A Father for Philip Read Online Free Page A

feet
and old George put out a hand to steady him. Her father spoke, and Eleanor
could not hear his words, but she could see concern reflected on his face. The
young man answered, George spoke again, and the other shook his head, still
holding the side of the truck. This time her father did not bother speaking. He
grasped the green clad arm, draped it over his stooped shoulders and half
dragged, half carried his burden toward the kitchen where Eleanor stood staring
out the window.
    “What is it?” she asked, as they came
through the doorway. “Is he sick?”
    “The boy needs food,” George replied.
“Look at him— skinny as a rake, almost fainting from hunger. Well, don’t just
stand there, girl, get cooking! I’ll get some brandy.” As George stomped out,
Eleanor stared at the young man slumped on a chair.
    His eyes danced with laughter and he
winked at her. “I had to see you again,” he whispered. “This was the only way I
could get invited to lunch. No! Don’t back away. You have been chosen.”
    As George returned, he leaned back
again, looking wan. Eleanor scurried to do things at the stove.
    “What did you say your name is, boy?”
George asked . Eleanor paused in her task of making sandwiches.
    “David Jefferson, sir.”
    “Yes. I remember now. This is my
daughter, Ellie.” Eleanor stirred the thick, homemade vegetable beef soup as it
heated.
    “No, sir. Eleanor,” David said, and
again his resonant voice caressed her name. “Don’t call her ‘Ellie’, please,
Mr. Barnes.”
    George’s flint-eyed stare raked the face
of the young man. “What’s it to you?”
    “Eleanor is going to be my wife, sir.”
    “Huh? What? The hell she is.”
    Eleanor held her breath. “Yes, sir,”
came the confident reply. “You’ll see. Just wait.”
    “What do you do, boy, besides set out to
work with a leaky radiator and overheat engines?”
    “I’m studying silviculture. I have a job
with the Forest Service for the summer. I’ll be working in the area for the
next few months. You’ll get used to me.”
    George said, “Hmmph,” and the meal was
finished in silence until Eleanor offered second helpings, which David
accepted.
    “Where do you live?” Presently, George
pushed the sugar bowl closer to his young guest after Eleanor served coffee.
    “In town. In a rooming house. The meals
are nothing like this. For breakfast, I got cornflakes.”
    “Hmmph. Not the kind of food a working
man needs.”
    “No, sir, it isn’t.” David Jefferson
drank the last of his coffee, then stood. “Thanks for the lunch, Eleanor. When I
get the radiator fixed, I’ll be back.” Reaching out to George, he offered a
handshake. “So long, Mr. Barnes.”
    “Hmmph!” George said again.
    And David had come back. He came back
that very evening to take Eleanor to the movies. George said, “No, she’s got to
help me with the milking. Machine’s broken down.”
    “I’ll milk, too,” said David, and did.
When they were finished, he said, “Go get changed, Eleanor. I’ll fix the
machine while you do it.” He did that, too, and as David washed up, Eleanor
could see her father eying him with grudging admiration.
    Three weeks later Eleanor bowed to the
inevitable and agreed to marry David. George, however, continued to hold out,
and in spite of this David won his permission to build a small house for
himself in the hollow below the farmhouse, secluded by a grove of poplar trees.
“Don’t mind renting you the land, Dave,” said the old man. “I’m not using it.
Maybe, in time, we could even sell off that quarter acre to you.”
    “We’ll live there George, Eleanor and I,
when we are married. You can visit us anytime you want... Within reason,” David
had added sternly.
    “You are not marrying my girl, boy!”
George had said and said, and said again, right up to the day of the wedding,
and on that day what he said was, “So you married her, boy. But remember this:
she’s my girl. I’ll share with you if I