SHE told Tom about it all as soon as he came home.
"What the matter with the world is, is politeness," she asserted. "I smile at people when they talk like that until my mouth cracks. It would be good for all of us if I told Sue Grayson and your mother what I think of them. Oh, you should have seen Sara's boiling hot temper. I kissed her to see her so perfectly mad. I felt as if she were my own spirit, stamping its foot for me."
What was the matter with the world, or even what ailed his mother, troubled Tom Marcey but little. What the matter was with his children was of immense importance. He had been thinking about them on his way home. He had one of those moments common to all fathers when he had looked down into the bottomless pit of his responsibility. There was so little time to spend on them: there was so much to be done. He was in a mood to take Sara's roars to heart, so he naturally asked what the matter had been. Alice replied airily:
"I didn't inquire. Rob said that Sara was in an awful rage. She almost slapped the baby."
"I think that if Sara almost slapped Jamie and was in an awful rage she didn't deserve petting," Tom said judicially.
"She needed petting," Alice exclaimed with some heat. Alice's temper was always frail after an encounter with Tom's mother. "Those boys had exasperated her."
