Val had never been able to understand why broken ribs or a fractured
collar-bone should chain one to the bed. And since he had recovered from
his wrenched back he was eager to be up and around. In private, with the
protesting assistance of Sam Two, he had made a pilgrimage across the
room and back. And now it was his full intention to be seated on the
terrace when the family came home.
It was Lucy of all people who aided fortune to give him his opportunity.
"Mistuh Val," she announced from the doorway as the sound of the car
pulling out of the drive signaled the departure of the city-bound party,
"dem lights is out agin."
"Another fuse gone? That's the second this week. Who's been playing
games?" he asked.
"Dis heah no-'count!" She dragged out of hiding from behind her
voluminous skirts her second son, a chocolate-brown infant who rejoiced
in the name of Gustavus Adolphus and was generally called "Doff." At
that moment he was sobbing noisily and eyeing Val as if the boy were the
Grand High Executioner of Tartary. "Yo'all tell Mistuh Val whats yo' bin
a-doin'!" commanded his mother, emphasizing her order with a shake.
"Ain't done nothin'," wailed Doff. "Sam, he give me de penny an' say,
'Le's hab fun.' Den Ah puts de penny in de lil' hole an' den Mammy cotch
me."
"Doff seems to be the victim, Lucy," Val observed. "Where's Sam?"
"Ah don' know.
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