way--sneaking around after me in bar-rooms-he'd get only his trouble
for his pains. I'd like to see him try it, though! There'd be a nice
time of it, I guess. Wouldn't I creep off with him, as meek as a lamb!
Ho! ho!"

"Who is that old gentleman who came in just now?" I inquired of the
person who thus commented on the incident which had just occurred.

"Mr. Hargrove is his name."

"And that was his son?"

"Yes; and I'm only sorry he doesn't possess a little more spirit."

"How old is he?"

"About twenty."

"Not of legal age, then?"

"He's old enough to be his own master."

"The law says differently," I suggested.

In answer, the young man cursed the law, snapping his fingers in its
imaginary face as he did so.

"At least you will admit," said I, "that Edward Hargrove, in the use of
a liberty to go where he pleases, and do what he pleases, exhibits but
small discretion."

"I will admit no such thing. What harm is there, I would like to know,
in a social little game such as we were playing? There were no
stakes--we were not gambling."

I pointed to the half-emptied glass of ale left by young Hargrove.

"Oh! oh!" half sneered, half laughed a man, twice the age of the one I
had addressed, who sat near by, listening to our conversation. I looked
at him for a moment, and then said:

"The great danger lies there, without doubt. If it were only a glass of
ale and a game of dominoes--but it doesn't stop there, and well the
young man's father knows it."

"Perhaps he does," was answered. "I remember him in his younger days;
and a pretty high boy he was. He didn't stop at a glass of ale and a
game of dominoes; not he! I've seen him as drunk as a lord many a time;
and many a time at a horse-race, or cock-fight, betting with the
bravest. I was only a boy, though a pretty old boy; but I can tell you,
Hargrove was no saint."

"I wonder not, then, that he is so anxious for his son," was my remark.
"He knows well the lurking dangers in the path he seems inclined to
enter."

"I don't see that they have done him much harm. He sowed his wild
oats--then got married, and settled down into a good, substantial
citizen. A little too religious and pharisaical, I always thought; but
upright in his dealings. He had his pleasures in early life, as was
befitting the season of youth--why not let his son taste of the same
agreeable fruit? He's wrong, sir--wrong! And I've said as much to Ned.
I only wish the boy had shown the ri