# Growing Up (Vorse)/Chapter 35

THERE seemed to be no way of bridging the gulf between them. During the winter Robert grew up at an awful rate of speed, while Sara still remained uninterested in George Washington when spring came.
One of the sights in Alice's life which seemed to her to have increased with greater and greater frequency was that of Robert and his friends sailing rapidly over the earth's surface like swift hydroplanes, while Sara, like a poor little inefficient rowboat, frantically followed in their wake; and as they ran from her, Sara roared.
The theory of parents is that their children play together, and get fun and profit from playing together.
What really happened in the Marcey household was something like this: Robert seemed to spend a large part of his leisure, and much ingenuity, in avoiding Sara's presence out of doors. When they were in the house Robert plunged himself in a book, demanding in tones that made his mother think of an unmannerly husband: "Can't I ever have any peace? Can't I ever read in quiet?"
Jamie, on the other hand, was a spiritually self-supporting child. He could enjoy companionship or leave it alone. He played strange games by himself for hours, to his own complete satisfaction. For long hours he built by himself, showing, it seemed to his mother, little ingenuity. He used his blocks not for the making of edifices but for the construction of railway tracks, for which they were unsuitable, and along which he would ​rush the five-cent engines that his father so frequently brought him.
These engines were made of cast-iron, and to the adult eye they looked indestructible, though in the hands of an experienced toy-breaking child they proved fragile and came apart with disconcerting frequency. As for getting lost, one might talk to Alice about what became of all the hairpins in the world which were lost. That to her was a simple problem. But what became of all the cast-iron toys was what she wanted to know.
To this question there was no answer. They disappeared from the earth's surface: that was all she knew, and next thing Jamie was demanding another engine to shove along his block tracks—yes, and getting it, although she pointed out to Tom that Jamie was now quite of an age to take care of things, and be deprived of things for a time if he could not learn to take care of them better. To which Tom replied that it was probably the older children's fault that Jamie's toys got lost. More than that, Tom had always pined for engines in his own youth and never had as many as he wanted, and any child of his who wanted five-cent engines should have as many as he could use. That is the way that fathers uphold family discipline.
So there was on the one hand, Jamie performing his solemn games—his mother sometimes wondered if one could call them by the name of playing, so concentrated was he—and on the other the elusive and vanishing Robert. Between the two of them the gregarious Sara.
She was perfectly willing to play with her younger brother, but she was willing to play with him only on her own terms. She didn't like railways or railway tracks. She was forever wanting to pretend that engines were something which they were not; she was for​ever trying to build tracks into something else. Jamie wanted things as they were. This led to discord.
Alice's sense of justice made her feel that Jamie should be allowed to play as he wanted to. But she thought that Robert should let Sara into his out-of-door games. She had a theory that boys and girls play the same games if they are brought up together. For the most part Sara shared this opinion of her mother's; she shared it strongly; she shared it vociferously.
It was Robert who differed from this opinion. He was very decided in the matter. He put it this way: "Fellows don't want a girl forever tagging around and always yelling."
"I should think," said his mother, "that you would want your little sister to play with you."
Driven into a corner, Robert answered: "I want her to play with me, all right; but if she's going to play, why don't she play? She always gets hurt with the least thing and comes home bawling."
To this Alice responded: "It's her feelings that get hurt."
"I don't care what part of her gets hurt," said Robert, "if it gets hurt—and she yells, and the boys say to me, 'Oh, gee! There comes your sister again. Run!'"
"I can run just as fast as lots of you," said Sara. "I can run faster than Skinny Allen. I can run faster than Mud Morse."
"I know you can," responded her brother gloomily, "that's what makes it so fierce. We'd get away lots oftener if you couldn't."
"Lots and lots of things I can do as well as any boys," said Sara with rapidly rising temper.
"Yes, and the fellows make fun of you," he answered. "Whenever there's a bunch of boys around, what do ​you suppose she wants to do? Show 'em how she can stand on her head!"
"They like to have me," said Sara. "Mud gives me a piece of chewing gum for showing him how."
"I don't like to see you," her brother responded; "you look like a fool; and when you've done it you look like this."
He put his head on one side and mimicked his sister's engaging smile. "Besides, I don't know any girl who stands on her head."
"You taught me," screeched Sara.
"I know I did, but did I know you'd be doing it all the time if I taught you? Pretty soon they'll call her a tomboy!" he exclaimed to his mother.