THERE seemed to be no way of bridging the gulf between them. During the winter Robert grew up at an awful rate of speed, while Sara still remained uninterested in George Washington when spring came.
One of the sights in Alice's life which seemed to her to have increased with greater and greater frequency was that of Robert and his friends sailing rapidly over the earth's surface like swift hydroplanes, while Sara, like a poor little inefficient rowboat, frantically followed in their wake; and as they ran from her, Sara roared.
The theory of parents is that their children play together, and get fun and profit from playing together.
What really happened in the Marcey household was something like this: Robert seemed to spend a large part of his leisure, and much ingenuity, in avoiding Sara's presence out of doors. When they were in the house Robert plunged himself in a book, demanding in tones that made his mother think of an unmannerly husband: "Can't I ever have any peace? Can't I ever read in quiet?"
Jamie, on the other hand, was a spiritually self-supporting child. He could enjoy companionship or leave it alone. He played strange games by himself for hours, to his own complete satisfaction. For long hours he built by himself, showing, it seemed to his mother, little ingenuity. He used his blocks not for the making of edifices but for the construction of railway tracks, for which they were unsuitable, and along which he would
