CHAPTER TEN
Once James progressed Martha through the little dictionary, he began witha book of grammar. Again it started slowly; he had to spend quite a bitof time explaining to Martha that she did indeed know all of the termsused in the book of grammar because they'd all been defined by thedictionary, now she was going to learn how the terms and theirdefinitions were used.
James was on more familiar ground now. James, like Martha, had learnedhis first halting sentence structure by mimicking his parents, but heremembered the process of learning why and how sentences are constructedaccording to the rules, and how the rules are used rather than intuitionin forming sentences.
Grammar was a topic that could not be taken in snippets and bits. Wholeparagraphs had to be read until Martha could read them without a halt ora mispronunciation, and then committed to memory with the "Run" buttonheld down. At the best it was a boring process, even though it took onlyminutes instead of days. It was not conflicting, but it was confusing.It installed permanently certain solid blocks of information that wereisolated; they stood alone until later blocks came in to connect theminto a whole area.
Each session was numbing. Martha could take no more than a couple ofhours, after which her reading became foggy. She wanted a nap after eachsession and even after the nap she went around in a bemused state ofmental dizziness.
Life settled down once more in the House on Martin's Hill. James workedwith the machine himself and laid out lessons to guide Martha. Then,finished for the day with education, James took to his typewriter whileMartha had her nap. It filled the days of the boy and girl completely.
This made an unexpected and pleasant change in Mrs. Bagley's routine. Ithad been a job to keep Martha occupied. Now that Martha was busy, Mrs.Bagley found time on her own hands; without interruption, her houseworkroutine was completed quite early in the afternoon.
Mrs. Bagley had never made any great point of getting dressed for dinner.She accumulated a collection of house-frocks; printed cotton washablesdiffering somewhat in color and cut but functionally identical. She worethem serially as they came from the row of hangers in her closet.
Now she began to acquire some dressier things, wearing them even duringher shopping trips.
James paid little attention to this change in his housekeeper's routine,but he approved. Mrs. Bagley was also taking more pains with the 'do' ofher hair, but the boy's notice was not detailed enough to take apart-by-section inventory of the whole. In fact, James gave the wholematter very little thought until Mrs. Bagley made a second change afterher return from town, appearing for dinner in what James could onlyclassify as a party dress.
She asked, "James, do you mind if I go out this evening?"
James, startled, shrugged and said, "No, I guess not."
"You'll keep an ear out for Martha?"
The need for watching a sleeping girl of seven and a half did notpenetrate. "What's up?" he asked.
"It's been months since I saw a movie."
James shrugged again, puzzled. "You saw the 'Bride of Frankenstein' lastnight on TV," he pointed out.
"I first saw that old horror when I was about your age," she told himwith a trace of disdain.
"I liked it."
"So did I at eight and a half. But tonight I'm going to see a _new_picture."
"Okay," said James, wondering why anybody in their right mind would goout on a chilly night late in November just to see a moving picture whenthey could stay at home and watch one in comfort. "Have a good time."
He expected Mrs. Bagley to take off in her car, but she did not. Shewaited until a brief _toot_! came from the road. Then, with a swirl ofmotion, she left.
It took James Holden's limited experience some little time to identifythe event with some similar scenes from books he'd read; even with him,reading about it was one world and seeing it happen was another thingentirely.
For James Holden it opened a new area for contemplation. He would have toknow something about this matter if he hoped to achieve his dreamed-ofstatus as an adult.
* * * * *
Information about the relation between man and woman had not beenincluded in the course of education devised by his father and mother.Therefore his physical age and his information on the delicate subjectwere approximately parallel.
His personal evaluation of the subject was uncomplicated. At some age notmuch greater than his own, boys and girls conglomerated in a mass thatmilled around in a constant state of flux and motion, like individualatoms of gas compressed in a container. Meetings and encounters tookplace both singly and in groups until nearly everybody had been in touchwith almost everybody else. Slowly the amorphous mass changed. Groupsbecame attracted by mutual interests. Changes and exchanges took place,and then a pair-formation began to take place. The pair-formation wentthrough its interchanges both with and without friction as thesettling-down process proceeded. At times predictable by comparing itto the statistics of radioactivity, the pair-production resulted inpermanent combination, which effectively removed this couple from freecirculation.
James Holden had no grasp or feeling for the great catalyst that causesthis pair-production; he saw it only for its sheer mechanics. To him, thesensible way to go about this matter was to get there early and movefast, because one stands to make a better choice when there is a greaternumber of unattached specimens from which to choose. Those left over arelikely to have flaws.
And so he pondered, long after Martha had gone to bed.
He was still up and waiting when he heard the car stop at the gate.He watched them come up the walk arm in arm, their stride slow andlingering. They paused for several moments on the doorstep, once therewas a short, muted laugh. The snick of the key came next and they cameinto the hallway.
"No, please don't come in," said Mrs. Bagley.
"But--" replied the man.
"But me no buts. It's late, Tim."
Tim? Tim? That would probably be Timothy Fisher. He ran the local garagewhere Mrs. Bagley bought her car. James went on listening shamelessly.
"Late? Phooey. When is eleven-thirty late?"
"When it's right now," she replied with a light laugh. "Now, Tim. It'sbeen very--"
There came a long silence.
Her voice was throaty when the silence broke. "Now, will you go?"
"Of course," he said.
"Not that way, silly," she said. "The door's behind you."
"Isn't the door I want," he chuckled.
"We're making enough noise to wake the dead," she complained.
"Then let's stop talking," he told her.
There was another long silence.
"Now please go."
"Can I come back tomorrow night?"
"Not tomorrow."
"Friday?"
"Saturday."
"It's a date, then."
"All right. Now get along with you."
"You're cruel and heartless, Janet," he complained. "Sending a man out inthat cold and storm."
"It isn't storming, and you've a fine heater in that car of yours."
"I'd rather have you."
"Do you tell that to all the girls?"
"Sure. Even Maggie the Washerwoman is better than an old car heater."
Mrs. Bagley chuckled throatily. "How is Maggie?"
"She's fine."
"I mean as a date."
"Better than the car heater."
"Tim, you're a fool."
"When I was a kid," said Tim reflectively, "there used to be a femalesiren in the movies. Her pet line used to be 'Kiss me, my fool!' ThedaBara, I think. Before talkies. Now--"
"No, Tim--"
Another long silence.
"Now, Tim, you've simply _got_ to go!"
"Yeah, I know. You've convinced me."
"Then why aren't you going?"
He chuckled. "Look, you've convinced me. I can't stay so I'll go,obviously. But now that we've covered this problem, let's drop thesubject for a while, huh?"
/> "Don't spoil a fine evening, Tim."
"Janet, what's with you, anyway?"
"What do you mean, 'what's with me?'"
"Just this. Somewhere up in the house is this oddball Maxwell who hidesout all the time. He's either asleep or busy. Anyway, he isn't here. Doyou have to report in, punch a time clock, tuck him in--or do you turninto a pumpkin at the stroke of twelve?"
"Mr. Maxwell is paying me wages to keep house for him. That's all. Partof my wages is my keep. But it doesn't entitle me to have full run of thehouse or to bring guests in at midnight for a two-hour good-nightsession."
"I'd like to tell this bird a thing or two," said Tim Fisher sharply. "Hecan't keep you cooped up like--like--"
"Nobody is keeping me cooped up," she said. "Like what?"
"What?"
"You said 'like--'"
"Skip it. What I meant is that you can't moulder, Janet. You've got toget out and meet people."
"I've been out and I've met people. I've met you."
"All to the good."
"Fine. So you invited me out, and I went. It was fun. I liked it. You'veasked me, and I've said that I'd like to do it again on Saturday. I'veenjoyed being kissed, and I'll probably enjoy it again on Saturday. So--"
"I'd think you'd enjoy a lot of it."
"Because my husband has been gone for five years?"
"Oh, now Janet--"
"That's what you meant, isn't it?"
"No. You've got me wrong."
"Tim, stop it. You're spoiling a fine evening. You should have gonebefore it started to spoil. Now please put your smile on again and leavecheerfully. There's always Saturday--if you still want it."
"I'll call you," he said.
The door opened once more and then closed. James took a deep breath, andthen stole away quietly to his own room.
By some instinct he knew that this was no time to intercept Mrs. Bagleywith a lot of fool questions.
* * * * *
To the surprise and puzzlement of young James Quincy Holden, Mr. TimothyFisher telephoned early upon the following evening. He was greeted quitecordially by Mrs. Bagley. Their conversation was rambling and inane,especially when heard from one end only, and it took them almost tenminutes to confirm their Saturday night date. That came as another shock.
Well, not quite. The explanation bothered him even more than the factitself. As a further extension of his little mechanical mating process,James had to find a place for the like of Jake Caslow and the women Jakeknew. None of them were classed in the desirable group, all of them wereamong the leftovers. But of course, since none of them were good enoughfor the 'good' people, they were good enough for one another, and thatmade it all right--for them.
But Mrs. Bagley was not of their ilk. It was not right that she should beforced to take a leftover.
And then it occurred to him that perhaps Mrs. Bagley was not reallytaking the leftover, Tim Fisher, but instead was using Tim Fisher'scompany as a means toward meeting a larger group, from which there mightbe a better specimen. So he bided his time, thinking deeply around thesubject, about which he knew nothing whatsoever.
Saturday night was a repeat of Wednesday. They stayed out later, and upontheir return they took possession of the living room for at least an hourbefore they started their routine about the going-home process. Withminor variations in the dialog, and with longer and more frequentsilences, it almost followed the Wednesday night script. The variationpuzzled James even more. This session went according to program for awhile until Tim Fisher admitted with regret that it was, indeed, time forhim to depart. At which juncture Mrs. Bagley did not leap to her feet toaccept his offer to do that which she had been asking him to do for ahalf hour. Mrs. Bagley compounded the affair by sighing deeply andagreeing with him that it was a shame that it was so late and that she,too, wished that he could stay a little longer. This, of course, put themprecisely where they were a half hour earlier and they had to start thesilly business all over again.
They parted after a final fifteen-minute discussion at the front door.This discussion covered Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, and finally came toagreement on Wednesday.
And so James Holden went to bed that night fully convinced that in a townof approximately two thousand people--he did not count the two or threehundred A.E.C.-College group as part of the problem--there were entirelytoo few attractive leftovers from which Mrs. Bagley could choose.
But as this association grew, it puzzled him even more. For in hisunderstanding, any person forced to accept a second-rate choice does sowith an air of resignation, but not with a cheerful smile, a sparkle inthe eyes, and two hours of primping.
James sought the answer in his books but they were the wrong volumes forreference of this subject. He considered the local Public Library onlylong enough to remember that it carried a few hundred books suitable forthe A.E.C.-College crew and a thousand or so of second-hand culls donatedby local citizens during cleanup campaigns. He resorted to buying booksby mail through advertisements in newspapers and magazines and received anumber of volumes of medical treatises, psychological texts, and a bookon obstetrics that convinced him that baby-having was both rare andhazardous. He read _By Love Possessed_ but he did not recognize the manyforms of love portrayed by the author because the volume was notannotated with signs or provided with a road map, and he did not knowit when he read about it.
He went through the Kinsey books and absorbed a lot of data and graphsand figures on human behavior that meant nothing to him. James was noteven interested in the incidence of homosexuality among college studentsas compared to religious groups, or in the comparison between premaritalexperience and level of education. He knew the words and what the wordsmeant as defined in other words. But they were only words and did nottouch him where he lived.
So, because none of the texts bothered to explain why a woman says Yes,when she means No, nor why a woman will cling to a man's lapels and pressherself against him and at the same time tell him he has to go home,James remained ignorant. He could have learned more from Lord Byron,Shelley, Keats, or Browning than from Kinsey, deLee, or the "Instructivebook on Sex, forwarded under plain wrapper for $2.69 postpaid."
Luckily for James, he did not study any of his material via the medium ofhis father's machine or it would have made him sick. For he was not yetcapable of understanding the single subject upon which more words havebeen expended in saying less than any other subject since the dawn ofhistory.
His approach was academic, he could have been reading the definitivematerial on the life-cycle of the beetle insofar as any stir of his ownblood was concerned.
From his study he did identify a couple of items. Tim Fisher obviouslydesired extramarital relations with Mrs. Bagley--or was it premaritalrelations? Probably both. Logic said that Mrs. Bagley, having alreadybeen married to Martha's father, could hardly enter into _pre_maritalrelations, although Tim could, since he was a bachelor. But they wouldn'tbe _pre_marital with Tim unless he followed through and married Mrs.Bagley. And so they must be _extra_marital. But whatever they werecalled, the Book said that there was about as much on one side as on theother.
With a mind mildly aware of the facts of life, distorted through the eyesof near-nine James Holden, he watched them and listened in.
As for Mrs. Bagley, she did not know that she was providing part of JamesHolden's extraliterary education. She enjoyed the company of Tim Fisher.Hesitantly, she asked James if she could have Tim for dinner one evening,and was a bit surprised at his immediate assent. They planned theevening, cleaned the lower part of the house of every trace of itscurrent occupancy, and James and Martha hied themselves upstairs. Dinnerwent with candlelight and charcoal-broiled steak--and a tray taken aloftfor "Mr. Maxwell" was consumed by James and Martha. The evening wentsmoothly. They listened to music and danced, they sat and talked. AndJames listened.
Tim was not the same man. He sat calm and comfortably on the low sofawith Mrs. Bagley's head on his shoulder, both o
f them pleasantly bemusedby the dancing fireplace and with each other's company. He said, "Well,I'm glad this finally happened."
"What happened?" she replied in a murmur.
"Getting the invite for dinner."
"Might have been sooner, I suppose. Sorry."
"What took you so long?"
"Just being cautious, I guess."
He chuckled. "Cautious?"
"Uh-huh."
Tim laughed.
"What's so darned funny?"
"Women."
"Are we such a bunch of clowns?"
"Not clowns, Janet. Just funny."
"All right, genius. Explain that."
"A woman is a lovely creature who sends a man away so that he can't dowhat she wants him to do most of all."
"Uh-huh."
"She feeds him full of rare steak until he wants to crawl off in a cornerlike the family mutt and go to sleep. Once she gets him in a somnolentstate, she drapes herself tastefully on his shoulder and gets soft andwarm and willing."
Mrs. Bagley laughed throatily. "Just start getting active," she warned,"and you'll see how fast I can beat a hasty retreat."
"Janet, what _is_ with you?"
"What do you mean?"
"What are you hiding?"
"Hiding?"
"Yes, confound it, hiding!" he said, his voice turning hard. "Just who isthis Charles Maxwell character, anyway?"
"Tim, please--"
His voice lowered again. "Janet," he said softly, "you're asking me totrust you, and at the same time you're not trusting me."
"But I've nothing to hide."
"Oh, stop it. I'm no schoolboy, Janet. If you have nothing to hide, whyare you acting as if you were sitting on the lid?"
"I still don't know what you're talking about."
"Your words say so, but your tone is the icy haughtiness that dares me,mere male that I am, to call your lie. I've a half-notion to stompupstairs and confront your mysterious Maxwell--if he indeed exists."
"You mustn't. He'd--"
"He'd what? I've been in this house for hours day and night and now allevening. I've never heard a sound, not the creak of a floorboard, theslam of a door, the opening of a window, nor the distant gurgle of cool,clear water, gushing into plumbing. So you've been married. This I know.You have a daughter. This I accept. Your husband is dead. This happens topeople every day; nice people, bad people, bright people, dull people.There was a young boy here last summer. Him I do not know, but you andyour daughter I do know about. I've checked--"
"How dare you check--?"
"I damn well dare check anything and anybody I happen to be personallyinterested in," he stormed. "As a potential bed partner I wouldn't give ahoot who you were or what you were. But before I go to the point ofdividing the rest of my life on an exclusive contract, I have the rightto know what I'm splitting it with."
"You have no right--"
"Balderdash! I have as much right as anybody to look at the record. Igrant you the same right to look up my family and my friends and thestatus of my bank account and my credit rating and my service record.Grant it? Hell, I couldn't stop you. Now, what's going on? Where is yourdaughter and where is that little boy? And where--if he exists--is thisCharles Maxwell?"
* * * * *
James had heard enough. No matter which way this was going, it would endup wrong. He was proud of Mrs. Bagley's loyalty, but he knew that it wasan increasing strain and could very well lead to complications that couldnot be explained away without the whole truth. He decided that the onlything to do was to put in his own oar and relieve Mrs. Bagley.
He walked in, yawning. He stood between them, facing Tim Fisher. Behindhim, Mrs. Bagley cried, "Now see--you've awakened him!"
In a dry-throated voice, Tim said, "I thought he was away at school. Now,what's the story?"
"It isn't her story to tell," said James. "It's mine."
"Now see here--"
"Mr. Fisher, you can't learn anything by talking incessantly."
Tim Fisher took a step forward, his face dark, his intention to shake thetruth out of somebody. James held up a hand. "Sit down a moment andlisten," he ordered.
The sight of James and the words that this child was uttering stopped TimFisher. Puzzled, he nodded dumbly, found a chair, and sat on the frontedge of it, poised.
"The whereabouts of Mr. Maxwell is his own business and none of yours.Your criticism is unfounded and your suspicions unworthy. But since youtake the attitude that this is some of your business, we don't mindtelling you that Mr. Maxwell is in New York on business."
Tim Fisher eyed the youngster. "I thought you were away at school," herepeated.
"I heard you the first time," said James. "Obviously, I am not. Why I amnot is Mr. Maxwell's business, not yours. And by insisting that somethingis wrong here and demanding the truth, you have placed Mrs. Bagley in theawkward position of having to make a decision that divides her loyalties.She has had the complete trust of Mr. Maxwell for almost a year and ahalf. Now, tell me, Mr. Fisher, to whom shall she remain loyal?"
"That isn't the point--"
"Yes, it is the point, Mr. Fisher. It is exactly the point. You're askingMrs. Bagley to tell you the details of her employer's business, which isunethical."
"How much have you heard?" demanded Fisher crossly.
"Enough, at least to know what you've been hammering at."
"Then you know that I've as much as said that there was some suspicionattached."
"Suspicion of what?"
"Well, why aren't you in school?"
"That's Mr. Maxwell's business."
"Let me tell you, youngster, it is more than your Mr. Maxwell's business.There are laws about education and he's breaking them."
James said patiently: "The law states that every child shall receive anadequate education. The precise wording I do not know, but it doesprovide for schooling outside of the state school system if the parent orguardian so prefers, and providing that such extraschool education isdeemed adequate by the state. Can you say that I am not properlyeducated, Mr. Fisher?"
"Well, you'd hardly expect me to be an expert on the subject."
"Then I'd hardly expect you to pass judgment, either," said Jamespointedly.
"You're pretty--" Tim Fisher caught his tongue at the right moment. Hefelt his neck getting hot. It is hard enough to be told that you areoff-base and that your behavior has been bad when an adult says thedamning words. To hear the same words from a ten-year-old is unbearable.Right or wrong, the adult's position is to turn aside or shut the childup either by pulling rank or cuffing the young offender with an openhand. To have this upstart defend Mrs. Bagley, in whose presence he couldhardly lash back, put Mr. Fisher in a very unhappy state of mind. Heswallowed and then asked, lamely, "Why does he have to be so furtive?"
"What is your definition of 'furtive'?" asked James calmly. "Do youemploy the same term to describe the operations of that combinationCollege-A.E.C. installation on the other side of town?"
"That's secret--"
"Implying that atomic energy is secretly above-board, legal, andhonorable, whereas Mr. Maxwell's--"
"But we know about atomic energy."
"Sure we do," jeered James, and the sound of his immature near-treblevoice made the jeer very close to an insult. "We know _all_ about atomicenergy. Was the Manhattan Project called 'furtive' until Hiroshima gavethe story away?"
"You're trying to put words in my mouth," objected Tim.
"No, I'm not. I'm merely trying to make you understand somethingimportant to everybody. You come in here and claim by the right ofpersonal interest that we should be most willing to tell you ourbusiness. Then in the next breath you defend the installation over on theother side of town for their attitude in giving the bum's rush to peoplewho try to ask questions about their business. Go read your Constitution,Mr. Fisher. It says there that I have as much right to defend my homeagainst intruders as the A.E.C. has to defend their home against spi
es."
"But I'm not intruding."
James nodded his head gently. "Not," he said, "until you make the graveerror of equating personal privacy with culpable guilt."
"I didn't mean that."
"You should learn to say what you mean," said James, "instead of tryingto pry information out of someone who happens to be fond of you."
"Now see here," said Tim Fisher, "I happen to be fond of her too, youknow. Doesn't that give me some rights?"
"Would you expect to know all of her business if she were your wife?"
"Of course."
"Suppose she were working in the A.E.C.-College?"
"Well, that--er--"
"Would be different?"
"Well, now--"
"I talked this right around in its circle for a purpose," said James."Stop and think for a moment. Let's discuss me. Mr. Fisher, where wouldyou place me in school?"
"Er--how old are you?"
"Nine," said James. "In April."
"Well, I'm not sure--"
"Exactly. Do you suppose that I could sit in a classroom among mynine-year-old contemporaries very long without being found out?"
"Er--no--I suppose not."
"Mr. Fisher, how long do you think I could remain a secret if I attendedhigh school, sitting at a specially installed desk in a class amongteenagers twice my size?"
"Not very long."
"Then remember that some secrets are so big that you have to have armedguards to keep them secret, and others are so easy to conceal that allyou need is a rambling old house and a plausible facade."
"Why have you told me all this?"
"Because you have penetrated this far by your own effort, justified byyour own personal emotions, and driven by an urge that is all-powerful ifI am to believe the books I've read on the subject. You are told thismuch of the truth so that you won't go off half-cocked with a finecollection of rather dangerous untruths. Understand?"
"I'm beginning to."
"Well, whether Mrs. Bagley accepts your offer of marriage or not,remember one thing: If she were working for the A.E.C. you'd be proud ofher, and you'd also be quite careful not to ask questions that wouldcause her embarrassment."
Tim Fisher looked at Mrs. Bagley. "Well?" he asked.
Mrs. Bagley looked bleak. "Please don't ask me until I've had a chance todiscuss all of the angles with Mr. Maxwell, Tim."
"Maxwell, again."
"Tim," she said in a quiet voice, "remember--he's an employer, not anemotional involvement."
James Holden looked at Tim Fisher. "And if you'll promise to keep thisthing as close a secret as you would some information about atomicenergy, I'll go to bed and let you settle your personal problems inprivate. Good night!"
He left, reasonably satisfied that Tim Fisher would probably keep theirsecret for a time, at least. The hinted suggestion that this was asimportant a government project as the Atomic Energy Commission's workswould prevent casual talk. There was also the slim likelihood that TimFisher might enjoy the position of being on the inside of a big secret,although this sort of inner superiority lacks true satisfaction. Therewas a more solid chance that Tim Fisher, being the ambitious man that hewas, would keep their secret in the hope of acquiring for himself someof the superior knowledge and the advanced ability that went with it.
But James was certain that the program that had worked so well with Mrs.Bagley would fail with Tim Fisher. James had nothing material to offerTim. Tim was the kind of man who would insist upon his wife being afull-time wife, physically, emotionally, and intellectually.
And James suddenly realized that Tim Fisher's own ambition and characterwould insist that Mrs. Bagley, with Martha, leave James Holden to take upresidence in a home furnished by Tim Fisher upon the date and at time shebecame Mrs. Timothy Fisher.
He was still thinking about the complications this would cause when heheard Tim leave. His clock said three-thirty.
* * * * *
James Holden's mechanical educator was a wonderful machine, but therewere some aspects of knowledge that it was not equipped to impart. Theglandular comprehension of love was one such; there were others. In allof his hours under the machine James had not learned how personalitieschange and grow.
And yet there was a textbook case right before his eyes.
In a few months, Janet Bagley had changed from a frightened andbelligerent mother-animal to a cheerful young prospective wife. Theimportance of the change lay in the fact that it was not polar, nothingreversed; it was only that the emphasis passed gradually from theprotection of the young to the development of Janet Bagley herself.
James could not very well understand, though he tried, but he couldn'tmiss seeing it happen. It was worrisome. It threatened complications.
There was quite a change that came with Tim Fisher's elevation in statusfrom steady date to affianced husband, heightened by Tim Fisher's partialunderstanding of the situation at Martin's Hill.
Then, having assumed the right to drop in as he pleased, he went on toassume more "rights" as Mrs. Bagley's fiance. He brought in his friendsfrom time to time. Not without warning, of course, for he understood theneed for secrecy. When he brought friends it was after warning, and veryfrequently after he had helped them to remove the traces of juvenileoccupancy from the lower part of the house.
In one way, this took some of the pressure off. The opening of the"hermit's" house to the friends of the "hermit's" housekeeper's fianceand friends was a pleasant evidence of good will; people stoppedwondering, a little.
On the other hand, James did not wholly approve. He contrasted this withwhat he remembered of his own home life. The guests who came to visit hismother and father were quiet and earnest. They indulged in animateddiscussions, argued points of deep reasoning, and in moments ofrelaxation they indulged in games that demanded skill and intellect.
Tim Fisher's friends were noisy and boisterous. They mixed highballs.They danced to music played so loud that it made the house throb. Theywatched the fights on television and argued with more volume than logic.
They were, to young James, a far cry from his parents' friends.
But, as he couldn't do anything about it, he refused to worry about it.James Holden turned his thoughts forward and began to plan how he wasgoing to face the culmination of this romance next September Fifteenth.He even suspected that there would probably be a number of knotty littleproblems that he now knew nothing about; he resolved to allow somethinking-time to cope with them when, as, and if.
In the meantime, the summer was coming closer.
He prepared to make a visible show of having Mr. Charles Maxwell leavefor a protracted summer travel. This would ease the growing problem ofproviding solid evidence of Maxwell's presence during the increasingfrequency of Tim Fisher's visits and the widening circle of Mrs. Bagley'sacquaintances in Shipmont. At the same time he and Martha would make areturn from the Bolton School for Youth. This would allow them theirfreedom for the summer; for the first time James looked forward to it.Martha Bagley was progressing rapidly. This summer would see her over anddone with the scatter-brain prattle that gave equal weight to fact orfancy. Her store of information was growing; she could be relied upon tomaintain a fairly secure cover. Her logic was not to James Holden'scomplete satisfaction but she accepted most of his direction as necessaryinformation to be acted upon now and reasoned later.
In the solving of his immediate problems, James can be forgiven forputting Paul Brennan out of his mind.