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Updated: June 24, 2025
At last he heard a bustle within the house. There were hurried steppings to and fro by Winona and her mother, the heavy tread of the judge, a murmur of high voices. The Whipples must have come, and every one would be at the front of the house. He crept from his corner, climbed to the floor from where it had been opened for wood and coal, and went softly to the kitchen door.
"Putting a new elevator in at the office," he said, discarding the nominative noun, "and the boss has turned out his whiskers." "You don't mean it!" commented Mrs. Hopkins. "Mr. Whipples," continued John, "wore his new spring suit down to-day. I liked it fine It's a gray with " He stopped, suddenly stricken by a need that made itself known to him.
Winona had unaccustomed flowers in the parlour now not tuberoses, but almost as bad. Until a quarter to three he expertly shuffled and dawdled and evaded. Then Winona took a stand with him. "Wilbur Cowan, go at once and dress yourself properly! Do you expect to appear before the Whipples that way?" He vanished in a flurry of seeming obedience.
There would be present not only the Whipples, but their guests, two girl friends of Patricia from afar and a school friend of Merle's; there would be games and refreshment and social converse, and Winona hoped he would remember not to say "darn it" any time in such of the social converse as he provided; or forget to say, on leaving, what a charming time it was and how nice every one had been to ask him.
He could glance along the line of Whipple noses and observe that they were, indeed, of a markedly similar pattern. It was, as one might say, a standardized nose, raised by careful selection through past generations of Whipples to the highest point of efficiency; for ages yet to come the demands of environment, howsoever capricious, would probably dictate no change in its structural details.
He lurked in the shadowy doorway. The Whipples were surrounding Merle with every sign of interest. They shook hands with him. They seemed to appraise him as if he were something choice on exhibition at a fair. Harvey D. was showing the most interest, bending above the exhibit in apparently light converse. But the Wilbur twin knew all about Harvey D. He was the banker and wore a beard.
He liked to see him at a distance, on the wonderful pony, or being driven in the cart with other Whipples, and he felt a great pride that he should have been thus exalted. But he was shyly determined to have no contact with this splendid being. When school began in the fall he was again constrained to the halls of learning.
Dave surveyed the obscure small-towners with a last tolerant smile and withdrew. "My!" said Gideon, which for him was strong speech. "Talks like an atheist," said Sharon. "Mustn't judge him harshly," warned Harvey D. So it came that Merle Dalton Whipple, born Cowan, was rather peremptorily summoned to meet these older Whipples at another conference.
The Whipples, strangely, were all not a little embarrassed in his presence, and the mere mention of his son caused him to be informative for ten minutes before any of them dared to confine the flow of his discourse within narrower banks. He dealt volubly with the doctrines espoused by Merle, whereas they wished to be told how to deal with Merle.
He further instructed them as to the constitution of a balanced diet protein for building, starches or sugar for energy, and fats for heating and also for their vitamine content. The Whipples, it is to be feared, were now inattentive. They appeared to listen, but they were merely surveying with acute interest the now revealed lower half of Dave Cowan.
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