However it
was, grandfather forgot all about this leg of his entirely and
insisted on dancing with Nora, our new maid. Mother, of course, was
horrified. But not content with that, this friend of mine concocted
some strange beverage for the pater which so delighted him that he
loaned my so-called pal the ten spot I had been intending to borrow.
The three of them sat up until all hours of the night playing cards
and telling ribald stories. As mother took me upstairs to bed she
gazed down on her father-in-law and her husband in the clutches of
this demon and remarked bitterly to me:
"Like father, like son," and I knew that she was thoroughly determined
to make both of them pay dearly for their pleasant interlude.
Breakfast the next morning was a rather trying ordeal. Grandfather
once more resorted to his game leg with renewed vigor, referring
several times to the defense of the Alamo, so I knew he was pretty low
in his mind. Father withdrew at the sight of bacon. Mother laughed
scornfully as he departed. My friend ate a hearty breakfast and kept a
sort of a happy-go-lucky monologue throughout its entire course. I
took him out walking afterward and forgot to bring him back.
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