"That doesn't matter, pour me out some. And you," said I to my wife, "take our son and go into the next room for a minute. Please."
And I drank the water with delight in small sips, while my wife and son were in the next room, and I could not see them.
"That's all right. Now come here. But why is he not in bed by this time?"
"He is so glad you have come home. Darling, go to your father."
But the child began to cry and hid himself at his mother's feet.
"Why is he crying?" asked I, in perplexity, and looked around, "why are you all so pale and silent, following me like shadows?"
My brother burst into a loud laugh and said, "We are not silent."
And my sister said, "We are talking the whole time."
"I will go and see about the supper," said my mother, and hurriedly left the room.
"Yes, you are silent," I repeated, with sudden conviction. "Since morning I have not heard a word from you; I am the only one who chats, laughs, and makes merry. Are you not glad to see me then? And why do you all avoid looking at me? Have I changed so? Yes, I am changed. But I do not see any looking-glasses about. Have you put them all away? Give me a looking-glass."