The stunning nature of this information had much the same effect
on Mr. Crocker as the announcement of his ruin has upon the Good
Old Man in melodrama. He sat clutching the arms of his chair and
staring into space, saying nothing. Dismay was written upon his
anguished countenance.

His collapse sobered Jimmy. For the first time he perceived that
the situation had another side than the humorous one which had
appealed to him. He had anticipated that Mr. Crocker, who as a
general thing shared his notions of what was funny and could be
relied on to laugh in the right place, would have been struck,
like himself, by the odd and pleasing coincidence of his having
picked on for purposes of assault and battery the one young man
with whom his stepmother wished him to form a firm and lasting
friendship. He perceived now that his father was seriously upset.
Neither Jimmy nor Mr. Crocker possessed a demonstrative nature,
but there had always existed between them the deepest affection.
Jimmy loved his father as he loved nobody else in the world, and
the thought of having hurt him was like a physical pain. His
laughter died away and he set himself with a sinking heart to try
to undo the effect of his words.

"I'm awfully sorry, dad. I had no idea you would care. I wouldn't
have done a fool thing like that for a million dollars if I'd
known. Isn't there anything I can do? Gee whiz! I'll go right
round to Percy now and apologise. I'll lick his boots. Don't you
worry, dad. I'll make it all right."

The whirl of words roused Mr. Crocker from his thoughts.