A satirist of human life, studying Webster's father and mother at the head and foot of the table--symbol at once of their opposition and conjunction--a satirist, who for his own amusement turns life into pictures of something else, might have described their bodily and pictorial relation as that of a large, soft deep-dished pudding to a well trimmed mutton chop. Their minds he would possibly have imagined as two south winds moving along, side by side; whatever else they blew against, they could not possibly blow against each other.
On this fine June morning, the first day of his vacation, Webster was late for breakfast. He arranged to be late. From his bathroom-bedroom he could hear the family with their usual morning talk, Elinor's shrill chatter predominating. When her chatter ceased he would know that she had satisfied her whimsical appetite and had slipped from her chair, impatient either to get to the front porch with its creaky rocking-chair or to dart out the gate to other little girls in the block; restlessly seeking some adventure elsewhere if none should pass before her eyes at home.
He waited till she should go; there was something especial to speak of with his father and he did not wish this to be spoiled by Elinor's interference and ridicule.
When she was gone he went in to breakfast.
"Well, my son, how are you going to spend your first day of vacation?" his father inquired, helping him to his portion and not particularly noticing his own question.
"I thought I'd go over into the woods," Webster replied.
An unfavourable silence followed this announcement. That old stubborn controversy about the woods!...
"Father," asked Webster, with his eyes on his plate, "did you ever see the Kentucky warbler?"
Webster's father looked over the top of the wood-pulp screen. His face had a somewhat vacant expression. He waited. Finally he said:
"My son, I believe you asked me a question: I shall have to ask you to repeat your question; I may be losing my hearing or I may be losing my mind. You asked me--?"
Webster, in the same deliberate tone, repeated his question:
Webster's father looked over his spectacles at Webster's mother as with the air of an appeal for guidance:
"My dear, your son asks me, if I understand him, whether I have ever seen a Kentucky wooden war horse?"