"Do be quiet, dear," cried Mrs. Smithers. "Am I to be insulted by this idiot of yours, madam?" thundered Smithers. The wife raised her apron to her eyes and began to cry. Smithers seized Tommy by the ear and pulled it, exclaiming: "What do you mean? Are you luny?" "I meant a beef tongue, not too much salted," replied Tommy. "What did you do with the oysters?" "Won't you lick me, if I tell you?" "N-no." "When I found the horse wouldn't look at them, I called Charley Barker, and we polished them off between us." Mr. Smithers let go of Tommy's ear and looked at him ferociously. "You young villain!" he exclaimed; "I'll skin you some of these days." At this Mrs. Smithers burst into a fresh torrent of grief. "Oh, that I should have to hear my boy called such a name!" she sobbed. "Silence, woman!" roared her husband. She sank into a chair, exhausted, and redoubled her groans and tears. "See here," exclaimed Barker, "I'll send for some more. There's no harm done." "No, you won't," replied Smithers. "You're just as bad as the boy. I could see you snickering all the time, and it's the last chance you'll have of coming into my house." "I can get out of it," said Barker. "Git!" This was said in such a contemptuous manner that Barker had no alternative. Putting on his hat, he went. When he was gone, Smithers attempted to do what he had not dared to undertake while the undertaker was in the room. Seizing his rattan, he rushed upon Tommy. His mother threw herself between them, and Tommy escaped the intended blows, but his stepfather chased him around the room, uttering frantic cries. The door being open, the boy thought it would be only prudent to make his escape. "You rascal! you dunce!" cried Smithers. "The idea of giving oysters to horses! I'll be even with you!" Tommy banged the door after him, and his stepfather, having put his hand on it, got badly crushed. He withdrew his hand covered with blood, and as he sucked his fingers he danced an original fandango on the floor. At this moment the door opened and a boy's form appeared. Blinded with rage and smarting with pain, Smithers struck out with the cane. "Oh, pa!" cried the boy; "what have I done? It's me, Harold. Look out, or you'll hit Ally." Mr. Smithers groaned again. In the passion of the moment he struck his own child, Harold, who, with his sister, had just returned from the party. "My darling!" he exclaimed, "I'm truly sorry. It was that stupid, that silly, that insane beast, Tommy, I meant to chastise." "What's he done, pa?" "Don't ask me. Maria, I'm going down the street, to the drug store, to have my hand dressed." "You shouldn't be so violent," she said. "Just keep that boy out of my sight when I come back, that's all." "I can't help his making mistakes." "I'll kill or cure him, anyway." "When shall you be back?" "I don't know." "Don't be long. I'm tired and hungry. We've had no supper," said Mrs. Smithers. "I shall get mine outside."