PARENTAL ADMONITIONS
Jack and Ken commenced their search for any sign of Paul. But
everything was still and dark and there wasn’t a sign of human life
anywhere about. After about twenty minutes of futile searching, the two
boys decided to leave and go to Jones Street. Coming to the corner, Ken
noticed a lonely figure hovering against a wall a short distance away.
He called his friend’s attention to it and Jack said, “Most likely a
drunk. But let’s go and see. It may be someone needing assistance.”
As they neared the figure, both boys remarked that there was something
familiar about it. Jack began to feel a little uneasy about that lonely
figure leaning against the wall and he walked faster, Ken at his
side. Soon they were both running. “It’s Paul!” screamed Jack, almost
hysterically.
The two friends ran over to Paul and caught hold of him on either side.
“Paul! Paul!” whispered Jack frantically. “How are you? What happened
to you?”
Paul shook his head, trying to shake away the mist from his eyes and
the dullness out of his head. Ken whispered, “Let’s take him right
home, Jack. Don’t bother him with questions now.”
Jack nodded and agreed. He was almost in tears at the helpless sight of
his chum. Putting their arms around their friend, they started to lead
him home. Very gradually, Paul regained his balance and self assurance.
“All right,” he muttered, “I can walk by myself now.”
But just as soon as the boys removed their supporting arms, Paul
tottered and almost fell. Jack immediately put an arm around his
shoulder. A short while later, Paul finally walked by himself. “Some
mess I got myself into,” he mumbled.
Jack smiled, happy that his friend was all right again. “Now don’t
talk,” he said. “Save your energy.”
Paul grinned to himself thinking of how nearly he got away. They came
to his house and Jack whispered, “How will we wake your father up? It’s
quite late already.”
“What do you want to wake him up for?” inquired Paul.
“He has to treat your head, fellow. You’re all bloody and messy.”
“Don’t bother him, Jack. I’ll wash up myself and let him see it
tomorrow.”
“Nothing doing,” insisted Jack. “You have to be taken care of by a
doctor right away. And it’s better your father does it than anyone
else.”
“All right, but don’t tell him what happened. Just say I fell.”
Jack ran up the step to the porch and rang the night bell. About two
minutes later, Dr. Morrison, in his pajamas and bath robe, answered the
door. Seeing who it was, he exclaimed, “Why, Jack, is there anything
wrong?”
Jack thought for a few seconds what to say. “Er, Dr. Morrison,” he
began, “don’t be alarmed but er—”
The doctor was impatient and he cried, “Well, well?”
“You see, Paul was hurt and—”
“Where is he?” was the direct and decisive question. “I thought he was
in his room and asleep long ago.”
They went around to the back of the porch. The doctor looked at Paul’s
wound and said, “Let’s go into the office and I’ll fix you up.” The
boys followed. At the door the doctor turned to them and said, “You go
home, fellows; it’s late.”
Jack compressed his lips and gritted his teeth. He wanted to ask if the
wound was serious or if there was anything he could do to help. But
the doctor seemed not to want them around. He waited until Paul and
his father entered the house and closed the door. Ken whispered, “All
right, Jack, let’s go. There is nothing more we can do here.”
Crossing the street, they separated and each went home to sleep and to
think over everything that happened that evening.
Early in the morning, Jack got ready to leave his home. His mother
called to him and asked, “Where are you going so early? Aren’t you
going to wait for breakfast?”
But Jack shook his head, kissed his mother on the cheek and ran out
of the house. He was anxious to see Paul, and, as it was too early
to ring the bell, he walked back and forth like a sentinel in front
of the Morrison house. Counting every minute, he finally decided at
eight-thirty sharp, that it was all right to ring the bell now. He
knew that Dr. Morrison’s office hours began at nine, and that usually
he had his breakfast between eight-fifteen and a quarter of nine. His
heart beat wildly as he heard footsteps coming to open the door. “Good
morning, Jack,” Mrs. Morrison greeted him. “What are you doing here so
early?”
“Good morning, Mrs. Morrison. I just want to see Paul.”
“Paul is a little tardy in getting out of bed this morning,” she told
him as they entered the dining room. “Have a seat. He ought to be down
any minute.”
“Good morning, Dr. Morrison.”
“Good morning, Jack. Did you have breakfast yet?”
“Breakfast!” Jack clasped his hand to his forehead. “I completely
forgot about it.”
Dr. Morrison laughed heartily, but his wife couldn’t see the joke and
she exclaimed, “You forgot to have breakfast! Is there anything wrong
with you?”
Dr. Morrison laughed and Jack shook his head. “No,” he replied meekly.
“I guess I wasn’t hungry.”
“You’re going to have breakfast right now,” insisted Mrs. Morrison.
“Sit here,” she ordered the boy and then she went to the kitchen.
Dr. Morrison shrewdly remarked, with a twinkle in his eye, “If you can
forget your breakfast, Jack, I can imagine what happened last night.”
Jack moved to the edge of his seat. “How is he?” he inquired anxiously.
“Hurt bad?”
“Oh, I guess he will live to get into plenty of more trouble. Nothing
to worry about.”
Mrs. Morrison returned and placed silverware and a plate in front of
Jack. “Your bacon and eggs will be ready right away,” she said. “In the
meanwhile, have this orange juice.”
Just then Paul came downstairs. He was smiling and looked as though
nothing had happened. “Good morning, everybody,” he called cheerfully.
His greetings were returned. Kissing his mother on the cheek, she
noticed the bandage on the back of his head. “What happened?” she
demanded.
“Nothing, Mother. I just fell, that’s all.”
She looked at her husband who was smiling. “Nothing much,” he muttered
to re-assure her.
“I wonder,” she said skeptically.
Paul and Jack looked at each other and grinned guiltily. “Well, sit
down,” remarked Dr. Morrison, addressing his son.
Weighed down by a guilty conscience, the boys ate their breakfast in
silence. Jack waited for Paul to finish. They noted with dismay that
Dr. Morrison, although through with his morning meal, sat by the table
and read the paper. Paul said, “I’m ready, Jack, let’s go.”
Dr. Morrison rose with the boys and took them under the arm. “Where
to?” he asked.
Paul squirmed. “Just out to the porch,” he answered.
“Are you in any particular hurry? Something very important to talk
about?”
“No,” his son answered hesitantly.
“That’s fine. Do you mind coming into my office for a couple of
minutes?”
Jack thinking that Dr. Morrison meant only Paul, drew away. But the
doctor said to him, “You, too, Jack. Come along.”
Dr. Morrison sat down at his desk and pointed the boys to chairs. For
a moment there was silence. “Well,” remarked the doctor, “now tell me
what this is all about.”
The boys fidgeted. “What what’s about, Dad?”
“Now don’t pretend ignorance,” commented the doctor. “You know very
well what I mean.”
Paul turned to his companion and said, “You tell him, Jack.”
Jack felt himself getting hot all over and becoming red in the face.
“No, you tell him yourself, Paul.”
Dr. Morrison smiled at their uneasiness. Paul said, “Dad, I don’t want
to tell you any falsehoods and I can’t tell you now what it is all
about. You wouldn’t understand. Please don’t ask me.”
“I don’t want to pry into your personal affairs and have you tell me
things you don’t want,” said Dr. Morrison, “but getting a bump on the
head like that is very serious.” He paused and the boys kept silent.
The doctor continued, “I have treated a number of such cases and I can
testify to the fact that the bumping was done by an expert.”
“It really isn’t much,” Paul assured his father. “And I promise to be
more careful in the future.”
“All right, son. You had better be—and you, too, Jack—if you want to
keep a whole head on your shoulders.”
“Yes, Dad.”
Grinning, the boys rose and left the office, with Dr. Morrison shaking
his head and wondering what they were up to now.