himself remembering the awful, the angry helplessness he had felt as a child whenever is parents made him leave an engrossing story and go do his homework.
CHAPTER FOUR
O N THE MORNING FOLLOWING these events, along the Eastern seaboard of the Continental United States, sunrise was scheduled for 7:25 o’clock, but the only members of the Johns family who could have attested that it occurred even approximately on time were Gerald and Geraldine.
“There’s the sun,” Gerald said, gazing beyond his wife’s shoulder as they sat at breakfast together in their night-chilled kitchen. “Imagine having breakfast at”—he consulted the electric clock beside the breadbox, but Geraldine, as she did every morning despite the fact that it unnerved him, had disconnected it a few minutes before for the toaster—“at sunup,” he concluded lamely.
“It’s better than lie there tossing for another two hours.”
“Maybe for you,” he said. “But I can’t get a nap later.” He remembered how often he had promised himself that he would install a cot or day-bed at the rear of the store, and foolishly given up the plan each time because the delivery men from the pharmaceutical companies’ trucks would think the proprietor of the Johns Pharmacy was getting to be an old man. What vanity; what self-delusion. They could look at him, couldn’t they?
“Nobody needs to nap when they’re this excited,” Geraldine said comfortably, “but it’s too bad you’re going downtown today. It would be nice to talk out everything a little more.”
He laughed. “We didn’t skip much last night.”
“No. Except one thing. One thing we didn’t think of at all.” She sounded serious.
“What one thing?”
“The one thing we mustn’t do. I thought of it after you were asleep.”
“What’s that?”
“Tell people about Gregory. Go around just telling everybody in town. No matter which way we told it, it would sound like bragging.”
Gerald nodded. “I suppose it would,” he said.
“They’ll hear about it on the radio in a few days, anyway, or read it in a newspaper. Anyway, they’ll hear it somehow and then they’ll think, Why those two knew it all the time and didn’t go shouting from the housetops.”
“It would be better that way.”
“A lot,” she said. “Because your friends are always a little upset if one of your children gets rich and famous.”
How wise she is, Gerald thought; she looks like a perfectly ordinary person, but her intelligence is often astonishing. Well, intuition then; her intuition is often astonishing. She understands human nature so well and she has more self-control than I have. I’d have blatted to the first customer that came into the store.
He looked at her admiringly. She was in her old flannel bathrobe, but she never looked sloppy, even in the early morning. Her white hair was cut short and it curled over her head like a child’s. Her blue eyes had the odd three-cornered shape that Thornton alone, of all the children, had inherited, and though she had slept even less than he had, they were clear and rested. She was just plump enough so that her cheeks were round and firm; compared to her he must look all skin and bones. Some people filled out and expanded in flesh as they grew old; others seemed to shrink into themselves and get wizened. He was a shrinker.
“I can’t imagine getting upset if one of the Heston boys got rich and—” He broke off and then said, “But you’re probably right. I won’t say a word.”
He finished his coffee and put his palms on the table. Pushing down on them, he rose to his feet. His knees felt like cement. It would be good to go back to bed, but he never felt comfortable letting Hiram run things alone all day, filling prescriptions as well as managing the counters. He sighed and started for the stairs.
In the bedroom, he slowly drew on the socks Geraldine had remembered to lay out, along with fresh underwear and a shirt, before getting into
CHAPTER FOUR
O N THE MORNING FOLLOWING these events, along the Eastern seaboard of the Continental United States, sunrise was scheduled for 7:25 o’clock, but the only members of the Johns family who could have attested that it occurred even approximately on time were Gerald and Geraldine.
“There’s the sun,” Gerald said, gazing beyond his wife’s shoulder as they sat at breakfast together in their night-chilled kitchen. “Imagine having breakfast at”—he consulted the electric clock beside the breadbox, but Geraldine, as she did every morning despite the fact that it unnerved him, had disconnected it a few minutes before for the toaster—“at sunup,” he concluded lamely.
“It’s better than lie there tossing for another two hours.”
“Maybe for you,” he said. “But I can’t get a nap later.” He remembered how often he had promised himself that he would install a cot or day-bed at the rear of the store, and foolishly given up the plan each time because the delivery men from the pharmaceutical companies’ trucks would think the proprietor of the Johns Pharmacy was getting to be an old man. What vanity; what self-delusion. They could look at him, couldn’t they?
“Nobody needs to nap when they’re this excited,” Geraldine said comfortably, “but it’s too bad you’re going downtown today. It would be nice to talk out everything a little more.”
He laughed. “We didn’t skip much last night.”
“No. Except one thing. One thing we didn’t think of at all.” She sounded serious.
“What one thing?”
“The one thing we mustn’t do. I thought of it after you were asleep.”
“What’s that?”
“Tell people about Gregory. Go around just telling everybody in town. No matter which way we told it, it would sound like bragging.”
Gerald nodded. “I suppose it would,” he said.
“They’ll hear about it on the radio in a few days, anyway, or read it in a newspaper. Anyway, they’ll hear it somehow and then they’ll think, Why those two knew it all the time and didn’t go shouting from the housetops.”
“It would be better that way.”
“A lot,” she said. “Because your friends are always a little upset if one of your children gets rich and famous.”
How wise she is, Gerald thought; she looks like a perfectly ordinary person, but her intelligence is often astonishing. Well, intuition then; her intuition is often astonishing. She understands human nature so well and she has more self-control than I have. I’d have blatted to the first customer that came into the store.
He looked at her admiringly. She was in her old flannel bathrobe, but she never looked sloppy, even in the early morning. Her white hair was cut short and it curled over her head like a child’s. Her blue eyes had the odd three-cornered shape that Thornton alone, of all the children, had inherited, and though she had slept even less than he had, they were clear and rested. She was just plump enough so that her cheeks were round and firm; compared to her he must look all skin and bones. Some people filled out and expanded in flesh as they grew old; others seemed to shrink into themselves and get wizened. He was a shrinker.
“I can’t imagine getting upset if one of the Heston boys got rich and—” He broke off and then said, “But you’re probably right. I won’t say a word.”
He finished his coffee and put his palms on the table. Pushing down on them, he rose to his feet. His knees felt like cement. It would be good to go back to bed, but he never felt comfortable letting Hiram run things alone all day, filling prescriptions as well as managing the counters. He sighed and started for the stairs.
In the bedroom, he slowly drew on the socks Geraldine had remembered to lay out, along with fresh underwear and a shirt, before getting into
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