, they won't come to your house any more, and we
wouldn't want Ted left out of things, would we?"

He announced that he would be enchanted to have Ted left out of things,
and hurried in to be polite, lest Ted be left out of things.

But, he resolved, if he found that the boys were drinking, he
would--well, he'd "hand 'em something that would surprise 'em." While
he was trying to be agreeable to large-shouldered young bullies he was
earnestly sniffing at them Twice he caught the reek of prohibition-time
whisky, but then, it was only twice--

Dr. Howard Littlefield lumbered in.

He had come, in a mood of solemn parental patronage, to look on. Ted and
Eunice were dancing, moving together like one body. Littlefield gasped.
He called Eunice. There was a whispered duologue, and Littlefield
explained to Babbitt that Eunice's mother had a headache and needed her.
She went off in tears. Babbitt looked after them furiously. "That little
devil! Getting Ted into trouble! And Littlefield, the conceited old
gas-bag, acting like it was Ted that was the bad influence!"

Later he smelled whisky on Ted's breath.

After the civil farewell to the guests, the row was terrific, a thorough
Family Scene, like an avalanche, devastating and without reticences.
Babbitt thundered, Mrs. Babbitt wept, Ted was unconvincingly defiant,
and Verona in confusion as to whose side she was taking.

For several months there was coolness between the Babbitts and the
Littlefields, each family sheltering their lamb from the wolf-cub next
door. Babbitt and Littlefield still spoke in pontifical periods about
motors and the senate, but they kept bleakly away from mention of their
families. Whenever Eunice came to the house she discussed with pleasant
intimacy the fact that she had been forbidden to come to the house; and
Babbitt tried, with no success whatever, to be fatherly and advisory
with her.

III

"Gosh all fishhooks!" Ted wailed to Eunice, as they wolfed hot
chocolate, lumps of nougat, and an assortment of glace nuts, in the
mosaic splendor of the Royal Drug Store, "it gets me why Dad doesn't
just pass out from being so poky. Every evening he sits there, about
half-asleep, and if Rone or I say, 'Oh, come on, let's do something,' he
doesn't even take the trouble to think about it. He just yawns and says,
'Naw, this suits me right here.' He doesn't know there's any fun going
on anywhere. I suppose he must do some thinking, same as you and I do,
b