Johnathan refused to believe it. It was absolutely impossible, after all his father had said to him, and warned him, and preached to him, and threatened. The boy simply couldn’t be such a deceiver, such a double-dealer, such an ingrate—such a sneak!
And yet rumors persisted. People had actually seen Nathan with the girl; swore they had seen him!
True, boy and girl had been doing nothing exceptionally amiss, except strolling along unfrequented by-paths looking rather sheepish and irresponsible, and acting mutually infatuated. Still, Nathan was deliberately disobeying his father; he was “carrying on” behind his father’s back. Suppose the hussy—she must be a hussy—intrigued the boy into premature matrimony! God in heaven!—Suppose he had to marry her! Johnathan went icy at the horror of it. Better the boy lay dead in his coffin. Somehow he must be saved from his folly. Yet such was his precocity and independence that it must be done in a manner not to drive him into the girl’s arms or make him run away and therefore cause another loss of his services at the box-shop. Yes, in God’s name, what was the pitiable, harassed father to do? He prayed much over it. He lost sleep. His face grew drawn, and gray appeared in fine strands at his temples.
Then one Sunday afternoon in April Johnathan came home from a few hours’ work on his books to find the gas lighted in the front parlor and some one playing on the cottage organ.
The father purposely went around to the rear door. His wife was preparing supper in the kitchen.
“Who’s in the parlor?” he demanded hotly.
“Only Edith and a friend of hers—and Nathan.”
“A friend of Edith’s—a girl?”
“Yes! I didn’t think there was any harm letting them play on the organ.”
“Who is she—the girl?”