This just makes you want to slap him hard:
After raining all morning, the skies seemed to be clearing. It was mostly bright while we sat there, with only an occasional dark interval. During those dark intervals, Hugh ate feverishly; otherwise he only picked at his food. I’m afraid that with the rst of us the reverse was true. (p. 113)
How telling of the narrator, Hugh’s father, that even as he and the rest of the family are aware of Hugh’s wish that the rain at least stall the start of the game so that the radio station will play his talk, he still hopes for the game to begin on time.
Lucy may, their black servant has stepped behind Hugh as the sun shines through the window on his back in a protective gesture, understanding that he is hurting. She dismisses the chirp of a bird as a sign of a promise of rain and tells him so quietly. But the father has overheard.
Hugh may or may not have heard the redbird. But he paid no more attention to Lucy May’s encouraging words than he had to the encouragement and applause of Miss Arrowood. (p. 113)
The father takes a swipe at his son here, failing to understand that Hugh may not care what these other people think; his life has been spent to this moment trying to make his family recognize him for something.
I’m wondering though how far off his father’s estimation of his son has been; if in fact despite his apologetic recital of the situation and of his son’s escapades, he does not instead blame himself for not giving him the benefit of education the others received. If the fact that his own business left him without as much to provide for Hugh as the older children, is what he is really ashamed for and is transferring the differences onto Hugh rather than admit his own failings.