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By Root 1167 0

He had no more sinew than a dish of custard. He could no more be despised or hated than he could be loved or respected. He was a cross to be borne when necessary and avoided whenever possible. His ingenuous neutrality was disgusting, but principally he was a bore, that was all. He was such a bore that he was careful never to talk about himself, always about what he supposed must be interesting to other people. Sports and politics ought to interest a man, so each time he came to dinner he tried out these topics. Then he tried gardening, antique collecting, silverware, church social activities, charity drives, and P.T.A. with Mrs. Bridge. And, predictably, he made a great point of talking to the children. The only thing to be grateful for was that he had enough decency to refrain from mentioning religion.

Three hours of this once a year should not be unbearable, but certain years it was, and Mr. Bridge weakened before ten o’clock and retreated to the bedroom with the excuse that he had to get up early. There he would change into his pajamas, brush his teeth, put on his reading glasses, and settle himself in bed with a mystery or with the stock market reports until the noise of the front door closing told him that Dr. Foster was gone for another year.

42 Home from the Office

One evening not long after Dr. Foster’s annual visit Mr. Bridge came home later than usual and was met at the back door by his wife, who said, “We decided to begin. I hope you don’t object. The children were starved.”

In a tired voice he answered that he had expected to get away from the office earlier.

“You sound utterly exhausted,” she remarked as she untied her apron. “I really am going to call up Julia and give her strict orders to stop loading you with so much work. Goodness knows other men don’t keep these hours.”

For years she had been threatening to call Julia—as though Julia had anything to do with it. Julia, no doubt, would have been happy to work shorter hours.

“What’s become of Harriet?” he asked.

“She wanted tonight off instead of Thursday. There’s some sort of a big ‘do,’ I gather. She was all dolled up. A man came by for her a little while ago.”

“Does she still run around with that fellow on a motorcycle?”

“This one had a car. I don’t know if it’s the same one or not, I didn’t see his face. He just tooted for her, and away they went.”

“What’s on the menu?”

“Macaroni casserole. And fruit salad for dessert.”

He tried to conceal his dismay. He wondered if Harriet could be persuaded to give up her night off in exchange for a raise in salary.

“All right. Fix me a scotch,” he said, and went upstairs to wash his face and change clothes. When he came down and walked into the dining room he was saluted by his son.

“Oh-ho,” cried Douglas, “guess what the cat drug in!”

“Shut up, you simpleton,” Carolyn said.

“Now, now, both of you,” Mrs. Bridge interrupted. And to Douglas she said, “That’s hardly the way to speak to your father.”

“Mother,” Ruth said, holding her head with both hands, “the way you keep after him it’s no wonder. He was just trying to be funny. Is that such a dreadful crime?”

“He’s got a stupid sense of humor,” Carolyn said. “He’s a complete dolt.”

Mr. Bridge listened indulgently. He was pleased to hear their voices and to see their faces; it was for them he had spent these long days at work, and because he heard the affection beneath their bickering he did not mind how they pretended to insult each other.

“Make a pile of dough today?” Douglas was asking.

“Not enough to keep you properly clothed, I’m afraid.”

“Oh, and that shirt isn’t six months old!” said Mrs. Bridge, who had followed his glance.

“Yuk, yuk, yuk,” Douglas said, stretching his arms above his head to show how short the sleeves were.

“Unanimously voted most likely to flunk,” said Carolyn.

“Daddy, how was the day?” Ruth asked.

“I doubt if my days interest anybody at this table,” he laughed.

“Now, you know that isn’t true,” Mrs. Bridge said, pretending to scold. “We all care about your work. I don’t know how many times I’ve asked, and the children