“I’m not afraid of them, mother. I think I can take care of myself in the face of the whole crowd.”
My father came in at the back door, interrupting the conversation. His step was unsteady and his movements uncertain. He stayed a long time in the entry putting away his hat, but at last he entered the kitchen. He made desperate struggles to conceal his condition; but he failed to do so. I could see my poor mother’s bosom bounding with emotion as the days of evil came back to her from the past. There was a tear in her eye; but she spoke not a word of reproach. My father walked across the room to his accustomed chair, and dropped heavily into it.
“Wolf!” said he in a tone which was intended to be sharp, but which was very thick from the effects of the liquor.
“I am here, father,” I replied, as little able to control my feelings as my mother.
“You have been a bad boy!” he added, fiercely. “You have disgraced your father!”
I thought not, but I did not deem it advisable to say so, or to utter a word that would irritate him.
“I used to think you were a smart boy; but now I think you are a fool,” he continued, with an oath, which I had never before heard him use. “With a pistol in your hand you let Christy carry off all my money. I wouldn’t say anything about that, but you came home, insulted and abused Colonel Wimp’ton and his son. You hadn’t done your worst yet; so you went over to Middleport, and turned traitor to the friends that feed and clothe you. I know all about it!”
It was no use to talk about these things while he was in his present condition, and I held my peace.
“I’ve seen Colonel Wimp’ton, and he ztold me all about it,” my father went on, rapping the table violently with his fist. “I won’t have my boy behave zo. I’ll lick him first.”
“Why, father, Wolfert has not done anything bad,” interposed my mother.