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Updated: May 14, 2025
Instead of moving on into the house Mrs. Sprockett's husband stood where he had stopped. "Our Alma " he began. "If you want my advice," said John, interrupting again, "I would wait until morning if I were you and then ask the police to help you find her." No storm of protest came from Mrs. Sprockett's husband.
Alma, John knew, was the oldest of Mrs. Sprockett's daughters. "What are things coming to when girls wear their skirts above their knees and bob their hair and think nothing of taking up with the first man they meet? When you and I were girls, Mrs. Gallant, we would have been locked up if we had attempted such performances.
"Hurry, then; I'll explain things while we're on our way. I'll wait for you in the cab," she said. Mrs. Sprockett's husband answered the door when he crossed the street to the Sprockett home to tell his mother he had been called away. "Tell mother that I'm going to see a friend and that I'll be home before it is late," he said. "Tell her there's no need to worry about me."
John watched them cross the street and saw the door close behind them. Soon the whistling ceased and Sprockett and the baby went inside. For half an hour John lolled on the porch, pondering over Alma's disappearance, the abjectedness of Mrs. Sprockett's husband and the spectacle of Mrs. Sprockett's wilfulness. Had Mr. and Mrs.
Mother and daughter were alternately laughing and crying and kissing each other. Near them stood Mrs. Sprockett's husband, bouncing the Sprockett baby in his arms and smiling and nodding his head to Alma whenever her face showed to him from her mother's embrace. And a few feet from the re-united mother and her daughter were Consuello and his mother! Mrs.
"Thanks, I will, but Maud well you know how it is you know sometimes," said Mrs. Sprockett's husband. "I know," said John, and Sprockett hurried back across the street. A few minutes later the baby's wailing stopped. Mrs. Sprockett's husband appeared on the porch of the Sprockett house with a bundle of blankets in his arms and pacing back and forth, whistled a familiar tune as a lullaby.
"I tell you we owe it to our children to crush these creatures that set such wicked examples. And Mr. Sprockett agrees with me in every word I say." As far as John knew, Mrs. Sprockett's husband had never, never disagreed with her for good and sufficient reasons. He had recalled how Mrs.
Sprockett's husband, coatless and collarless as usual, with the same weary look about his eyes and the same hopeless droop of his narrow, rounded shoulders, mounting the steps. Across the street, in the Sprockett home, the baby wailed and fretted. "Beg pardon," began Mrs. Sprockett's husband. "I just thought " "Yes, she's inside," said John, anticipating the inevitable question.
Sprockett's husband trailed her from house to house in the neighborhood evenings while the Sprockett baby wailed for attention. He drew Consuello's note from his pocket while he and his mother were in the living room after dinner and read it again. He debated in his mind what he should do and finally handed it to his mother without a word. Mrs.
"Just a minute and I'll call her," Mrs. Sprockett's husband suggested. "No, just give her my message," he said, apprehensive of the probable consequences of telling his mother that it was Consuello he was going to meet. As the cab started away from the curb he turned to Betty with the question that, in his mind, had been begging for an answer from the moment he recognized her.
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