The Idaho Springs siftings-news., 1917-03-09

You think them men out theFO oFo
waitin' to talk business with q drunk
ard? You think you can come to your
once and do business drunk1 By
George! I wonder how often this has
been happening and me not on to I'll
I'll have 4 look over your books tomor-
row. and III
Roscoe stumbled to his feet, laugh
ing wildly. and stood swaying. con-
irving to hold himself In position BY
clutching the back Of the heavy chair
In which he had been sitting.
"Hoo-hoorahr' b. cried "'D my
principles. too. Be drunken al you
want to-outsids business hours. Don
for Gossake le'n'thing innerfers bust
ness hours! Business!! ThassitI You're
right father. Drink! Die! Levery-
thing 60 to hell. but don't let innerfers
businessr'
Sheridan had seized the telephone
upon Roscoe's desk, and was calling
his own ONCE, overhead. "Abefcrom-
bief Come down to my son Roscos'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 10 b disturbed. Tell Pau
ley to call my house and send Claus
down here with q closed car. We may
have to go out Tell him to hustle.
and call me at Roscoe's room a. soon
a. the car gets here. IT'S all!'
Roscoe had laughed bitterly through
out this monologue. Drunk in busi-
ness hours! Thass awrl! 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. XIII 'nybody you want to-'s
long faint In business hours! Fine!
Mus'n' have any trouble t II inner
fere business. Keep your trouble t
home. Don bring 1t to tn ONCE. 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 'em all
for home use! II you got die. go on
die 7 home-don' die round the ofilcel
Might innerfere businessv'
Sheridan picked up q newspaper
from Roscoe's desk, and sat down with
bis back to his son, affecting to read.
Roscoe seemed to be unaware of bis
fathers significant posture.
You know VIII l thinkr he went
on. II think Bibbs only one the family
any 'telligence at all. Won work, an
DIM get married. Jim worked, an he
got killed. worked, an I got mar
ried. Look at me! JUS look at me,
ask you. Fine 'dustriss young busi-
ness man. Look whass happen to mel
Finer He lifted his hand from the
sustaining chair in q deplorable ges-
ture. and Immediately losing his bal
ance, fell across the chair and car
omed to the door 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
sobered 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
agow he said.
"Nothip'."
"Yes, you did. What-what was it7'
"Nothin'. You better sit down."
"You ask me what I thought about
Lamhorn. You did ask me that. Well.
I won't tell you. won't say dam
word bout himv
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
q 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 = word
in the interval.
Sheridan did not 60 in with him; he
went home, and to his own room with
out meeting any Of his family. But
as he passed Bibbs' door he heard from
within the sound Of a cheerful young
voice humming jubilant fragments Of
song:
Who looks the mustang in the eyof
With . leap from the ground
To tho saddle in . bound.
And aWay-And awayi
Hi-yay!
It was the first time in Sheridan's
life that he had ever detected any
musical symptom whatever in Bibbs-
he had never even heard him whistle
and It seemed the last touch Of irony
that the useless fool should b merry