The Whiteoak Brothers. Mazo de la Roche
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THE WHITEOAK BROTHERS
THE WHITEOAK
BROTHERS
MAZO DE LA ROCHE
Copyright © 2010 The Estate of Mazo de la Roche and Dundurn Press Limited
First published in Canada by Macmillan Company of Canada in 1953.
This 2010 edition of The Whiteoak Brothers is published in a new trade paperback format.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise (except for brief passages for purposes of review) without the prior permission of undurn Press. Permission to photocopy should be requested from Access Copyright.
Editor: Michael Carroll
Copy Editor: Matt Baker
Design: Courtney Horner
Printer: Transcontinental
Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication
De la Roche, Mazo, 1879-1961
The Whiteoak brothers / by Mazo De La Roche.
ISBN 978-1-55488-741-5
I. Title.
PS8507.E43W4 2010 C813'.52 C2009-907535-0
1 2 3 4 5 14 13 12 11 10
We acknowledge the support of the Canada Council for the Arts and the Ontario Arts Council for our publishing program. We also acknowledge the financial support of the Government of Canada through the Canada Book Fund and The Association for the Export of Canadian Books, and the Government of Ontario through the Ontario Book Publishers Tax Credit program, and the Ontario Media Development Corporation.
Care has been taken to trace the ownership of copyright material used in this book. The author and the publisher welcome any information enabling them to rectify any references or credits in subsequent editions.
J. Kirk Howard, President
Printed and bound in Canada.
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For my children, René and Kim, with my love
CONTENTS
VII A Secret Among Them
VIII Learning
IX Aunt Augusta and Dilly
X More Investors
XI Dilly
XII Pheasant
XIII The Vegetarian
XIV The Falling Leaves
XV The Falling Stocks
XVI Wakefield’s Day
XVII After the Show
XVIII The Bubble Burst
XIX Scenes at Night
XX Paying the Piper
XXI Skating
XXII The Regaining of Equilibrium
XXIII The Winter Moves On
XXIV Indoor Sport
XXV Nothing Could Be Fairer
As Finch Whiteoak was dressing that morning he noticed the change in his hands. Funny he never had noticed it before. They had, suddenly it seemed, as though overnight, grown long and thin, the fingers finely articulated, the knuckles more prominent, the thumb more individual. They looked like the hands that might do something worthwhile. He grinned at the thought that he should do anything worthwhile. Then he grew sober and straightened himself. This was the first day of March, his fifteenth birthday. It was natural that he should change. He wondered if possibly he might have the beginning of a beard, but when he ran his hand over his chin it felt smooth as an egg. Certainly he was growing fast, for his jackets were short in the sleeve and his trousers in the leg. When he considered his clothes he scowled. Was he never to have a brand new suit? Always he was forced to wear those which his brother Piers had outgrown, and by the time Piers had outgrown a suit, who would want it? Not Finch. He wanted a brand new suit.
Sunday morning was the regular morning for clean underthings, but as this was his birthday he would change today. He pulled off his socks that had holes in the heels, and opening the bottom drawer of the scarred chest of drawers, of which several of the wooden knobs were missing, he discovered clean socks and underclothes as well. These last had shrunk in the washing, so that when he had forced himself into them, he felt scarcely able to move. He performed a few stretching exercises to ease the discomfort, thereby making himself such a figure of fun that his brother Piers, who had just wakened up, gave a derisive chuckle. Piers would soon be nineteen.
Finch stiffened and demanded — “What’s the matter with you?”
“You.”
“Me? What d’you mean?”
“You ought to see yourself.”
Finch’s voice came out loudly. “It’s not my fault if everything’s five sizes too small for me.”
Piers answered soothingly — “Dear me, no. And it’s not your fault you’re such a funny shape. But you can’t expect me not to laugh.”
“You’d laugh,” said Finch bitterly, “at your grandmother — if you dared.”
“I have a cheerful disposition and you help me to keep the way.”
“Shut up.”
Piers raised himself on his elbow, his pink and white face suddenly serious. “You’re not being cheeky, I hope.”
There was silence from Finch, as he began to put on his shoes.
“Are you?”