“Yes.  There are some that break down all the other men that work with ’em.  They either die, or go crazy, or have to quit, and are no use the rest of their lives.  The last’s my case, I guess—­’complicated by domestic difficulties’!”

“You set there and tell me you give up?” Sheridan’s voice shook, and so did the gesticulating hand which he extended appealingly toward the despondent figure.  “Don’t do it, Roscoe!  Don’t say it!  Say you’ll come down there again and be a man!  This woman ain’t goin’ to trouble you any more.  The work ain’t goin’ to hurt you if you haven’t got her to worry you, and you can get shut o’ this nasty whiskey-guzzlin’; it ain’t fastened on you yet.  Don’t say—­”

“It’s no use on earth,” Roscoe mumbled.  “No use on earth.”

“Look here!  If you want another month’s vacation—­”

“I know Gurney told you, so what’s the use talking about ’vacations’?”

“Gurney!” Sheridan vociferated the name savagely.  “It’s Gurney, Gurney, Gurney!  Always Gurney!  I don’t know what the world’s comin’ to with everybody runnin’ around squealin’, ‘The doctor says this,’ and, ‘The doctor says that’!  It makes me sick!  How’s this country expect to get its Work done if Gurney and all the other old nanny-goats keep up this blattin’—­’Oh, oh!  Don’t lift that stick o’ wood; you’ll ruin your nerves!’ So he says you got ’nervous exhaustion induced by overwork and emotional strain.’  They always got to stick the Work in if they see a chance!  I reckon you did have the ‘emotional strain,’ and that’s all’s the matter with you.  You’ll be over it soon’s this woman’s gone, and Work’s the very thing to make you quit frettin’ about her.”

“Did Gurney tell you I was fit to work?”

“Shut up!” Sheridan bellowed.  “I’m so sick o’ that man’s name I feel like shootin’ anybody that says it to me!” He fumed and chafed, swearing indistinctly, then came and stood before his son.  “Look here; do you think you’re doin’ the square thing by me?  Do you?  How much you worth?”

“I’ve got between seven and eight thousand a year clear, of my own, outside the salary.  That much is mine whether I work or not.”

“It is?  You could’a pulled it out without me, I suppose you think, at your age?”

“No.  But it’s mine, and it’s enough.”

“My Lord!  It’s about what a Congressman gets, and you want to quit there!  I suppose you think you’ll get the rest when I kick the bucket, and all you have to do is lay back and wait!  You let me tell you right here, you’ll never see one cent of it.  You go out o’ business now, and what would you know about handlin’ it five or ten or twenty years from now?  Because I intend to stay here a little while yet, my boy!  They’d either get it away from you or you’d sell for a nickel and let it be split up and—­” He whirled about, marched to the other end of the room, and stood silent a moment.