I dreaded much the moment of my boys’ meeting again. Jack, however, was on his guard, and showed no irritation of manner; nothing beyond an unwonted gravity. Cress looked morose and gloomy, and would speak pleasantly to no one. I hardly knew how to deal with him, and asked Robert to take the matter up. My husband was not one of those men whose wives are afraid to ask them to find fault, lest they should say too much, and “provoke their wrath,” instead of arousing them to sorrow. So I put the difficulty into his hands.
[CHAPTER XXI.]
GOING AWAY.
MY husband had a serious talk with Cress that same evening, and warned him that nothing of the kind must ever happen again. He spoke gently but very firmly about the evil of giving way to such anger, and of the terrible results which might some day follow. I do not think he said more than a few strong words, enough to impress without irritating. It is common to crowd on far too many words in fault-finding. But Robert happily never had that way with our boys. Just enough and no more seemed to be his rule.
Cress listened at first sullenly, making no answer. But when Robert said, “I think you have punished yourself with a worse punishment than anybody else could have given you—” Cress burst out, “I don’t see that!”
“In having hurt Maimie, I mean,” Robert explained.
“It was Maimie’s own fault. What business had she to come between?” demanded Cress.
And from that hour neither Robert nor I put any faith in the reality of Cress’ love to Maimie.
But for the time he counted it genuine himself, and acted accordingly. Some boys in his position might have been laughed out of a shallow fancy such as this. Cress, however, was not one to stand being laughed at, even if any of us had been in the mood for joking.
He did not come to me for comfort in his trouble, as Jack sooner or later always did. Once or twice I tried to reach Cress’ feelings, and failed. He sheered off from me at once.