“Goddamn you, don’t you know how to treat a lady?” he said in a trembling voice.

Bonnie giggled.

“Don’t worry about Bonnie; she’s been kissed before, plenty,” Vance said easily, and this time turned Bonnie’s face around for a real kiss. The next minute Papa had yanked him off the piano bench by the coat collar and knocked him down. The children screamed, Bonnie and her girlfriend clapped their hands in terror, and She came running downstairs into the room to find her pet brother sitting on the floor holding on to his jaw with a foolish look of utter amazement. Papa stood panting beside him.

“Not in my house you can’t do that sort of thing,” he choked. “Not by a damn sight!”

“Your house?” his wife shrilly cried. “Your house? You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Harry Willard. Oh, poor Vancie, did he hurt you?”

“He couldn’t hurt me, not him,” Vance said sullenly, getting to his feet and stroking down his hair. “He’s just going crazy, that’s all. I won’t stand for it either.”

“Then get out. Get out and stay out!” shouted Papa, eyes blazing.

“Oh, Harry, please!” Bonnie murmured, pulling at his arm. “He didn’t mean any harm. You know it didn’t mean anything.”

“I’d be a fool if I thought that,” Papa said.

“What business is it of yours if Vance wants to make love to his girl?” demanded Vance’s sister.

“That’s what I’d like to know,” Vance added.

“I just don’t like it, that’s all, and that’s enough,” Papa shouted. “Now get out before I throw you out.”

“I don’t need to be told that more than once,” Vance said. “Come on, folks, I’m getting out right now.”

He pulled Bonnie and her friend toward the door, Bonnie with averted face and the other girl pop-eyed. Florrie began to cry, but Lena and Marcia were highly pleased at the privilege of being present at this show, even if they were frightened at seeing their father in such a fit of temper. He stood there shaking visibly while Vance and his friends left, and did not move when his wife came back in.

“All right, throw my little brother out. Two can play at that game,” She said in a cold fury. “I told your father next time he came in late I’d lock him out and this is the time I’m going to do it. You’ll be sorry for what you did to Vance, Harry Willard!”

She ran out and they heard her feet clattering down the cellar steps. Papa did not pay any attention, but wiped his forehead finally and muttered, “Get to bed, all of you.”

This was the night, then, that Grandpa came home in the pouring rain and found the doors locked. He must have been drinking, it was said later, or he wouldn’t have wandered all over the Junction switchyards the way he had. Mr. Purdy called them up before breakfast the next morning and told them the old man had been killed by a third rail.