The doctor nodded.  “I saw him; Pete, you mean.  Looked him over.  Mr. Matthews asked me to.  Sad case, very sad.  Hopeless, absolutely hopeless, Daniel.”

“Pete has not seemed as well as usual lately.  I fear so much night roaming is not good for the boy,” returned the other slowly.  “But tell me, how are Sarah and the girls?  Still looking after Dr. Davie, I suppose.”

“Just the same; haven’t changed a bit; not a bit.  Jennie looks after my socks and handkerchiefs; Mary looks after my shirts and linen; Anna looks after my ties and shoes; Sue looks after my hats and coats; and Kate looks after the things I eat; and Sarah, Sarah looks after everything and everybody, same as always.  Blast it all!  If they’d give me a show, I’d be as good as ever; good as ever, Daniel.  What can a man do; what can a man do, with an only sister and her five old maid daughters looking after him from morning until night, from morning until night, Daniel?  Tell them I am a full grown man; don’t do no good; no good at all.  Blast it all; poor old things, just got to mother something; got to, Daniel.”

While he was speaking, his eyes were dancing from one object to another in the shepherd’s rude dwelling, turning for frequent quick glances to Dad himself.  “You live here, you?  You ought not, Daniel, you ought not.  What would Sarah and the girls say?  Blast it all; what do you mean by it?  I ordered you away on a vacation.  You disappear.  Think you dead; row in the papers, mystery; I hate mystery.  Blast it all; what does it mean, what does it all mean?  Not fair to me, Daniel; not fair.”

By this time the little man had worked himself up to an astonishing pitch of excitement; his eyes snapped; his words came like pistol shots; his ejaculations were genuine explosions.  He tapped with his feet; rapped with his cane; shook his finger; and fidgeted in his chair.  “We want you back, Daniel.  I want you.  Church will want you when they know; looking for a preacher right now.  I come after you, Daniel.  Blast it all, I’ll tell Sarah and the girls, and they’ll come after you, too.  Chicago will go wild when they know that Daniel Howitt Cha—­”

“Stop!” The doctor bounced out of his chair.  The shepherd was trembling, and his voice shook with emotion.  “Forgive me, David.  But that name must never be spoken again, never.  My son is dead, and that name died with him.  It must be forgotten.”

The physician noted his friend’s agitation in amazement.  “There, there, Daniel.  I didn’t mean to.  Thought it didn’t matter when we were alone.  I—­I—­Blast it all!  Tell me Daniel, what do you mean by this strange business, this very strange business?”

A look of mingled affection, regret and pain, came into the shepherd’s face, as he replied, “Let me tell you the story, David, and you will understand.”

When he had finished, Mr. Howitt asked gently, “Have I not done right, David?  The boy is gone.  It was hard, going as he did.  But I am glad, now, for Old Matt would have killed him, as he would kill me yet, if he knew.  Thank God, we have not also made the father a murderer.  Did I not say rightly, that the old name died with Howard?  Have I not done well to stay on this spot and to give my life to this people?”