't you use a pipe?" came a deep voice from the kitchen.
"I have a pipe," said Evan.
"Here, take a cigar," returned the father immediately, coming in to rarefy the atmosphere.
Promptly Evan twirled his cigarette into the grate and accepted a cigar with an adult air. Lou began laughing, but soon checked herself and endeavored to give the youthful debauchee a look of scorn. Unable to carry it out, she gazed out of the window.
"Oh, brother," she said, "come here and see."
He walked to the window. Strolling down the opposite side of the street, apparently on their way to church, were two young people—a boy and a girl. A glance told Evan who the girl was, but he did more than glance at the fellow. The two were coming nearer.