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At dawn she had heard him at the side of the house, drawing water
for his bath. He had gone through his morning program as usual,
by the sounds, and had started off for work without an inquiry about
her. Only when she heard the gate click had she hammered at the
front door and been admitted by the untidy servant.
"Fine way to treat me!" she had stormed, and for a part of that day
she was convinced that she would never go back home again. But fear
of her father was the strongest emotion she knew, and she went back
that night, as usual. It not being Herman's way to bother with
greetings, she had passed him on the porch without a word, and that
night, winding a clock before closing the house, he spoke to her
for the first time.
"There is a performance at the Turnverein Hall to-morrow night.
Rudolph vill take you."
"I don't like Rudolph."
"Rudolph viii take you," he had repeated, stolidly. And she had
gone.
He had no conception of any failure in himself as a parent.


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