"I would give five dollars to see that boy thrashed," he said to himself moodily, as from the window he watched Robert playing ball in the street with his friend Sam Jones. As Robert seemed to be enjoying himself, he could not resist the temptation to interfere. So he opened the window and called out, "Robert, I wish you would stop playing ball in the street." "Why?" asked his step-son. "Because the ball might come this way and break one of the windows." "There is no chance of it, Mr. Talbot. We are sending the ball up and down the street." "Still there is danger." "I don't see it." "Will you be guided by my wishes?" demanded Talbot querulously. "I would if they were reasonable. I don't think they are." "I am the best judge of that. I don't want you to play ball in front of my house." "Your house? How long has it been yours? It belongs to my mother." "Your mother is my wife." "I am sorry to say that you are right. But that doesn't make the house yours." "I have no wish to quibble. I represent your mother, and I have a right to ask you to stop playing ball in front of the house." "Even if the house were yours, you don't own the street. Go ahead, Sam!" Mr. Talbot banged the door and went into the house. "That is the most impudent cub I ever saw," he muttered. He was worsted again, and he felt angry and provoked. "What a sweet step-father you've got, Robert," said Sam. "Isn't he? But don't call him my step-father. I want to forget that he is connected with me in any way. He is constantly nagging me. I don't think I can stand it much longer." "How does your mother stand it?" "Mother has a very sweet temper, and she has no will of her own." "Unlike you," said Sam, smiling. "Yes, I have a will of my own. I don't think a boy or man can succeed who hasn't." "You say you can't stand it. What will that lead to?" "It may lead to my leaving the house, and going out into the world to seek my fortune. Our house is a large one, but it isn't large enough to contain Mr. Talbot and myself." "I hope you won't have to go, Robert. I should miss you awfully." "And I should miss you, Sam. But time will show." Probably no persons could be more incompatible, or less likely to get along together, than Robert and Mr. Talbot. The presence of one was a constant irritation to the other. This could have but one issue. One day, perhaps a week after the dispute about ball-playing, Robert entered the gate on his way back from the village. Mr. Talbot was standing on the lawn. He had scarcely entered the yard when a man reeling under the influence of drink staggered by. "That man has more than he can carry," observed Robert. "Yes," answered Talbot with a smile. "Take care that you don't fall into the same habit." "Why do you caution me," asked Robert curtly. "Do you think there is any need of it?" "Yes, if all that I have heard is true." "What have you heard?" "That your father was an intemperate man." Robert's eyes flashed with intense anger.