During this long tirade Robert Lauderdale had walked up and down before him with short, heavy steps, uttering occasional ejaculations, but at the last words he took hold of Ralston’s arm again--rather roughly this time. “You’re an insolent young vagabond!” he cried, breaking into a fresh fit of anger. “You’re insulting me in my own house.” “You’ve been insulting me in your own house for the last quarter of an hour,” retorted Ralston. “And you’re throwing away the last chance you’ll ever get from me--” “It wasn’t much of a chance--for a gentleman,” sneered the young man, interrupting him. “Confound it! Can’t you let me speak? I say--” He hesitated, losing the thread of his intended speech in his anger. “You don’t seem to have anything especial to say, except in the way of abuse, and there’s no reason at all why I should listen to that sort of thing. I’m not your son, and I’m not your butler--I’m thankful I’m not your dog!” “John!” roared the old man, shaking him by the arm. “Be silent, sir! I won’t submit to such language!” “What right have you to tell me what I shall submit to, or not submit to? Because you’re a sort of distant relation, I suppose, and have got into the habit of lording it over the whole tribe--who would lick the heels of your boots for your money--every one of them, except my mother and Katharine and me. Don’t tell me what I’m to submit to--” “I didn’t say you!” shouted old Lauderdale. “I said that I wouldn’t hear such language from you--you’re drunk, John Ralston--you’re mad drunk.” “Then you’ll have to listen to my ravings just as long as you force me to stay under your roof,” answered Ralston, almost trembling with rage. “If you keep me here, I shall tell you just what I think of you--” “By the Eternal--this is too much--you young--puppy! You graceless, ungrateful--” “I should really like to know what I’m to be grateful to you for,” said Ralston, feeling that his hands were growing icy cold. “You’ve never done anything for me or mine in your life--as you know. You’d much better let me go. You’ll regret it if you don’t.” “And you dare to threaten me, too--I tell you--I’ll make you--” His words choked him, and again he shook Ralston’s arm violently. “You won’t make me forget that you’re three times my age, at all events,” answered the young man. “But unless you’re very careful during the next ten minutes you’ll have a fit of apoplexy. You’d much better let me go away. This sort of thing isn’t good for a man of your age--and it’s not particularly dignified either. You’d realize it if you could see yourself and hear yourself--oh! take care, please! That’s my hat.” Robert Lauderdale’s fury had boiled over at last and expressed itself in a very violent gesture, not intended for a blow, but very like one, and utterly destructive to Ralston’s hat, which rolled shapeless upon the polished wooden floor. The young man stooped as he spoke the last words, and picked it up.