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affair — perhaps eight or ten feet high.
While I steadied it from below, my erstwhile helper, Charlie Wheelock,
pinned on the cross supports above. As he was about to nail a
board into place it slipped from his hand and came
hurtling down, hitting me in the
mouth and knocking out two of my front teeth. I poked
them back into their respective holes as best I could, and was
immediately rushed to Boston for dental treatment. I still have
both of them — one alive, one dead.
As for the tower, I showed it to Dr. Worcester a few days
later.
"That's not safe," he said.
"What do you mean, not safe?" I asked.
"I'll show you," he said, and putting his hand against one of
the supports, gave it a push and the whole structure collapsed.
Besides the Morrisons, I associate this section of town with the
Wellingtons who lived on Wellesley Street and had a large farm and
horses, and often joined us on our riding excursions. I also associate
it with the Blaneys, not because they rode horseback but
because Elizabeth and I, for many years, attended Mr. Foster's dancing
classes at the Hotel Somerset in Boston. These were very formal affairs
designed to teach graceful manners to the pupils and
to mold them into Mr. Foster's conception of gentlefolk.
Even in the afternoon sessions the boys had to wear tuxedos
and the girls, evening dresses. Of course white gloves were a must for
the boys, to keep their clammy adolescent hands from soiling the girls'
frocks; and, as we always assumed, a must for Mr. Foster, to conceal the
fact that he had a cork finger.
In winter, after a dancing class or a late party, I was apt to
spend the night in Boston at the Robbinses on Marlborough |
