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At two o'clock that morning, by what intuition she would never know, and with such leverage that she landed out of bed plump on her two feet, Alma, with all her faculties into trace like fire horses, sprang out of sleep. It was a matter of twenty steps across the hall.
There was one son, strong, bright, eager, and by dint of driving his eternally wearied brain overtime, the father had been able to send him to Yale, his own alma mater. More or less pious deception had led young Ernest Seeley to believe that his father had regained much of his old-time prestige with the Chronicle and that he had a hand in guiding its editorial destinies.
'I like him all the better because I am rather sorry for him. 'Why? 'Don't you feel that he is very much out of place? He doesn't belong to our world at all. He ought to be founding a new civilisation in some wild country. I can sympathise with him; I have something of the same spirit. 'I never observed it, said Alma, allowing her glance to skim his features.
She played without effort, and could have played for hours without weariness. Her fellow-musicians declared that she was 'wonderful'; and Harvey, as he listened to this flow of excited talk, asked himself whether he had not, after all, judged Alma amiss. Perhaps he had been the mere dull Philistine, unable to recognise the born artist, and doing his paltry best to obstruct her path.
She looked at Alma and spoke: "The public school is a little hard for new scholars at first," she said, "where they enter in the middle of a term. You are going to like it better after a while, Alma." "I think she will, too," put in Mrs. Driscoll. "My hours are long at the factory and I have liked to think of Alma as safe in school. Does she do pretty well in her studies, Miss Joslyn?"
Though but darkly, confusedly, intermittently conscious of the feeling, Alma was at heart dissatisfied with the liberty, the independence, which her husband seemed so willing to allow her. This, again, helped to confirm the impression that Harvey held her in small esteem. He did not think it worth while to oppose her; she might go her frivolous way, and he would watch with careless amusement.
"To be frank, sir, I was almost asleep. I studied about Alma years ago. I know I said something, but as to what it was " "That will do." The professor made a sign, and Ernol sat down, tremendously embarrassed. "The class will understand that people, when talking in their sleep, usually say things which are the exact opposite of what they know to be true."
Weak imitations of Alma Tadema. Nero admiring his mother's corpse; Claudius interrupting Messalina's marriage with her lover Silus; Clodius disguised among the women of Caesar's household; Pyrrha's grotto. Lady Kirkbank expatiated upon all the pictures, and generally made unlucky guesses at the subjects of them. Classical literature was not her strong point. Mr.
J.W. said, sarcastically; "yes, that's a likely prospect. Just as I'm getting over being scared by a sample case. I'll do well to hold the job I've got." Alma didn't know what Marty's game was, but she played up to his suggestion. "Why shouldn't you go?" she asked. "You've told us that Cummings hardware and tools are sold all over the world. Doesn't that mean salesmen? And aren't you a salesman?
So when it came to making a choice between this brilliant companion and the gingham-clad daughter of a factory hand, Lucy Berry's courage and sympathy oozed away, and she sat back on the window-seat, while Ada began talking about something else. This first school-day was Alma Driscoll's introduction into the world outside of her mother's love.
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