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Show 62 One Sunday each month, on one of Hugo's every-two-week days of rest, he and his wife put on their best clothes and boarded the streetcar for downtown Pittsburgh. There they dined in what they felt was elegance at Dutch Henry's, always beginning the meal with oyster stew. Afterward they strolled along Fifth Avenue to peer through the lighted windows of department stores, at displays of household furnishings and stylish clothes they would never buy, and didn't want a great deal, but enyoyed looking at. Kathleen and Karl were left at home to take care of Hunnie. On that Sunday, August 25, and shortly after 5 p.m., Karl realized that he'd heard neither Hunnie's nor Kathleen's voices for quite some time. He looked around the back yard, but it was quiet in the Sunday heat, except for the thump of a ripe tomato that fell from its stem. Karl checked the parlor couch and the beds upstairs. Sometimes, when he'd been pulled awake and dressed for early mass, Hunnie fell asleep by late afternoon. The beds were empty, though, except for a book lying on Kathleen's bed. Karl was tempted to pick up the book and read a bit of it because its title impressed him -- The Woman Beautiful: Maidenhood, Marriage, Maternity. He left the book where it lay, though, because he didn't want to pry into his sister's secrets By the time the kitchen clock showed ten to six, Karl began to worry. His mother had left cold meat, pickles, bread and oranges for their supper. If Hunnie and Kathleen had gone somewhere together, they should have returned by then, brought home by hunger even if they didn't realize how late it was. |
