Family -- Fiction; New York (N.Y.) -- Social conditions -- Fiction
"And worry every minute he's gone," Deborah retorted, "and come back and
work day and night to catch up. But he isn't going to do it. I've decided
to take the children myself."
"You have?" cried Bruce delightedly.
"You'll do no such thing," said Allan, indignant.
"Oh, you go to thunder," Bruce put in. "Haven't you any delicacy? Can't you
see this is no business of yours?"
"It isn't, eh," Allan sternly rejoined. And of Deborah he demanded, "Didn't
you say you'd go with me to 'Pinafore' this Saturday night?"
"Ah," sneered Bruce. "So that's your game. And for one little night of your
pleasure you'd do me out of a week of my life!"
"Like that," said Baird, with a snap of his fingers.
"I'm going, though," said Deborah.
"Quite right, little woman," Bruce admonished her earnestly. "Don't let him
rob you of your happiness."
"Come here," growled Baird to Deborah. She followed him into the living
room, and Roger went upstairs with Bruce.
"If he ever hopes to marry that girl," said Bruce, with an anxious backward
glance, "he's got to learn to treat her with a little consideration."
"Quit your quarreling," Roger said. "What's a week in the mountains to you?
Hasn't your wife just risked her life?"
"Sure she has," said Bruce feelingly. "And I propose to stick by her, too."
"Can I see her?"
"No, you can't--another of Baird's fool notions."
"Then where's the baby?"
"Right in here."
Silently in front of the cradle Bruce and Roger stood looking down with the
content which comes to men on such occasions when there is no woman by
their side expecting them to say things.
"I made it a rule in my family," Roger spoke up presently, "to have my
first look at each child alone."
"Same here," said Bruce. And they continued their silent communion. A few
moments later, as they were leaving, Deborah came into the room and went
softly to the cradle. Downstairs they found that Allan had gone, and when
Deborah rejoined them she said she was going to stick to her plan. It was
soon arranged that she and the youngsters should start on their journey the
following day.
Back at home she threw herself into the packing and was busy till late that
night. At daybreak she was up again, for they were to make an early start.
Bruce came with his new automobile, the children were all bundled in,
together with Deborah and their nurse, and a half hour later at the train
Bruce and Roger left them--Deborah flushed and happy, surrounded by
luggage, wraps, small boys, an ice box, toys and picture books. The small
red hat upon her head had already been jerked in a scrimmage, far down over
one of her ears.
"Don't worry about us, Bruce," she said. "We're going to have the time of
our lives!" Bruce fairly beamed his gratitude.
"If she don't marry," he declared, as he watched the train move slowly out,
"there'll be a great mother wasted."
CHAPTER VII
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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