Husband and wife -- Fiction; Mothers and sons -- Fiction
Her son felt no difficulty in applying the question to Catie, the
proper object, rather than to the sausages on which his mother's gaze
was bent.
"About as usual," he said temperately.
His mother laughed out suddenly. The laugh brought back to her face a
faint resemblance to the girl who, as the pretty daughter of old Parson
Wheeler, had been the acknowledged belle of all the small community.
Later on, all the small community had been jarred to its social
foundations by the discovery that Betty Wheeler, child of a long, long
line of parsons, was going to marry Birge Brenton who had come to
"clerk it" in the village store. She did marry him, and, a little later
on, and most obligingly for all concerned, he died. Few people mourned
him. His wife, though, was among the few. She had a conscience of
Puritan extraction, and the keenest possible sense of what was seemly.
Scott, at the time, was ten days old; therefore he did not share her
mourning. Indeed, he was too busy trying to adjust himself to things in
general and pins in particular to have much energy or time left over to
spare for thinking about other people. Already, the trail of Mrs.
Brenton's reading ancestors had led her to the naming her child Walter
Scott. Her sense of decorum caused her to wonder vaguely, after her
husband died, whether it would not be proper to change the baby's name
to Birge. Her wonderings, though, merely served to render her uneasy;
they bore no fruit in action. The associations with the name were not
of the sort she cared to emphasize, and the boy was allowed to keep his
more impressive label.
As time went on, though, he rebelled against the childish Wally and
insisted on the Scott, but prefixed by the blank initial whose
significance, he fondly hoped, would permanently remain a mystery. A
month, however, after he had entered college, he was known as Ivanhoe
to all the class who knew anything about him at all; and, in the
catalogue published in his sophomore year, he was registered quite
curtly as Scott Brenton. Never again in all his lifetime did the
incriminating _W_ reappear.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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