"Now stand back and keep away from me, for
I'm afraid I'll kill you!"

"What have I done?" cringed Bart, shielding
his face with his elbow as if to ward off a blow. The
suddenness of the attack had stunned him.

"Don't ask me, you whelp, or I'll strangle you.
Look at me! That's what you been up to, is it?"

Bart straightened himself, and made some show
of resistance. His breath was coming back to him.

"I haven't done anything--and if I did--"

"You lie! Martha's back from Trenton and Lucy
told her. You never thought of me. You never
thought of that sister of hers whose heart you've
broke, nor of the old woman who nursed her like a
mother. You thought of nobody but your stinkin'
self. You're not a man! You're a cur! a dog!
Don't move! Keep away from me, I tell ye, or I
may lose hold of myself."

Bart was stretching out his hands now as if in
supplication. He had never seen his father like
this--the sight frightened him.

"Father, will you listen--" he pleaded.