The Road to Understanding

ppointed, ashamed, and angry. He told himself that he was heartbroken; that he still loved Helen dearly-only he did not like to be wi

to battle against a succession of never-ending irritations, always to encounter the friction of antagonistic aims and ideals-it was maddening. He was ashamed of himself, of course. H

ault that he was now so disillusioned! He had supposed that marriage with Helen would be a fresh jo

fault-finding, slovenliness, and perpetual criticism. He wanted to go home to p

own up that he had been wrong. Sometimes he hardly knew which cut the deeper: that he had been proved wrong, thus losing

that Sunday. Never had her "ways" so irritated him. Never had he so poignantly realized the significance of what he had lost-and won. Never

else. And Burke was, indeed, very sorry for himself. Having never been in the habit of taking disagreeable medicine, he did not know how to take it now. Having

eptance. He declined so promptly and emphatically that he quite forgot his manners, for the moment, and had to attach to the end of his refusal a

ll further added, nervously. "Of course I'll

hen, very gravely, John Denby

ghtening of his throat,

st plain sorry," choked the young man to himself. "And he had suc

e to Helen"

think we could go. I told him you weren't feeling well. I di

owned an

ind much, in this case, though,-if it's just a dinner. I thought once, maybe he meant something-that he was giving in, you know. But

ught not,"

often to see his father, though never at meal-time. He went alone. Helen said she d

on the vine-shaded veranda, were like a breeze blowing across the desert of existence-like water i

marriage had severed it. Even to Burke's watchful, sensitive eyes the "wall" seemed quite gone.

n another promotion, and was given an advance in wages. Often, to Burke's infinite joy, his father consulted him about matters and things quite beyond his normal posit

Burke to himself, at times. "And I-I can't say any

f sight and mind everything that annoyed-and Helen and marriage had become very annoying. Systematically, therefore, he was trying to forget them. His attitude, indeed, was not unlike that of a small boy who, weary of his game of marbl

ess. Helen, discouraged, disappointed, and far from well, dragged through the housework day by day, wishing each night

eaching Helen how to make the soft and dainty little garments that would be needed in November. But she talked even more loudly than Mrs. Jones had talked; and her laugh was nearly always the first sound that Burke heard across the hall every morning. Moreover, she possessed a phonograph which, according to Helen, played "perfectly grand tunes

a swell name, and that it was the name of her favorite heroine in a perfectly grand book. But Burke objected strenuously.

er rise. It was the same the next time, and the next. The fourth time, as he felt the now familiar sensation of sinking down, down, down, he outflung desperate hands and found an unexpected support-his temper. After that it was always with him. It helped to tinge with righteous indignation his despair, and it kept him from utterly mel

s of the little mother-toward whom, since the baby's advent, he felt a remorseful tenderness.

u'd let me name my own

d and assumed his pet "I'll-b

per. Now, write down a whole lot of names that you'd like, and I'll prom

m past experience of her husband's temper that resistance would be unpleasant,

tter than to have bound himself to a silly-fool promise like that. But he chose a name (he said he would keep his word, of course

the cutest little kid going. He poked it in its ribs, thrust a tentative finger into the rose-leaf of a hand (emitting a triumphant chuckle of delight when the rose-leaf became a tightly clutching little fist), and even allowed th

was in his hands to train. By and by this tiny pink roll of humanity would be a prattling child, a little girl, a young lady. And all the way she wo

lusioned and heartsick? Did he want this child of his, this beautiful daughter, to grow up in such an atmosphere? Never! At once, therefore, he m

e to that. To no man, in the future, should she bring the tragedy of disillusionment that her mother had brought to him. No, indeed! For that matter, however, he should not let her marry any one for a long time. He should keep her himself. Perhaps he would not let her marry at all. He did not think much

very well in theo

. He felt just as irritated at the way Helen buttered a whole slice of bread at a time, and said "swell" and "you was," as

llow made good resolutions, he was given some show of a chance to keep them. But as if

deed, each particular torment had taken unto itself wife and children, so numerous had they become. There was really now no peace at

med to think the earth ought to stand still-lest it wake Baby up. With the same wholesale tyranny she marshaled into line eve

ore an alien and a nuisance in his own home. Moreover, where before he had found disorder and untidiness, he now found positive chaos. And however fond he wa

d responsibilities of fatherhood began to pall upon him. It looked to be so long a way ahead, even t

or sleep, and that other people in the house had some rights besides themselves? And must they always choose four o'clock in the morning f

had been adding considerably to the expense-and little to the comfort-of the household. Helen, as a mistress, was not a success.

n particular. Helen, worn and worried, and half sick from care and loss of sleep, grew day by day more fretful, more difficult to get along with. Burke, also half

e forever. The tension had to snap sometime. And

g-room table, where her mother was writing a letter, reached covetous hands toward the fascinating little fat black bottle. The next instant a

en angry spats on a tiny hand, a series of shrieks from Dorothy Elizabeth, and a

Burke appeare

not one detail of scolding woman, shrieking child, dinner

place for a tired man to come to, isn't it? T

mother, with every nerve

! But I can tell you it just isn't! Maybe you think I ain't tired of working and pinching and slaving, and never having any fun, and being scolded and blamed all the time because I don't ea

ietly. His face

to eat. Then I'm going up to father's. And-you

-nig

that's what I can't do-here." The next

e with the baby,

t the little ink-stained figure to

jaw sternly set. He was very angry. He told himself that he had a

f his soul, an uneasy consciousness of a tiny voice of scorn d

eally abused he was. It was a long story. It served to occupy his mind all through th

fallen into the way of spending frequent evenings at the old home. To-night, however, Burke himself was constrained and ill at ease. H

ot in words, that dreaded "I told you so"? Would it unseal his lips on a subject so long tabooed, and set him into a lengthy dissertation on the foolishness of his son's marriage? Burke believed that, as he felt now,

, quiet veranda. "I thought she was not looking very well the last time Helen wheeled

l right. That is"-Burke paused

cigar from his lip

's not-a

laughe

it grimly. "But she was-er-humph! Well, I'll tell you." And

hn Denby, with more than a tinge of sympathy in

ugged his

y. I don't know, I'm

y asked the question after a ver

-I got in

John Denby said nothing. His eyes were gravely f

question quite so soon; but suddenly he was consumed with an overwhel

t's sleep, for once," he plunged on hurriedly, in answer to a swift something that

hen, steadily, and with easy cor

once for Benton to see that-that your old room is made rea

and eager, Burke braced himself for what he thought was inevitable. So

Burke had expected. John Denby, after Benton had left

K. & O. people had granted us an exten

ith the words, every taut nerve and musc

ased to look for it. It came just as

hn Denby, after a short pause, "that Hele

ed. When before had his father mentioned Helen, save

ion coming to him of Helen as he had seen her on the f

ing the present state of affairs a-a bed

be you think I ain't tired of working and pinching and slaving!" Involuntari

nd I've noticed-many things. I will send her a check for ten thousand dollars to-morrow if she will take the baby and go away for a time-say, to her old home for a visit. But there is one other conditi

ood Burke had always "thrashed things out" on his feet.) For a full minute now he s

It seems too

to go. Indeed, I'm begging you to go, Burke. I want you. I need you. I'm not an old man, I know; but I feel like one. These last two years have not been-er-a bed of

stride. The words, as he flung them out, were at once a chal

ve told you. Helen need

echo of a woman's wailing-"Maybe you think I a

running away?" A growing hope was in his eyes

ten thousand dollars," repli

painful red reac

he resented, with sudden stiffness. "Thank you

once; but he did not make th

large purposely. Remember, I'm borrowing her husband for a season; and she needs some recompense! Besides, it'll mean a playday for herself. You'll not be so unjust

," hesitated Burk

l call tha

ourse if you put i

s and time-tables I want you to see. I'm planning a different route from the one we took with the

the time his two-year-old lips had begged to "see the wheels go 'round," had Burke's chief passion and delight been traveling. As he bent now over the maps and time-tables t

. "I can't be a quitter.

TO HIS SON AND LAID BOT

dogged persistence that had won for him wealth and power glowed in his e

or hers-wrecked. I believe there's a chance yet for you two people to travel together with some measure of peace and comfort, and I'm trying to give you that chance. There's just one thing to do, I believe, and that is-to be away from each other for a while. You

be a q

g. You're-stopping

's-my

ere, son. I've been proud of you-every i

and the shake in his voice showed how really m

r off without

nd

tely better off with you. Ah, son, but I've missed you so!" It was the same longin

ace plainly showed the struggle with

," he temporized brokenly. "I'l

go till morning, then. Meanwhile, it can do no harm to look at these, ho

ke promptly, relieved that his fath

he went upstairs to

so convenient. Benton, plainly, had been there. Also, plainly, his hand had no

pread and sheet, the latest magazine ready to his hand-even the size and numbe

sob Burke dropped himself into

omfortable. And it was so quiet. He had

gotten what absolute content lay in plenty of space, towels, and hot water, to say nothing of soap

ould do with this proposition of his father's. He would have to refuse it, of course. It would

ten that a bed could be so soft and so "just right") and b

ned eyes encountered shapes and shadows and arc-light beams on the walls and ceiling quite unlike those in his Dale Street bedroom

, the angry words, the flight, dad, his welcome, the pleasant chat, the remarkable proposition. Oh, y

word of reproach, not a hint of patronage. Not even a look that could be construed into that hated "I told you so." Just a straight-forward offer of this check for

a man's plate every day. Of course he could not tak

dad wanted him. How his voice had trembled when he had said, "I don't think you know, boy, how your

d dollars on that, of course. But even a little slice of a sum like that would give her all the frills and furbelows she wanted for herself and the baby, and send them into the country for all the rest of the summer, besides leaving nine-tenths of it for a nest-egg for the future. And what a comfortable feeling it would give her-always a little money when she wanted it for anyt

h of mind counted, he had earned it twice over, slaving away at the beck of Brett and his minions. And he had made good-s

be sure, there was the baby. Of course he was fond of the baby; and it was highly interesting to see her achieve teeth, h

ly each loved object in the room was coming into view. To his nostrils came the perfume of the roses and honeysuckles in the garden below his win

but this time with a difference. Thus, so potent, sometimes, is the song of a bird, the scent

personally, was concerned, the answer would be an unequivocal refusal of the offer. But there was his father to consider,

ng else! But there was something else. There was dad. Good old dad! How happy he'd be! Besides, dad really needed him. How ever had he thought for a moment of sending dad off to Alaska alone, and just after an

himself for a doze before breakfast. He did not get it, however. His mind was alt

was going to

scenes. For that matter, there would probably be another one, too, when he told her that he was going away for a time. To be sure, there was the ten-thousand-dollar check; and of course very soon he could convince her that it was really all for her best happiness. After she gave it a little thou

d!) or exasperated into saying things he would be sorry for afterwards. He could say just enough, and not too much, in a letter, and say it right. Then, early in the following week, just before he was to start on his trip he would go down to the Dale Street house and spend the last two or three days with Helen and the baby, picking up his traps, and planning with Helen some of the delightful things she could do with

ridget. His father would be overjoyed, he knew; and as for the few toilet necessit

lame with joy, Burke hurried into his ga

d for the depth of emotion that shook his father's voice and dimmed his father's eyes, and that ended the half-uttered declaration of joy with what was very near a sob. If anything, indeed,

f like a college spread, until Burke, with a cry of

ghingly. "Behold how this life of luxury has me alread

lifted a de

d. "I've got you, and I mean to

ut

rning that you wouldn't be down

sinking slowly into his chair again. "But you

th a characteristically grim smile. "But I knew, if you did agree, we'd both have so

he younger man, s

ing. We've lots of plans to make

the young man did not smile. "I've