Part 31 (1/2)

Mr. Reed entered his own area, wiped his feet, and hung up his hat. He went out in the back area and washed his hands. Every other day a clean towel was put on the roller. The house was immaculate. The supper-table was set. Mrs. Reed was finis.h.i.+ng a block of patchwork, catch-up work, when she had to wait two minutes. She went out in the hall taking the last st.i.tch, and called up the stairway:

”John Robert Charles!”

Meals were generally very quiet. Charles had been trained not to speak unless he was spoken to. Once or twice his father looked at him. A pinafore was rather ridiculous on such a big boy. How very large his white collar was! His hair looked too sleek. He was a regular Miss Nancy.

He helped his mother take out the dishes and wiped them for her.

”Come out on the stoop, Charles,” said his father afterward, as he picked up his paper.

Mrs. Reed wondered if Charles had committed some overt act that she knew nothing about. _Could_ anything elude her sharp eyes?

Mr. Reed pretended to be busy with his paper, but he was thinking of his son. In his early years the child had been a bone of contention. His mother always knew just what to do with him, just what was proper, and would brook no interference. What with her cleanliness, her inordinate love of regularity and order, she had become a domestic tyrant. He had yielded because he loved peace. There was a good deal of comfort in his house. He went out two or three evenings in the week, to the lodge, to his whist club, and occasionally to call on a friend. Mrs. Reed never had any time to waste on such trifling matters. He had not thought much about his boy except to place him in a good school.

”Charles, couldn't you have asked me about the singing-school?” he said rather sharply.

”About--the singing-school?” Charles was dazed.

”Yes. It wasn't very manly to set a lot of little girls asking a favor for you. I'm ashamed of you!”

”Oh, father--who asked? We were talking of it over to Josie Dean's. I knew mother wouldn't let me go. I--I said so.” Charles' fair face was very red.

”You put them up to ask!”

”No, I didn't. They never said a word about it. Why, I wouldn't have asked them to do it.”

Mr. Reed looked suspiciously at his son.

”You don't care to go?”

”Yes, I do, very much.” The boy's voice was tremulous.

”Why couldn't _you_ ask me?”

”Because you would leave it to mother, and she would say it was not worth while.”

”Was that what you told them?” Mr. Reed was truly mortified. No man likes to be considered without power in his own household.

”I--I think it was,” hesitated the boy. The girls had started an insurrection, sure enough. Well, the poor lad had no chance before. It was not a hope swept away, there had been no hope. But now he gave up.

”Don't be a fool nor a coward,” exclaimed his father gruffly. ”Here, get your hat and go straight over to the Deans'. Tell them your _father_ says you can go to singing-school next Sat.u.r.day afternoon, that he will be very glad to have you go. And next time you want anything ask me.”

If the boy had only dared clasp his father's hand and thank him, but he had been repressed and snipped off and kept in leading-strings too long to dare a spontaneous impulse. So he walked over as if he had been following some imaginary chalk line. The Deans were all up in the back parlor. He did his errand and came back at once, before Josie and Tudie had recovered from their surprise.

Nothing else happened. Mrs. Reed went out presently to do the Sat.u.r.day-night marketing. She preferred to go alone. She could make better bargains. When she returned Mr. Reed lighted his cigar and took a stroll around the block. There was no smoking in the house, hardly in the back yard.

Sat.u.r.day noon Mrs. Reed said to her son:

”You are to go to singing-school this afternoon. If I hear of your loitering with any bad boys, or misbehaving in any way, that will end it.”

The poor lad had not felt sure for a moment. Oh, how delightful it was!