After a quick glance of pride and pleasure which no father could have denied so manly and handsome a son, he eyed the young man with a look that bit into every one of his fashionable details.

Presently he lifted his arm and pointed.

The son followed the direction of that long, strong, useful-looking forefinger, until his gaze rested upon a sign: "No Smoking"-- big, black letters on a white background.
"Beg pardon," he stammered, flushing and throwing away the cigarette.
The father went to the smoking butt and set his foot upon it.

The son's face became crimson; he had flung the cigarette among the shavings which littered the floor.

"The scientists say a fire can't be lighted from burning tobacco," he said, with a vigorous effort to repair the rent in his surface of easy assurance.
The old man--if that adjective can be justly applied to one who had such strength and energy as his--made no reply.