Chapter V

CHAPTER V

He awoke next morning from rosy scenes of dream to a steamy
atmosphere that smelled of soapsuds and dirty clothes, and that was
vibrant with the jar and jangle of tormented life. As he came out
of his room he heard the slosh of water, a sharp exclamation, and a
resounding smack as his sister visited her irritation upon one of
her numerous progeny. The squall of the child went through him
like a knife. He was aware that the whole thing, the very air he
breathed, was repulsive and mean. How different, he thought, from
the atmosphere of beauty and repose of the house wherein Ruth
dwelt. There it was all spiritual. Here it was all material, and
meanly material.

"Come here, Alfred," he called to the crying child, at the same
time thrusting his hand into his trousers pocket, where he carried
his money loose in the same large way that he lived life in
general. He put a quarter in the youngster's hand and held him in
his arms a moment, soothing his sobs. "Now run along and get some
candy, and don't forget to give some to your brothers and sisters.
Be sure and get the kind that lasts longest."

His sister lifted a flushed face from the wash-tub and looked at
him.

"A nickel'd ha' ben enough," she said. "It's just like you, no
idea of the value of money. The child'll eat himself sick."

"That's all right, sis," he answered jovially. "My money'll take
care of itself. If you weren't so busy, I'd kiss you good
morning."

He wanted to be affectionate to this sister, who was good, and who,
in her way, he knew, loved him. But, somehow, she grew less
herself as the years went by, and more and more baffling. It was
the hard work, the many children, and the nagging of her husband,
he decided, that had changed her. It came to him, in a flash of
fancy, that her nature seemed taking on the attributes of stale
vegetables, smelly soapsuds, and of the greasy dimes, nickels, and
quarters she took in over the counter of the store.

"Go along an' get your breakfast," she said roughly, though
secretly pleased. Of all her wandering brood of brothers he had
always been her favorite. "I declare I WILL kiss you," she said,
with a sudden stir at her heart.

With thumb and forefinger she swept the dripping suds first from
one arm and then from the other. He put his arms round her massive
waist and kissed her wet steamy lips. The tears welled into her
eyes - not so much from strength of feeling as from the weakness of
chronic overwork. She shoved him away from her, but not before he
caught a glimpse of her moist eyes.

"You'll find breakfast in the oven," she said hurriedly. "Jim
ought to be up now. I had to get up early for the washing. Now
get along with you