XXII
He sat on the edge of the couch, gazing into space, lost in tragic
thought; and Mary and I sat watching him, not quite certain whether
we ought to withdraw with the rest. But he did not seem aware of our
presence, so we stayed.
In our world it is not considered permissible for people to remain
in company without talking. If the talk lags, we have to cast
hurriedly about in our minds for something to say--it is called
"making conversation." But Carpenter evidently did not know about
this custom, and neither of us instructed him. Once or twice I stole
a glance at Mary, marvelling at her. All her life she had been a
conversational volcano, in a state of perpetual eruption; but now,
apparently she passed judgment on her own remarks, and found them
not worth making.
In the doorway of the room appeared the little boy who had been
knocked down by the car. He looked at Carpenter, and then came
towards him. When Carpenter saw him, a smile of welcome came upon
his face; he stretched out an arm, and the little fellow nestled in
it. Other children appeared in the doorway, and soon he had a group
about him, sitting on his knees and on the couch. They were little
gutter-urchins, but he, seemingly, was interested in knowing their
names and their relationships, what they learned in school, and what
games they played. I think he had Bertie's foot-ball crowd in mind,
for he said: "Some day they will teach you games of love and
friendship, instead of rivalry and strife."
Presently the mother of the household appeared. She was distressed,
because it did not seem possible that a great man should be
interested in the prattle of children, when he had people like us,
evidently rich people, to talk to. "You will bother the master," she
said, in Spanish. He seemed to understand, and answered, "Let the
children stay with me. They teach me that the world might be happy."
So the prattle went on, and the woman stood in the doorway, with
other women behind her, all beaming with delight. They had known all
their lives there was something especially remarkable about these
children; and here was their pride confirmed! When the little ones
laughed, and the stranger laughed with them, you should have seen
the pleasure shining from a doorway full of dusky Mexican faces!
But after a while one of the children began to rub his eyes, and the
mother exclaimed--it was so late! The children had stayed awake
because of the excitement, but now they must go to bed. She bundled
them out of the room, and presently came back, bearing a glass of
milk and a plate with bread and an orange on it. The master might be
hungry, she said, with a humble little bow. In her halting English
she offered to bring something to us, but she did not suppose we
would care for poor people's food. She took it for granted that
"poor people's food" was what Carpenter would want; and apparently
she was right, for he ate it with relish. Meantime he tried to get
the woman to sit on the couch beside him; but she would not sit in
his presence--or was it in the presence of Mary and me? I had a
feeling, as she withdrew, that she might have been glad to chat with
him, if a million-dollar movie queen and a spoiled young club man
had not been there to claim prior rights.
