The Bridgeport times and evening farmer., 1922-08-17
CHAPTER 66f.

You say I can't be your father!''
 cried Dad Lee on a high, hysterica1
 note. knew you was coming to l that. But why you aim to discredit
 the old man who gave you-your start in life, I can't see. It's cruel-that's | what it is. cruel!"
 You asked for it," I stammered.
 half regrettfng the brutal frankness l which my desperate fears for Jim had | driven me to. You know why Pm | compelled to feel this way No father 1 of mine could side with Dick West
 as you do.''
 l 'Ddck!" repeated Dad Lee thought
 fully. ''why-who would keep tabs
 on Dick if I didn't? Who'd watch l him ?''
 | You say that I began, but a.
 tap on the door interrupted me. Pulling myself together with the consciousness that I was breathing hard as if I'd been running a race. I went to the door. There stood Bertha herself. spick and span in gray | mohair and neatly capped and apron ed.
 Dinner is served, Mrs. Harrison" she said in the most amiable of tones Why Bertha, that's splendid! Din ner-when I only asked for cold lunch.
 First you prepare it at this hour of the night. Now you're going to | serve it. This isn't fair of me though it's very kind of you,'' cried. "As if Lyons and [ aren't always hoping against hope that there's go- ing to be something we can do for for you, big or 1ittle,'' Bertha answer ed quietly.
 "T1l come directly" agreed, not saying that twe'' would come, because I felt reasonably sure that after what had passed between us. Dad Lee would wish to take his departure and avoid further argument with me
 When I turned back to the room, however, I found him standing up and rocking back and forth on his heels after a fashion of his. He was pull ing his vest down with vigorous movements to indicate the hiatus un- derneath it. And giving me an amia- ble and bland smile, he declared in an unruff1ed tone:
 Dinner! That's good-that's good, m dear. We'll both feel more like talking after we've had our noses in the feed bags. I used to tell your mother that I wouldn't mind trust ing our baby, Barbara Anne, in the stall with the most skittish horse in the world after he'd had a good hot bran mash"
 The sheer audacity of it appealed to me. Ignoring my lack of faith, slossing over my challenge with the utmost good temper here was Dad Lee talking if I'd been joking all the while. He seemed to assume that our relationship was one of those com pletely established and accepted things which can be taken for granted couldn't say word. Almost in a daze turned out of the room.
 He followed me into the dinins. room with an air of comradeship. In the name of hospitality I had to play up to it, to some extent But the mere fact that he could play act' like this made me the more sure of his lack of sincerity in every re- spect.
 We got through dinner hastily and on a note of small talk. When we finished, Dad Lee pulled out a cigar and bit off the end with an air of we'll being. Then he said, jovially:
 "As from father to daughter, I guess I ain't expected to ask permis- sion before I light my weed in this swell place my fllys occupying
 You may smoke.'' I replied curtly, wond ering as I spoke if Bertha had overheard my guests vauntings as to his relationship with me And I hadn't the grace-if grace it would be ito be ashamed of my snobbishness.
 And if you want to let the old man see how modern his girl is, go right ahead and smoke up one of your cis arettes. haven't any old fashioned notions against the liberties the young Folk allow themselves nowadays.- (Tra Re (sonfi71Ied