Now, why should God explain his miracles through the mouth of a Mrs. Gibson?
THE PERFECT SMILE
THE REALISATION of it first came to Douglas Owen when he was not quite five years old.
From his babyhood he had been spoilt, more particularly by his father. He could be such a charming little boy, and his frequent outbreaks of real naughtiness were overlooked or gently reproved. They were even admired in private by his parents, who regarded these first signs of disobedience, temper, and selfishness as the marks of an independent and original spirit.
Nevertheless, when Douglas was nearly five years old, he achieved a minor climax that the most indulgent father could not overlook. Despite all warnings and commands, Douglas would steal from the larder. When there were cakes or tarts he took those for preference, but when there was nothing else he would steal bread, merely, as it seemed, for the pleasure of stealing it. His father had protested to his mother that everything should be kept under lock and key, but as Mrs. Owen explained: “You can’t expect a cook to be for ever locking things up.” And the little Douglas was ingenious in his depredations. He chose his moment with cunning. Also he knew, as the cook herself confessed, how “to get round her.”
Mr. Owen, who was a tender-hearted idealist, admitted at last that stern measures were called for, and he took Douglas into his study and remonstrated with him gently, even lovingly, but with great earnestness. The remonstrance gained strength from Mrs. Owen’s fear that Douglas might make himself seriously ill by his illicit feastings. Douglas, who was forward for his age, listened with attention to his father’s serious lecture and promised reform. “I won’t do it again, father. Promise,” he said with apparent sincerity. And his father, believing absolutely in his child’s truthfulness, and remembering his wife’s adjuration to be “really firm,” was tempted to clinch the thing once for all by issuing an ultimatum.
“I’m sure you won’t, little son,” he said, “because you see if you did, daddy would have to whack you. He’d hate doing it, but he’d have to do it all the same.”
Douglas’s expression was faintly speculative. He had heard something like this before, from his mother.