cies. He would come home like a whipped dog with its tail between its legs and he would think that home was a pretty good place and Dear Mother a very wise woman, and he would be very happy to do exactly as he was told. But nothing like this had happened. And when John did finally come home he was the first mate of a fine three-master, and in love with the sea.
Edward had just passed his thirteenth birthday at the time of John's visit. He had a pimple on his chin and his voice was suffering from tremendous ups and downs. And except for the servants he was alone in the house. James and Sarah were on a visit to dearest grandmother, and Mr. and Mrs. Eaton had driven off in the carriage to condole with some parents who had just lost an imbecile child.
Edward was happiest when he had the house to himself. He had been getting along pretty well with Dear Mother, thanks to a highly developed system of lying and hypocrisy, but Sarah, who knew too much about him and was constantly threatening to tell, made his life miserable. James also chose to be rather horrid to his little brother, snubbing him and sneering at him, and for James, Edward entertained a scantily veiled hatred and contempt, not unmixed with fear. Though James was nineteen and occasionally talked of what he
