FATHERS FORGET
To the competent twenties, hundreds of miles suggesting no impossibilities, such departures may be rending, but not tragic.Implacable, the difference to Seventeen! Miss Pratt was going home, and Seventeen could not follow; it could only mourn upon the lonely shore, tracing little angelic footprints left in the sand.
To Seventeen such a departure is final; it is a vanishing.
And now it seemed possible that William might be deprived even of the last romantic consolations:
of the ``last waltz together,'' of the last, last ``listening to music in the moonlight together''; of all those sacred lasts of the ``last evening together.''
He had pleaded strongly for a ``dress-suit'' as a fitting recognition of his seventeenth birthday anniversary, but he had been denied by his father with a jocularity more crushing than rigor.Since then--in particular since the arrival of Miss Pratt--Mr.Baxter's temper had been growing steadily more and more even.That is, as affected by William's social activities, it was uniformly bad.Nevertheless, after heavy brooding, William decided to make one final appeal before he resorted to measures which the necessities of despair had caused him to contemplate.
He wished to give himself every chance for a good effect; therefore, he did not act hastily, but went over what he intended to say, rehearsing it with a few appropriate gestures, and even taking some pleasure in the pathetic dignity of this performance, as revealed by occasional glances at the mirror of his dressing-table.In spite of these little alleviations, his trouble was great and all too real, for, unhappily, the previous rehearsal of an emotional scene does not prove the emotion insincere.
Descending, he found his father and mother still sitting upon the front porch.Then, standing before them, solemn-eyed, he uttered a preluding cough, and began:
``Father,'' he said in a loud voice, ``I have come to--''
``Dear me!'' Mrs.Baxter exclaimed, not perceiving that she was interrupting an intended oration.``Willie, you DO look pale! Sit down, poor child; you oughtn't to walk so much in this heat.''
``Father,'' William repeated.``Fath--''
``I suppose you got her safely home from church,'' Mr.Baxter said.``She might have been carried off by footpads if you three boys hadn't been along to take care of her!''
But William persisted heroically.``Father--''
he said.``Father, I have come to--''
``What on earth's the matter with you?''
Mr.Baxter ceased to fan himself; Mrs.Baxter stopped rocking, and both stared, for it had dawned upon them that something unusual was beginning to take place.
William backed to the start and tried it again.
``Father, I have come to--'' He paused and gulped, evidently expecting to be interrupted, but both of his parents remained silent, regarding him with puzzled surprise.``Father,'' he began once more, ``I have come--I have come to--to place before you something I think it's your duty as my father to undertake, and I have thought over this step before laying it before you.''
``My soul!'' said Mr.Baxter, under his breath.
``My soul!''
``At my age,'' William continued, swallowing, and fixing his earnest eyes upon the roof of the porch, to avoid the disconcerting stare of his father--``at my age there's some things that ought to be done and some things that ought not to be done.If you asked me what I thought OUGHT to be done, there is only one answer: When any-
body as old as I am has to go out among other young men his own age that already got one, like anyway half of them HAVE, who I go with, and their fathers have already taken such a step, because they felt it was the only right thing to do, because at my age and the young men I go with's age, it IS the only right thing to do, because that is something nobody could deny, at my age--''
Here William drew a long breath, and, deciding to abandon that sentence as irrevocably tangled, began another: ``I have thought over this step, because there comes a time to every young man when they must lay a step before their father before something happens that they would be sorry for.I have thought this undertaking over, and I am certain it would be your honest duty--''
``My soul!'' gasped Mr.Baxter.``I thought I knew you pretty well, but you talk like a stranger to ME! What is all this? What you WANT?''
``A dress-suit!'' said William.
He had intended to say a great deal more before coming to the point, but, although through nervousness he had lost some threads of his rehearsed plea, it seemed to him that he was getting along well and putting his case with some distinction and power.He was surprised and hurt, therefore, to hear his father utter a wordless shout in a tone of wondering derision.
`I have more to say--'' William began.
But Mr.Baxter cut him off.``A dress-suit!''
he cried.``Well, I'm glad you were talking about SOMETHING, because I honestly thought it must be too much sun!''
At this, the troubled William brought his eyes down from the porch roof and forgot his rehearsal.
He lifted his hand appealingly.``Father,''
he said, ``I GOT to have one!''
`` `Got to'!'' Mr.Baxter laughed a laugh that chilled the supplicant through and through.``At your age I thought I was lucky if I had ANY suit that was fit to be seen in.You're too young, Willie.I don't want you to get your mind on such stuff, and if I have my way, you won't have a dress-suit for four years more, anyhow.''
``Father, I GOT to have one.I got to have one right away!'' The urgency in William's voice was almost tearful.``I don't ask you to have it made, or to go to expensive tailors, but there's plenty of good ready-made ones that only cost about forty dollars; they're advertised in the paper.Father, wouldn't you spend just forty dollars? I'll pay it back when I'm in business;
I'll work--''
Mr.Baxter waved all this aside.``It's not the money.It's the principle that I'm standing for, and I don't intend--''
``Father, WON'T you do it?''
``No, I will not!''
