The Washington times., 1920-06-23

interest lest the dear srief. now
two years old. and yet forever
fresh. creep In between words and
threaten the silences between them
with sudden tears.
But two years is a long, long
time In the life OF the young-in
the life OF a fourteen-year-o boy;
and yet. the delicate shadow OF his
mother still often dimmed for him
the sunny sparkle OF the winters
holiday. Ii fell across his clear
young eyes now, where he sat
thinking. and made them somber
and a deeper brown.
For he was going back TO board
ing school; and old memories were
uneasiJy astir again; and cleisnd
Senior saw the shadaw on the boys
face; understand: but now chose to
remain silent, not intervening.
SO memory gently enveloped them
both. leaving them very still to-
gether, there in the library.
For the boys mother had been
so intimately associated with prep
arations for returning to school In
those blessed days which already had
begun to seem distant and a little
unreal to Cleland Junior-so ten
derly and vitally a part OF them
that now. when the old pain. the
loneliness, the eternal desire for
her was again possessing father and
son In the imminence OF familisr
departure. Cleland Senior let 1t come
to the boy. not caring to avert 1t.
Thinking of the same thing, both
sat gazing into the back yard.
There was cat on the whitewash-
ed fence. Lizzie. the laundress-
n In nj q nj
old-time family laundresscS-stoo
barearmed in the cold. pinning
damp clothing to the lines, her
Irish mouth full of wooden clothes
pins, her parboiled arms steaming.
At length CIeland Seniors glance
fell again upon the tall clock. He
swallowed nothing. stared grimly
at the painted dial where a ship
circumnavigated the sun, then
squaring his big shoulders he rose
with decision.
The boy got up too.
In the front hall they assisted
each other with overcoats; the lit
tie. withered butler took the boys
luggage down the brown-stone steps
to the car. A moment later father
and son were spinning along Fifth
avenue toward Forty-second street.
AS usual, tnlS OTuedl Oh departure
forced John Cleland to an unnat-
ural. off-hand gaiety at the crisis.
as thoughIhe parting amounted to
nothing.
Going to be a good kid in school,
Jim?" he asked, casually humorous.
The boy nodded and smiled.
That's right. And, Jim, stick to
your Algebra. no matter how you
hate IL. hated 1t too Co
ing to get on your class hockey
eam?"
I'll do my best"
Right. Try for the ball team, too.
And, Jim?"
"Yes. father"
you're all right so far. You
know what's good and what's bad"
Yes, sir"
mo matter what happens, you
can always come to me. You thor
oughly understand that"
"Yes. father"
you've never known what it Is
to be afraid Of me. have your
The boy smiled broadly: said no.
"Never be afraid of me, Jim.
That's one thing l couldn't stand.
I'm always here. All I'm here on
earth for is you! Do you really
understand me?" "
"Yes, father"
Red-capped porter, father and son
halted near the crowded train gate
inside the vast railroad station.
Cleland Senior said briskly:
Goodbye, old chap. See you at
Easter. Good luck! Send me any
thing you write in the way of verses
and stories"
Their clasped hands fell apart:
the boy went through the gate. fol-
lowed by his porter and,by numer->
Gus respectable and neglible trav-
cling citizens, male and fem1le,
bound for destinations doubtless in
teresting to them. To John Cleland
they were merely mechanically
moving impedimenta which OBJ
scured the retreating figure of his
only son and irritated him to that
extent. And when the schoolboy cap
of that only son disappeared en-
quilted in the crowd, John Cleland
went back to his car, back to his
empty, old-fashioned brownstone
house, seated himself in the library
that his wife had made love :, and
picked up the Times, which he had
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