THE BOY GREW OLDER
BY
HEYWOOD BROUN
G. P. Putnam's Sons
New York & London
The Knickerbocker Press
1923
Copyright, 1922,
by
Heywood Broun
Made in the United States of America
First Printing, October 1922
Second Printing, October 1922
Third Printing, November 1922
Fourth Printing, December 1922
Fifth Printing, February 1923
Sixth Printing, March 1923
Made in the United States of America
DEDICATED
TO
HERBERT BAYARD SWOPE
The Boy Grew Older
Book I
CHAPTER I
"Your son was born ten minutes ago," said the voice at the other end ofthe wire.
"I'll be up," replied Peter Neale, "right away."
But it wasn't right away. First he had to go upstairs to the card roomand settle his losses. Indeed he played one more pot for when hereturned to the table his deal had come around again. He felt that itwas not the thing to quit just then. The other men might think he hadtimed his departure in order to save the dollar ante. He dealt the cardsand picked up four spades and a heart. Eventually, he paid five dollarsto draw and again he had four spades and a heart. Nevertheless, he betten dollars but it was no go. His hands shook as he dropped the two bluechips in the centre of the table. The man with a pair of jacks noticedthat and called. Peter threw his cards away.
"I've got nothing—a busted flush. I want to cash in now. I owe for twostacks. That's right, isn't it? I haven't any chips left. Ifsomebody'll lend me a fountain pen I'll make out a check. I guess Ineed a check too. Any kind'll do. I can cross the name off."
"Why are you quitting so soon?" asked the banker as Peter waved thecheck back and forth to let it dry. "We're all going to quit at seveno'clock."
"Two rounds and a consolation pot," corrected somebody across the table.
Peter was curiously torn between reticence and an impulse to tell. Hefelt a little as if he might begin to cry. When he spoke his voice wasthick. "I've got to go up to see my son," he said. "He's just beenborn."
He shoved the check over to the banker and was out of the room beforeanybody could say anything.
He thought that the banker said, "Congratulations," as he slammed thedoor behind him, but he could not be certain of it.
All the way up in the taxi he worried. The hospital was half a mileaway. He wished that the nurse had said, "A fine boy," but he rememberedit was just, "Your son was born ten minutes ago."
"If anything had been wrong," he thought, "she wouldn't have said itover the telephone."
"Is everything all right?" was his first question when a nurse came tothe door of the small private hospital and let him in. "My name's PeterNeale," he explained. "My son's just been born half an hour ago."
"Everything's fine, Mr. Neale," she said and she smiled. "The babyweighs nine pounds. Mrs. Neale is fine too. You can see them both, butshe's a