“Teach!” He repeated the word in a changed tone. “Teach! What in Heaven’s name should you want to teach for? I don’t quite see a daughter of mine teaching.”
No more was said on the subject.
The young woman and I are on rather confidential terms.
“It is a shame, isn’t it?” she said to me afterwards, with feeling.
“Nothing to be done?” I inquired.
“Nothing,” said she. “I knew there wasn’t before I started. The dad would never hear of me earning my own living.”
The two elder girls—twins—had no leaning towards music, and no leaning towards anything save family affection and social engagements. They had a grand time, and the grander the time they had the keener was the delight of Mr. Alpha in their paradisaical existence. Truly he was a pearl among fathers. The children themselves admitted it, and children can judge. The second son wished to be a painter. Many a father would have said, “I shall stand none of this nonsense about painting. The business is there, and into the business you’ll go.” But not Mr. Alpha. What Mr. Alpha said to his second son amounted to this: “I shall be charmed for a son of mine to be a painter. Go ahead. Don’t worry. Don’t hurry. I will give you an ample allowance to keep you afloat through the years of struggle. You shall not be like other beginners. You shall have nothing to think of but your profession. You shall be in a position to wait. Instead of you running after the dealers, you shall comfortably bide your time until the dealers run after you.”
This young man of eighteen was precocious and extravagant.
“I say, mater,” he said, over the cheese, “can you lend me fifty dollars?”
Mr. Alpha broke in sharply: