Tom did not answer. He got into his overcoat, called a general good-by and left the house.
Alice came back to the children. Young Tom looked up quizzically. “Well, Mums, that ought to hold him for a while, eh, what?” he remarked as he helped himself hugely to the omelette.
Catherine’s brows were slightly puckered. “Say, Mother, am I going to get my watch? Dad was in such a vile humor, I’m scared. Really I’ll feel like a pauper down there at Miss Bossart’s unless I get something a little bit flossy. And this old watch, I’ve had since I was twelve. There isn’t another round gold one in school. Everything’s platinum now! Heavens, it’s not much to ask for compared to what most of the girls are getting. Jean and Hilda know they’re getting cars of their own! And flocks of them are getting marvelous fur coats.”
“Well, you have your new coat,” Alice reminded her.
“Oh, yes,” Catherine agreed with a faint, deprecating sigh, “such as it is.”
Alice opened her lips for a quick remonstrance and closed them again. Oh, what was the use! The children were always ungrateful. They had no real appreciation these days of what their parents gave them. With them it was take, take, take, and never a thought of value received.
Young Tom looked up from his toast and marmalade with his most winning smile.
“Say, Mums, can you let me have a fiver out of your new pile? I’m in the very dickens of a hole.”
Alice fastened quick eyes upon him. “Where has your allowance gone?” she asked sharply.
“Well, gee, it’s so small to begin with I can hardly see it and then just now round Christmas time there’s always such a darned lot of extras!”