Tom Slade Picks a Winner
By Percy Keese Fitzhugh
28 Oct, 2020
Brief Extract: The boy lay in a large, thickly upholstered Morris chair in the living room. His mother had lowered the back of this chair so that he could recline upon it, and she kneeled beside him holding his hand in one of hers while she gently ba
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Brief Extract: The boy lay in a large, thickly upholstered Morris chair in the living room. His mother had lowered the back of this chair so that he could recline upon it, and she kneeled beside him holding his hand in one of hers while she gently bathed his forehead with the other. She watched his face intently, now and again averting her gaze to observe a young girl, her daughter, who had lifted aside the curtain in the front door and was gazing expectantly out into the quiet street. “Is that he?” Mrs. Cowell asked anxiously. “No, it’s a grocery car,” the girl answered. Her mother sighed in impatience and despair. “Hadn’t you better ’phone again?” she asked. “I don’t see what would be the use, mother; he said he’d come right away.” “There he is now,” said Mrs. Cowell. “No, it’s that Ford across the way,” said the girl patiently. “I don’t see why people have Fords; look up the street, dear, and see if he isn’t coming; it must be half an hour.” “It’s only about ten minutes, mother dear; you don’t feel any pain now, do you, Will?” The boy moved his head from side to side, his mother watching him anxiously. “Are you sure?” she asked. “I can’t go to camp now, I suppose,” the boy said. The girl frowned significantly at their mother as if to beseech her not to say the word which would mean disappointment to the boy. “We’ll talk about that later, dear,” said Mrs. Cowell. “You don’t feel any of that—like you said—that dizzy feeling now?” “Maybe I could go later,” said the boy. Again the girl availed herself of the momentary chance afforded by her brother’s averted glance to give her mother a quick look of reproof, as if she had not too high an opinion of her mother’s tact. Poor Mrs. Cowell accepted the silent reprimand and warning and compromised with her daughter by saying: “Perhaps so, we’ll see.” “I know what you mean when you say you’ll see,” said the boy wistfully. “You must just lie still now and not talk,” his mother said, as she soothed his forehead, the while trying to glimpse the street through one of the curtained windows. Less