Page:Keeping the Peace.pdf/152

 write—I mean live people. Dead artists are all right with mother—Walter Scott and Raphæl and Milton and Praxiteles. But the live ones are beyond the pale. They are not only low and vulgar, but lost. . . What I'm afraid of is that mother will take sick or something like that, and that nothing will make her well except my going into the church."

"For a mere child," said Mr. Eaton, "you are hideously wise. That was what my mother did to me."

"And that is what Ruth is doing to Bruce with her back."

"In my experience," said Mr. Eaton, "there is nothing that the average woman won't stoop to in order to get her own way. She usually gets it, and usually it is of no especial benefit to herself or anybody concerned."

"I wish you would tell me what I'd better do."

"You mentioned once that John had promised to help you out if you wanted to study in Paris. Why not wait till John shows up and then we three will get together and thrash the thing out?"

Edward stroked his chin ruefully. "I know what that will lead to," he said, "and I suppose it's the only way. But I did hope that one of us Eaton boys would have the courage to stand up to mother and not run away."