Will you tell me that?” he yelled.
“You may sneer all you like,” said Eliza sternly, “but if it hadn’t been for your papa and me accumulating a little property, you’d never have had a roof to call your own.
And this is the thanks I get for all my drudgery in my old age,” she said, bursting into tears.
“Ingratitude!
Ingratitude!”
“Ingratitude!” he sneered.
“What’s there to be grateful for?
You don’t think I’m grateful to you or the old man for anything, do you?
What have you ever given me?
You let me go to hell from the time I was twelve years old.
No one has ever given me a damned nickel since then.
Look at your kid here.
You’ve let him run around the country like a crazy man.
Did you think enough of him this summer to send him a post-card?
Did you know where he was?
Did you give a damn, as long as there was fifty cents to be made out of your lousy boarders?”
“Ingratitude!” she whispered huskily, with a boding shake of the head.
“A day of reckoning cometh.”
“Oh, for God’s sake!” he said, with a contemptuous laugh.
He smoked for a moment. Then he went on quietly: “No, mama.
You’ve done very little to make us grateful to you.
The rest of us ran around wild and the kid grew up here among the dope-fiends and street-walkers.
You’ve pinched every penny and put all you’ve had into real estate which has done no one any good.
So don’t wonder if your kids aren’t grateful to you.”
“Any son who will talk that way to his mother,” said Eliza with rankling bitterness, “is bound to come to a bad end.
Wait and see!”
“The hell you say!” he sneered.
They stared at each other with hard bitter eyes.
He turned away in a moment, scowling with savage annoyance, but stabbed already with fierce regret.
“All right!
Go on, for heaven’s sake!
Leave us alone!
I don’t want you around!”
He lit a cigarette to show his indifference.
The lean white fingers trembled, and the flame went out.
“Let’s stop it!” said Eugene wearily.
“Let’s stop it!
None of us is going to change!
Nothing’s going to get any better.
We’re all going to be the same.
We’ve said all this before.
So, for God’s sake, let’s stop it!
Mama, go to bed, please.
Let’s all go to bed and forget about it.”
He went to her, and with a strong sense of shame, kissed her.
“Well, good-night, son,” said Eliza slowly, with gravity.
“If I were you I’d put the light out now and turn in.
Get a good night’s sleep, boy.
You mustn’t neglect your health.”
She kissed him, and went away without another glance at the older boy.