Mrs. Eberhardt Character Analysis

“They’ve probably got all the necessary paperwork and permits.”

“They’ve got permits to bury owls?” Roy asked in disbelief.

“The owls will fly away. They’ll find new dens somewhere else.”

“What if they’ve got babies? How will the baby birds fly away?” Roy shot back angrily. “How, Dad?”

“I don’t know,” his father admitted.

“How would you and Mom like it,” Roy pressed on, “if a bunch of strangers showed up one day with bulldozers to flatten this house? And all they had to say was ‘Don’t worry, Mr. and Mrs. Eberhardt, it’s no big deal. Just pack up and move to another place.’ How would you feel about that?”

“They were asking him all kinds of nosy questions, Mom, and meanwhile he’s about to keel over from the fever,” Roy said. “Maybe what I did was wrong, but I’d do it all over again if I had to. I mean it.”

Roy expected a mild rebuke, but his mother only smiled. Smoothing the blanket with both hands, she said, “Honey, sometimes you’re going to be faced with situations where the line isn’t clear between what’s right and what’s wrong. Your heart will tell you to do one thing, and your brain will tell you to do something different. In the end, all that’s left is to look at both sides and go with your best judgment.”

Well, Roy thought, that’s sort of what I did.

He wasn’t in the mood to turn somersaults, though he couldn’t deny experiencing a sense of liberation. He was tired of being Dana Matherson’s punching bag.

And while he felt guilty about making up the bogus cigarette story, Roy also couldn’t help but think that putting Dana behind bars was a public service. He was a nasty kid. Maybe a hitch at juvenile hall would straighten him out.

“Dad wants my brother to come back and live with us again, but Lonna says no way, José, he’s a bad seed. What the heck does that mean, Tex? ‘Bad seed.’ Anyway, they’re still not speakin’ to each other, Lonna and my dad. The whole house feels like it’s about to explode.”

To Roy, Beatrice’s situation sounded like a living nightmare. “Need a place to hide out?” he asked.

“That’s okay. Dad says he feels better when I’m around.”

“Don’t be silly. I’m making a whole scrapbook, honey, something to show your children and grandchildren.”

I’d rather show them the owls, Roy thought, if there are any left by then.

“They’ve probably got all the necessary paperwork and permits.”

“They’ve got permits to bury owls?” Roy asked in disbelief.

“The owls will fly away. They’ll find new dens somewhere else.”

“What if they’ve got babies? How will the baby birds fly away?” Roy shot back angrily. “How, Dad?”

“I don’t know,” his father admitted.

“How would you and Mom like it,” Roy pressed on, “if a bunch of strangers showed up one day with bulldozers to flatten this house? And all they had to say was ‘Don’t worry, Mr. and Mrs. Eberhardt, it’s no big deal. Just pack up and move to another place.’ How would you feel about that?”

“They were asking him all kinds of nosy questions, Mom, and meanwhile he’s about to keel over from the fever,” Roy said. “Maybe what I did was wrong, but I’d do it all over again if I had to. I mean it.”

Roy expected a mild rebuke, but his mother only smiled. Smoothing the blanket with both hands, she said, “Honey, sometimes you’re going to be faced with situations where the line isn’t clear between what’s right and what’s wrong. Your heart will tell you to do one thing, and your brain will tell you to do something different. In the end, all that’s left is to look at both sides and go with your best judgment.”

Well, Roy thought, that’s sort of what I did.

He wasn’t in the mood to turn somersaults, though he couldn’t deny experiencing a sense of liberation. He was tired of being Dana Matherson’s punching bag.

And while he felt guilty about making up the bogus cigarette story, Roy also couldn’t help but think that putting Dana behind bars was a public service. He was a nasty kid. Maybe a hitch at juvenile hall would straighten him out.

“Dad wants my brother to come back and live with us again, but Lonna says no way, José, he’s a bad seed. What the heck does that mean, Tex? ‘Bad seed.’ Anyway, they’re still not speakin’ to each other, Lonna and my dad. The whole house feels like it’s about to explode.”

To Roy, Beatrice’s situation sounded like a living nightmare. “Need a place to hide out?” he asked.

“That’s okay. Dad says he feels better when I’m around.”

“Don’t be silly. I’m making a whole scrapbook, honey, something to show your children and grandchildren.”

I’d rather show them the owls, Roy thought, if there are any left by then.