Bella stared, her lips parted, and she wished him to continue, but remembered her upbringing and tried to be a lady. “Georgie,” she said severely;—“you shouldn’t tell such things. Don’t you know better than to speak in this way of what happens between your poor papa and your mother?”
The effect upon George was nothing, for even at eight years of age a child is able to understand what interests an adult listener, and children deeply enjoy being interesting. In response to her admonition, he said simply: “Yesterday she threw a glass o’ water at him and cut where his ear is. It made a big mark on him.”
“Georgie! I’m afraid you’re telling me a dreadful, dreadful story!” Bella said, though it may not be denied that in company with this suspicion there arrived a premonitory symptom of disappointment. “Why, I saw your papa yesterday evening, myself, and there wasn’t any mark or anything like——”
“It don’t show,” George explained. “It took him a good while, but he got it fixed up so’s it didn’t show much. Then he brushed his hair over where it was.”
“Oh!”
“My mother hates my papa,” said George. “She just hates and hates him!”
“What for?” Bella couldn’t stop this question.
“She wants him to have more money and he says what good would that do because she’d only throw it around.”
“No!”
“Yes,” said George. “And she’s mad because once he got so mad at her he hit her.”