The Eternal Wonder by Pearl S. Buck Read Free Book Online Page A

Chris had said.
    IT WAS BECAUSE OF CHRIS that he did not complain to his parents about the stupidity of school. He raced off to school early every morning so that he and Chris could have half an hour of intense play before school began. Recess was the reward in the middle of the morning and they ate their lunches together. Unfortunately, Chris lived at the far end of town and his bus took them away from each other at the end of school, but this was compensated for, in Rannie’s case, by the arrival of the encyclopedia, twenty-four volumes, all bound in dark blue with gold lettering. Immediately after he came home from school and after a sandwich and a glass of milk and a piece of pie or cake or some cookies in the kitchen with his mother, he read the encyclopedia, page after page, volume after volume. It was incredibly exciting, one subject after another, explained briefly but clearly, telling him things he had not known existed. He read until nightfall and his father came home. There were words he had to look up in the dictionary, of course, many of them, for his parents were relentless in their determination regarding the dictionary. He must find his own meanings.
    “Never ask someone to do what you can do for yourself,” his mother sermonized.
    “I’ll improve on that,” his father said. “Never let anyone do something for you that you enjoy doing for yourself.”
    “Is that what you do?” she demanded.
    “As far as life permits,” he replied.
    Rannie listened. The conversation between his parents interested him—indeed, fascinated him. It was always above his head, sometimes only slightly, but he had to stretch his mind. They never simplified themselves for him. Though they included him in everything they did, he was aware that somehow, somewhere, they were alone together, the two of them. On the subject of parents he and Chris disagreed totally.
    “Parents are nuts,” Chris said flatly.
    “Mine aren’t,” Rannie said.
    “Always hollerin’ about somepin.”
    “Not mine!”
    The disagreement was such that they became secretly curious about each other’s parents. Thus, one Saturday, Chris accepted an invitation to inspect Rannie’s parents by coming to skate on the frozen swimming pool in the backyard. Rannie had introduced Chris to his mother as she was making a weekend cake in the kitchen and he had been pleased to find that Chris was impressed by her blond good looks.
    “She’s pretty, all right,” he agreed. “Where’s your old man?”
    Rannie had learned to understand Chris’s language without using it. “He’s in the study, writing a book. We don’t bother him until he opens the door himself.”
    “Writing a book?” Chris asked incredulously.
    “Yes—on the science of art.”
    “What’s that?”
    “It’s what he’s writing about.”
    “Sure—but what does it mean?”
    “He believes that art is based on certain scientific principles.”
    “Oh, come on—what does that mean?”
    “I don’t know altogether—until he’s finished the book and I can read it.”
    “You read books?”
    “Of course. Don’t you?”
    “No. I hate readin’.”
    “Then how do you know anything?”
    “How do you mean know anything? I ast somebody, if I want to know—like how do you go out west. I’m goin’ to have a ranch out west when I grow up—say, ten, ’leven years from now. Come on—let’s skate.”
    They skated and noon arrived before they thought it possible except that they were starving.
    “Luncheon waits!” his mother sang out of the kitchen door.
    So, their skates off and their ears scarlet with cold, they went into the dining room and found Rannie’s father waiting behind his chair.
    “Papa, this is Chris,” Rannie said.
    “Chris, I’m happy to meet you,” his father said.
    “You haven’t washed, Rannie,” his mother reminded him.
    They went to the downstairs powder room, Rannie leading and Chris obviously impressed.
    “Your ole man looks swell,” Chris said.