Belles on their Toes

a great deal, not the least of which was having Bill as a student.
    He glared at his audience, seeking to find the offenders who had answered to Bill's name.
    "There seems to be," he said sarcastically, "a good many Gilbreths here today"
    "The whole family," Mother announced brightly, regaining her poise and favoring him with her warmest smile. 'That's nice."
    The professor, who hadn't seen as much of Bill that semester as he thought he should have, didn't think it was nice at all. He licked his pencil and made a show of marking a large zero in his grade book, opposite Bill's name.
    "Goldsmith," he said precisely, continuing the roll.
    Bill spent the afternoon and night with Mother, so he didn't see any members of the class during the remainder of the day. Mother didn't mention to him that she had spoken to his group, or that she knew he had cut the class. She thought he was old enough to make his own decisions, and that it wouldn't give him a sense of responsibility if she seemed to be checking up on him.
    She did spend a good deal of time, though, telling him how she was studying the motions of physically disabled persons, so as to help them find jobs in industry. Bill was interested, and he and Mother looked over her notes and her photographs and diagrams of the project.
    Bill was a little late, but present, for the lecture class the next morning. He slid into his seat just as the professor finished calling the "C's" in the roll book, and he was well settled by the time the professor reached the "G's" and finally Bill's name.
    When the professor had run through the list, he told the class he was going to give a written quiz.
    "I'm sure all of you must have learned a great deal from our visitor of yesterday," he said. "So today I'm going to ask you to write a little summary giving the high points of the talk."
    Bill squirmed uncomfortably, and wished he had cut class again. He nudged the boy sitting next to him.
    "Who," Bill asked out of the comer of his mouth, "did the old fool drag over here yesterday?"
    "Are you kidding?"
    "No, I wasn't here yesterday. I overslept."
    "You overslept," the boy mimicked. "It was your own mother, you stupid jackass."
    "Awk," Bill grunted, sinking down in his chair and wishing he could continue through the floor.
    Everyone else in the room was writing. You could hear the pens scratching and papers rustling as pages were turned. Bill hoped no one would notice that he alone was sitting there doing nothing.
    He nudged his neighbor again.
    "Would you mind telling this stupid jackass," Bill apologized, "what my mother talked about?"
    "Motion study of the disabled."
    "Thanks," Bill grinned. He started writing, too.

20
PYGMALION

    Almost every year there was a graduation from high school, a graduation from college, and a wedding. By the middle 1930's, all us through Lillian were married and had homes of our own. Most of the married ones had children.
    Fred and Dan were in college, Jack and Bob were in high school, and Jane was about to enter the tenth grade—the first year of high school under the system then standard in Montclair.
    There was a New Deal in the country, and a New Deal at our house, where Jack was in charge when Mother was away.
    The New Deal at home was brought about principally by Tom's absence. He was in a hospital, suffering from a heart ailment, and the warmth and excitement had evaporated from the kitchen. All rules about feeding and playing with Sixteen, his current cat, and about keeping out of the kitchen, except on Tom's special invitation, had been suspended.
    An energetic colored woman now did the cooking, and as much of the housework and dishes as Mother would allow.
    Mother always has been convinced that anyone who works for her is terribly imposed upon. So much so that sometimes it is difficult to tell who is working for whom.
    As a result, it was a race between Mother and the energetic maid to see who could make the beds first and sweep the upstairs in the mornings. Since both were early risers, the race often ended in a dead heat, with Mother handling one side, and the maid the other, of a bed that was still warm.
    "You have enough to do without making the beds," Mother would say when the maid urged her to sit down and relax for a few minutes. "This leaning over is just what I need. I like to get a little exercise before I leave for the city."
    At supper time, Mother would whisk away a dish as soon as one of the children had taken his last mouthful, and