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

“What’s the meeting all about?” he inquired. And Deborah began to explain.

In her five schools the poverty was rapidly becoming worse. Each week more children stayed away or came to school ragged and unkempt, some without any overcoats, small pitiful mites wearing shoes so old as barely to stick on their feet. And when the teachers and visitors followed these children into their homes they found bare, dirty, chilly rooms where the little folk shivered and wailed for food and the mothers looked distracted, gaunt and sullen and half crazed. Over three hundred thousand workers were idle in the city. Meanwhile, to make matters worse, half the money from uptown which had gone in former years into work for the tenements was going over to Belgium instead. And the same relentless drain of war was felt by the tenement people themselves; for all of them were foreigners, and from their relatives abroad, in those wide zones of Europe already blackened and laid waste, in endless torrents through the mails came wild appeals for money.

In such homes her children lived. And Deborah had set her mind on vigorous measures of relief. Landlords must be made to wait and the city be persuaded to give work to the most needy, food and fuel must be secured. As she spoke of the task before her, with a flush of animation upon her bright expressive face at the thought that in less than an hour she would be facing thousands of people, the gloom of the picture she painted was dispelled in the spirit she showed.

“These things always work out,” she declared, with an impatient shrug of her shoulders. And watching her admiringly, young Betsy thought, “How strong she is! What a wonderful grown-up woman!” And Roger watching thought, “How young.”

“What things?” It was Edith’s voice at the door, and among those at the table there was a little stir of alarm. She had entered unnoticed and now took her seat. She was looking pale and tired. “What things work out so finely?” she asked, and with a glance at Deborah’s gown,

“Where are you going?” she added.

“To a meeting,” Deborah answered.

“Oh.” And Edith began her soup. In the awkward pause that followed, twice Deborah started to speak to her sister, but checked herself, for at other dinners just like this she had made such dismal failures.

“By the way, Edith,” she said, at last, “I’ve been thinking of all that furniture of yours which is lying in storage.” Her sister looked up at her, startled.

“What about it?” she asked.

“There’s so much of it you don’t care for,” Deborah answered quietly. “Why don’t you let a part of it go? I mean the few pieces you’ve always disliked.”

“For what purpose?”

“Why, it seems such a pity not to have Hannah back in the house. She would make things so much easier.” Roger felt a glow of relief.

“A capital plan!” he declared at once.

“It would be,” Edith corrected him, “if I hadn’t already made other plans.” And then in a brisk, breathless tone, “You see I’ve made up my mind,” she said, “to sell not only part but all my furniture⁠—very soon⁠—and a few other belongings as well⁠—and use the money to put George and Elizabeth and little Bob back in the schools where they belong.”

“Mother!” gasped Elizabeth, and with a prolonged “Oh-h” of delight she ran around to her mother’s chair.

“But look here,” George blurted worriedly, “I don’t like it, mother, darned if I do! You’re selling everything⁠—just for school!”

“School is rather important, George,” was Edith’s tart rejoinder. “If you don’t think so, ask your aunt.” “What do you think of it, Auntie?” he asked. The cloud which had come on Deborah’s face was lifted in an instant.

“I think, George,” she answered gently, “that you’d better let your mother do what she thinks best for you. It will make things easier here in the house,” she added, to her sister, “but I wish you could have Hannah, too.”

“Oh, I’ll manage nicely now,” said Edith. And with a slight smile of triumph she resumed her dinner.

“The war won’t last forever,” muttered Roger uneasily. And to himself: “But suppose it should last⁠—a year or more.” He did not approve of Edith’s scheme. “It’s burning her bridges all at once, for something that isn’t essential,” he thought. But he would not tell her so.

Meanwhile Deborah glanced at the clock.

“Oh! It’s nearly eight o’clock! I must hurry or I’ll be late,” she said. “Good night, all⁠—”

And she left them.

Roger followed her into the hall.

“What do you think of this?” he demanded. Her reply was a tolerant shrug.

“It’s her own money, father⁠—”

“All her money!” he rejoined. “Every dollar she has in the world!”

“But I don’t just see how it can be helped.”

“Can’t you talk to her, show her what folly it is?”

“Hardly,” said Deborah, smiling. Already she had on her coat and hat and was turning to go. And her father scowled with annoyance. She was always going, he told himself, leaving him to handle her sister alone. He would like to go out himself in the evenings⁠—yes, by George, this very night⁠—it would act like a tonic on his mind. Just for a moment, standing there, he saw Cooper Union packed to the doors, he heard the ringing speeches, the cheers. But no, it was not to be thought of. With this silent war going on in his house he knew he must stay neutral. Watchful waiting was his course. If he went out with Deborah, Edith would be distinctly hurt, and sitting all evening here alone she would draw still deeper into herself. And so it would be night after night, as it had been for many weeks. He would be cooped up at home while Deborah did the running about.⁠ ⁠… In half the time it takes to tell it, Roger had worked himself into a state where he felt like a mighty badly used man.

“I wish you would speak to her,” he