you?" "He told me nothing,
Dad," I said, as gently as I could. "Of course he didn't. I am almost a
stranger to him. Besides, what in the world was there to tell? I came
to you because I had something to tell. I mean to marry Mary Lathrop,
if she will have me--" I got no further than that. "No!" he fairly
screamed. "No! No! No! Oh, my God, no!" And then the doctor came running
in, we got Dad to bed, and it was all over for that day, except that I
naturally was tremendously upset and conscience-stricken. I could see
that the doctor thought I was to blame, that I had confessed something
or other--something criminal, I imagine he surmised--to Dad and that it
had knocked the poor old chap over. And I couldn't explain, because what
I had told him was not for outsiders to hear.

Well, after a terribly anxious night and a worrisome forenoon the doctor
told me that father was himself again and wanted to see me at once.
"I've said all I can against it," said the doctor. "I don't know what
sort of rumpus you two had yesterday, but it came dangerously near being
the finish for him. And it must not be repeated; I'm making that as
emphatic as I can." I assured him that so far as I was concerned there
would not be a scene, and then went in to Dad's room. He looked white
enough and sick enough but he was rational and his mind was keen and
clear. He got me to tell the whole story about you all over again and
he asked a lot of questions; in fact, he cross-examined me pretty
thoroughly. When I had finished his tone was calm, but I noticed that
his hand was shaking and he seemed to be holding himself in. "And so you
think you want to marry this down-east country girl, do you?" he said.
"I certainly do," said I. He laughed, a forced laugh--didn't sound like
his at all--and he said: "Well, my boy, you'll get over it. It's a whole
lot better to get over it now than to do so by and by when it's too
late. It's a good thing I called you home when I did. You stay here and
keep on with your studies and I'll keep on getting into shape again. By
next summer, when we go on our fishing trip, you'll have forgotten all
about your Down-Easter." Well, THAT was a staggerer, coming from him. It
didn't sound like him at all, and again I had that feeling that his
mind was going. You see, Mary, I never asked Dad for anything I didn't
get--never. Now, I wasn't asking, I was just telling him what I had made
up my mind to have, and he treated me this way. I answe