One of Ours | Page 7

a reaper in the dark!" he muttered aloud, clenching his
fist.
Listening to the deep singing of the frogs, and to the distant barking of
the dogs up at the house, he grew calmer. Nevertheless, he wondered
why it was that one had sometimes to feel responsible for the behaviour
of people whose natures were wholly antipathetic to one's own.

III
The circus was on Saturday. The next morning Claude was standing at
his dresser, shaving. His beard was already strong, a shade darker than
his hair and not so red as his skin. His eyebrows and long lashes were a
pale corn-colour--made his blue eyes seem lighter than they were, and,
he thought, gave a look of shyness and weakness to the upper part of
his face. He was exactly the sort of looking boy he didn't want to be.
He especially hated his head,--so big that he had trouble in buying his

hats, and uncompromisingly square in shape; a perfect block-head. His
name was another source of humiliation. Claude: it was a "chump"
name, like Elmer and Roy; a hayseed name trying to be fine. In country
schools there was always a red-headed, warty-handed, runny-nosed
little boy who was called Claude. His good physique he took for
granted; smooth, muscular arms and legs, and strong shoulders, a
farmer boy might be supposed to have. Unfortunately he had none of
his father's physical repose, and his strength often asserted itself
inharmoniously. The storms that went on in his mind sometimes made
him rise, or sit down, or lift something, more violently than there was
any apparent reason for his doing.
The household slept late on Sunday morning; even Mahailey did not
get up until seven. The general signal for breakfast was the smell of
doughnuts frying. This morning Ralph rolled out of bed at the last
minute and callously put on his clean underwear without taking a bath.
This cost him not one regret, though he took time to polish his new
ox-blood shoes tenderly with a pocket handkerchief. He reached the
table when all the others were half through breakfast, and made his
peace by genially asking his mother if she didn't want him to drive her
to church in the car.
"I'd like to go if I can get the work done in time," she said, doubtfully
glancing at the clock.
"Can't Mahailey tend to things for you this morning?"
Mrs. Wheeler hesitated. "Everything but the separator, she can. But she
can't fit all the parts together. It's a good deal of work, you know."
"Now, Mother," said Ralph good-humouredly, as he emptied the syrup
pitcher over his cakes, "you're prejudiced. Nobody ever thinks of
skimming milk now-a-days. Every up-to-date farmer uses a separator."
Mrs. Wheeler's pale eyes twinkled. "Mahailey and I will never be quite
up-to-date, Ralph. We're old-fashioned, and I don't know but you'd
better let us be. I could see the advantage of a separator if we milked
half-a-dozen cows. It's a very ingenious machine. But it's a great deal

more work to scald it and fit it together than it was to take care of the
milk in the old way."
"It won't be when you get used to it," Ralph assured her. He was the
chief mechanic of the Wheeler farm, and when the farm implements
and the automobiles did not give him enough to do, he went to town
and bought machines for the house. As soon as Mahailey got used to a
washing-machine or a churn, Ralph, to keep up with the bristling march
of invention, brought home a still newer one. The mechanical
dish-washer she had never been able to use, and patent flat-irons and
oil-stoves drove her wild.
Claude told his mother to go upstairs and dress; he would scald the
separator while Ralph got the car ready. He was still working at it when
his brother came in from the garage to wash his hands.
"You really oughtn't to load mother up with things like this, Ralph," he
exclaimed fretfully. "Did you ever try washing this damned thing
yourself?"
"Of course I have. If Mrs. Dawson can manage it, I should think mother
could."
"Mrs. Dawson is a younger woman. Anyhow, there's no point in trying
to make machinists of Mahailey and mother."
Ralph lifted his eyebrows to excuse Claude's bluntness. "See here," he
said persuasively, "don't you go encouraging her into thinking she can't
change her ways. Mother's entitled to all the labour-saving devices we
can get her."
Claude rattled the thirty-odd graduated metal funnels which he was
trying to fit together in their proper sequence. "Well, if this is
labour-saving"
The younger boy giggled and ran upstairs for his panama hat. He never
quarrelled. Mrs. Wheeler sometimes said it was wonderful, how much
Ralph would take