“And keep the game at a standstill? I can repeat, remember, as often as you,” Dolores warned him. Stepping down from the chair upon which she had stood to let sunlight in upon the canary, now ruffling its yellow plumage enjoyably, she seated herself and stayed his lifted hand. “I want to tell you something, Jackie dear. Happiness is the most attractive thing in the world and one of the hardest to have. Just because your bird knows the secret of how to have it, even though shut up in a smaller space than you, you are jealous. So long as you’re jealous, you’ll never be happy. I’ve never been very happy either, but I want to be and I’ve heard that happiness begets happiness. Maybe if you and I would listen to Dick sing, we’d get the spirit of why he sings. Maybe after a while we could be happy, too. What do you say?”
“I say it’s no fun being happy.”
Although he jerked his hand away and spoke defiantly, Dolores thought she saw a gleam of interest in his eyes.
“Of course, you can try if you want to,” he added. “I’ll take my next turn spilling the gold-fish. There’ll be plenty of time for Clarke to get me some more before I’m strong enough to learn to swim.”
Heartsick, Dolores watched him stagger toward the bathroom with the heavy glass bowl. She realized that, in steadying himself inside, he was waiting for her to object. But she uttered no word of reproach as he dumped the gleaming inmates and their small sea upon the tiling. When she heard him chuckling over their squirms, she followed him.
“My turn!” She took the bowl from him, filled it with fresh water and replaced within it the emptied moss and stones. Upon her knees on the folded bath-rug, she invited his assistance in a way most matter-of-fact “We must get them in quickly or they’ll die. Careful how you scoop them up—their fins are very delicate. See how glad they are to be back in the water again and how gracefully they swim!”
The boy was actually helping her when the opening of the hall door interrupted. He steadied himself to his feet, then slithered into the sitting-room. Still bent to her life-saving task, Dolores heard the exchange without and saw, over-shoulder, the man-to-man hand-shake of father and son.
“Hello, John Cabot!”
“Jack Cabot, hello!”
“I broke my dog, but you know the reason, John. I’d not mind so much if a live one beat me. Aren’t you ever going to get me a real dog?”