Alice Adams | Page 8

get ALL well?" She bent over him, giving him
a gay little kiss on the bridge of his nose. "There! I must run to
breakfast. Cheer up now! Au 'voir!" And with her pretty hand she
waved further encouragement from the closing door as she departed.
Lightsomely descending the narrow stairway, she whistled as she went,
her fingers drumming time on the rail; and, still whistling, she came
into the dining-room, where her mother and her brother were already at
the table. The brother, a thin and sallow boy of twenty, greeted her
without much approval as she took her place.
"Nothing seems to trouble you!" he said.
"No; nothing much," she made airy response. "What's troubling
yourself, Walter?"
"Don't let that worry you!" he returned, seeming to consider this to be
repartee of an effective sort; for he furnished a short laugh to go with it,
and turned to his coffee with the manner of one who has satisfactorily
closed an episode.
"Walter always seems to have so many secrets!" Alice said, studying
him shrewdly, but with a friendly enough amusement in her scrutiny.
"Everything he does or says seems to be acted for the benefit of some
mysterious audience inside himself, and he always gets its applause.
Take what he said just now: he seems to think it means something, but
if it does, why, that's just another secret between him and the secret
audience inside of him!
We don't really know anything about Walter at all, do we, mama?"

Walter laughed again, in a manner that sustained her theory well
enough; then after finishing his coffee, he took from his pocket a
flattened packet in glazed blue paper; extracted with stained fingers a
bent and wrinkled little cigarette, lighted it, hitched up his belted
trousers with the air of a person who turns from trifles to things better
worth his attention, and left the room.
Alice laughed as the door closed. "He's ALL secrets," she said. "Don't
you think you really ought to know more about him, mama?"
"I'm sure he's a good boy," Mrs. Adams returned, thoughtfully. "He's
been very brave about not being able to have the advantages that are
enjoyed by the boys he's grown up with. I've never heard a word of
complaint from him."
"About his not being sent to college?" Alice cried. "I should think you
wouldn't! He didn't even have enough ambition to finish high school!"
Mrs. Adams sighed. "It seemed to me Walter lost his ambition when
nearly all the boys he'd grown up with went to Eastern schools to
prepare for college, and we couldn't afford to send him. If only your
father would have listened----"
Alice interrupted: "What nonsense! Walter hated books and studying,
and athletics, too, for that matter. He doesn't care for anything nice that
I ever heard of. What do you suppose he does like, mama? He must like
something or other somewhere, but what do you suppose it is? What
does he do with his time?"
"Why, the poor boy's at Lamb and Company's all day. He doesn't get
through until five in the afternoon; he doesn't HAVE much time."
"Well, we never have dinner until about seven, and he's always late for
dinner, and goes out, heaven knows where, right afterward!" Alice
shook her head. "He used to go with our friends' boys, but I don't think
he does now."
"Why, how could he?" Mrs. Adams protested. "That isn't his fault, poor

child! The boys he knew when he was younger are nearly all away at
college."
"Yes, but he doesn't see anything of 'em when they're here at
holiday-time or vacation. None of 'em come to the house any more."
"I suppose he's made other friends. It's natural for him to want
companions, at his age."
"Yes," Alice said, with disapproving emphasis. "But who are they? I've
got an idea he plays pool at some rough place down-town."
"Oh, no; I'm sure he's a steady boy," Mrs. Adams protested, but her
tone was not that of thoroughgoing conviction, and she added, "Life
might be a very different thing for him if only your father can be
brought to see----"
"Never mind, mama! It isn't me that has to be convinced, you know;
and we can do a lot more with papa if we just let him alone about it for
a day or two. Promise me you won't say any more to him until--well,
until he's able to come downstairs to table. Will you?"
Mrs. Adams bit her lip, which had begun to tremble. "I think you can
trust me to know a FEW things, Alice," she said. "I'm a little older than
you, you know."
"That's a good girl!" Alice jumped up, laughing. "Don't forget it's the
same as a promise, and