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Authors: Taylor Caldwell
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think Mamie is sulking because she misses going into the City twice a week. You’ve been burdening her too much. It isn’t necessary for Bruce to change all his clothing twice a day out here. We’re lucky we have someone like Mamie who doesn’t object to doing the washing for us between the times I carry the laundry down to the village. But don’t put too much on her. Let Bruce get a little dirty every day, and stay that way.”
“Germs!” said Kathy. “Don’t you know this is the worst season? You have to be extra careful with The Children in the summer; everything must be absolutely sanitary. You know that. All right, I won’t fuss any longer. You can sleep on that short sofa if you’re so anxious to have Alicia here.”
They looked at each other. Mark had colored darkly, and seeing this Kathy was startled. Mark said. “Don’t be a fool. She’s your sister, not mine. If there’s going to be any more talk about this simply call her un and tell her it will be inconvenient. I’m not ‘anxious.’ But you should be. It’s damned hot in the City, and she can’t afford much in the way of a holiday.”
He went out of the luxurious cabin, and looked about the neat grounds for his son. His head was suddenly pounding, and he blinked in the sunlight. The flowers glowed on the lawns; the hollyhocks near the edges of the clearing were like pink and white flames. The woods beyond loomed in thick, dark greenness. But Angelo and the little dog were nowhere in sight.
Vaguely anxious, Mark called and whistled. There was no answer except the sound of the summer wind in the trees, and the rustle of startled wings. Mark looked up into the trees, and was pleased that there were birds there again. But it was strange how they disappeared shortly after the family arrived. Then Mark trotted to the end of the lawns and to the bluff, with its high split-log fencing. He could not keep himself from fearfully looking down the side of the steep bluff with its fanged rocks and thorny brush far below. Then he laughed aloud. If there was one place the careful Bruce would never go, it was to this fence and this dangerous place. Mark stood and lighted a cigarette and looked to the far hills, which were green and gold in the hot light. There was no fishing here, no opportunity to golf, except twelve miles away beyond the village. But it was full of peace and deep forest quiet. Mark sat on the top of the fence and smoked. He felt languid and content as the sun beat down on his bare throat and arms and head. His dark skin was already several shades darker, though he had been here only three days. Here he could read all the books he had neglected during the winter months; here he could think and walk. He liked the village for all its dust and heat, and often drove down to it. He had a few friends there among the shopkeepers, and a friend or two among other refugees from the City who had homes nearby. They had children, these summer visitors, but for some reason Bruce was not invited to the other homes, nor did children come to see him.
He’s a solitary kid, Mark thought now without his usual uneasiness. But perhaps that is because he is extremely intelligent, and the other kids bore him, and they don’t understand him. I wonder what he’ll be? With his mind it’s possible he’ll be a writer or a better engineer than I am, or an artist or a scientist. Excellent minds are at a premium these days, and I wonder why. Is it the fault of the schools, or mass education which must cater to the mediocre norm, or are parents more stupid than were our parents? Or, are the inferior and the weak, who used to die before they reached adulthood, now living because of antibiotics which save their lives? I don’t know, but I do know I encounter more fools in a week among the younger fellows than I used to encounter in a year.
He thought of the Mendelian laws of inheritance of mental and physical characteristics, and he frowned. All these half-wits! They
“Germs!” said Kathy. “Don’t you know this is the worst season? You have to be extra careful with The Children in the summer; everything must be absolutely sanitary. You know that. All right, I won’t fuss any longer. You can sleep on that short sofa if you’re so anxious to have Alicia here.”
They looked at each other. Mark had colored darkly, and seeing this Kathy was startled. Mark said. “Don’t be a fool. She’s your sister, not mine. If there’s going to be any more talk about this simply call her un and tell her it will be inconvenient. I’m not ‘anxious.’ But you should be. It’s damned hot in the City, and she can’t afford much in the way of a holiday.”
He went out of the luxurious cabin, and looked about the neat grounds for his son. His head was suddenly pounding, and he blinked in the sunlight. The flowers glowed on the lawns; the hollyhocks near the edges of the clearing were like pink and white flames. The woods beyond loomed in thick, dark greenness. But Angelo and the little dog were nowhere in sight.
Vaguely anxious, Mark called and whistled. There was no answer except the sound of the summer wind in the trees, and the rustle of startled wings. Mark looked up into the trees, and was pleased that there were birds there again. But it was strange how they disappeared shortly after the family arrived. Then Mark trotted to the end of the lawns and to the bluff, with its high split-log fencing. He could not keep himself from fearfully looking down the side of the steep bluff with its fanged rocks and thorny brush far below. Then he laughed aloud. If there was one place the careful Bruce would never go, it was to this fence and this dangerous place. Mark stood and lighted a cigarette and looked to the far hills, which were green and gold in the hot light. There was no fishing here, no opportunity to golf, except twelve miles away beyond the village. But it was full of peace and deep forest quiet. Mark sat on the top of the fence and smoked. He felt languid and content as the sun beat down on his bare throat and arms and head. His dark skin was already several shades darker, though he had been here only three days. Here he could read all the books he had neglected during the winter months; here he could think and walk. He liked the village for all its dust and heat, and often drove down to it. He had a few friends there among the shopkeepers, and a friend or two among other refugees from the City who had homes nearby. They had children, these summer visitors, but for some reason Bruce was not invited to the other homes, nor did children come to see him.
He’s a solitary kid, Mark thought now without his usual uneasiness. But perhaps that is because he is extremely intelligent, and the other kids bore him, and they don’t understand him. I wonder what he’ll be? With his mind it’s possible he’ll be a writer or a better engineer than I am, or an artist or a scientist. Excellent minds are at a premium these days, and I wonder why. Is it the fault of the schools, or mass education which must cater to the mediocre norm, or are parents more stupid than were our parents? Or, are the inferior and the weak, who used to die before they reached adulthood, now living because of antibiotics which save their lives? I don’t know, but I do know I encounter more fools in a week among the younger fellows than I used to encounter in a year.
He thought of the Mendelian laws of inheritance of mental and physical characteristics, and he frowned. All these half-wits! They
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