Bill Wilkins--" "Silence, sir! I want none of your lying excuses! I know you! I've talked to you often enough about quarreling and throwing stones." "But, father--" "Off with your jacket, this instant! Do you hear me?
"Oh, father! Let me speak! I couldn't--" "Not a word, I say! I know all about it!" silenced the pleading boy.
His case was prejudged, and he was now in the hands of the executioner.

Slowly, and with trembling hands, the poor child removed his outer garment, his pale face growing paler every moment, and then submitting himself to the cruel rod that checkered his back with smarting welts.

Under a sense of wrong, his proud spirit refused to his body a single cry of pain.

Manfully he bore his unjust chastisement, while every stroke obliterated some yet remaining emotion of respect and love for his father, who, satisfied at length with strokes and upbraiding, threw the boy from him with the cutting words-- "I shall yet have to disown you!" and turning away left the apartment..