When people are busy and happy the years may go by like a dream. So the
months rolled around and brought little Tony past the third anniversary of
his birth, and into another summer of lusty development. Except to the
growing child, however, time seemed to bring slight changes to the little
home under whose roof he grew. The mistress thereof lost no charm either
for her husband or her friends--Anthony indeed insisted that she grew
younger; certainly, as time taught her new lessons without laying hands
upon her beauty, she gained attractiveness in every way.
"You look as much like a girl as ever," Anthony said to her one morning,
as dressed for a trip into town she came out upon the porch where he and
little Tony were frolicing together.
"You had ever a sweetly blarneying tongue," said she, and bestowed a
parting caress impartially upon both the persons before her. "I feel a bit
guilty at making a nursemaid of you for even one morning of your vacation,
but----"
"That's all right. Do your errands with an easy conscience. I'll enjoy
looking after the boy, and am rather glad your usual little maid is away.
That's one thing my vacation is for--to get upon a basis of mutual
understanding and confidence with my son. We see too little of each
other."
So Juliet caught the early car, and left the two male Robesons together,
father and son, waving good-bye to her from the porch. When she was out of
sight the elder Robeson turned to the younger.
"Now, son," he said, "I'm going to mow the lawn. What are you going to
do?"
"I is going to mow lawn, too," announced Tony, Junior, with decision.
"All right, sir. Here we are. Get in front of me and mind you push hard.
That's the stuff!"
All went joyously for ten minutes. Then little Tony wriggled out from
between his father's arms and went over to the porch step. He sat down and
crossed two fat legs. He leaned his head upon his hand, his elbow on his
knee, and watched with serious eyes the progress of the lawn-mower three
times across before he said wistfully:
"Favver, I wis' you'd p'ay wiv me."
"When I get this job done perhaps I will," said Anthony, and made the
grass fly merrily. Presently he put away the lawn-mower, and stood looking
down at the sturdy little figure in the blue Russian blouse. "What do you
want to play?" he asked. Tony's face lit up.
"Le's play fire-endjun," he proposed enthusiastically.
"Where shall we play the fire is?"
"Le's have weal fire," said Tony eagerly.
"Real fire? Well, I don't know about that, son," his father responded
doubtfully. "Young persons of three are not considered old enough to play
with the real thing. Won't make believe do just as well?"
"No, no--weal fire," repeated the child. "Le's put it out wiv sqi'yt
watto. P'ease, favver--p'ease!"
"Sqi'wt watto," repeated Anthony, laughing. "What do you mean by----? Oh,
I see----" as Tony demonstrated his meaning by running to the garden hose
which remained attached to a hydrant behind the house. "Well, son--if I
let you have a real fire and put it out with real water, will you promise
me never to try anything of that sort by yourself?"
Tony walked over to his father and laid a little brown fist in Anthony's.
"Aw wight," he said solemnly. Anthony looked down at the clasped hands and
smiled at the serious uplifted face. "Is that the way mother teaches you
to promise her?" he asked, with interest.