III
"Gosh all fishhooks!'' Ted wailed to Eunice, as they wolfed
hot chocolate, lumps of nougat, and an assortment of glacé
nuts, in the mosaic splendor of the Royal Drug Store, "it gets
me why Dad doesn't just pass out from being so poky. Every
evening he sits there, about half-asleep, and if Rone or I say,
`Oh, come on, let's do something,' he doesn't even take the
trouble to think about it. He just yawns and says, `Naw,
this suits me right here.' He doesn't know there's any fun
going on anywhere. I suppose he must do some thinking,
same as you and I do, but gosh, there's no way of telling it.
I don't believe that outside of the office and playing a little
bum golf on Saturday he knows there's anything in the world
to do except just keep sitting there-sitting there every night
—not wanting to go anywhere—not wanting to do anything—
thinking us kids are crazy—sitting there—Lord!''
