By
Margaret Wilson
Author of "THE KENWORTHYS"
and
"THE ABLE MCLAUGHLINS"
Harper & Brothers, Publishers
New York and London
1926
THE PAINTED ROOM
Copyright, 1926, by
Harper & Brothers
Printed in the U. S. A.
THE PAINTED ROOM
Little Martha Kenworthy, to use her own carelessexpression, was "in bad with her dad," as usual. But she wasnot a girl to be disturbed by a trifle of that sort. She had beenhome only a few days from her college in the east for hersecond summer holiday, and had been followed too closely byofficial comments on her term's work. The only explanationshe saw fit to give to her father on that subject was to the effectthat he should forget it. Her mother had taken him aside andsaid privately, firmly, and coaxingly:
"Now, Bob, I'm not going to have that child's life mademiserable by somebody else's brilliance. It isn't Martha's faultthat she hasn't phenomenal brains. I'm not going to have herscolded for being like me."
"Miserable! Huh! There's a fat chance of her being miserable.It would be a mighty good thing if some one could makeher miserable a few minutes. That's what I'm trying to get at!She's got enough brains, if she wasn't too lazy to use them.She'll be fired next term if she isn't careful, and then where'llyou be? I'm going to make her quit this eternal foolingaround."
"Bronson's spoiled you, Bob. That's all the matter with you.You're always wishing Martha would dazzle people, sort ofmake them sit up and blink, the way he used to. It's all rightfor a boy to be so terribly clever, but it would be awkwardfor a woman. It would make her conspicuous, Bob."
"Well, I wouldn't care so much, Emily, if I could even geta rise out of her about it. I light into her, and you know whatshe says! 'Yes, daddy! Yes, daddy!' like a little angel. Andshe hasn't the least idea of doing anything about it. If she'dget good and mad about it once, we could get some place. Shejust goes on like a little mule!"
"No one but you ever calls her a mule, Bob," Emily cajoledhim. "Other people seem to lead her about easy enough."
"Yes! Toward a dance, they do. But how about atrigonometry?"
"You ought to have married a Phi Beta Kappa, Bob, with agolden key. You never asked to see my school reports whenyou married me; that's where you made your mistake. She'sher mother's own child, you know."
"I never saw a kid less like her mother in my life! I neversaw anybody like her. I know I only got through exams. by theskin of my teeth, but I did work now and then."
"Martha works hard enough when anything interests her.You ought to see people look at her room, Bob. Grace,Mrs. Phillips, said to me day before yesterday, 'Goodness, Emily,you've got a clever daughter. How old is Martha? I thoughtshe was only nineteen.' She doesn't think she's stupid, Bob.You just wait. Martha'll make you proud of her yet!"
"Oh, I'm waiting, all right. I've always been waiting. Youmight hurry her along a bit, old girl!"
So Bob had waited all that day, without seizing more thantwo or three fleeting opportunities to "roast" her about thatreport, and he was still waiting the next noon in a rather abusedmood for some