THE HOME FRONT
165
at the window, but he watched the boy whose face was contorted
with fury and frustration. Tears began as he picked up the ash tray.
For a second he stared at it as
if
he were not sure what to do with it
and then, with a bawl, he flung it into the water which was at low
tide and, cursing at the top of his voice, went indoors.
Dr. Pakheiser finished dressing. He knew that he was not steady
enough to shave, but he washed his face and hands slowly and tho–
roughly, using the nail brush with unaccustomed vigor. He lighted a
cigarette and sat down, aware that his delay -was selfish. But his
patient seemed remote, the illness unimportant. It was not until the
cigarette had burned down to nothing that he got up, found his hat
and went out. He stole quietly down the stairs and round the house.
There was no sign of life in the backyard. From within the cottage
came the sound of Mrs. Horvath's voice; she spoke loudly but in
Hungarian and he understood nothing of what she said. He gained
his car and he was safe. But he knew that the score was not yet
settled, for as he drove away, he saw Freddie's face at the window,
the strangely Mongolian nose spread out as it pressed against the
pane. This, finally, would be the day of reckoning.
When he came home at five that afternoon, Dr. Pakheiser found
both Mrs. Horvath and Freddie in the large front bedroom down–
stairs. Someone had just moved out and they were making it ready
for a new tenant. They were turning the mattress, but when they saw
the doctor, they stopped, the great thing folded half way over and
held in their strong red hands.
Mrs. Horvath said, "Good night, Doctor. I bring you ashtray
tomorrow. You lose your blue one?" He had not anticipated so
devious an attack and he was nonplussed. Since all three of them
knew well enough that the ashtray was lying in the mud, it was ab–
surd to carry on her game, to say, for example, that he had taken it
to the office. And so he replied ambiguously, "Oh, thank you.
If
you
have an extra one, I will be glad to have it." He started towards the
stairs, but they had not finished with him. yet.
Mrs. Horvath said, "Was it a good day, Doctor?"
"A busy day," he said. "But, yes, a good one, I think."
The boy, his chin upon the mound of the mattress, fixed him with
the fearless eye of the insulted child and slowly said, "It wasn't a
good day for me, Doctor. It was a bad day for me, wasn't it, Mom?"
His mother giggled and winked at Dr. Pakheiser. "His birds! He
think of nothing but his birds. Today he don't catch one big pheasant
and this evening another get out of her house and fly away."
"Oh, I'm sorry," said the doctor. "But perhaps your bird will
