Death In The Family, A - James Agee [113]
When they turned Father Jackson was frowning again and looking at them just as he had looked at his nails. He quickly smiled, though not as nicely as he had smiled at Jesus, and changed his way of looking so that it did not seem that he was curious whether they were really clean. But he still looked as if he were displeased about something. They both looked back, wondering what he was displeased about. Was Catherine wetting her panties, Rufus wondered; he looked at her but she looked all right to him. What was Rufus doing that the man looked so unpleasant, Catherine wondered. She looked at him, but all he was doing was looking at the man. They both looked at him, wishing that if he was displeased with them he would tell them why instead of looking like that, and wishing that he would sit in some other chair. He looked at both of them, feeling that their rude staring was undermining his gaze and his silence, by which he had intended to impress them into a sufficiently solemn and receptive state for the things he intended to say to them; and wondering whether or no he should reprimand them. Surely, he decided, if they lack manners even at such a time as this, this is the time to speak of it.
“Children must not stare at their elders,” he said. “That is ill-bred.”
“Huh?” both of them asked. What’s “stare,” they wondered; “elders”; “ill-bred”?
“Say, ‘Sir,’ or ‘I beg your pardon, Father.’ ”
“Sir?” Rufus said.
“You,” Father Jackson said to Catherine.
“Sir?” Catherine said.
“You must not stare at people—look at them, as you are looking at me.”
“Oh,” Rufus said. Catherine’s face turned red.
“Say, ‘Excuse me, Father.’ ”
“Excuse me, Father.”
“You,” Father Jackson said to Catherine.
Catherine became still redder.
“Excuse me, Father,” Rufus whispered.
“No prompting, please,” Father Jackson broke in, in a voice pitched for a large class. “Come now, little girl, it is never too soon to learn to be little ladies and little gentlemen, is it?”
Catherine said nothing.
“Is it?” Father Jackson asked Rufus.
“I don’t know,” Rufus replied.
“I consider that a thoroughly uncivil answer to a civil question,” said Father Jackson.
“Yes,” Rufus said, beginning to turn cold in the pit of his stomach. What was “uncivil”?
“You agree,” Father Jackson said. “Say, ‘yes, Father.’ ”
“Yes, Father,” Rufus said.
“Then you are aware of your incivility. It is deliberate and calculated,” Father Jackson said.
“No,” Rufus said. He could not understand the words but clearly he was being accused.
Father Jackson leaned back in their father’s chair and closed his eyes and folded his hands. After a moment he opened his eyes and said, “Little boy, little sister” (he nudged his long blue chin towards Catherine), “this is neither the time nor place for reprimands.” His hands unfolded; he leaned forward, tapping his right kneecap with his right forefinger, and frowning fiercely, said in a voice which sounded very gentle but was not, “But I just want to tell ...” They heard Hannah on the stairs. “Children,” he said, rising, “this must wait another time.” He pointed his jaw at Hannah, raising his eyebrows.
“Will you come up, Father?” she asked in a shut voice.
Without looking again at the children, he followed her upstairs.
They looked each other in the eyes; their mouths hung open; they listened. It was as they had begun to expect it would be: the steps of two along the upper