Each Man's Son Read Free Page A

ever, ever forget. You have one of the most special fathers of anybody you’ve ever heard of. He is not like Donald’s father, coming home every night with the pit dust all over his face so you can’t tell who he is.”
    The boy began to smile.
    â€œArchie MacNeil,” she said the name proudly. “It is something to be the son of the bravest man in Cape Breton.” She stood up and looked down at him. “But you must do your part and grow strong so he will be pleased when he comes home. It is hard for a boy not to have his father with him every night. It is hard for me, too. But think how much he misses us. Your father is so special that he had to go out into the world to do his work.”
    She touched his lids with her finger tips, but he was still unsatisfied. “Don’t go yet, Mummy,” he said.
    She sat down on the side of the bed again.
    â€œMr. Camire doesn’t come home with the pit on his face.”
    â€œMr. Camire is different, too. He is a Frenchman from France, and he had a fine education.”
    â€œBut he just lives in Mrs. MacPherson’s house beyond the bridge.”
    â€œI know. But that’s because he is a stranger here and he has to learn English better. I’ve told you all about it, Alan. Mr. Camire was a sailor and his ship was wrecked not far from here. You remember how excited everybody was when she went on the rocks.”
    The boy frowned. “I sort of do.” He began to pleat a fold in her skirt. “Do you like Mr. Camire, Mummy?”
    â€œHe’s a very nice man. He’s kind as kind can be. Don’t you like him, too?”
    â€œIf he’s kind, I do.” He smiled up at her. “If you like him, I like him too. I like everybody you like, Mummy.”
    She got to her feet. “Now then–it’s time for you to sleep.”
    â€œMummy?”
    â€œAlan, I’ve got to go.” But she laughed at him.
    â€œDr. Ainslie doesn’t have the pit on his face. Is Father like Dr. Ainslie? I wish I could remember him, too.”
    She hesitated before she answered. As she walked to the door she said, “No, your father would not be like Dr. Ainslie at all.”
    â€œIs he stronger?”
    â€œOh, yes. He is much stronger.”
    â€œIs he better than Dr. Ainslie?”
    â€œThe questions you’re asking me tonight!” She made a face of mock despair. “He is just different, Alan. Lots of men are different. Dr. Ainslie is a surgeon and he is a very fine, clever man. Some day perhaps you will be a doctor yourself. Thatwould be wonderful, for he is the best doctor in town. Think of it! He studied so hard he went away to be a doctor in the United States and then he came home to help us here.”
    â€œMr. Camire says Dr. Ainslie has a bad temper.”
    â€œOh, he means nothing by that. Mr. Camire hardly even knows him.”
    â€œMr. Camire doesn’t like anybody but you.”
    â€œThat is just his way. He is a Frenchman from France and he is lonely here without his friends. Now then, close your eyes and drop right off to sleep. And when I’m gone Mrs. MacDonald will look in, just to make sure you are safe and sound.”

 
    Two
    D OWNSTAIRS the late light of evening was in the little parlor when Mollie pushed open the door. It was a room they had seldom used when Archie was home, but he had been away four years now and she had turned it into a workroom. In the center of the floor was a frame with a partially finished rug mounted on it and a debris of materials on the floor where she could put her hands on them as she worked. Against one wall stood a dresser with her best china displayed on its smooth top. In front of the window stood a solid table holding a glass lamp. Two rocking chairs, which Mollie now skirted in order to look at herself in the mirror that hung over the open coal grate, filled the room. There was one other piece of furniture in the corner, a tall