I looked round the room again, and my father, who guessed my thoughts, shrugged his shoulders.
"It can't be helped; it must do for us."
Later on my mother came in with the children, who, after having sold their papers, had watched for her at the house where she did her work.
When the scanty supper was over, and it grew late, my brother arrived. I was greatly shocked. He had changed completely. His face looked pale and haggard, black circles were around his eyes, his hair hung wildly over his forehead, his figure was lean, and his movements had lost all their former gracefulness.
I controlled as well as I could the effect which this sad sight had produced upon me, and shook hands with him.
"I am afraid," he said, with the same touch of cynicism in his voice which I had noticed whenever he had spoken to me before—"I am afraid that you won't very much enjoy staying with us."
"As soon as I have recovered," I answered, "I will put everything in order."
"Put everything in order," my brother shouted, shaking with laughter; "do you really think that this man"—he pointed to my father—"would ever allow such a thing? Let me tell you that your honourable papa is extremely fond of dirt."
For the second time in my life I saw the vein of wrath swell on my father's forehead.
"Stop it!" he shouted; "do you hear?"