Placing them on the hall table, he said to Everett: “I suppose father would rather throw this tobacco into my eyes than put it in his pipe and smoke it.”
Everett laughed at this, thinking it rather a witticism under the circumstances, and was still laughing when both went into the dining-room.
Clarence said good evening to all, kissing his mother as he took his seat beside her. Darrell never lifted his eyes, paying no attention to his son.
“What made you laugh just now, Retty?” Willie asked.
“Something that Clary said,” answered Everett.
“Was it anything funny?”
“It must have been; but you needn't hear it.”
“But I want to hear it,” he insisted.
“It must have been about your father, he is the funny man now—the laughing stock,” said Darrell to Willie; then to Clarence: “We have had circus performances. Your father distinguished himself by performing in the tight rope, with Don Gabriel—a very tight rope,” he said, making a semi-circular sign around his body with both hands, and nodding his head at Clarence by way of emphasis, or as if he challenged him to contradict his statement.
“Oh, father! I am very sorry,” was all that Clarence could answer.