The Lesson by Jesse Ball Read Free Book Online Page B

calling Dr. Matthew’s superstition nonsense. Superstitions may be quite useful.
    —You are looking well.
    Loring was wearing an outfit that resembled nothing so much as a canvas sack with holes for the head and arms. To say that she had never troubled herself much over her appearance would be an understatement of the gravest sort. She had at one time had a great deal of youthful charm and exuberance. Now, in her latter days, utility was the matter foremost in her mind concerning clothing, and she would, in winter, wear as many as three dresses at the same time.
    —Thank you, John.
    They went into the parlor and sat down. The pieces were set up and Loring removed her queen’s knight.
    —Have you been playing much? she inquired.
    —Oh, a game here or there.
    They continued on and he soon blundered one piece and then another. He pushed his king over and smiled at her.
    —Again?
    And so they began again. The doctor loved to play in the romantic style of the nineteenth century. While such a style is delightful, scintillating, etc., it is generally effective only against weaker opponents. One must however appreciate that the character of their visits was enlivened by his archaic gambits, and she appreciated them in the spirit in which they were given.
    Midway through the third game, a loud knock. The boy had arrived.
    What did that meeting look like? The boy came in, wearing even then the sort of clothes a boy would wear to school; perhaps his parents were preparing him for that day which loomed in the near future, or perhaps all the clothes he owned were stiff and proper. In any case, he looked a boy with everything well in order. The doctor, of course, having delivered him, knew him well.
    —Why, Stan, he said, are you a chess player?
    Stan smiled.
    —Dr. Matthews, it doesn’t look like you’re doing very well.
    —She is relentless, said Matthews, grimacing. Don’t you think?
    —Oh, no, said Stan. She is very kind and helpful. A good teacher.
    —Well, perhaps that is the problem, said the doctor. I come here for beatings and not for lessons. One of these days, Loring, you should give me some advice instead of spotting me a knight and beating the side of my head in.
    —I will consider it, she said.
    As the doctor’s eyes passed across the parlor, from the boy to the chess board, they lit on the photograph of Ezra and his eyes narrowed. He looked at the boy and again at the picture and then at Loring. She did not see him, for she was busy staring at the board.
    —Mate in five, she said. Unavoidable.
    Stan came over to the board.
    —Ah, said the doctor sadly. I see it now. My bishop here will fall when the rooks trade off, because of this intermediate queen check. At that point, it won’t be protected. After that, there’s nothing to be done. I can move this pawn, but, well…
    Stan patted the doctor on the shoulder. Matthews was staring at him very carefully. He said nothing.
    —Well, I am going to have to begin Stan’s lesson now, so if you don’t mind my kicking you out without tea…
    The doctor got to his feet.
    —I see, I see, he said. It’s no trouble. Thank you for the games.
    —I will see you to the door, said Loring.
    She fetched his coat, and together they stepped out into the street. The boy was still by the chessboard. The doctor motioned that she should shut the door.
    —Do you know, he said. Do you know how old that boy is?
    —Five years old.
    —Five years, four months, two days.
    Loring looked at him.
    —What do you mean?
    —I don’t mean anything at all. I delivered that boy on the very morning that,
    —I understand perfectly well, John. That must have been where you were when,
    —When I was called to this house with a certificate, yes. I came from there.
    —I see.
    They looked at each other for a moment longer, and then, unsure what to say, or if anything at all should be said, the doctor gave a curt half-bow, and tramped off down the street. Loring leaned against the door and