“He turns himself away.  The act is his, not mine,” replied Mr. Howland, coldly.

As he spoke, the bell rung.

“There he is, now!” exclaimed the mother, starting toward the door.

“Esther!” Mr. Howland stept in front of his wife, and, looking sternly in her face, added, “Havn’t I just said that there was no entrance for him, to-night?”

“But it’s early!  It’s only a few minutes after ten,” eagerly replied the mother.

“It’s past ten o’clock, and that settles the matter,” returned Mr. Howland.

“But where will he go?” asked the mother.

“To the Station House, if he can find no better place.  To-morrow he will most probably have a higher appreciation of the comforts of home.”

As Mr. Howland closed this sentence, the bell rung again.

“Andrew!  I must let him in!” exclaimed the mother, in a tone of anguish, and she made a movement to pass her husband.  But a strong hand was instantly laid upon her arm, and a stern voice said—­

“Don’t interfere with me in this matter, Esther!  As the father of that wayward boy, it is my duty to control him.”

“This is driving him from his home; not controlling him!”

“I’ll bear the responsibility of what I am doing,” said Mr. Howland, impatiently.  “Why will you interfere with me in this way?”

“Is he not my son also?” inquired Mrs. Howland, passing, in her distress of mind, beyond the ordinary spirit of her intercourse with her self-willed husband.

“I am his father,” coldly replied the latter, “and knowing my duty toward him, shall certainly do it.”

The bell was rung again at this moment, and more loudly than before.

“Oh, Andrew! let me beg of you to open the door!” And Mrs. Howland clasped her hands imploringly, and lifted her eyes running over with tears to her husband’s face.

“It cannot be opened to-night, Esther!” was the firm reply.  “Have I not said this over and over again.  Why will you continue these importunities?  They are of no avail.”

A loud knocking on the street door was now heard.  By this time, a servant who had retired came down from her room and was moving along the passage, when Mr. Howland intercepted her, with the question—­

“Where are you going?”

“Some one rung the bell,” replied the servant.

“Never mind; go back to your room.  You needn’t open the door.”

“Andrew isn’t in yet,” said the servant, respectfully.

“Didn’t I say, go back to your room?” returned Mr. Howland, in a sharp voice.

Twice more the bell was rung, and twice more the knocking was repeated.  Then all remained silent.

“Come, Esther!” said Mr. Howland to his wife, who was sitting on a sofa, with her face buried in her hands.  “Let us go up stairs.  It is late.”

The mother did not stir.

“Esther! did you hear me?”