His Family by Ernest Poole (popular ebook readers txt) 📕

have us we want to come here.” Roger abruptly shut his eyes.

“By George, Deborah,” he said, “you do have a way of getting right into the heart of things!” His arm closed about her with new strength and he felt all his troubles flying away.

“What a time we’ll have, what a rich new life.” Her deep sweet voice was a little unsteady. “Listen, dearie, how quiet it is.” And for some moments nothing was heard but the sober tick-tick of the clock on the mantle. “I wonder what we’re going to hear.”

And they thought of new voices in the house.

XIX

Edith was radiant at the news.

“I do hope they’re not going to grudge themselves a good long wedding trip!” she exclaimed.

“They’re going abroad,” said Roger.

“Oh, splendid! And the wedding! Church or home?”

“Home,” said Roger blissfully, “and short and simple, not a frill. Just the family.”

“Oh, that’s so nice,” sighed Edith. “I was afraid she’d want to drag in her school.”

“School will be out by then,” he said.

“Well, I hope it stays out⁠—for the remainder of her days. She can’t do both, and she’ll soon see. Wait till she has a child of her own.”

“Well, she wants one bad enough.”

“Yes, but can she?” Edith asked, with the engrossed expression which came on her pretty florid face whenever she neared such a topic. She spoke with evident awkwardness. “That’s the trouble. Is it too late? Deborah’s thirty-one, you know, and she has lived her life so hard. The sooner she gives up her school the better for her chances.”

The face of her father clouded.

“Look here,” he said uneasily, “I wouldn’t go talking to her⁠—quite along those lines, my dear.”

“I’m not such an idiot,” she replied. “She thinks me homely enough as it is. And she’s not altogether wrong. Bruce and I were talking it over last night. We want to be closer, after this, to Deborah and Allan. Bruce says it will do us all good, and for once I think he’s right. I have given too much time to my children, and Bruce to his office⁠—I see it now. Not that I regret it, but⁠—well, we’re going to blossom out.”

She struck the same note with Deborah. And so did Bruce.

“Oh, Deborah dear,” he said smiling, when he found a chance to see her alone, “if you knew how long I’ve waited for this big fine thing to happen. A. Baird is my best chum in the world. Don’t yank him gently away from us now. We’ll keep close⁠—eh?⁠—all four of us.”

“Very,” said Deborah softly.

“And you mustn’t get too solemn, you know. You won’t pull too much of the highbrow stuff.”

“Heaven forbid!”

“That’s the right idea. We’ll have some fine little parties together. You and A. Baird will give us a hand and get us out in the evenings. We need it, God knows, we’ve been getting old.” Deborah threw him a glance of affection.

“Why, Brucie,” she said, in admiring tones, “I knew you had it in you.”

“So has Edith,” he sturdily declared. “She only needs a little shove. We’ll show you two that we’re regular fellows. Don’t you be all school and we won’t be all home. We’ll jump out of our skins and be young again.”

In pursuance of this gay resolve, Bruce planned frequent parties to theaters and musical shows, and to Edith’s consternation he even began to look about for a teacher from whom he could learn to dance. “A. Baird,” he told her firmly, “isn’t going to be the only soubrette in this family.”

One of the most hilarious of these small celebrations came early in June, when they dined all four together and went to the summer’s opening of The Follies of 1914. The show rather dragged a bit at first, but when Bert Williams took the stage Bruce’s laugh became so contagious that people in seats on every hand turned to look at him and join in his glee. Only one thing happened to mar the evening’s pleasure. When they came outside the theater Bruce found in his car something wrong with the engine. He tinkered but it would not go. Allan hailed a taxi.

“Why not come with us?” asked Deborah.

“No, thanks,” said Bruce. “I’ve got this car to look after.”

“Oh, let it wait,” urged Allan.

“It does look a little like rain,” put in Edith. Bruce glanced up at the cloudy sky and hesitated a moment.

“Rain, piffle,” he said good-humoredly. “Come on, wifey, stick by me. I won’t be long.” And he and Edith went back to his car.

“What a dear he is,” said Deborah. Allan put his arm around her, and they looked at each other and smiled. It was only nine days to the wedding.

Out of the street’s commotion came a sharp cry of warning. It was followed by a shriek and a crash. Allan looked out of the window, and then with a low exclamation he jumped from the taxi and slammed the door.

XX

Roger had been spending a long quiet evening at home. He had asked John to dine with him and they had chatted for a time. Then John had started up to his room. And listening to the slow shuffling step of the cripple going upstairs, Roger had thought of the quick eager feet and the sudden scampers that would be heard as the silent old house renewed its life. Later he had gone to bed.

He awakened with a start. The telephone bell was ringing.

“Nice time to be calling folks out of bed,” he grumbled, as he went into the hall. The next moment he heard Deborah’s voice. It was clear and sharp with a note of alarm.

“Father⁠—it’s I! You must come to Edith’s apartment at once! Bruce is hurt badly! Come at once!”

When Roger reached the apartment, it was Deborah who opened the door. Her face had changed, it was drawn and gray. She took him into the living room.

“Tell me,” he said harshly.

“It was just outside