A Swell-Looking Babe Read Online Free PDF Page B

slightest need to tell him. He's a naturally careful liver. Doesn't smoke. Goes easy on the coffee. Gets plenty of rest… By the way, he's just as well off if he doesn't eat much. Doesn't do enough to burn it up. Okay? That doesn't make you mad, does it?"
    "I-" Dusty's mouth snapped shut. He stared at Lane steadily. "Just what," he said, "do you mean by that?"
    "Well – uh -" The doctor cleared his throat. "No offence. I only meant that working nights, and all, it was probably difficult for you to – to -"
    "I see. I thought that's what you must mean, Doctor."
    Doctor Lane laughed uneasily. "Now – uh – I was saying about the liquor. Only danger in it I see is, uh, negative, largely negative. Know what I mean? Explaining why he shouldn't have it. Alarming him. Mustn't do that, understand? No reason to do it. He's never drunk the stuff, no reason why he should take on any fatal quantity now. If he had any money to throw away, he'd-" The doctor broke off abruptly. He cleared his throat again. "As I was saying. My thought in warning you was that you might, with the best of intentions, urge some on him. I mean to say that, for example, you might be having some people in, and if you were drinking yourselves you'd naturally offer your father-"
    "I don't drink, Doctor. I don't do any entertaining."
    "Fine. Splendid. No cause for worry, then." Doctor Lane backed away a step. "Anything else?"
    Dusty shook his head. There had been something, but he couldn't mention it now. Perhaps he could do it later, but he was in no mood now to ask for favors from Doctor Lane now. Probably it wouldn't do any good if he did ask. If Lane thought he was so lowdown as to mistreat his own father, he'd hardly be inclined to wait indefinitely on payment for his services.
    Going up' the walk to the house, Dusty guessed that he'd mismanaged the whole interview. The doctor was always cranky, ready to leap down your throat, at this hour of the morning. If he'd had to talk to him – and he might have waited until another time – he shouldn't have disputed with him, made the doctor humble himself for a curtness that was more or less normal for him.
    Mr. Rhodes was seated on the living room lounge, squinting at the morning newspaper. He smiled absently at his son, and Dusty went on back to the kitchen. The coffee pot was still warm, and there was a little coffee still left in it. Dusty poured a cup, and carried it into the living room.
    "Dad," he said. Then, sharply, "Dad! I want to talk to you."
    "Oh!" The old man laid the paper aside reluctantly. "Go right ahead, Bill."
    "I want you to gather up all your clothes today, all your laundry. I – maybe you'd better do it right away. I'll have the stuff picked up this morning, so we can get it back tomorrow."
    "All right, son," his father said, mildly. "Do you want any of your things to go, too?"
    "Just yours. The hotel still does mine at half price."
    Mr. Rhodes shuffled out of the room. Dusty took up a sip of coffee, and picked up the telephone. He called the laundry and cleaners. Then he consulted the telephone directory, and, swallowing the rest of his coffee called a grocery store.
    He was just hanging up when his father returned. He lighted a cigarette, motioned for the old man to sit down.
    "I've just ordered some groceries, Dad. They'll be delivered within the hour – twenty-three dollars and eight cents worth – and the man will have to have his money upon delivery. Now I can leave the money with you for him, and go on to bed, if you're sure you can take care of it. Otherwise, I'll sit up and wait."
    "Of course, I can take care of it," said Mr. Rhodes. "You go get your sleep, Bill."
    "Another thing. While you're waiting, I'd like to have you shave. I'll put a new blade in the razor for you. Draw the water if you want me to. Will you do that, Dad?"
    "Well, I-" Mr. Rhodes ran a hand over his stubbled face. "That's – it's pretty hard for me to do, son. I – I have a hard time seeing what I'm doing