Sometimes she looked at it and wondered. What a bright-faced, gay
little thing Billy had been! Who had set her down in that field, and
quieted the rioting eyes and curls and dimples, and anchored the
restless little feet, while Baby watched Dad and the black box with the
birdie in it? Paula? Once, idly interested in those old days before she
had known him, she had asked about the picture. But Clarence, glad to
talk of it, had not mentioned his wife.
"It was before my father died; we were up in the old Maine place," he
had said. "Gosh, Bill was cute that day! We went on a drive--no motor
cars then--and took our lunch, and after lunch the kid comes and
settles herself in my arms--for a nap, if you please! 'Say,
look-a-here,' I said, 'what do you think I am--a Pullman?' I wanted a
smoke, by George! She wasn't two, you know. Her fat little legs were
bare, we'd put her into socks, and her face was flushed, and she just
looked up at me through her hair and said, 'Hing!' Well, it was
good-bye smoke for me! I sang all right, and she cuddled down as
pleased as a kitten, and off she went!"
To-day Rachael's eyes wandered from the picture to Clarence's face. She
tried to study it dispassionately, but, still shaken by their recent
conversation, and sitting there, as she knew she was sitting there,
merely to prove that it had had no effect upon her, she felt this to be
a little difficult.
What sort of a little boy had he been? A fat little boy, of course. She
disliked fat little boys. A spoiled little boy, never crossed in any
way. His mother made him go to Sunday-school, and dancing school, and
to Miss Nesmith's private academy, where he was coaxed and praised and
indulged even more than at home. And old Fanny, who was still with
Florence, superintended his baths and took care of his clothes, and ran
her finger over the bristles of his toothbrush every morning, to see if
he had told her the truth. He rarely did; they used to laugh about
those old deceptions. Clarence used to laugh as violently as the old
woman when she accused him of occasional kicking and biting.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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