"He probably got
her into trouble, and she played on his sympathy."
This was what Jim sorely needed, some unjust accusation to spur him
out of his shame. He sprang to his feet and confronted his father.
"Don't you dare say a word against my wife."
"Oh, look at him!" his father smiled. "He's grown so big he can
lick his old dad. Well, let me tell you, my young jackanapes, that
if anybody has said anything against your wife it was you."
"What have I said?"
"You've said that you married her secretly. You've not dared to let
us see her first. You've not dared to announce your engagement and
take her to the church like a gentleman. Why? Why? Answer me that,
before you grow so tall. And who is she, anyway? I hear that you had
a prize-fight with Peter Cheever and got expelled from the club."
"When did you hear that?"
"It's all over town. What was the fight about? Was he interested
in this lady, too?"
One set of Jim's muscles leaped to the attack; another set held
them in restraint.
"Be careful, dad!" he groaned. "Peter Cheever never met my wife."
"Well, then, what were you fighting him about?"
"That's my business."
"Well, it's my business, too, when I find the name of my son posted
for expulsion on the board of my pet club. You used to be sweet on
Cheever's wife. You weren't fighting about her, were you?"
This chance hit jolted the bridegroom so perceptibly that his
father regretted having made it. He gasped:
"Great Lord, but you're the busy young man! Solomon in all
his glory--"
"Let him alone now," Mrs.
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