“I should think they might shave,” objected Dee.
“Stop criticizing!” ordered his father, bringing his cane down with a stroke as though it was a sword. “But there! What does it matter? If you are worthy of knowledge, some day we will see. In the meantime, amuse yourself. What do the boys think of your father?”
Dee sensed that this apparently trivial question was really an important one.
“They think you are about like most everybody’s father, only they are sorry you can’t see better.”
Mr. De Lorme nodded and sighed. “That’s so,” he said. “I am glad they are so sympathetic. Tell them that your poor old father is almost blind; almost blind, Marion.”
“I have,” said Marion, wondering at his father’s whining tone. “And tell them I must have peace, peace and quiet for my studies: that is why you cannot entertain them.” He shuddered. “Why, Marion, a jar in that house, a heavy fall sometimes, well, it would upset some of my finest and most difficult calculations.”
“I know, father,” said Dee gently. “You have always told me that. I would not injure your work for the world. I am sure it is important. I don’t see, though, why you never let me come into the laboratory. What harm could I do?”
Mr. De Lorme shook his head.
“Not yet!” he said. “Get your schooling, get through your play, and then you will be ready for what I have in mind for you.”
They had made the third round of the Park and as they approached the house Zip ran out and bought an extra from a passing, yelling newsie. He glanced at the headlines, smiled and as Mr. De Lorme made his way up the steps, spoke to him rapidly in Russian.