224
PARTISAN REVIEW
AC. The driver, waybill and trip ticket in hand, resumes his post, his helper
re-hangs the scoop, chute, and two canvas baskets in their positions on the
frame, mounts the bright embossed running board, climbs up, slam. The
open chain drive clanks on its sprockets, and rumbling profoundly from its
deepest interior the machine is away.
All this of course is quite unbeknownst to poor Dick, although
expected and indeed arranged by his father. Mr. Alford has put down
$15.00 for delivery including two sacks of fireplace cannel coal and dearly
hopes this will see them through the Michigan winter.
Should it seem strange to you that we know so much, even to things
quite unsuspected by those whose thoughts we dare describe, and that we
observe trivial matters long forgotten or never recognized at all by those
present in these scenes-why, we could if we cared to do it write down
even the deepest secrets of these two truckers . Luckily we needn't bother.
Remember, we are as exalted above our subjects as any biographer conde–
scending to his "noble" patriot or to his "great" poet. He can spy out and
expose the mean forked creature hiding behind however many sheaves of
honors! But be assured or be warned, we are promised for all our troubles
few such excitements.
Still, we have an instance of how our powers of divination penetrate
the minds of those we observe. Were we to tell Dick this is not the first
time he has been alone in his house, he would not believe us. His "merci–
ful censor" has let perish the day he returned here some months ago after
his guilty tricycle flight, coming home from that same Sigsbee School yard
to find the house deserted.
Big Sister, Little Dorothy, the girl-of-all-work Lena, everyone gone;
his mother was gone forever. Nobody home. He has forgotten. So far as he
knows, this is the firs t time he has ever been alone in any house, and even
so it doesn't occur to him in so many words. He has entered the side door
by the driveway. From the shelf he retrieved one of those old bow–
stemmed long iron "skeleton" keys that would pass the wards and trip the
simple bolt of any lock in town. He unlatches the kitchen door two steps
above the icebox there on the landing, convenient for the iceman when he
responds to the placard in the front window requesting by its position a
block of 25,50,75 or even 100 pounds. The icebox is golden oak, it must
weigh a ton; they knew no better in those ignorant days than to cast hinge
and latch of solid brass and for sturdiness extend all flanges in petals of
fleur-de-lis for solid seats to the brass screws. These safes were hard to get
rid of when overnight they became obsolete, but at leas t one no longer had
to remember every day or so the drip pan that lurked underneath.
Surely that iceman had no objection to entering an empty house, with
his pincing tongs, his icepick and all.
