too high-priced a workin'-man either to live in my house or work in
my shop?"

"Find other work," said Bibbs.

"There! You hear him for yourself!" Sheridan cried. "You hear
what--"

"Keep you hand in that sling! Yes, I hear him."

Sheridan leaned over Gurney and shouted, in a voice that cracked and
broke, piping into falsetto: "He thinks of bein' a PLUMBER! He wants
to be a PLUMBER! He told me he couldn't THINK if he went into
business--he wants to be a plumber so he can THINK!"

He fell back a step, wiping his forhead with the back of his left
hand. "There! That's my son! That's the only son I got now! That's
my chance to live," he cried, with a bitterness that seemed to leave
ashes in his throat. "That's my one chance to live--that thing you
see in the doorway yonder!"

Dr. Gurney thoughtfully regarded the bandage strip he had been
winding, and tossed it into the open bag. "What's the matter
with giving Bibbs a chance to live?" he said, coolly. "I would
if I were you. You've had TWO that went into business."

Sheridan's mouth moved grotesquely before he could speak. "Joe
Gurney," he said, when he could command himself so far, "are you
accusin' me of the responsibility for the death of my son James?"