An ashen pallor spread over father's countenance, the letter dropped
from his hand and he would have fallen if mother had not caught him
in her arms. She grabbed the evil message, slipping it into the bosom
of her gown, where it could do no further harm.
Then she guided father's faltering steps to the sanctity of his
studio, where he wrote his sermons and closed the door.
My sisters availed themselves of the opportunity to make a raid on
mother's pantry, but I, poor little innocent, waited in the corridor
for mother's return, dreading to hear the worst. I heard my dear
father groan aloud and bemoan his fate and listened to mother's
soothing sympathetic words as she begged father to be calm and bear
it like a man and a Christian.
When at last mother came out I flew to her. She took me to her arms,
kissing my tear-stained face.
"Poor little boy," she said, "cheer up and you shall have a big
cookie, don't you cry!"
"Oh, mamma," I faltered, "will papa die?"
"No, sonny, that he won't," said she with a determined glint of her
eyes and a twitching of the corners of her mouth, "for I won't let
him; but he does suffer anguish!"
"Oh, tell me, mamma, what misfortune has befallen us," I cried.
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