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Updated: May 26, 2025
He was a short, thickly built young man, with heavy jaws and black hair and eyes, keen eyes, I soon felt, that were weighing and analyzing me as justly, but more shrewdly than ever his father had done. The night before he went away he came up to the porch-step where I sat, and said abruptly, "I am satisfied, and happy to go now."
Ann at his feet on the porch-step read aloud to him with indifference to all but the man she now and then looked up to with the loving tenderness his brief betterment fed with illusory hope. "What's that, Ann?" he exclaimed; "Grant at Chattanooga! That's John's ideal General. Didn't he write about him at where was it? Oh! Belmont." "Yes, after Belmont, James." "When does Mark Rivers go back?"
Not an inflection in his voice changed when Martin drove past the porch, but the others, even Eddy, who was seated at his sister's feet on the porch-step, eyed the arrival with undisguised eagerness. A brown-paper parcel was distinctly visible on the seat beside Martin. "Thank God!" Mrs. Carroll whispered, under her breath to her sister. "He's got it."
He saw her, waved his hand with a careless, boyish gesture and disappeared over the brow of the hill. Tom sat down suddenly on the porch-step. When Sheba turned to him he was pale and his forehead was damp with sweat. He spoke aloud, but to himself, not to her. "Good Lord," he said, "it's De Courcy and and the boy. That was why I knew his face."
And it seemed to Rudolph Musgrave, drowsily pleased by his own inventiveness, that Patricia was glad this afternoon was so hot that no one was abroad except the small boy at the corner house, who sat upon the bottom porch-step, and, as children so often do, appeared intently to appraise the world at large with an inexplicable air of disappointment.
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