"But what else could there be except a
chance? I don't see----"
"Well, I do," her mother interrupted, decisively. "That man
could make us all well off right now if he wanted to. We could
have been rich long ago if he'd ever really felt as he ought to
about his family."
"What! Why, how could----"
"You know how as well as I do," Mrs. Adams said, crossly. "I
guess you haven't forgotten how he treated me about it the Sunday
before he got sick."
She went on with her work, putting into it a sudden violence
inspired by the recollection; but Alice, enlightened, gave
utterance to a laugh of lugubrious derision. "Oh, the GLUE
factory again!" she cried. "How silly!" And she renewed her
laughter.
So often do the great projects of parents appear ignominious to
their children. Mrs. Adams's conception of a glue factory as a
fairy godmother of this family was an absurd old story which
Alice had never taken seriously. She remembered that when she
was about fifteen her mother began now and then to say something
to Adams about a "glue factory," rather timidly, and as a vague
suggestion, but never without irritating him. Then, for years,
the preposterous subject had not been mentioned; possibly because
of some explosion on the part of Adams, when his daughter had not
been present.
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