Growing Up (Vorse)/Chapter 24
TOM'S Mother was the immediate cause of what happened, and Sara was the next cause, and Alice's being human was the next cause, and Robert's being a boy was the final cause.
Alice had had just about enough of dirty faces for that day. It was undoubtedly that and the association of ideas which made her greet Robert in that unpleasant way that mothers have with:
"Why, Robert, what have you been doing? Go and wash right away; it's almost supper time."
This was not a happy greeting, as any one will realize who can think back to his childhood. Very few people can think back definitely, but those who can remember cautious homecomings by back ways, careful avoidance of mothers and fathers, knowing that the first word that they would speak would be one of disapproval. What with torn clothes and dirty hands, and coming in late, the return of the child can be a trying ordeal.
Robert disappeared into the bathroom and presently emerged again.
"Did you wash your face," Alice inquired coldly, "while you were in there?" He flushed under tan and dirt. Boys eight years old resent sarcasm as they do nothing else.
"Isn't it clean?" he asked innocently.
"Clean?" echoed Alice. "Clean!" Again he went in. One standing near the door could hear the sound of careful washing, that is, careful in the sense of not covering too great an area of his perishable and possibly soluble face with water. Avoidance and not the eradication of dirt was Robert's method. Once more he came out.
"You're dirtier than ever," cried Alice unjustly. "I shall go with you." He said nothing. "Don't hump your shoulders at me in that impertinent way," Alice advised. At this he turned on her with, "I wasn't humping!"
"Supper's ready! Supper's ready! Supper's ready!" Sara chanted monotonously.
"Come, come," said Alice in a cheerful grown-up tone, "wash your face, Robert." He looked at her.
"What am I doing?" he asked gloomily, and continued washing, one single finger under his barely dampened face cloth. He turned three drops of water on the wash rag. With this moistened rag he barely touched the soap. Both water and soap might have been something poisonous. He then, with one finger beneath the cloth, lightly passed it around his cheeks. As though with deep reluctance he again let three drops of water fall upon the rag. A small black spot appeared there where it had been in contact with his cheek. Again he rubbed it as though either he was perishable or water poisonous. He circled around his eyes, leaving a round dark area, with great care as though washing egg shells. He washed his forehead leaving a black ring near the hair. He ignored altogether the unchartered tracks behind the ears. It was a maddening process for a mother to watch.