Great Scott! but I felt sick.  Here we’d been, like two pebbles in a rooster’s gizzard, grinding up a lot of corn that we weren’t going to get any good of.  I itched to go for that young man myself, but I knew this was one of those holy moments between father and son when an outsider wants to pull his tongue back into its cyclone cellar.  And when I looked at Ham, I saw that no help was needed, for the old man was coming out of his twenty-five-years’ trance over Percy.  He didn’t say a word for a few minutes, just kept boring into the young man with his eyes, and though Percy had a cheek like brass, Ham’s stare went through it as easy as a two-inch bit goes into boiler-plate.  Then, “Take that cigaroot out of your mouth,” he bellered.  “What d’ye mean by coming into my office smoking cigareets?”

Percy had always smoked whatever he blamed pleased, wherever he blamed pleased before, though Old Ham wouldn’t stand for it from any one else.  But because things have been allowed to go all wrong for twenty-five years, it’s no reason why they should be allowed to go wrong for twenty-five years and one day; and I was mighty glad to see Old Ham rubbing the sleep out of his eyes at last.

“But, gov’ner,” Percy began, throwing the cigarette away, “I really—­”

“Don’t you but me; I won’t stand it.  And don’t you call me gov’ner.  I won’t have your low-down street slang in my office.  So you’re the great bull, eh? you bull-pup! you bull in a china shop!  The great bull-calf, you mean.  Where’d you get the money for all this cussedness?  Where’d you get the money?  Tell me that.  Spit it out—­quick—­I say.”

[Illustration:  “Tried to bust your poor old father”]

“Well, I’ve got a million dollars,” Percy dribbled out.

“Had a million dollars, and it was my good money,” the old man moaned.

“And an interest in the business, you know.”

“Yep; I oughter.  I s’pose you hocked that.”

“Not exactly; but it helped me to raise a little money.”

“You bet it helped you; but where’d you get the rest?  Where’d you raise the money to buy all this cash lard and ship it abroad?  Where’d you get it?  You tell me that.”

“Well, ah—­the banks—­loaned—­me—­a—–­good deal.”

“On your face.”

“Not exactly that—­but they thought—­inferred—­that you were interested with me—­and without—­” Percy’s tongue came to a full stop when he saw the old man’s face.

“Oh! they did, eh! they did, eh!” Ham exploded.  “Tried to bust your poor old father, did you!  Would like to see him begging his bread, would you, or piking in the bucket-shops for five-dollar bills!  Wasn’t satisfied with soaking him with his own million!  Couldn’t rest when you’d swatted him with his own business!  Wanted to bat him over the head with his own credit!  And now you come whining around—­”

“But, dad—­”

“Don’t you dad me, dad-fetch you—­don’t you try any Absalom business on me.  You’re caught by the hair, all right, and I’m not going to chip in for any funeral expenses.”