THE MORNING WATCH
139
Father Whitman stepped between the cots and touched
his
shoulder. "Quarter of four," he whispered more loudly.
"Cut it out," Jimmy whined in his sleep.
Richard heard Hobe's knees hit the floor.
Father Whitman shook Jimmy's shoulder. "Quarter of--"
((
Quit
it you
God damn-"
Jimmy snarled, wrenching aside the
pillow; then, with servile Irish charm: "Aw sure Father, I din know
it was
you
Father."
At the far end of the dormitory there was a wild stifled snicker.
"Time to get up," Father Whitman whispered.
The snickering became happier and happier. Father Whitman
spoke more loudly into the darkness: "Now cut that out fast or
you'll be
sorry
you ever started
it."
The snickering persisted as
if
uncontrollably, but now it was
blunted in a pillow. Father Whitman ignored it. "Better get straight
out of bed," he told Jimmy. "You'll
go
back to sleep."
Hobe was buttoning his shirt.
Without a word Jimmy rolled out of bed onto
his
knees and
buried
his
head in his arms.
Now that Father Whitman came toward him, Richard shut
his
eyes. When he knew he was about to be touched he opened his
eyes and whispered, "All right Father." He saw the stopped hand
and, much nearer and larger than he had expected, the beaten,
enduring horse face; he became aware of
his
deceitfulness and was
ashamed of it.
"All right," Father Whitman said. Bet he says quarter of four,
Richard thought. "Quarter of four," Father Whitman said.
"Yes Father."
"Put your shoes on downstairs," he whispered, and turned away.
"Put your shoes on downstairs," he told Hobe, "and don't let Jim–
my go to sleep again."
"Okay Fathuh," Hobe said, gallusing himself into
his
overalls.
"And don't you dawdle when you're done," Father Whitman
told him. "You kids see to it you come right back here to bed."
"Yes suh Fathuh."
"Don't think I won't be watching for you."
"No suh Fathuh."
Richard knelt by his cot and sank his face in
his
hands. 0 God,