“But Mother, Father doesn’t have to be in town until so much later.”
“Well,—you’re so much younger. That evens matters.”
“Perhaps Quincy doesn’t want to live at home any more,” Adelaide suggested.
“I guess that’s it,” from Quincy. “It’s a good chance to strike out alone.”
“Very well, my son.” Josiah whipped himself into a state of being injured. “Go, by all means. But if you leave the house—you pay your own way.”
“I can afford to. I’m making twenty dollars a week.”
“Go, then,” said the old man. “It’ll do you good.”
Sarah sighed. Adelaide, who suffered most, was the one who did not cast a dart by way of godspeed.
“You’ll come out week-ends, dear?” she said, placing her hands about his face.
But Quincy was angry at the ease with which his father seemed to shake him off.