The Miller press. [volume] (Miller, S.D.) 190?-current, 1916-07-20

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office and do business drunk? By
George! I wonder how often this has
been happening and me not on to 1t!
III have a look over your books tomor-
row, and III
Roscoe stumbled to his feet, laugh
ing wildly, and stood swayfng, con-
irving to hold himself In position by
clutching the back Of the heavy chair
In which he had been sitting.
"Hco-hoorah" he cried. as my
principles, too. Be drunken all you
want to-outside business hours. Don
for Gossake le'n'thing innerfere bust
ness hours. Business!! Thassit! You're
right, father. Drink! Die! L'every-
thing go to hell, but don't let innerfere
~businessr'
Sheridan had seized the telephone
upon Roscoe's desk, and was calling
his W Office, overhead. "Abercrom-
bic? Come down to my son Roscoe's
suite and get rid of some gentlemen
that are waitin' there to see him In
room two-fourteen. You needn't come
in to let me know they're gone; we
don't want to be disturbed. Tell Pau
ley to call my house and send Claus
down here with a closed car. We may
have to go out. Tell him to hustle,
and call me at Roscoe's room as o o
as the car gets here. IT'S ALP q
Roscoe had laughed bitterly through
out this monologue. Drunk in bust
ness hours! Thass awf'l! Mus'n' do
such thing! Mus'n' get drunk, mus'n'
gamble, mus'n' kill 'nybody-not in
business hours! All right any other
time. Kill 'nybody you want to-'s
long faint in business hours! Fine!
Mus'n' have any trouble t III inner
fere business. Keep your trouble t
home. Dom bring 1t to tn Office. Might
innerfere business! Don't let your
wife innerfere business! Keep all, all,
all your trouble an your meanness, an
your trad-your tragedy-keep ZEN all
for home use! If you got die, go on
die t home-don' die round the Office!
Might innerfere business!"
Sheridan picked up a newspaper
from Roscoe's desk, and sat down with
his back TO his son, affecting to read.
Roscoe seemed to be Of his
fathers significant posture.
"You know VIII I thinkT" he went
on. 81 think Blbbs only one the family
any 'telligence at all. Won work, an
dim get married. Jim worked, an he
got killed. 1 worked, an l got mar
ried. Look at me! JUS look at me, l
ask you. Fine 'dustriss young bust
ness man. Look whass happen to ME!
Fine" He lifted his hand from the
sustaining chair in a d%eplorable ges-
ture, and Immediately losing his bal
ance, fell across the chair and car
omed TO the floor with a crash, re-
naming PROSTATE for several min
utes, during which Sheridan did not
relax his apparent attention to the
newspaper. He did not even look
round at the sound Of Roscoe's fall.
Roscoe slowly climbed to an up
right position, pulling himself up by
holding to the chair. He was slightly
sohered outwardly, having progressed
In the PROSTATE interval to a state Of
befuddlement less volatile. He rubbed
his dazed eyes with the back Of his left
hand.
"what-what you ask me while
ago?' he said.
"Nothin'."
Eyes, you did. What-what was itg'
"Noth!n'. You better sit down"
"You ask me what I thought about
Lamhorn. You did ask me that. Well,
l won't tell you. / won't say dam
word bout him.
The telephone bell tinkled. Sheridan
placed the receiver to his ear and said,
Right down." Then he got Roscoe's
coat and hat from a closet and brought
them to his son Get into this coat
he said. you're goin' home"
"All RI" murmured Roscoe, obedi-
emily.
They went out into the main hall by
a side door. Roscoe walked out Of the
building without lurching, and twenty
minutes later walked into his own
house In the same manner, neither he
nor his father having spoken a word
In the interval.
Sheridan did not go in with him; he
went home, and to his own room with
out meeting any Of his family. But
AZ he passed Bibbs' door he heard from
within the sound Of a cheerful young
voice humming jubllant fragments of
song:
Who looks the mustang in the eyer -. /.
With a leap from the ground
To the saddle in a bound.
And ~away-and away!
Hi-yay!
1t was the first time In Sheridan's
life that he had ever detected n
musical symptom whatever in Bibbs-
he had never even heard him whistle
and 1t seemed the last touch of irony
that the useless fool should be merry
today.
To Sheridan II was Tom o. Bedlam
singing while the house burned; and he
did not tarry to enjoy the melody, but
went into his own room and locked the
door.
CHAPTER XVIII.
He emerged only upon a second sum.
mons to dinner. two hours later. and
came to the table SO white and silent
A. -