"She was up at five this morning to do the washing, and has been working all day." Dan spoke very quietly, and did not look at his father. "Her mother wouldn't have done it," whimpered Mr. Taylor. "Here am I without two pence in my pocket, and my very children rebel against me. Is there any thing in the house for supper?--tell me that." "I don't know. I don't think there is." "You don't know! You don't think there is!" sneered Mr. Taylor. "You've had yours, I suppose?" "No, sir, I have not had any." "What do you mean by 'sir'?" cried Mr. Taylor furiously. "How dare you call your father 'sir'? Is that what you learned from your friend Joshua?" Dan clasped his hands nervously together; he was agitated and indignant, and he did not dare to give expression to his thoughts. "Why don't you speak?" demanded Mr. Taylor with unreasoning anger. "What do you mean by sitting there mocking your father?" "I am not mocking you," said Dan. "And as for speaking, I am too much ashamed to say what I think; so I had better remain silent." "How dare you speak to me in that way? Haven't I kept you for years in idleness and luxury? Haven't I provided for you? And now when I am in bad luck, and haven't sixpence to get a quartern loaf"--he meant a quatern of gin, but the loaf was the more dignified way of putting it--"my children turn against me." "It isn't my fault that you have had to keep me," Dan said quietly. "If I had been like other boys, I should have been glad to work and earn money; but I am crippled, and never felt that I was unfortunate until now. I don't think mother would have thrown my misfortune in my teeth as you have done." Mr. Taylor was too much steeped in gin to feel the reproachful words. He continued to bemoan his hard fate and the ingratitude of his children. In the midst of his bemoaning he caught sight of an empty cage. An inspiration fell upon him. That bird-cage could probably be exchanged for a pint of gin. Present bliss was before him, and the prospect of it made him cunning. He ordered Dan to bed, and Dan, who could crawl with the aid of his crutches, went, thankful to escape from so painful an interview. When Dan came down the next morning he discovered his loss. He was much grieved; not so much at the loss of the bird-cage, but at the thought that his other cages and the birds might be appropriated in like manner. He said nothing of what had occurred, but that night when he went to bed he had all his birds and cages removed to his bedroom, and he locked his door.