bent over and kissed his forehead. "Did Irene fix you a nice breakfast?"
Gaylord accepted the kiss with an unusual nod. "Irene?" he questioned. "I fixed it myself. She hasn't shown up yet, and I'm not a baby, mother."
"You'll always be mother's baby." She sauntered towards the stove and poured herself a cup of steaming coffee. "Wonder what's wrong with Irene this morning … She's always on time."
"Mother, today is Thursday. Remember, Irene doesn't come on Thursdays."
"Of course it's Thursday. This week has gone so quick … I haven't done a thing … absolutely nothing all week."
She sat down at the table across from her son. She had hardly seated herself when Gaylord said, "Mother, do you mind if I don't go to school today?"
"Don't you feel well?"
"I feel fine but I'd just like to stay home today. I really haven't a thing to do today. It's so hot too."
"Well, if you know your lessons I don't know … I don't know why you can't take one day off. Sure you feel all right?"
"I'm all right, but I just don't feel like I could stand sitting in that old school house all day again today," he said with a challenge.
She watched him through the entire statement. There was character in each word; a sense of loneliness in his clear blue eyes, and a determined ruefulness in the curve of his lips.
"Well, dear, if you feel that way, stay home and rest."
"Thanks, mom …" His solemn face lighted up with a childlike smile. He idolized the pretty young woman in the satin robe; he loved the honest eyes that looked straight into his; and he appreciated the words that the soft lips had just uttered.
Carol raised the cup and sipped the steaming coffee. "Phew," she cried on tasting it. "Your father must have made this. It tastes like lye." Carol smiled again. "That reminds me. Your father wants me to go out to the oil field with him this morning but if you want me to, I'll stay home and be with you."
Gaylord looked at his mother. Not at her eyes now, but at her firmly rounded chin and her lips which seemed to express himself; pride, honesty, courage. No woman's lips could be curved that way
