It had been a hot and busy day, and Phillip was glad to return home at the regular time. He was tired. "He found Ruth in the kitchen, busy with preparations for dinner, and finding her so, knew that her mother was not there. "Hello," honey, I see you are busy."
"Oh, hello father, I didn't hear you come in, your dinner will be ready in a few minutes."
"That's alright, I'll rest till then, and read the evening paper." In the living room, he sat down wearily, and unfolded the newspaper, part of which he dropped to the floor beside his chair. It did not take long before his head dropped back against the chair, and he slept, while the paper he had been holding dropped from his hands. In a few minutes he was rudely awakened by Jennifer, who had entered.
"Father, why do you make things so untidy-every-where you go you leave a mess, you could read somewhere else, and if you want sleep, go to your room."
Before he could answer, Ruth appeared in the doorway, hearing her sisters' unkind words. "Because, Jennifer, dinner is ready." Frowning at her sister, Ruth said, "Come father, I'm sorry I kept you waiting."
"It's alright, Ruth. I'm not that hungry." He had said nothing to Jennifer, but Paul had heard her remark, and caught her by the arm, holding her back, while Ruth and their father passed into the dining room. Then angrily, in a low voice, he warned, "Jen, if I ever hear you speak to father like that again, I'm going to make things very unpleasant for you."
Pulling herself free from his restraining hand, she said, "Oh, shut up, you are just like he is." Tossing her blond curls, Jennifer walked proudly into the dining room and seat herself at the table. Paul seated himself on the opposite side. At this point, Maggie came in and immediately sat down on the opposite end of the table from Philip, as she said, "You are a good girl, Ruth, to prepare such a fine dinner."
"It's alright, mother, only I should have been studying, we are having exams next week."
Jennifer was quick to speak. "Don't forget, Ruth, that mother works very hard, and needs your help."
"And what about you, Jen," Paul was still angry. "How much help did you contribute?"
"Mother," Jen pleaded, "make Paul leave me alone, he is always finding fault with me."
Philip's voice was sharp as he spoke. "Now that will do, children, we have heard quite enough." There was a silence during the remainder of their dinner, and leaving the table, Paul said quietly to Ruth, "You go to your studie's, sis, I'll help mother with the dishes."
In the course of cleaning the dinner things away, Paul questioned his mother. "Why is Jennifer so mean to father? She has become very disrespectful toward him."
His mother didn't look at him as she replied, "Just remember, Paul, respect is given to one who has earned it."
"Oh, mother...." Whatever protest the boy intended to make, was left unsaid. Paul tossed the dish towel impatiently on the table and left the work unfinished.
In his room, Philip DuFrow had tried reading his evening paper, but somehow nothing came clear. He had finished a whole column, and didn't know what he had read. His mind kept wandering to his children. What had happened to Jennifer? She used to be a cuddling little thing, always looking for someone to love her. And he had loved her, just as he had loved all his children, but recently she had turned to fault finding and unkindness.
At last, with a sick feeling, he realized that Jennifer had inherited her mothers' nature, only it had developed in her much earlier than in Maggie. What could he do? He didn't know. He had done fore his wife, everything possible. He had been kind and considerate, given her gifts and loved her, yet she had repulsed him. Maggie had become colder each year, growing further away from him. he rested his fade in his hands as he whispered,
"Oh, God, why must I be so lonely?"
Every Sunday morning found him in his usual places in the church, although he had definitely refused to occupy the pulpit another time. He had thought of discussing his marital trouble with Rev. Jarrett, but always had arrived at the same conclusion. He could not. After all, to Philip's nature, there was some things too deeply private for discussion with anyone, and he knew it would never change Maggie. An who would believe him? Outside her home, Maggie was the same patient, suffering martyr.
The following day, Philip was busy in the mill yard inspecting a new shipment of lumber that had arrived that morning, when he was approached by Jim Barton. After a lengthy discussion on door and window frames for the new building he was working on, Jim asked, "And how is Maggie?"
These two men had grown up together and had always been friends, always speaking in the most candid way.
"Maggie is fine, always busy."
"So I've noticed, but why?"
" I don't know, Jim, she doesn't need to do it. I guess it is just her passion for helping others, and her redeeming grace that she takes no pay for her services."
"But you permit her doing it."
"Oh, Jim, let's forget about Maggie, I beleive you and Bess know her well enough to know that Maggie does what she darn well pleases."
"Yes, we have recognized that for a long time, but I didn't mind telling you, that if she were my wife, I'd give her a damned good mauling and teach her where her duties were."
Sadly, Philip answered, "I could never do that, Jim, and you know it."
"Yes, I know, and that is the cause of it all. The truth is that Maggie does not understand a man like you, you are too much of a gentlemen. She needs a strong hand over her."
"Alright, Jim, but if it turns me into a wife beater, then count me out."
"So-it's your life. Now about those frames...when can you have them delivered?"
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