He shirked his studies, came home only to eat and sleep, remained out
late without explanation or any home interference, except for the
constant disputes and quarrels with Doris and Catharine, now aged
respectively fourteen and thirteen.
To Athalie he had little to say. Perhaps he did not realise it but he
was slightly afraid of her. And it was from her that he took any pains
at all to conceal his irregularities.
Once, coming in from school, she had found the house deserted, and
Jack smelling of alcohol just slouching out of the bar.
"If you do that again I shall tell father," she said, horrified.
"What do I care!" he had retorted sullenly. And it was true; the boy
no longer cared what anybody might think as long as Athalie already
knew and detested what he had done.
There was a garage in the neighbouring village. He spent most of his
time hanging around it. Sometimes he came home reeking of oil and
gasoline, sometimes his breath was tainted with tobacco and alcohol.
He was so much bigger and older than Athalie that the child had never
entirely lost her awe of him. His weakness of character, his failings,
and the fact that he was a trifle afraid of her opinion, combined to
astonish and bewilder her.
For a long while she tried to understand the gradual but certain
reversal of their relations. And one night, still more or less in awe
of him, she got out of bed and went softly into his room.
He was not asleep. The sudden apparition of his youngest sister
considerably startled him, and he sat up in his ragged night-shirt and
stared at her where she stood in the moonlight.
"You look like one of your own spooks!" he said. "What's the matter
with you?"
"I wanted to talk with you, Jack."
"What about?"
"You."
For a moment he sat there eyeing her uneasily; then: "Well, go ahead!" he said ungraciously; and stretched himself back on
the pillows.
She came and seated herself on the bed's edge: "Jack, please don't drink beer."
"Why not? Aw, what do you know about men, anyway? Don't they all smoke
and drink?"
"Mamma asked you not to."
"Gee-whiz! I was a kid then. But a man isn't a baby."
Athalie sighed. Her brother eyed her restlessly, aware of that slight
feeling of shame which always invaded his sullen, defiant discontent
when he knew that he had lowered himself in her estimation.