"Mother, listen to me a moment. Mr. Julius Hammond proposed me for membership in the club--my employer! I should never have thought of joining if it hadn't been for him. You remember my last raise in salary? You thought it was for merit, of course, and father thought it was luck. Well, it was neither--or both, perhaps. Now, this is confidential and to yourself only. I wouldn't tell it to any one else.

Hammond called me into his private office one afternoon when the bank was closed, and said, 'Saunders, I want you to join the Athletic Club; I'll propose you.' I was amazed and told him I couldn't afford it.

'Yes, you can,' he answered. 'I'm going to raise your salary double the amount of entrance fee and annual. If you don't join I'll cut it down.'

So I joined. I think I should have been a fool if I hadn't."

"d.i.c.k, I never heard of such a thing! What in the world did he want you to join for?"

"Well, mother," said d.i.c.k, looking at his watch, "that's a long story.

I'll tell it to you some other evening. I haven't time to-night. I must be off."

"Oh, d.i.c.k, don't go to-night. Please stay at home, for my sake."

d.i.c.k smoothed his mother's grey hair and kissed her on the forehead.

Then he said: "Won't to-morrow night do as well, mother? I can't stay to-night. I have an appointment at the club."

"Telegraph to them and put it off. Stay for my sake to-night, d.i.c.k. I never asked you before."

The look of anxiety came into his face again.

"Mother, it is impossible, really it is. Please don't ask me again.

Anyhow, I know it is father who wants me to stay, not you. I presume he's on the duty tack. I think what he has to say will keep till to- morrow night. If he must work off some of his sentiments on gambling, let him place his efforts where they are needed--let him tackle Jule Hammond, but not during business hours."

"You surely don't mean to say that a respected business man--a banker like Mr. Hammond--gambles?"

"Don't I? Why, Hammond's a plunger from Plungerville, if you know what that means. From nine to three he is the strictest and best business man in the city. If you spoke to him then of the True Blue Athletic Club he wouldn't know what you were talking about. But after three o'clock he'll take any odds you like to offer, from matching pennies to backing an unknown horse."

Mrs. Saunders sighed. It was a wicked world into which her boy had to go to earn his living, evidently.

"And now, mother, I really must be off. I'll stay at home to-morrow night and take my scolding like a man. Good-night."

He kissed her and hurried away before she could say anything more, leaving her sitting there with folded hands to await, with her customary patience and just a trifle of apprehension, the coming of her husband. There was no mistaking the heavy footfall. Mrs. Saunders smiled sadly as she heard it, remembering that d.i.c.k had said once that, even if he were safe within the gates of Paradise, the sound of his father's footsteps would make the chills run up his backbone. She had reproved the levity of the remark at the time, but she often thought of it, especially when she knew there was trouble ahead--as there usually was.

"Where's Richard? Isn't he home yet?" were the old man's first words.

"He has been home, but he had to go out again. He had an appointment."

"Did you tell him I wanted to speak with him?"

"Yes, and he said he would stay home to-morrow night."

"Did he know what I said to-night?"

"I'm not sure that I told him you----"

"Don't shuffle now. He either knew or he did not. Which is it?"

"Yes, he knew, but he thought it might not be urgent, and he----"

"That will do. Where is his appointment?"

"At the club, I think."

"Ah-h-h!" The old man dwelt on the exclamation as if he had at last drawn out the reluctant worst. "Did he say when he would be home?"

"No."

"Very well. I will wait half-an-hour for him, and if he is not in by that time I will go to his club and have my talk with him there."

Old Mr. Saunders sat grimly down with his hat still on, and crossed his hands over the k.n.o.b of his stout walking-stick, watching the clock that ticked slowly against the wall. Under these distressing circ.u.mstances the old woman lost her presence of mind and did the very thing she should not have done. She should have agreed with him, but instead of that she opposed the plan and so made it inevitable. It would be a cruel thing, she said, to shame their son before his friends, to make him a laughing-stock among his acquaintances. Whatever was to be said could be said as well to-morrow night as to-night, and that in their own home, where, at least, no stranger would overhear. As the old man made no answer but silently watched the clock, she became almost indignant with him. She felt she was culpable in entertaining even the suspicion of such a feeling against her lawful husband, but it did seem to her that he was not acting judiciously towards d.i.c.k. She hoped to turn his resentment from their son to herself, and would have welcomed any outburst directed against her alone. In this excited state, being brought, as it were, to bay, she had the temerity to say--

"You are wrong about one thing, and you may also be wrong in thinking d.i.c.k--in--in what you think about d.i.c.k."

The old man darted one lowering look at her, and though she trembled, she welcomed the glance as indicating the success of her red herring.

"What was I wrong about?"

"You were wrong--Mr. Hammond knows d.i.c.k is a member of the club. He is a member himself and he insisted d.i.c.k should join. That's why he raised his salary."

"A likely story! Who told you that?"

"d.i.c.k told me himself."

"And you believed it, of course!" Saunders laughed in a sneering, cynical sort of way and resumed his scrutiny of the clock. The old woman gave up the fight and began to weep silently, hoping, but in vain, to hear the light step of her son approaching the door. The clock struck the hour; the old man rose without a word, drew his hat further over his brow, and left the house.

Up to the last moment Mrs. Saunders hardly believed her husband would carry out his threat. Now, when she realised he was determined, she had one wild thought of flying to the club and warning her son. A moment's consideration put that idea out of the question. She called the serving-maid, who came, as it seemed to the anxious woman, with exasperating deliberation.

"Jane," she cried, "do you know where the Athletic Club is? Do you know where Centre Street is?"

Jane knew neither club nor locality.

"I want a message taken there to d.i.c.k, and it must go quickly. Don't you think you could run there----"

"It would be quicker to telegraph, ma'am," said Jane, who was not anxious to run anywhere. "There's telegraph paper in Mr. Richard's room, and the office is just round the corner."

"That's it, Jane; I'm glad you thought of it. Get me a telegraph form.

Do make haste."

She wrote with a trembling hand, as plainly as she could, so that her son might have no difficulty in reading:--

"_Richard Saunders, Athletic Club, Centre Street_.

"Your father is coming to see you. He will be at the club before half-an-hour."

"There is no need to sign it; he will know his mother's writing," said Mrs. Saunders, as she handed the message and the money to Jane; and Jane made no comment, for she knew as little of telegraphing as did her mistress. Then the old woman, having done her best, prayed that the telegram might arrive before her husband; and her prayer was answered, for electricity is more speedy than an old man's legs.

Meanwhile Mr. Saunders strode along from the suburb to the city. His stout stick struck the stone pavement with a sharp click that sounded in the still, frosty, night air almost like a pistol shot. He would show both his wife and his son that he was not too old to be master in his own house. He talked angrily to himself as he went along, and was wroth to find his anger lessening as he neared his destination. Anger must be very just to hold its own during a brisk walk in evening air that is cool and sweet.

Mr. Saunders was somewhat abashed to find the club building a much more imposing edifice than he had expected. There was no low, groggy appearance about the True Blue Athletic Club. It was brilliantly lit from bas.e.m.e.nt to attic. A group of men, with hands in pockets, stood on the kerb as if waiting for something. There was an air of occasion about the place. The old man inquired of one of the loafers if that was the Athletic Club.