He rarely attended any church or village function unless admittance was free, and on rare occasions when the circus came to Paris and he consented to take his children, he bought no admittance to performance or side shows. He taught them to be content with standing off in the background and “watching people make fools of themselves.” When by unavoidable circumstance he was forced to participate in any social function where people looked on, he either did so with an awkward, clumsy, painful, red-faced self-consciousness, or he “tried to be funny.” But in both cases he withdrew into innocuous desuetude as quickly as he was permitted. Thereupon, unless the affair had been directly connected with religion, he carried away the impression that he had been a “cut-up” and a “card.” Once, just once, when Edith had been ten, the Forge home had been opened for a party. But on that occasion he had not been content to let the youngsters work out their own social salvation. It had devolved upon him as “master of his house” and “protector of his children’s morals” to place himself in the best chair in the front room and preside over the progress of the affair. It was his business to see that no kissing games were played, suggest when the children had applied themselves to each pastime long enough, inject witty criticisms of juvenile deportment, indicate when it was time for the refreshments to be served and when the hour had come for adjournment. All this he did in slippered feet, with hair a bit rumpled and vest unbuttoned. On the whole, it was quite a responsibility. Vainly his wife had tried to spirit him out and away so the children might act naturally and enjoy themselves. Johnathan was indignant. He guessed it was his house. His carpets were being scuffed out. His money was paying for the ice cream and cake. He stayed. His favorite contribution to the entertainment when the children sat around like little wooden puppets, half-frightened to death by the Moloch presiding over them, was the demand, accompanied by an indulgent toe-tapping: “Who can tell a funny story or sing a funny song?” But ten-year-olds who wanted to play “Copenhagen” or “Drop the Pillow” were rather deficient in the matter of volunteering comic anecdotes or rendering humorous ballads. And whereas Johnathan’s repertoire was rather limited along those lines also, the party was not all it might have been. That night in bed an exasperated wife “started in her same old tirade” and ended her excoriation by kicking her loving husband in the shins. Johnathan exhibited the black and blue spot to Nathan in the week ensuing to prove to the son that his father had married a virago. There never was another party.