The Coolidge examiner., 1932-03-25
CHAPTER /
Edward.

Ed suddenly flung his arms around
his father and hugged him.
"Dad!" he cried. Cant you pos
sibly come up to the Brook just for
a day or two?"
iii see," Edward senior told
him. If | can, l will. I'll write
your mother about it, anyway"
He'd looked away as he said that,
but he turned back to watch the
boy go bounding up, three at a
time, the steps to the elevated sta
tiOn. He was deeply moved, and
part of his emotion was bewilder-
ment. 1t was an unprecedented
thing between them, that sudden
strong hug. How much, Edward
Patterson asked himself, did the
boy know? How much had an un-
suspected instinct enabled him to
guess of the devastating melan-
choly that had settled upon the old
er man when he learned, a little
earlier that evening, that Ruth In
graham ha1 sold her house and
was going 10 move away to New
York? The BOY couldn't have seen
through thaG. could he?
1t would be rather nice to 60
up to the Brook. The children
would give him a welcome anyhow,
and even Julia might be found will
ing at least to ignore her supposed
grievance. Just going away any
where would be a relief, a protec-
tive covering for the bruise he'd
got tonight when he'd discovered
how unimportant he'd become to
Ruth.
He didn't want to think about
that. Couldn't bear to think about
it. He couldn't be sure, of course,
that he wasn't doing her an injus-
tice. Her decision to sell her
house and move away might have
been forced upon her suddenly. She
might have written him a note that
he had not yet received. 1t might
be waiting for him now at the hotel.
UncOnsciously he quickened his
pace. and then with q half audible
grOan as he realized what he was
doing, deliberately slackened it
again. This was the way he'd been
acting for days. Making excuses
for her silence, trying to steel him
self against disappointment. and
then encouraging his hopes to rise
again. Acting like a fool, an abb
ject, hungry, wistful fool
He wouldn't go on like that. He'd
give her a taste of her own medi-
cine. If she wanted to be rid of
him. she should be, 1Sooner and
more completely than she intended.
He'd arrange things at the office to-
morrow. and tomorrow night he'd
go up to the Brook.
He managed a tone sufficiently
casual when he asked the night
clerk if there were any messages
or letters for him. but his heart
gave an irrepressible bound when
the man said, "One just came in
on the last delivery" 1t sank
again sickeningly when he saw that
1t was not from Ruth but from his
wife ct Buttermilk Brook. A
thick letter, ominously different
from the brief dry missives he'd
been getting from her all summer.
He felt sick with premonition as
he rode up in the elevator. His
small barren room was hot and
'alrless. He switched on the light.
tore open the envelope and looked
blanSly at the first of the closely
written pages for a good while be-
fore he began to read.
It's opening, addressed to him as
EdwSrd. disposed of any lingering
idea he might have had that its
length meant an offer of a recon
ciliation. Her friendly name for
him was Ned. Her affectionate one
what a long way back that went,
twenty years or more was Neddy.
She never used Edward except as
a term of reproach.
II suppose | ought to have writ
ten this letter weeks ago." she
wrote. 'but I've come along fool
ishly hoping that things might
happen so that l shouldn't have
to write ii at all. l hate 10 write
it worse than anything ! ever had
TO do, and | don't suppose it will
do any good, but for the sake of
the children I've got to. There
isn't much time left. because the
season here at the Brook is almost
over. The hotel will close in two
weeks. so you have to decide now
what You want me TO do. | mean,
whether you want me to come back
to our house in Lakeside or not.
Whether you want to go on having
a home and family"
He put down the letter and
clenched his hands. He beat with
them upon the arm of his chair.
then with a painful effort he re-
laXed again. Thank God, Julia
wasn't here to talk to him! She
upset him horribly when she talked