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When she had finished he surveyed the remains of what had been a huge turkey.
“Our bird seems to have suffered from the ravages of a hungry tribe of Roosevelts,” he turned it over. “I do find a little dark meat left and some dressing. And oh yes, here is the intact remainder of the liver. Alice, you may have that. It makes red blood and you’ll need it when you tackle the beginnings of algebra and French. My dear,” he bowed across the table, “how will you have your bones?”
“Anything edible,” said Edith. “I’m not at all particular.”
She sat at the foot of the table looking every inch the poised, self-contained and gracious mistress of his house. He knew that she was good for him, taming his occasional warlike impulses as perhaps no other woman could have done. One quieting word from her was usually enough to steady him and calm his rages as she had just done without in the least appearing to do, upstairs.
42
Alice began her argument again. “Mother, why can’t I go to Albany with the rest of the family?”
“Because your mother’s family want you to have every advantage, Alice.” Edith spoke quietly, waving off an interruption from Theodore with a flick of her hand, “You must be grateful for them and for the education they are able to give you. A girl like you is born with an obligation to make the most of herself and I am sure you will, as I hope my own children will too.”
“That sounds like a lecture,” fretted Alice. “I’ll get enough lectures from my aunts and grandmother. They are always lecturing me to be a lady and I think ladies are stupid. I’d like to go to Dakota with Father and be a cowgirl. I ride better then the boys do now.”
“Your aunt will probably see to it that you have riding lessons in New York,” Edith said.
“I know about those. Side saddle and a derby hat and horses so slow and stodgy they won’t gallop. I had some the last time I was there at grandmother’s, with a silly groom leading the horse around by the bridle.”
Edith sighed. She had devotedly tried to do her best for Theodore’s daughter but Alice, like her father, had been born a rebel with an individuality that would always resent any set pattern of behavior. At least, Edith comforted herself, the responsibility was not hers alone nor could she reproach herself if inherited traits were too strong. Thank goodness there was no rampant individuality in her own small daughter! Ethel was usually as placid as a Dutch housewife, though she could not be imposed upon and always stood stubbornly for her own rights.
Dinner was not quite over when two small figures appeared at the dining room door. In their nightclothes Kermit 43and Ethel stood there, their small feet blue with cold.