Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1929-12-01
Memorial Az0uyd Stories


and the cups were Of the same watery white
as the milk itself, while the cake crumbled
with its excess of soda, but willoughby accepted
these things with subdued Difference. He
wasn't thinking of them. He was thinking Of
his father 30.
His father was dying. He could see that.
He wondered he was still alive: And in the
face OF his fathers dying, their least acts
seemed to be tied with invisible cords that
tugged and knotted and tangled. till he choked
with the confusion of his feelings. He hadn't
anything he couldn't find anything to say.
His mothers hands spoke for her, as she
served him, and he tried dumbly to answer in
the same Language, by picking up the tea
things and carting them out tc the kitchen.
The kitchen, too, was cherries. But it was
not so cherries as his own sense OF himself.
He tried for words, and he found he had no
words.
I'm afraid it's been bad for him"
"Oh, Willoughby, you're wrong, child. He's
been looking forward to your coming. He needs
to rest UP bit, that's ALL"
Willoughby pursed his face looking into the
sodless yard. If only his mother could express
herself, could say something, could help him.
But he knew it was hopeless, he hooked out
blindly, on the dimming blank walls.
His mother spoke:
Wen let him sleep now, till the nurse comes
tonight"
when does she Gomez"
"Shes due at 7:30. Seven-thirty in the evening
to $3.50 in the morning. It lets me get whole
nights sleep. didn't want to do it. Willough-
by; the doctor said there'd soon be two sick
people in the house instead of one. You can
see lost weight"
She waited for confirmation, but Willoughby
was silent.
"Of course, it's big expense" she admitted
weakly, "but we could see no way out"
Her words struck on Willoughbys frightened
nerves like little hammer blows. Expense He
hadn't asked about that. But he didn't want
to think about 1t. He had meant to be so
sympathetic, so full of understanding SO in
tuitive. He suddenly felt overwhelmed. He
didn't want to think about the sickroom, the
long nights of nursing, the strange woman who
was coming at $780, 1.-THE wrong of unshapely
things is wrong too great to be told" That
was Yeats. The line haunted him every Sec
ond his mother was talking
She was sitting now, looking at him. VIII
loughby moved his chair with squeak and
stood up.
IT wish I could stay on" he said with q
cough, "but had to plan to get back tonight.
And there's only one good train. The g.
Eyes, that's the only good one" She stood
up, too. "Oh, it's not like seeing you at all,
WIlloughby. You can't spend the night?"
He had expected her to reproach him, and
he put all the softness he could into his voice.
mo, mother; you see, they're expecting me.
I have to be on hand first thing tomorrow
morning, and the other trains are so awful"
He stopped.
I'VE must go on back up to father" She
led the way, her hand gliding up the banister,
her feet tolling each step with the same de-
lberate, efforted measure. Willoughby followed
at the same pace his head a maze Of en-
broiled emotions.
THE daylight had seeped away from the sick
room, and in its place there was ghostly
obscurity.
81 think he's still asleep" Mrs. Putney whis-
pered. Eyes, hear him."
Her son pulled her sleeve. He pointed to
the door, and stole out on tip-toe. Outside
on the landing he whispered, LET him sleep.
It's too cruel to wake him"
"Oh but Willoughbyi"
Willoughby stole downstairs, followed by his
mother, who descended with careful, uncer-
tain steps.
"Oh, he'll feel so badly. I really think
ought to wake him. He'll find it hard to for
give me-" She looked anxiously at her son, her
hands together.
mo. no." he picked down his muffier, still
whispering. tits much better for him. It'd
stir him up. I'll just slip away"
"You need light" she said bewilderedly,
turning around. where are the matches?"
Willoughby was halfway into his coat. Its
all right, don't need a light" He took down
his hat. "Good-by, mother" and he kissed
her, his cold nose touching her cheek.
Once down the wooden stoop, Willoughby
hurried. She might call to him. He pushed
along Conger street with no emotion except
to get to the corner.
Turning the corner into the brighter Hill
street. he no longed damned the feelings that
had been gathering. Underneath his pain that
was like raw wound, he felt mad morti-
f1cation. He had not thought he'd find his
father like this. He was all unprepared for 1t.
d.rir,c AI.aA