"Never fear!" cried out the person who had first addressed Hargrove—"his old man's gone to a prayer-meeting. We shan't have the light of his pious countenance here to-night."
I fixed my eyes upon the young man to see what effect this coarse and irreverent allusion to his father would have. A slight tinge of shame was in his face; but I saw that he had not sufficient moral courage to resent the shameful desecration of a parent's name. How should he, when he was himself the first to desecrate that name?
"If he were forty fathoms deep in the infernal regions," answered Slade, "he'd find out that Ned was here, and get half an hour's leave of absence to come after him. The fact is, I'm tired of seeing his solemn, sanctimonious face here every night. If the boy hasn't spirit enough to tell him to mind his own business, as I have done more than fifty times, why, let the boy stay away himself."
"Why don't you send him off with a flea in his ear, Ned?" said one of the company, a young man scarcely his own age. "My old man tried that game with me, but he soon found that I could hold the winning cards."
"Just what I'm going to do the very next time he comes after me."
"Oh, yes! So you've said twenty times," remarked Frank Slade, in a sneering, insolent manner.
Edward Hargrove had not the spirit to resent this; he only answered:
"Just let him show himself here to-night, and you will see."
"No, we won't see," sneered Frank.
"Wouldn't it be fun!" was exclaimed. "I hope to be on hand, should it ever come off."