"What are you laughing at?" he demanded, turning toward her, though
without any anger in his tones, for he could never feel any emotion of
that nature toward such a daughter.
"It was the idea of Tim writing poetry or rhyme and smoking cigarettes.
I'll guarantee that he will never do either."
"Nor anything else, you may as well add."
"I'll guarantee that if he lives he will do a good many things that
will be better than getting out and trimming stone."
This was not the first time that Maggie had intimated the same faith,
without going into particulars or giving any idea upon what she based
that faith. The parent looked sharply at her and asked:
"What do you mean? Explain yourself."
But the daughter was not yet ready to do so. She had her thoughts or
dreams or whatever they might be, but was not prepared as yet to share
them with her parent. He was not in the mood, and for her to tell all
that was in her mind would be to provoke an outburst that would be
painful to the last degree. She chose for the present to parry.
"How can I know, father, what ambition Tim has? He is still young
enough to change that ambition, whatever it may be."
"And he's _got_ to change it, as sure as he lives! I am tired of his
fooling; he is fourteen years old, big, strong, and healthy; if he
would take hold of the work and show some interest in it, he would be
able in a couple of years to take charge of the whole business and give
me a rest, but he is frittering away valuable time until I've made up
my mind to permit it no longer.
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