“Well, it is a nice watch but it never cost that much money,” she admitted grudgingly.
“Mary, this watch was a prize. It was competition. Anybody else could have won it, anybody who contributed more to their fair than I did.” He took the watch from her hands and slid it back to his pocket. “Here—” he handed her the old one—“put this away. You can give it to Bob when he comes home. Run along now, Tad, I’ve got work to do.”
Tad slipped out of the room a bit disconcerted. Mama ought not to have got mad. She was trying not to get mad so often, his father assured him. They had to help her, be careful not to provoke her. Tad skittered down the long stairs almost colliding with a workman who carried a stepladder, with a long wreath of greenery hung over his shoulder.
“What’s that for?” the boy demanded.
“For the Christmas receptions and things. Decorations. Don’t know how I’ll get it hung. Can’t drive no nails in this wall. Hard as rock. Nails just bends double.”
“You could glue it,” suggested Tad helpfully.
“Yah!” scorned the workman. “Get along out of my way, boy.”
“My father is the President!” stated Tad, sternly, drawing himself up in his uniform.
“He is that, but you ain’t—nor no colonel either.”
“I am so. I’m an honorary colonel.”