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Teddy
Heneededahaircut—especiallyatthenapeoftheneck—theworstway,asonlyasmallboywithanalmostfull-grownheadandareedlikeneckcanneedone.
"Teddy,didyouhearme?"
Teddywasnotleaningoutoftheportholequitesofarorsoprecariouslyassmallboysareapttoleanoutofopenportholes—bothhisfeet,infact,wereflatonthesurfaceoftheGladstone—butneitherwashejustconservativelywell-tipped;hisfacewasconsiderablymoreoutsidethaninsidethecabin.Nonetheless,hewaswellwithinhearingofhisfather’svoice—hisfather’svoice,thatis,mostsingularly.Mr.McArdleplayedleadingrolesonnofewerthanthreedaytimeradioserialswhenhewasinNewYork,andhehadwhatmightbecalledathird-classleadingman’sspeakingvoice:narcissisticallydeepandresonant,functionallypreparedatamoment’snoticetooutmaleanyoneinthesameroomwithit,ifnecessaryevenasmallboy.Whenitwasonvacationfromitsprofessionalchores,itfell,asarule,alternatelyinlovewithsheervolumeandatheatricalbrandofquietness-steadiness.Rightnow,volumewasinorder."Teddy.Goddamnit—didyouhearme?"
Teddyturnedaroundatthewaist,withoutchangingthevigilantpositionofhisfeetontheGladstone,andgavehisfatheralookofinquiry,wholeandpure.Hiseyes,whichwerepalebrownincolor,andnotatalllarge,wereslightlycrossed—thelefteyemorethantheright.Theywerenotcrossedenoughtobedisfiguring,oreventobenecessarilynoticeableatfirstglance.
