# Growing Up (Vorse)/Chapter 64

THEY met the children coming down the street, singing. Their faces were alight with love of all the world and one another. They sang in chorus:
With them was Gladys Grayson. The two little girls disputed tenderly with one another for the privilege of helping dear Robert carry the chicken scraps, and he, with tender gallantry, carried the greatest burden of them.
They paused to dash upon their parents with fond embrace, and to the inquiries of,
"Why were you gone so long, my darlings?"
Sara replied: "'Twas because we had a nawful scrap! Oh, we scrapped! We fought!"
"What did you fight about?" Tom asked.
Recollections of injustice flooded over Sara. Her face darkened. She pointed her finger at Robert.
"'Twas he! He!" Tears trembled in her eyes. "'Twas he snatched my lovely tin-foil and threw it away and he wouldn't get it, but said I must go get it all alone, and I said, 'Why for must I get it alone?'"
"And you know why for!" said Robert. "If I had let you both go to get it together, you'd have beat it. I know you! And you said so yourself afterwards!"
"Why didn't you go get it, then? What was the idea of throwing it away?" his father demanded.
​"He threw it because he's a mean, mean boy," cried Sara.
"I threw it to punish you, because you were selfish. She's mean herself, Father. Here I help her get tin-foil and she won't even let me touch it."
"When Gladys is alone, she's bad; and when Sara's alone, she's bad; but when both of them's together, they're fifteen times as bad! So Sara went to get it, and she ran away."
"Yes, I ran away—and I ran away—and I ran away—and I hid!" cried Sara in triumph. Then her voice softened to sweetness. "And I thought poor Gladys, my darling Gladys, she'll have to carry the scraps all alone in the hot sun! I won't be mean to my Gladys, no matter if Robert is a bad, bad boy! So I came back——" Her voice faltered a little over her own sweetness and goodness.
"She came back, mother," cried Robert, "and she stood away by a tree, bawling, 'Oh, no, you don't get me! Oh, no! Let Gladys come here a minute.' And she whispered in Gladys' ear, and, mother, they ran away together! So I put down the scraps and I ran after them."
It had been a terrific chase, racing over cross lots, through forbidden ways in people's yards, hiding in chicken-houses.
"And, mother, he never would have caught us, except that we caught a ride on a slow team."
Into Sara's mind there had flickered nothing but pride for her duplicity. She had been shameless and gloried in it. She had met the brutality of man with guile, but now the terrible and unjust burden which man has forever laid on woman overwhelmed her.
"And then, mother—what did he do then? Yes, what did he do? He marched us back after that horrid old ​chicken stuff"— Here Sara gave the kettle a kick—"And we were sweating and 'spiring both! But back we must go in the sun, and, mother, we were so hot we was crying!"
"Well, what should I do? Let 'em make a fool out of me—beat it with my tin-foil in their pockets—and disobey you, father? You told us she had to go. When she's out with me, she's got to mind you," said Robert virtuously.
"Then we came along"—Sara took up the tale—"and Gladys whispered to me, 'Even if he is mean to us, don't let's be mean to him. Give him back his tin-foil.'" Sara's head went up with pride, her face was alight. "And, mother, I gave it right back to him!"
"So then I thought," said Robert, "now I'll cheer them up, for they were still sad. So I thought I'll tell them the name of Uncle Zotsby's dog!" He paused.
"Pa Skalegg is his name!" said Sara with the air of one who says, "Now, Lord, lettest Thou thy servant depart in Peace."
Everything had happened that afternoon. Woman had been guileful, man brutal. Woman had outwitted man with unworthy craft and he had used upon her his weapon of brute force. They had fought the old battle of the ages over again and then, at the end, sweetness having prevailed, they had come home in harmony, a light in their eyes, having made a noble truce; having, for the moment forgotten that woman's ways are dubious and man's violent.
Tom put Alice's arm in his and drew her down beside him on the piazza. They sat there for a while without speaking. They had taken a long journey which had taken them away from each other and finally brought them back to each other.
"What did they fight about?" Tom asked.
​Alice smiled. "I don't know," she said.
"Do you ever think we will find out?" he asked. "About them, I mean."
She shook her head and smiled. "How can you find out? You don't even know how old they are. You don't know how their minds work, and just as you get settled and begin to understand, something new happens, and they are some one else."
"You learn the name of Uncle Zotsby's dog, only to be confronted by some new problems. Mystery succeeds mystery."
Just for a moment she and Tom sat at rest—tired from their journey. Presently, they would take up their packs and continue their Parents' Progress which would be a journey as long as life.
Tom spoke again. "About your vacation—are you going away?" He spoke wistfully. "Are you going away," his unspoken thought was, "and leave me to deal with all of this alone?"
Alice shook her head. She might go away, but she wouldn't be away, because parents can't ever be away from their children, and Tom never would find out. But just now, while the next adventure was preparing for them, and while the next problem was getting ready to confront them, there was peace.
Out from behind the hollyhocks there came a careful noise as of a stealthy engine. "Chuff Chuff," it said. "Chugg chugg? Shuff Shuff!" It was Uncle Zotsby with his dog, Pa Skelegg, beginning to teach Sara how the world was made.