8
STUDENT
LIFE
Mark's Party l>F:J,I..\ )IOHHEJ,f,
"Dad, can't I wear my long pants to the football game?" Mark Sheffield's calm voice belied his feelings as he asked the question. It was one of the tragic moments of his young life. Perhaps that was why he thumped so queer ly inside as he waited for an answer . ' Mark stood just a little in awe of his father, and the new suit had been forbidden until sundry pairs of knickerbockers were worn out. Besides, Mr. Sheffield was cetrainly no ordinary man, but a Preoccupied Personage, who ate his b1.;akfast with the morning paper propi;ed against the sugar bowl, and at night donned a brown plaid smoking jacket, retiring to the library a silent, tired business man, while Sue played the pianola in the living room , and Mark-well Mark usually went to a picture shuw. The brown plaid jacket too , was a curious thing. It had a way of creatin(l" an atmosphere , an unfriendly atmosphere, that said very plainly, "Please do not talk." Several times when Mark had had something troublesome upon his mind, he had hovered in the doorway
trying to find enough courage to give a gently suggestive "h-m-m." Once Mr. Sheffield had glanced up when this ~ound had echoed through the room. "W'.hat is it, Mark?" he inquired absently . "Nothing, I-er-maybe I'm catching cold." The stripes and checks were grinning at him derisively. "You would better go to bed, son." Mark shook a menta l fist at the brown plaid, and let himse lf quietly out of the front door. On this particular Saturday morning, however, the earnestness of that freckled face ap- ¡ pealed to him vague ly. "Well, I suppose so." A suden impulse moved him. "By the way, could- er-use a little extra money?" "Bet cher !" exclaimed the boy. " But father, don't you think -" It was Sue's voice from the doorway. Mark turned; stuck out his tongue e,xpres ~ively, and bolted around the corner of the house.
