"Well, father tried. But trying wasn't any use. He read philosophy to
get himself interested in something. But philosophy wasn't gripping
enough. It seems we've all got to find something to anchor on, and it's
different for almost everyone. That's where we can help each other by
trying to understand each other's needs and offering suggestions. Like
sailors do--with charts and things. All this philosophy of father's! It
reminds me of a horse I saw once at Carlossie Fair. It had a most
horrible ulcer on its shoulder and they'd tried to hide it up by
plaiting its mane and tying it with a great heap of ribbons. That
doesn't cure anything! You know there's a phrase we use often about
people who are miserable--we say, 'Oh, he needs to be taken out of
himself.' Isn't that a vivid way of putting it, if you stop to think?"
He nodded, and still stared fascinated at her, drinking in every slow,
halting word.
"I suppose father brooded just like you do. He used to get very grumpy,
and very, very unhappy. He begged and pleaded with me for understanding,
and I couldn't give it to him. Then one day he got dreadfully drunk,
after a whole year away from it. And mother's cousin came. He talked
to father for five or six hours while Aunt and I kept shivering and
thinking father would murder him. Our people usually do murder people
who annoy them.
Pages:
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220