had settled, this time, into his permanent personality, that he or she would be forever unhappy, or difficult, or unkind, or vulnerable. Her anger and irritation were really just her fury that the fates would play so cruel a trick on her own child. A child she must somehow protect.
She rose from her table and went swiftly over to the children’s booth, leaning over David to grasp Toby by the shoulders and turn him toward her in a sort of shake. “What
is
it, Toby? What’s the matter now?” She glared down at him with terrific urgency, and so his answer was more timid than it might have been. “You put mustard on my hamburger, Mama. I only like ketchup.”
Dinah straightened up, and out of pure vexation tears came into her own eyes. “You’re being a brat, Toby. A real brat!” She didn’t lower her voice; she meant to embarrass him just as he had embarrassed her. “I’ll go get you another hamburger, but this is the very last time I’m taking you out for a treat like this. There are people all over the world who would give
anything
for a hamburger like that!”
Pam had gotten up, too, and was right at Dinah’s elbow, and she caught Dinah’s arm and smiled at her. “It’s all right. Here you go, Toby. I forgot to put mustard on mine, and I only have ketchup, so this will be a trade that’s good for both sides.” She deftly switched hamburgers, and Toby deigned to turn his gaze away from the parking lot and look down at his fresh hamburger.
“Oh, Toby,” Dinah said, “what do you
say
to Mrs. Brooks?” But Toby just ducked his head, and Pam waved her hand in deprecation at the idea of being thanked.
Dinah discovered every day how great were the variety of things that she and Pam did
not
have in common, and yet she had come to like Pam and to count on her. Pam was one of those few, rare people who have such a strong sense of goodness that no motivation or expectation lies beneath it. She possessed effortless virtue and self-assurance. Pam seemed really to believe in grownups, and she even believed that she herself was one.
Dinah had scarcely ever been as impressed with anyone as she had been with Pam the day she and Pam and the four children had made a foray into one of those immense discount department stores which spread in every direction like an airplane hangar in the middle of what had once been a pasture. Row upon row of fluorescent lighting stretched across the ceiling, because there were no interior windows except those at the front of the store, plastered with signs. Cameras were strategically placed to record the influx and outgo of customers. The white light everywhere was so unforgiving that even the glossy skin of those four pretty children took on a mealy look. Dinah’s spirit shrank. As they made their way into the store, past the gum-ball machines and electric ponies that the children—all but David—begged to ride, they were stopped by a straggly-looking girl with muddy skin who insisted they check their beach bags with her at her little raised cubicle of an office. Immediately, Dinah had been filled with unreasonable guilt, and she had handed hers over with alacrity and an air of apology. But Pam just moved forward into the store, her beach bag slung over her arm, ushering Mark before her like a little sheep, until the girl stepped down out of her box and called after her. “You have to check bags and large purses here, or you can’t go in,” she said without any inflection.
Pam stopped and turned full around to her with a surprised and dazzling smile. There was a long moment’s pause as Pam made herself understand. Then she shook her head with slight bewilderment and said, “Well, if you think that the manager of this store wouldn’t trust me enough to let me in with my purse…Well then, of course, I’ll be glad to go somewhere else.” Her voice was very pleasant; she was a kind woman. “You know, I have some things in this bag that I value very much. I couldn’t replace
She rose from her table and went swiftly over to the children’s booth, leaning over David to grasp Toby by the shoulders and turn him toward her in a sort of shake. “What
is
it, Toby? What’s the matter now?” She glared down at him with terrific urgency, and so his answer was more timid than it might have been. “You put mustard on my hamburger, Mama. I only like ketchup.”
Dinah straightened up, and out of pure vexation tears came into her own eyes. “You’re being a brat, Toby. A real brat!” She didn’t lower her voice; she meant to embarrass him just as he had embarrassed her. “I’ll go get you another hamburger, but this is the very last time I’m taking you out for a treat like this. There are people all over the world who would give
anything
for a hamburger like that!”
Pam had gotten up, too, and was right at Dinah’s elbow, and she caught Dinah’s arm and smiled at her. “It’s all right. Here you go, Toby. I forgot to put mustard on mine, and I only have ketchup, so this will be a trade that’s good for both sides.” She deftly switched hamburgers, and Toby deigned to turn his gaze away from the parking lot and look down at his fresh hamburger.
“Oh, Toby,” Dinah said, “what do you
say
to Mrs. Brooks?” But Toby just ducked his head, and Pam waved her hand in deprecation at the idea of being thanked.
Dinah discovered every day how great were the variety of things that she and Pam did
not
have in common, and yet she had come to like Pam and to count on her. Pam was one of those few, rare people who have such a strong sense of goodness that no motivation or expectation lies beneath it. She possessed effortless virtue and self-assurance. Pam seemed really to believe in grownups, and she even believed that she herself was one.
Dinah had scarcely ever been as impressed with anyone as she had been with Pam the day she and Pam and the four children had made a foray into one of those immense discount department stores which spread in every direction like an airplane hangar in the middle of what had once been a pasture. Row upon row of fluorescent lighting stretched across the ceiling, because there were no interior windows except those at the front of the store, plastered with signs. Cameras were strategically placed to record the influx and outgo of customers. The white light everywhere was so unforgiving that even the glossy skin of those four pretty children took on a mealy look. Dinah’s spirit shrank. As they made their way into the store, past the gum-ball machines and electric ponies that the children—all but David—begged to ride, they were stopped by a straggly-looking girl with muddy skin who insisted they check their beach bags with her at her little raised cubicle of an office. Immediately, Dinah had been filled with unreasonable guilt, and she had handed hers over with alacrity and an air of apology. But Pam just moved forward into the store, her beach bag slung over her arm, ushering Mark before her like a little sheep, until the girl stepped down out of her box and called after her. “You have to check bags and large purses here, or you can’t go in,” she said without any inflection.
Pam stopped and turned full around to her with a surprised and dazzling smile. There was a long moment’s pause as Pam made herself understand. Then she shook her head with slight bewilderment and said, “Well, if you think that the manager of this store wouldn’t trust me enough to let me in with my purse…Well then, of course, I’ll be glad to go somewhere else.” Her voice was very pleasant; she was a kind woman. “You know, I have some things in this bag that I value very much. I couldn’t replace
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