was clad in funeral black. He wore a long frock coat instead of the
usual knockabout suit he affected on the farm. His face was white and
haggard. There was an instant interchange of names.

"John!"

"William!"

And then--

"Is father ill?" burst out the younger.

"Janet said--"

"Dead!" interposed William harshly, all his indignation flaming into
speech and action as he confronted the cause of the disaster.

"Dead! Good God!"

"God had nothing to do with it."

"You mean?"

"You did it."

"I?"

"Yes. Your drunken revelry, your reckless extravagance, your dissipation
with women, your unfeeling silence, your--"