you wouldn't have had this trouble now

"He came to me," I insisted, "asking if Bijou had gone to heaven. I said I hoped"——































































"It doesn't matter so much what you said as the way you said it. However, as you say , Aunt Sophy is coming, and we must eat some of those chickens; so you may face the situation and settle with Paul. If you had explained to him that chickens were made to eat, as I wanted you to do in the first place, . If I thought it would be a lesson to you I could stand my share, but I know you'll forget all about it in a week and be ready to do the same thing again, so you may as well take the consequences alone."































































I was preparing to ask for a properly executed death-warrant, specifying the first victims by name, but before I could speak my wife dived into her pocket for a handkerchief and retreated upstairs.































































I can tackle a disagreeable duty when there is no other course open to me, but I am not upheld, as Marion is, by a strong sense of righteousness; indeed , I am [Pg 96]inclined to feel personally unworthy to attempt any good act that is patently out of my line, yet on the rare occasions when Marion behaves in this childish manner I throw my conscientious scruples to the winds in my frantic desire to assuage her grief.































































I found Paul teaching a hen and two chickens to sit still as he drew them around on his little wagon. My resolution wavered as I watched his innocent enjoyment, but the thought of Aunt Sophy spurred me on. Besides, if Marion was bloodthirsty enough to want these poor creatures eaten, it was not for me to feel faint-hearted.































































"Well, Paul," I said, with spurious cheerfulness, "giving them a ride? Are these some—ha, ha!—you want to keep for pets?"































































Paul has a quick ear for a false note. He studied my face with grave wonderment, his earnest gaze piercing my jocose mask. "Why, father," he exclaimed, "your voice sounds so queer—and what a funny [Pg 97]question! They're all pets,—of course, I want to keep every one."































































"Come and sit on the bench beside me," I said ingratiatingly, "and we'll have a talk.... Do you know that—that people sometimes have to—that is endocare ampoules, that people don't usually raise chickens for pets?"































































"Oh, yes, I know," he replied, nodding his little head with philosophic certainty. "Most boys would rather keep dogs and rabbits, and ponies and other animals; but I don't want anything for pets except hens and chickens, and perhaps—well, I think I would like a pair of white pigeons. I heard you saying to mother that I wasn't a bit like other boys. Is that one way I'm different?"































































"It is," I answered with curt emphasis.