Uncle Evarts, notwithstanding his joy over those two hours saved from the train, thus enabling him to continue his journey that same evening, changed his mind and stayed over night. His brother and sister-in-law gave him their newly acquired room and took refuge in Derrick’s, and that long suffering youth “slept around in any old place” to quote his own language. Also Uncle Evarts stayed for morning family worship and led in prayer, and the two who were sure to talk things over together discussed him from this standpoint on their way to school, Jean leading with:
“Do you know, Dick, I like Uncle Evarts less when he prays than at any other time?”
Derrick laughed. “I ‘like him less’ so much on all occasions,” he said, “that I don’t often stop to particularize. What is the special grievance about him then?”
“Oh, I don’t know; I can’t put it into words; he has a lot of high-sounding phrases that would mean really wonderful things if one only meant them at all; but when he uses them, they seem like cathedral bells tolling simply to be heard; just sound, you know, no soul behind them. I can’t describe the feeling they give me, but—father’s prayers never seem like that.”
Derrick’s only reply was a request that she would have the goodness not to mention father and Uncle Evarts in the same sentence, because he didn’t think he could stand their being brought so close together. On the whole it was evident that their uncle’s suave efforts at comradeship had not been successful. Ray and Florence were less outspoken, but they, as well as the younger ones, had resented their uncle’s attempts to be sympathetic with their mother.
“It is too bad, Louise,” he had said, a few minutes before his departure, “to have Elsie foisted upon you in this way. I told Caroline that I thought she ought to plan to have her for part of the winter, at least; but I made no impression; she insisted that it was no more than fair for Joe to take his turn first, since he was the oldest. She doesn’t realize how hard up poor Joe is; I didn’t myself, until I saw him this time; grows old fast, doesn’t he? Poor old chap! Between you and me, Louise, Caroline is a bit tempted think of her own comfort first. Well, I wish I could do something myself, but you know how my hands are tied. Elsie is a good soul, she won’t make any more trouble than she can help; and perhaps by another year something will turn up. Who knows? That’s my car, isn’t it?”
As they watched him spring briskly to the platform, and wave his hand in graceful farewell, Florence gave vent to her pent-up feelings.
“I must say I detest that man! He talks about Aunt Elsie as though she were a bale of cotton to be dumped down wherever it happened. Wouldn’t I hate to be beholden to him! ‘Poor Joe’ indeed! what right has he to speak in that way of father? Didn’t you feel like choking him, mother?”
But Mrs. Forman’s only reply, after a moment of eloquent silence, was:
“I am glad your father had to go down town early.”