Burke rose, squared his mighty shoulders, and advanced toward his father-in-law. He looked as if he rather enjoyed the situation.
"Betsy," shrieked Mr. Sparrow, dodging into a corner, "be you in this? Do you want to see me murdered?"
Mrs. Sparrow was troubled. She had implicit confidence in her daughter, but she sympathized with her husband's infirmities.
"Idella," she protested, "seems to me I wouldn't-- Remember them nervous attacks he's' subject to."·
"Nerves," declared Idella, "come from the stomach. I'll 'tend to them later. We must cure his lungs first. Bill, fetch him along."
Mr. Burke's hand settled firmly on the back of the invalid's neck. "Trot along, dad," he commanded. Mr. Sparrow fought and hung back. The other hand descended and seized him by the waist-band. He moved toward the door, "walking, Spanish" like a small boy in the school-yard.
Idella opened the door. "Nobody can say," she remarked with emphasis, "that I let my father die of co