Nah, I just don't like to see him insulting his own flesh and blood. Poor little girl can't very well smack her Daddy one, can she? Or call down The Curse Of C. G. Conn upon her paternal parent. Why, the poor child must be nearly helpless, cast aside like that by her father. She probably even now is waiting outside the saloon, shivering in the blowing snow, whilst Amos is inside in the warmth, boozing it up, cavorting with curvaceous women of dubious reputation, even (dare I utter it?) now and then playing a guitar!!!! And outside in the sleet and snow a pitiful tiny figure, clad in threadbare rags, clutches a trumpet, waiting for a kind and gentle word from her father, a word that would mean so much to her, a word that would encourage her musical dreams.

But no, it is not to be! Does he even see his child as he leaves that reeking den of iniquity? No! Instead he treads upon her trumpet, flattening it beneath his hobnailed boots, destroying with it her dreams and asperations, crushing her hopes and her goal of someday being able to play an A# above the staff! And the tears freeze on her tiny, gentle face....