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Updated: May 9, 2025
Fischer hastened to the house to inform Edwin of the plan. Edwin, brush in hand and down upon his knees, was diligently brushing away the crumbs from under the table in the dining-room when he was told in a few words to stop his work and prepare for the journey. "You are to go home with Mr. Fitch," his mother explained. "He wants you to live with him and be his choreboy." Perhaps Mrs.
Oliver had worked hard while he lived at home, although he was never clean or warm in winter and had wretched food all the year round. His spare, dry figure, his prominent larynx, and the peculiar red of his face and hands belonged to the choreboy he had never outgrown. It was as if the farm, knowing he would escape from it as early as he could, had ground its mark on him deep.
I hate the handsome Austrian woman, who perks up her nose, and thinks herself better than my wife; and if the golden time has come of which Marat speaks, when the people are the master, and the king is the servant, Marie Antoinette shall be my waiting-maid, and her son shall be my choreboy, and his buckle shall make acquaintance with my shoe- straps!"
From the time he entered school, the atmosphere about the home, and Mr. Cole's attitude toward his choreboy, changed completely. Where he had been pleasant, he now was surly and cross. He found fault with all that Austin did, and it seemed impossible to please him in anything. One evening Mr. Coles told Austin to get out the car and have it lighted and ready, for he intended to go to a neighbor's.
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