The younger man turned to the older. Father, he said, I've decided to do what you want me to, to go into the office with you, if you'll wait till tomorrow when mother's better. I don't want to leave her today. Father . . . his voice became more impassioned now . . . the doctor says any excitement is likely to kill mother. If we had another row like the one we had this morning, she isn't strong enough to stand it.
Like most obstinate men, Johns invariably crumbled under this kind of reproach. There was even a suspicion of hoarseness in his voice as he replied. Nothing's settled. Nothing's decided. You've got time. College don't begin till fall. We'll let things go on as they are for a little while.
Mother's in bed, Gareth continued, disregarding his father's advances. The doctor's coming back later. He's given her something to quiet her nerves, and he says she must be left alone.
Henry Johns began to fumble awkwardly with the great walrus-tooth charm attached to his watch-chain. After a moment, he said, Well, good-bye, Gareth. I may as well go down to the office. If anything happens—if your mother gets worse, let me know. You can ride down on your bicycle. I must have a telephone put in; it'll be easier to get the doctor then. What if anything happened in the night? I'll be home for dinner.
Rather more self-consciously pompous than ever, Henry Johns started off down the cement walk,
