Robert passed into the house in advance of his father, whom he quite understood and appreciated.  There was plenty of paternal love for him, and a hearty smack of the hand, and the inheritance of the farm, when he turned into the right way.  Meantime Jonathan was ready to fulfil his parental responsibility, by sheltering, feeding, and not publicly abusing his offspring, of whose spirit he would have had a higher opinion if Robert had preferred, since he must go to the deuce, to go without troubling any of his relatives; as it was, Jonathan submitted to the infliction gravely.  Neither in speech nor in tone did he solicit from the severe maiden, known as Aunt Anne, that snub for the wanderer whom he introduced, which, when two are agreed upon the infamous character of a third, through whom they are suffering, it is always agreeable to hear.  He said, “Here, Anne; here’s Robert.  He hasn’t breakfasted.”

“He likes his cold bath beforehand,” said Robert, presenting his cheek to the fleshless, semi-transparent woman.

Aunt Anne divided her lips to pronounce a crisp, subdued “Ow!” to Jonathan after inspecting Robert; and she shuddered at sight of Robert, and said “Ow!” repeatedly, by way of an interjectory token of comprehension, to all that was uttered; but it was a horrified “No!” when Robert’s cheek pushed nearer.

“Then, see to getting some breakfast for him,” said Jonathan.  “You’re not anyway bound to kiss a drunken—­”

“Dog’s the word, sir,” Robert helped him.  “Dogs can afford it.  I never saw one in that state; so they don’t lose character.”

He spoke lightly, but dejection was in his attitude.  When his aunt Anne had left the room, he exclaimed,—­

“By jingo! women make you feel it, by some way that they have.  She’s a religious creature.  She smells the devil in me.”

“More like, the brandy,” his father responded.

“Well!  I’m on the road, I’m on the road!” Robert fetched a sigh.

“I didn’t make the road,” said his father.

“No, sir; you didn’t.  Work hard:  sleep sound that’s happiness.  I’ve known it for a year.  You’re the man I’d imitate, if I could.  The devil came first the brandy’s secondary.  I was quiet so long.  I thought myself a safe man.”

He sat down and sent his hair distraught with an effort at smoothing it.

“Women brought the devil into the world first.  It’s women who raise the devil in us, and why they—­”

He thumped the table just as his aunt Anne was preparing to spread the cloth.

“Don’t be frightened, woman,” said Jonathan, seeing her start fearfully back.  “You take too many cups of tea, morning and night—­hang the stuff!”

“Never, never till now have you abused me, Jonathan,” she whimpered, severely.

“I don’t tell you to love him; but wait on him.  That’s all.  And I’ll about my business.  Land and beasts—­they answer to you.”