I will to-morrow."
But Roscoe did not come down-town the next day, nor the next; nor did
Sheridan see fit to enter his son's house. He waited. Then, on the
fourth day of the month, Roscoe walked into his father's office at
nine in the morning, when Sheridan happened to be alone.
"They told me down-stairs you'd left word you wanted to see me."
"Sit down," said Sheridan, rising.
Roscoe sat. His father walked close to him, sniffed suspiciously,
and then walked away, smiling bitterly. "Boh!" he exclaimed.
"Still at it!"
"Yes," said Roscoe. "I've had a couple of drinks this morning.
What about it?"
"I reckon I better adopt some decent young man," his father returned.
"I'd bring Bibbs up here and put him in your place if he was fit. I
would!"
"Better do it," Roscoe assented, sullenly.
"When'd you begin this thing?"
"I always did drink a little. Ever since I grew up, that is."
"Leave that talk out! You know what I mean."
"Well, I don't know as I ever had too much in office hours--until
the other day."
Sheridan began cutting. "It's a lie. I've had Ray Wills up from your
office. He didn't want to give you away, but I put the hooks into
him, and he came through.
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