Free The Man Without a Face by ALEXANDER_ Page A

the homework.”
    “But a limited vocabulary is a serious handicap. I should dislike your going to St. Matthew’s under such a grave disadvantage.”
    I stared back at him, too mad now to remember my embarrassment. I knew good and well he was laughing at me, but not by a flicker did it show.
    “By the way,” he said. “Whom were you quoting just now?”
    “The Hairball,” I said, not thinking.
    “The what'
    “My last stepfather.”
    “How many have you had?”
    “Two. Then there was Mother’s first husband who would have been a step if I had been born then. Only I wasn’t. He was Gorgeous Gloria’s father.”
    “The one you’re so devoted to.”
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    I decided to live dangerously. “I thought you were never supposed to end a sentence with a preposition.”
    “I, too, can quote,” he said deadpan. “There is a certain type of insubordination going on around here up with which I will not put.”
    I couldn’t help grinning. “You’re not serious about me having to do that Latin word bit, are you, Mr. McLeod?” (At our school in New York the teachers all make a big thing about us calling them by their first names. Democracy and all that. It didn’t even occur to me to do it with McLeod.)
    “Oh, yes. That is, if you want to use your favorite word again.”
    I sighed loudly. It really is against my principles to give in to an adult. But somehow, of the two of us, I had a strong feeling he wasn’t going to do the yielding.
    “All right. I won’t—at least, I’ll try to remember.” “Angels could no more,” McLeod said, moving towards the bookcase.
    I gathered my things up. “Is that from a poem?” “Yes.”
    “That stuff always turns me off.”
    He pulled down a volume. “You like planes, don’t you?” “Sure.”
    He came back, turning over the pages. “You might like this,” he said, and read aloud:
    Oh, I have slipped the surly bonds of earth,
    And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings; Sunward I’ve climbed and joined the tumbling mirth Of sun-split clouds—and done a hundred things You have not dreamed of—wheeled and soared and swung
    High in the sunlit silence. Hovering there,
    I’ve chased the shouting wind along and flung My eager craft through footless halls of air.
    Up, up the long delirious, burning blue
    I’ve topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace,
    Where never lark, or even eagle, flew,
    And, while with silent, lifting mind I’ve trod The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
    Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.
    It was queer, what it did to me. There were little explosions in my head and stomach and a tingling down my back. My throat was dry. McLeod was looking at me. “Here,” he said, holding out the book. “Take it.”
    CHAPTER 5
    It was after twelve when I got home. McLeod had kept me half an hour overtime, although, come to think of it, I hadn’t felt kept. I just hadn’t realized it was so late. But I did realize I was hungry. The house was blessedly empty. I like empty houses or rooms. I once said this to one of the five school psychologists and he got so upset that they broke out a fresh set of Rorschach’s for me to run through. So I went through all their bags of tricks and answered all their stupid questions and I still like empty houses and rooms, especially those that are empty of people I’m related to, except maybe Meg.
    Feeling relaxed and eager to look at that poem again, I was pouring myself some milk when the screen door squeaked open and in came Gorgeous Gloria and Putrid Percy.
    “Hi,” Gloria said, oozing with friendship. Then she gave
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    me a big smile and I knew instantly what all our roles were: hers was The People's Choice as Big Sister of the Year. Mine was the same as it always is, Unappreciative Kid Brother. Mother’s is Unappreciative Parent. Meg’s is Unappreciative Kid Sister. The plot is whatever is happening at the moment. But I was the only member of the cast available, which meant that the burden of