"Well, I'll overlook it this time," said his stepfather; "but don't let it happen again, or I'll take you into the woodshed and welt you considerable." Mrs. Smithers caught him in her arms, crying: "Oh, my darling! I should never have got over it if you had been buried in that coffin." "Here, stop that blubbering!" exclaimed Smithers. "Give me another cup of coffee; I must be off, or I'll be late at the store!" And soon after he hastened off to the ferry. There was a ring at the bell. Mrs. Smithers dried her tears, and added: "See who that is." Tommy opened the door, and a man, poorly dressed, with a worn expression on his face, which was weather-beaten and battered, stood on the stoop. What made him more remarkable was the fact that he had only one eye. No attempt was made to conceal the defect, which might have been remedied by one of glass, and the vacant space made him look even more homely and ghastly. "Does Mrs. Smithers reside here?" he inquired, in a voice harsh and hoarse through drink and exposure to the weather. "Yes," replied Tommy. At this moment Mrs. Smithers raised her head, took one long look at the stranger, and uttering a piercing shriek, would have fallen to the ground had not Tommy rushed forward and supported her with his arm. The man with one eye smiled grimly, and showing no outward concern, stepped into the house, closing the door after him. "Let go," he said. "Where's the parlor?" "That door to the left," answered Tommy. "Open it." Mrs. Smithers had fainted, but the stranger took her in his arms as if she had been a child. "What's your game?" asked Tommy. "That's my mother." "I know it," was the calm reply. "Don't touch her, you dirty-looking tramp!" continued Tommy. "How dare you?" "Because I am your father, and she is my wife." At this remarkable and unexpected reply, Tommy opened his eyes wide in amazement. "Thought my father was dead?" he said. "No matter what any of you thought, I am alive and I am here. Open the door." There was an air of authority about this man who claimed to be the Mr. Thompson whom Mrs. Smithers had first married, and Tommy no longer refused to obey him. He opened the door of the room in which a good fire was burning, and the stranger carried the woman in, laying her on a sofa, and chafing her hands so as to circulate the blood and restore her to consciousness. Tommy could scarcely realize the fact that this rough, ragged and ugly man was the father of whom he had heard his mother speak so often. Young as he was when his father went West--only to die, as was reported and supposed--he remembered a very different sort of person. In the course of a few minutes, during which Tommy remained standing near the closed door, in an awestruck sort of manner, Mrs. Smithers became herself again. Her mind was clear, and the passing faintness having gone away, she looked the stranger in the face.