Chapter 24 Part One Chapter Three Dear Papa (3)

Francie knew Mama was a good person.She knows this.That's what Dad said too.So why does she favor one person over another, preferring her father to her mother?Why is that?Dad is useless.He said so himself.But she still likes her father more. "Yes, your mother has worked hard. I love my wife and I love my children." Francie felt better again. "But a man, shouldn't he live a better life? Maybe one day, the trade union will not only assign work to everyone, but also let everyone have leisure and entertainment. However, I am afraid that I will not be able to count on it in my life. Now, how about working hard? , or be a bum... there is no other way. When I die, people will forget me very quickly. No one will say: 'This man loves his family and believes in unions.' They will only say: 'Too bad Yeah. But he's good for nothing, he's just a drunk at the end of the day.' Yeah, they'll say that."

The room fell silent.Johnny Nolan threw his half-smoked cigar through an unscreened window with resentment.He had a premonition that his life was going down prematurely.He watched the little girl with her head down, ironing her clothes on the ironing board without saying a word, that thin face made him love and hurt. "Listen!" He walked over to her and put his arm around her shoulders. "If I get a lot of tips tonight, I'll bet on a horse that races on Monday. I'll bet a few bucks and win ten. Then I'll take another ten and bet on another horse Horse, win a hundred dollars. If I play my brains and I'm lucky, I can make five hundred dollars."

This dream of winning money has not yet been finished, and I feel that this is a daydream.But he thought again, if everything you said could come true!Then he spoke again. "And what do you think I'm going to do, little song queen?" Francie smiled happily, glad he used the "little song queen" nickname.It was a nickname he had given her when she was a baby.He swears that when she cries, her vocal range is wide and her timbre is bright, just like a diva. "I don't know, what are you going to do?" "I'll take you to play. It's you and me, Queen Xiaoge. Let's go to the south, where the cotton blooms." Satisfied with this sentence, he repeated it again. "Go to the place where the cotton blooms." At this moment he remembered that this was a line in a song he could sing.He put his hands in his pockets, whistled, and waltzed like Pat Rooney and sang:

. . . the snow-white fields, Listen to the old black person singing, his voice low and soft. I want to go over there, someone is waiting, Where the cotton blooms... Francie kissed him lightly on the cheek. "Oh, Dad. I love you so much," she whispered. He hugged her tightly.The feeling of heartache suddenly struck again. "Oh, my God! Oh, my God!" he said to himself over and over again, and the pain was almost unbearable for him. "What kind of father I am!" But when he spoke to her again, his tone was calm again. "We're talking like this, there's no time for an apron to be ironed."

"It's all ironed, Dad." She folded the apron neatly into a square. "Is there any money in the house, honey?" She looked at the chipped glass on the shelf. "There are nickels and some pennies." "Can you take seven cents and go buy a fake shirt and a paper collar?" Francie went to the drapery to buy papa something for Saturday night.The fake shirt was a shirt chest made of starched muslin that could be fastened around the neck with a collar button and then held in place with a vest.Use this fake shirt as a substitute for a shirt.But it has to be thrown away after being worn once.Paper collars are not really made of paper.The reason why it is called a paper collar is to distinguish it from a celluloid collar.Celluloid collars are worn by the poor, and if they get dirty, just wipe them with a rag.The paper collar was made of linen, very starched.It also only works once.

When Francie came back, Pa had shaved, wet his hair, polished his shoes, and put on a clean undershirt.The undershirt was not ironed and had a hole in the back, but it smelled good and was clean.He stood up on a chair and took a small box from the top shelf of the cupboard.There were pearl buttons that Katie had given him as a wedding present.The buttons cost her an entire month's salary.Johnny was very proud of the buttons.No matter how poor the family was, the Nolan family would not pawn these pearl buttons. Francie helped him fasten the pearl buttons to the fake shirt.He fastened the lapel with a gold collar button.The gold button was a gift from Hilty O'Dell before Johnny and Katie got engaged.He was also reluctant to throw it away.His cravat was a black silk cravat, very beautifully tied.The other waiters wear those ready-made elastic ties.But Johnny Nolan doesn't do that.Other waiters wore dirty white shirts, or clean but sloppily ironed shirts with celluloid collars.But Johnny doesn't do that.He dressed impeccably, even if it was only temporary.

He finally got dressed.Shiny wavy blonde hair.After just shaving and washing, he smelled fresh and nice.He put on his coat and buttoned it proudly.The satin lapels of the evening dress were a bit worn, but the dress was so fitted, with the seams straight, and the lapels slightly flawed, who would notice?Francie looked at the shiny black shoes and noticed that the straight trousers were drawn down to the heels and over the insteps, also elegantly.What dad's pants would look like this?Francie was very proud of Papa.She carefully wrapped his ironed apron in a special clean wrapping paper. She walked with him to the tram.The women on the road smiled at him, but stopped when they saw the little girl he was holding.Johnny looked like a handsome, dashing Irish lad who couldn't tell that his wife was a cleaning lady or that he had two kids who were constantly starving.

They passed Gabriel's Hardware Store and stopped to look at the roller skates in the window.Mom never took the time to watch this, Dad didn't.Listen to his tone, one day he will buy her a pair.They came to the corner.When a Graham Avenue trolley approached, he stepped onto the waiting platform with a sudden step, the rhythm of which was in sync with the decelerating trolley.When the trolley moved again, he stood behind the car, clutching the handrail, leaning over, waving to Francie.What father would be so handsome?she thinks.