Part 45

Carey stared at the lamp. "I didn't know we had that," he said. "Is it that that does it?"

"I fancy it is," said Anthony. "I never understood it till I was taught, but it seems to be a fact that a low light in a room gives it a more homelike effect than a high one. I don't know why. It's one of my wife's pet theories."

"Well, I must say this is a pretty convincing demonstration of it," Carey agreed, sitting down in a chair in a corner, his hands in his pockets, still studying this, to him, remarkable transformation. "It certainly does look like a happy home now. Before, it was a place to receive calls in." He turned, smiling contentedly, to his wife. Something about the glance which she returned warned him that further admiration was unnecessary. The contented smile faded a little. He got up and came over to the table. "Now, let's have a good four-handed talk," he proposed.

Two hours later, in the seclusion of the guest-room upstairs, Anthony said under his breath:

"They're coming on, aren't they? Don't you see glimmerings of hope that some day this will resemble a home, in a sort of far-off way? Isn't Judith becoming domesticated a trifle? She didn't get up that dinner?"

Juliet turned upon him a smiling face, and laid her finger on her lip. "Don't tempt me to discuss it," she warned him. "My feelings might run away with me, and that would never do under their very roof."

"Exemplary little guest! May I say as much as this, then? I'd give a good deal to see Wayne speak his mind once in a way, without a side glance to see if Her Royal Majesty approves."

But Juliet shook her head. "Don't tempt me," she begged again. "There's something inside of me that boils and boils with rage, and if I should just take the cover off----"

"Might I get scalded? All right--I'll leave the cover on. Just one observation more. When I get inside our own four walls again I'm going to give a tremendous whoop of joy and satisfaction that'll raise the roof right off the house!"

XXV.--THE ROBESON WILL

When people are busy and happy the years may go by like a dream. So the months rolled around and brought little Tony past the third anniversary of his birth, and into another summer of lusty development. Except to the growing child, however, time seemed to bring slight changes to the little home under whose roof he grew. The mistress thereof lost no charm either for her husband or her friends--Anthony indeed insisted that she grew younger; certainly, as time taught her new lessons without laying hands upon her beauty, she gained attractiveness in every way.

"You look as much like a girl as ever," Anthony said to her one morning, as dressed for a trip into town she came out upon the porch where he and little Tony were frolicing together.

"You had ever a sweetly blarneying tongue," said she, and bestowed a parting caress impartially upon both the persons before her. "I feel a bit guilty at making a nursemaid of you for even one morning of your vacation, but----"

"That's all right. Do your errands with an easy conscience. I'll enjoy looking after the boy, and am rather glad your usual little maid is away. That's one thing my vacation is for--to get upon a basis of mutual understanding and confidence with my son. We see too little of each other."

So Juliet caught the early car, and left the two male Robesons together, father and son, waving good-bye to her from the porch. When she was out of sight the elder Robeson turned to the younger.

"Now, son," he said, "I'm going to mow the lawn. What are you going to do?"

"I is going to mow lawn, too," announced Tony, Junior, with decision.

"All right, sir. Here we are. Get in front of me and mind you push hard. That's the stuff!"

All went joyously for ten minutes. Then little Tony wriggled out from between his father's arms and went over to the porch step. He sat down and crossed two fat legs. He leaned his head upon his hand, his elbow on his knee, and watched with serious eyes the progress of the lawn-mower three times across before he said wistfully:

"Favver, I wis' you'd p'ay wiv me."

"When I get this job done perhaps I will," said Anthony, and made the grass fly merrily. Presently he put away the lawn-mower, and stood looking down at the sturdy little figure in the blue Russian blouse. "What do you want to play?" he asked. Tony's face lit up.

"Le's play fire-endjun," he proposed enthusiastically.

"Where shall we play the fire is?"

"Le's have weal fire," said Tony eagerly.

"Real fire? Well, I don't know about that, son," his father responded doubtfully. "Young persons of three are not considered old enough to play with the real thing. Won't make believe do just as well?"

"No, no--weal fire," repeated the child. "Le's put it out wiv sqi'yt watto. P'ease, favver--p'ease!"

"Sqi'wt watto," repeated Anthony, laughing. "What do you mean by----? Oh, I see----" as Tony demonstrated his meaning by running to the garden hose which remained attached to a hydrant behind the house. "Well, son--if I let you have a real fire and put it out with real water, will you promise me never to try anything of that sort by yourself?"

Tony walked over to his father and laid a little brown fist in Anthony's. "Aw wight," he said solemnly. Anthony looked down at the clasped hands and smiled at the serious uplifted face. "Is that the way mother teaches you to promise her?" he asked, with interest.