“Just this once,” persisted Mrs. Teidelmann. “It is holiday time.”
A ray of sunlight fell into the room, lighting upon her coaxing face, making where my mother stood seem shadow.
“I would rather he did not go,” repeated my mother, and her voice sounded harsh and grating. “When he is older others must judge for him, but for the present he must be guided by me—alone.”
“I really don't think there could be any harm, Maggie,” urged my father. “Things have changed since we were young.”
“That may be,” answered my mother, still in the same harsh voice; “it is long ago since then.”
“I didn't intend it that way,” said my father with a short laugh.
“I merely meant that I may be wrong,” answered my mother. “I seem so old among you all—so out of place. I have tried to change, but I cannot.”
“We will say no more about it,” said Mrs. Teidelmann, sweetly. “I merely thought it would give him pleasure; and he has worked so hard this last term, his father tells me.”
She laid her hand caressingly on my shoulder, drawing me a little closer to her; and it remained there.
“It was very kind of you,” said my mother, “I would do anything to give him pleasure, anything-I could. He knows that. He understands.”