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diff --git a/1098-h/1098-h.htm b/1098-h/1098-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7de92de --- /dev/null +++ b/1098-h/1098-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,12333 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + The Turmoil, by Booth Tarkington + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} +div.blok {margin:2% 15% 2% 15%;} +.c {text-align:center;} +div.poetry {text-align:center;} +div.poem {font-size:90%;margin:1em auto 1em auto;text-indent:0%; +display: inline-block; text-align: left;} +.rt {text-align:right;} +</style> + </head> + <body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1098 ***</div> + + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + THE TURMOIL + </h1> + <h2> + A NOVEL + </h2> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Booth Tarkington + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h3> + 1915. + </h3> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h2> + To Laurel. + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER XXIV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER XXV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0026"> CHAPTER XXVI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0027"> CHAPTER XXVII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0028"> CHAPTER XXVIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0029"> CHAPTER XXIX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0030"> CHAPTER XXX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0031"> CHAPTER XXI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0032"> CHAPTER XXXII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0033"> CHAPTER XXXIII </a> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I + </h2> + <p> + There is a midland city in the heart of fair, open country, a dirty and + wonderful city nesting dingily in the fog of its own smoke. The stranger + must feel the dirt before he feels the wonder, for the dirt will be upon + him instantly. It will be upon him and within him, since he must breathe + it, and he may care for no further proof that wealth is here better loved + than cleanliness; but whether he cares or not, the negligently tended + streets incessantly press home the point, and so do the flecked and grimy + citizens. At a breeze he must smother in the whirlpools of dust, and if he + should decline at any time to inhale the smoke he has the meager + alternative of suicide. + </p> + <p> + The smoke is like the bad breath of a giant panting for more and more + riches. He gets them and pants the fiercer, smelling and swelling + prodigiously. He has a voice, a hoarse voice, hot and rapacious trained to + one tune: “Wealth! I will get Wealth! I will make Wealth! I will sell + Wealth for more Wealth! My house shall be dirty, my garment shall be + dirty, and I will foul my neighbor so that he cannot be clean—but I + will get Wealth! There shall be no clean thing about me: my wife shall be + dirty and my child shall be dirty, but I will get Wealth!” And yet it is + not wealth that he is so greedy for: what the giant really wants is hasty + riches. To get these he squanders wealth upon the four winds, for wealth + is in the smoke. + </p> + <p> + Not so long ago as a generation, there was no panting giant here, no + heaving, grimy city; there was but a pleasant big town of neighborly + people who had understanding of one another, being, on the whole, much of + the same type. It was a leisurely and kindly place—“homelike,” it + was called—and when the visitor had been taken through the State + Asylum for the Insane and made to appreciate the view of the cemetery from + a little hill, his host's duty as Baedeker was done. The good burghers + were given to jogging comfortably about in phaetons or in surreys for a + family drive on Sunday. No one was very rich; few were very poor; the air + was clean, and there was time to live. + </p> + <p> + But there was a spirit abroad in the land, and it was strong here as + elsewhere—a spirit that had moved in the depths of the American soil + and labored there, sweating, till it stirred the surface, rove the + mountains, and emerged, tangible and monstrous, the god of all good + American hearts—Bigness. And that god wrought the panting giant. + </p> + <p> + In the souls of the burghers there had always been the profound longing + for size. Year by year the longing increased until it became an + accumulated force: We must Grow! We must be Big! We must be Bigger! + Bigness means Money! And the thing began to happen; their longing became a + mighty Will. We must be Bigger! Bigger! Bigger! Get people here! Coax them + here! Bribe them! Swindle them into coming, if you must, but get them! + Shout them into coming! Deafen them into coming! Any kind of people; all + kinds of people! We must be Bigger! Blow! Boost! Brag! Kill the + fault-finder! Scream and bellow to the Most High: Bigness is patriotism + and honor! Bigness is love and life and happiness! Bigness is Money! We + want Bigness! + </p> + <p> + They got it. From all the states the people came; thinly at first, and + slowly, but faster and faster in thicker and thicker swarms as the quick + years went by. White people came, and black people and brown people and + yellow people; the negroes came from the South by the thousands and + thousands, multiplying by other thousands and thousands faster than they + could die. From the four quarters of the earth the people came, the broken + and the unbroken, the tame and the wild—Germans, Irish, Italians, + Hungarians, Scotch, Welsh, English, French, Swiss, Swedes, Norwegians, + Greeks, Poles, Russian Jews, Dalmatians, Armenians, Rumanians, Servians, + Persians, Syrians, Japanese, Chinese, Turks, and every hybrid that these + could propagate. And if there were no Eskimos nor Patagonians, what other + human strain that earth might furnish failed to swim and bubble in this + crucible? + </p> + <p> + With Bigness came the new machinery and the rush; the streets began to + roar and rattle, the houses to tremble; the pavements were worn under the + tread of hurrying multitudes. The old, leisurely, quizzical look of the + faces was lost in something harder and warier; and a cockney type began to + emerge discernibly—a cynical young mongrel barbaric of feature, + muscular and cunning; dressed in good fabrics fashioned apparently in + imitation of the sketches drawn by newspaper comedians. The female of his + kind came with him—a pale girl, shoddy and a little rouged; and they + communicated in a nasal argot, mainly insolences and elisions. Nay, the + common speech of the people showed change: in place of the old midland + vernacular, irregular but clean, and not unwholesomely drawling, a jerky + dialect of coined metaphors began to be heard, held together by GUNNAS and + GOTTAS and much fostered by the public journals. + </p> + <p> + The city piled itself high in the center, tower on tower for a nucleus, + and spread itself out over the plain, mile after mile; and in its vitals, + like benevolent bacilli contending with malevolent in the body of a man, + missions and refuges offered what resistance they might to the saloons and + all the hells that cities house and shelter. Temptation and ruin were + ready commodities on the market for purchase by the venturesome; + highwaymen walked the streets at night and sometimes killed; snatching + thieves were busy everywhere in the dusk; while house-breakers were a + common apprehension and frequent reality. Life itself was somewhat safer + from intentional destruction than it was in medieval Rome during a faction + war—though the Roman murderer was more like to pay for his deed—but + death or mutilation beneath the wheels lay in ambush at every crossing. + </p> + <p> + The politicians let the people make all the laws they liked; it did not + matter much, and the taxes went up, which is good for politicians. + Law-making was a pastime of the people; nothing pleased them more. + Singular fermentation of their humor, they even had laws forbidding + dangerous speed. More marvelous still, they had a law forbidding smoke! + They forbade chimneys to smoke and they forbade cigarettes to smoke. They + made laws for all things and forgot them immediately; though sometimes + they would remember after a while, and hurry to make new laws that the old + laws should be enforced—and then forget both new and old. Wherever + enforcement threatened Money or Votes—or wherever it was too much to + bother—it became a joke. Influence was the law. + </p> + <p> + So the place grew. And it grew strong. + </p> + <p> + Straightway when he came, each man fell to the same worship: + </p> +<div class="poetry"><div class="poem"> + Give me of thyself, O Bigness:<br /> + Power to get more power!<br /> + Riches to get more riches!<br /> + Give me of thy sweat that I may sweat more!<br /> + Give me Bigness to get more Bigness to myself,<br /> + O Bigness, for Thine is the Power and the Glory! And<br /> + there is no end but Bigness, ever and for ever! +</div></div> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II + </h2> + <p> + The Sheridan Building was the biggest skyscraper; the Sheridan Trust + Company was the biggest of its kind, and Sheridan himself had been the + biggest builder and breaker and truster and buster under the smoke. He had + come from a country cross-roads, at the beginning of the growth, and he + had gone up and down in the booms and relapses of that period; but each + time he went down he rebounded a little higher, until finally, after a + year of overwork and anxiety—the latter not decreased by a chance, + remote but possible, of recuperation from the former in the penitentiary—he + found himself on top, with solid substance under his feet; and thereafter + “played it safe.” But his hunger to get was unabated, for it was in the + very bones of him and grew fiercer. + </p> + <p> + He was the city incarnate. He loved it, calling it God's country, as he + called the smoke Prosperity, breathing the dingy cloud with relish. And + when soot fell upon his cuff he chuckled; he could have kissed it. “It's + good! It's good!” he said, and smacked his lips in gusto. “Good, clean + soot; it's our life-blood, God bless it!” The smoke was one of his great + enthusiasms; he laughed at a committee of plaintive housewives who called + to beg his aid against it. “Smoke's what brings your husbands' money home + on Saturday night,” he told them, jovially. “Smoke may hurt your little + shrubberies in the front yard some, but it's the catarrhal climate and the + adenoids that starts your chuldern coughing. Smoke makes the climate + better. Smoke means good health: it makes the people wash more. They have + to wash so much they wash off the microbes. You go home and ask your + husbands what smoke puts in their pockets out o' the pay-roll—and + you'll come around next time to get me to turn out more smoke instead o' + chokin' it off!” + </p> + <p> + It was Narcissism in him to love the city so well; he saw his reflection + in it; and, like it, he was grimy, big, careless, rich, strong, and + unquenchably optimistic. From the deepest of his inside all the way out he + believed it was the finest city in the world. “Finest” was his word. He + thought of it as his city as he thought of his family as his family; and + just as profoundly believed his city to be the finest city in the world, + so did he believe his family to be—in spite of his son Bibbs—the + finest family in the world. As a matter of fact, he knew nothing worth + knowing about either. + </p> + <p> + Bibbs Sheridan was a musing sort of boy, poor in health, and considered + the failure—the “odd one”—of the family. Born during that most + dangerous and anxious of the early years, when the mother fretted and the + father took his chance, he was an ill-nourished baby, and grew meagerly, + only lengthwise, through a feeble childhood. At his christening he was + committed for life to “Bibbs” mainly through lack of imagination on his + mother's part, for though it was her maiden name, she had no strong + affection for it; but it was “her turn” to name the baby, and, as she + explained later, she “couldn't think of anything else she liked AT ALL!” + She offered this explanation one day when the sickly boy was nine and + after a long fit of brooding had demanded some reason for his name's being + Bibbs. He requested then with unwonted vehemence to be allowed to exchange + names with his older brother, Roscoe Conkling Sheridan, or with the + oldest, James Sheridan, Junior, and upon being refused went down into the + cellar and remained there the rest of that day. And the cook, descending + toward dusk, reported that he had vanished; but a search revealed that he + was in the coal-pile, completely covered and still burrowing. Removed by + force and carried upstairs, he maintained a cryptic demeanor, refusing to + utter a syllable of explanation, even under the lash. This obvious thing + was wholly a mystery to both parents; the mother was nonplussed, failed to + trace and connect; and the father regarded his son as a stubborn and + mysterious fool, an impression not effaced as the years went by. + </p> + <p> + At twenty-two, Bibbs was physically no more than the outer scaffolding of + a man, waiting for the building to begin inside—a long-shanked, + long-faced, rickety youth, sallow and hollow and haggard, dark-haired and + dark-eyed, with a peculiar expression of countenance; indeed, at first + sight of Bibbs Sheridan a stranger might well be solicitous, for he seemed + upon the point of tears. But to a slightly longer gaze, not grief, but + mirth, was revealed as his emotion; while a more searching scrutiny was + proportionately more puzzling—he seemed about to burst out crying or + to burst out laughing, one or the other, inevitably, but it was impossible + to decide which. And Bibbs never, on any occasion of his life, either + laughed aloud or wept. + </p> + <p> + He was a “disappointment” to his father. At least that was the parent's + word—a confirmed and established word after his first attempt to + make a “business man” of the boy. He sent Bibbs to “begin at the bottom + and learn from the ground up” in the machine-shop of the Sheridan + Automatic Pump Works, and at the end of six months the family physician + sent Bibbs to begin at the bottom and learn from the ground up in a + sanitarium. + </p> + <p> + “You needn't worry, mamma,” Sheridan told his wife. “There's nothin' the + matter with Bibbs except he hates work so much it makes him sick. I put + him in the machine-shop, and I guess I know what I'm doin' about as well + as the next man. Ole Doc Gurney always was one o' them nutty alarmists. + Does he think I'd do anything 'd be bad for my own flesh and blood? He + makes me tired!” + </p> + <p> + Anything except perfectly definite health or perfectly definite disease + was incomprehensible to Sheridan. He had a genuine conviction that lack of + physical persistence in any task involving money must be due to some + subtle weakness of character itself, to some profound shiftlessness or + slyness. He understood typhoid fever, pneumonia, and appendicitis—one + had them, and either died or got over them and went back to work—but + when the word “nervous” appeared in a diagnosis he became honestly + suspicious: he had the feeling that there was something contemptible about + it, that there was a nigger in the wood-pile somewhere. + </p> + <p> + “Look at me,” he said. “Look at what I did at his age! Why, when I was + twenty years old, wasn't I up every morning at four o'clock choppin' wood—yes! + and out in the dark and the snow—to build a fire in a country + grocery store? And here Bibbs has to go and have a DOCTOR because he can't—Pho! + it makes me tired! If he'd gone at it like a man he wouldn't be sick.” + </p> + <p> + He paced the bedroom—the usual setting for such parental discussions—in + his nightgown, shaking his big, grizzled head and gesticulating to his + bedded spouse. “My Lord!” he said. “If a little, teeny bit o' work like + this is too much for him, why, he ain't fit for anything! It's nine-tenths + imagination, and the rest of it—well, I won't say it's deliberate, + but I WOULD like to know just how much of it's put on!” + </p> + <p> + “Bibbs didn't want the doctor,” said Mrs. Sheridan. “It was when he was + here to dinner that night, and noticed how he couldn't eat anything. + Honey, you better come to bed.” + </p> + <p> + “Eat!” he snorted. “Eat! It's work that makes men eat! And it's + imagination that keeps people from eatin'. Busy men don't get time for + that kind of imagination; and there's another thing you'll notice about + good health, if you'll take the trouble to look around you Mrs. Sheridan: + busy men haven't got time to be sick and they don't GET sick. You just + think it over and you'll find that ninety-nine per cent. of the sick + people you know are either women or loafers. Yes, ma'am!” + </p> + <p> + “Honey,” she said again, drowsily, “you better come to bed.” + </p> + <p> + “Look at the other boys,” her husband bade her. “Look at Jim and Roscoe. + Look at how THEY work! There isn't a shiftless bone in their bodies. Work + never made Jim or Roscoe sick. Jim takes half the load off my shoulders + already. Right now there isn't a harder-workin', brighter business man in + this city than Jim. I've pushed him, but he give me something to push + AGAINST. You can't push 'nervous dyspepsia'! And look at Roscoe; just LOOK + at what that boy's done for himself, and barely twenty-seven years old—married, + got a fine wife, and ready to build for himself with his own money, when I + put up the New House for you and Edie.” + </p> + <p> + “Papa, you'll catch cold in your bare feet,” she murmured. “You better + come to bed.” + </p> + <p> + “And I'm just as proud of Edie, for a girl,” he continued, emphatically, + “as I am of Jim and Roscoe for boys. She'll make some man a mighty good + wife when the time comes. She's the prettiest and talentedest girl in the + United States! Look at that poem she wrote when she was in school and took + the prize with; it's the best poem I ever read in my life, and she'd never + even tried to write one before. It's the finest thing I ever read, and R. + T. Bloss said so, too; and I guess he's a good enough literary judge for + me—turns out more advertisin' liter'cher than any man in the city. I + tell you she's smart! Look at the way she worked me to get me to promise + the New House—and I guess you had your finger in that, too, mamma! + This old shack's good enough for me, but you and little Edie 'll have to + have your way. I'll get behind her and push her the same as I will Jim and + Roscoe. I tell you I'm mighty proud o' them three chuldern! But Bibbs—” + He paused, shaking his head. “Honest, mamma, when I talk to men that got + ALL their boys doin' well and worth their salt, why, I have to keep my + mind on Jim and Roscoe and forget about Bibbs.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Sheridan tossed her head fretfully upon the pillow. “You did the best + you could, papa,” she said, impatiently, “so come to bed and quit + reproachin' yourself for it.” + </p> + <p> + He glared at her indignantly. “Reproachin' myself!” he snorted. “I ain't + doin' anything of the kind! What in the name o' goodness would I want to + reproach myself for? And it wasn't the 'best I could,' either. It was the + best ANYBODY could! I was givin' him a chance to show what was in him and + make a man of himself—and here he goes and gets 'nervous dyspepsia' + on me!” + </p> + <p> + He went to the old-fashioned gas-fixture, turned out the light, and + muttered his way morosely into bed. + </p> + <p> + “What?” said his wife, crossly, bothered by a subsequent mumbling. + </p> + <p> + “More like hook-worm, I said,” he explained, speaking louder. “I don't + know what to do with him!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III + </h2> + <p> + Beginning at the beginning and learning from the ground up was a long + course for Bibbs at the sanitarium, with milk and “zwieback” as the basis + of instruction; and the months were many and tiresome before he was + considered near enough graduation to go for a walk leaning on a nurse and + a cane. These and subsequent months saw the planning, the building, and + the completion of the New House; and it was to that abode of Bigness that + Bibbs was brought when the cane, without the nurse, was found sufficient + to his support. + </p> + <p> + Edith met him at the station. “Well, well, Bibbs!” she said, as he came + slowly through the gates, the last of all the travelers from that train. + She gave his hand a brisk little shake, averting her eyes after a quick + glance at him, and turning at once toward the passage to the street. “Do + you think they ought to've let you come? You certainly don't look well!” + </p> + <p> + “But I certainly do look better,” he returned, in a voice as slow as his + gait; a drawl that was a necessity, for when Bibbs tried to speak quickly + he stammered. “Up to about a month ago it took two people to see me. They + had to get me in a line between 'em!” + </p> + <p> + Edith did not turn her eyes directly toward him again, after her first + quick glance; and her expression, in spite of her, showed a faint, + troubled distaste, the look of a healthy person pressed by some obligation + of business to visit a “bad” ward in a hospital. She was nineteen, fair + and slim, with small, unequal features, but a prettiness of color and a + brilliancy of eyes that created a total impression close upon beauty. Her + movements were eager and restless: there was something about her, as kind + old ladies say, that was very sweet; and there was something that was + hurried and breathless. This was new to Bibbs; it was a perceptible change + since he had last seen her, and he bent upon her a steady, whimsical + scrutiny as they stood at the curb, waiting for an automobile across the + street to disengage itself from the traffic. + </p> + <p> + “That's the new car,” she said. “Everything's new. We've got four now, + besides Jim's. Roscoe's got two.” + </p> + <p> + “Edith, you look—” he began, and paused. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, WE're all well,” she said, briskly; and then, as if something in his + tone had caught her as significant, “Well, HOW do I look, Bibbs?” + </p> + <p> + “You look—” He paused again, taking in the full length of her—her + trim brown shoes, her scant, tapering, rough skirt, and her coat of brown + and green, her long green tippet and her mad little rough hat in the mad + mode—all suited to the October day. + </p> + <p> + “How do I look?” she insisted. + </p> + <p> + “You look,” he answered, as his examination ended upon an incrusted watch + of platinum and enamel at her wrist, “you look—expensive!” That was + a substitute for what he intended to say, for her constraint and + preoccupation, manifested particularly in her keeping her direct glance + away from him, did not seem to grant the privilege of impulsive + intimacies. + </p> + <p> + “I expect I am!” she laughed, and sidelong caught the direction of his + glance. “Of course I oughtn't to wear it in the daytime—it's an + evening thing, for the theater—but my day wrist-watch is out of + gear. Bobby Lamhorn broke it yesterday; he's a regular rowdy sometimes. Do + you want Claus to help you in?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh no,” said Bibbs. “I'm alive.” And after a fit of panting subsequent to + his climbing into the car unaided, he added, “Of course, I have to TELL + people!” + </p> + <p> + “We only got your telegram this morning,” she said, as they began to move + rapidly through the “wholesale district” neighboring the station. “Mother + said she'd hardly expected you this month.” + </p> + <p> + “They seemed to be through with me up there in the country,” he explained, + gently. “At least they said they were, and they wouldn't keep me any + longer, because so many really sick people wanted to get in. They told me + to go home—and I didn't have any place else to go. It'll be all + right, Edith; I'll sit in the woodshed until after dark every day.” + </p> + <p> + “Pshaw!” She laughed nervously. “Of course we're all of us glad to have + you back.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes?” he said. “Father?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course! Didn't he write and tell you to come home?” She did not turn + to him with the question. All the while she rode with her face directly + forward. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he said; “father hasn't written.” + </p> + <p> + She flushed a little. “I expect I ought to've written sometime, or one of + the boys—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh no; that was all right.” + </p> + <p> + “You can't think how busy we've all been this year, Bibbs. I often planned + to write—and then, just as I was going to, something would turn up. + And I'm sure it's been just the same way with Jim and Roscoe. Of course we + knew mamma was writing often and—” + </p> + <p> + “Of course!” he said, readily. “There's a chunk of coal fallen on your + glove, Edith. Better flick it off before it smears. My word! I'd almost + forgotten how sooty it is here.” + </p> + <p> + “We've been having very bright weather this month—for us.” She blew + the flake of soot into the air, seeming relieved. + </p> + <p> + He looked up at the dingy sky, wherein hung the disconsolate sun like a + cold tin pan nailed up in a smoke-house by some lunatic, for a decoration. + “Yes,” said Bibbs. “It's very gay.” A few moments later, as they passed a + corner, “Aren't we going home?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes! Did you want to go somewhere else first?” + </p> + <p> + “No. Your new driver's taking us out of the way, isn't he?” + </p> + <p> + “No. This is right. We're going straight home.” + </p> + <p> + “But we've passed the corner. We always turned—” + </p> + <p> + “Good gracious!” she cried. “Didn't you know we'd moved? Didn't you know + we were in the New House?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, no!” said Bibbs. “Are you?” + </p> + <p> + “We've been there a month! Good gracious! Didn't you know—” She + broke off, flushing again, and then went on hastily: “Of course, mamma's + never been so busy in her life; we ALL haven't had time to do anything but + keep on the hop. Mamma couldn't even come to the station to-day. Papa's + got some of his business friends and people from around the OLD-house + neighborhood coming to-night for a big dinner and 'house-warming'—dreadful + kind of people—but mamma's got it all on her hands. She's never sat + down a MINUTE; and if she did, papa would have her up again before—” + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” said Bibbs. “Do you like the new place, Edith?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't like some of the things father WOULD have in it, but it's the + finest house in town, and that ought to be good enough for me! Papa bought + one thing I like—a view of the Bay of Naples in oil that's perfectly + beautiful; it's the first thing you see as you come in the front hall, and + it's eleven feet long. But he would have that old fruit picture we had in + the Murphy Street house hung up in the new dining-room. You remember it—a + table and a watermelon sliced open, and a lot of rouged-looking apples and + some shiny lemons, with two dead prairie-chickens on a chair? He bought it + at a furniture-store years and years ago, and he claims it's a finer + picture than any they saw in the museums, that time he took mamma to + Europe. But it's horribly out of date to have those things in + dining-rooms, and I caught Bobby Lamhorn giggling at it; and Sibyl made + fun of it, too, with Bobby, and then told papa she agreed with him about + its being such a fine thing, and said he did just right to insist on + having it where he wanted it. She makes me tired! Sibyl!” + </p> + <p> + Edith's first constraint with her brother, amounting almost to + awkwardness, vanished with this theme, though she still kept her full gaze + always to the front, even in the extreme ardor of her denunciation of her + sister-in-law. + </p> + <p> + “SIBYL!” she repeated, with such heat and vigor that the name seemed to + strike fire on her lips. “I'd like to know why Roscoe couldn't have + married somebody from HERE that would have done us some good! He could + have got in with Bobby Lamhorn years ago just as well as now, and Bobby'd + have introduced him to the nicest girls in town, but instead of that he + had to go and pick up this Sibyl Rink! I met some awfully nice people from + her town when mamma and I were at Atlantic City, last spring, and not one + had ever heard of the Rinks! Not even HEARD of 'em!” + </p> + <p> + “I thought you were great friends with Sibyl,” Bibbs said. + </p> + <p> + “Up to the time I found her out!” the sister returned, with continuing + vehemence. “I've found out some things about Mrs. Roscoe Sheridan lately—” + </p> + <p> + “It's only lately?” + </p> + <p> + “Well—” Edith hesitated, her lips setting primly. “Of course, I + always did see that she never cared the snap of her little finger about + ROSCOE!” + </p> + <p> + “It seems,” said Bibbs, in laconic protest, “that she married him.” + </p> + <p> + The sister emitted a shrill cry, to be interpreted as contemptuous + laughter, and, in her emotion, spoke too impulsively: “Why, she'd have + married YOU!” + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” he said; “she couldn't be that bad!” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't mean—” she began, distressed. “I only meant—I didn't + mean—” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind, Edith,” he consoled her. “You see, she couldn't have married + me, because I didn't know her; and besides, if she's as mercenary as all + that she'd have been too clever. The head doctor even had to lend me the + money for my ticket home.” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't mean anything unpleasant about YOU,” Edith babbled. “I only + meant I thought she was the kind of girl who was so simply crazy to marry + somebody she'd have married anybody that asked her.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes,” said Bibbs, “it's all straight.” And, perceiving that his + sister's expression was that of a person whose adroitness has set matters + perfectly to rights, he chuckled silently. + </p> + <p> + “Roscoe's perfectly lovely to her,” she continued, a moment later. “Too + lovely! If he'd wake up a little and lay down the law, some day, like a + MAN, I guess she'd respect him more and learn to behave herself!” + </p> + <p> + “'Behave'?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, well, I mean she's so insincere,” said Edith, characteristically + evasive when it came to stating the very point to which she had led, and + in this not unique of her sex. + </p> + <p> + Bibbs contented himself with a non-committal gesture. “Business is + crawling up the old streets,” he said, his long, tremulous hand indicating + a vasty structure in course of erection. “The boarding-houses come first + and then the—” + </p> + <p> + “That isn't for shops,” she informed him. “That's a new investment of + papa's—the 'Sheridan Apartments.'” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well,” he murmured. “I supposed 'Sheridan' was almost well enough + known here already.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, we're well enough known ABOUT!” she said, impatiently. “I guess there + isn't a man, woman, child, or nigger baby in town that doesn't know who we + are. But we aren't in with the right people.” + </p> + <p> + “No!” he exclaimed. “Who's all that?” + </p> + <p> + “Who's all what?” + </p> + <p> + “The 'right people.'” + </p> + <p> + “You know what I mean: the best people, the old families—the people + that have the real social position in this town and that know they've got + it.” + </p> + <p> + Bibbs indulged in his silent chuckle again; he seemed greatly amused. “I + thought that the people who actually had the real what-you-may-call-it + didn't know it,” he said. “I've always understood that it was very + unsatisfactory, because if you thought about it you didn't have it, and if + you had it you didn't know it.” + </p> + <p> + “That's just bosh,” she retorted. “They know it in this town, all right! I + found out a lot of things, long before we began to think of building out + in this direction. The right people in this town aren't always the + society-column ones, and they mix around with outsiders, and they don't + all belong to any one club—they're taken in all sorts into all their + clubs—but they're a clan, just the same; and they have the clan + feeling and they're just as much We, Us and Company as any crowd you read + about anywhere in the world. Most of 'em were here long before papa came, + and the grandfathers of the girls of my age knew each other, and—” + </p> + <p> + “I see,” Bibbs interrupted, gravely. “Their ancestors fled together from + many a stricken field, and Crusaders' blood flows in their veins. I always + understood the first house was built by an old party of the name of + Vertrees who couldn't get along with Dan'l Boone, and hurried away to + these parts because Dan'l wanted him to give back a gun he'd lent him.” + </p> + <p> + Edith gave a little ejaculation of alarm. “You mustn't repeat that story, + Bibbs, even if it's true. The Vertreeses are THE best family, and of + course the very oldest here; they were an old family even before Mary + Vertrees's great-great-grandfather came west and founded this settlement. + He came from Lynn, Massachusetts, and they have relatives there YET—some + of the best people in Lynn!” + </p> + <p> + “No!” exclaimed Bibbs, incredulously. + </p> + <p> + “And there are other old families like the Vertreeses,” she went on, not + heeding him; “the Lamhorns and the Kittersbys and the J. Palmerston Smiths—” + </p> + <p> + “Strange names to me,” he interrupted. “Poor things! None of them have my + acquaintance.” + </p> + <p> + “No, that's just it!” she cried. “And papa had never even heard the name + of Vertrees! Mrs. Vertrees went with some anti-smoke committee to see him, + and he told her that smoke was what made her husband bring home his wages + from the pay-roll on Saturday night! HE told us about it, and I thought I + just couldn't live through the night, I was so ashamed! Mr. Vertrees has + always lived on his income, and papa didn't know him, of course. They're + the stiffist, most elegant people in the whole town. And to crown it all, + papa went and bought the next lot to the old Vertrees country mansion—it's + in the very heart of the best new residence district now, and that's where + the New House is, right next door to them—and I must say it makes + their place look rather shabby! I met Mary Vertrees when I joined the + Mission Service Helpers, but she never did any more than just barely bow + to me, and since papa's break I doubt if she'll do that! They haven't + called.” + </p> + <p> + “And you think if I spread this gossip about Vertrees the First stealing + Dan'l Boone's gun, the chances that they WILL call—” + </p> + <p> + “Papa knows what a break he made with Mrs. Vertrees. I made him understand + that,” said Edith, demurely, “and he's promised to try and meet Mr. + Vertrees and be nice to him. It's just this way: if we don't know THEM, + it's practically no use in our having built the New House; and if we DO + know them and they're decent to us, we're right with the right people. + They can do the whole thing for us. Bobby Lamhorn told Sibyl he was going + to bring his mother to call on her and on mamma, but it was weeks ago, and + I notice he hasn't done it; and if Mrs. Vertrees decides not to know us, + I'm darn sure Mrs Lamhorn'll never come. That's ONE thing Sibyl didn't + manage! She SAID Bobby offered to bring his mother—” + </p> + <p> + “You say he is a friend of Roscoe's?” Bibbs asked. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he's a friend of the whole family,” she returned, with a petulance + which she made an effort to disguise. “Roscoe and he got acquainted + somewhere, and they take him to the theater about every other night. Sibyl + has him to lunch, too, and keeps—” She broke off with an angry + little jerk of the head. “We can see the New House from the second corner + ahead. Roscoe has built straight across the street from us, you know. + Honestly, Sibyl makes me think of a snake, sometimes—the way she + pulls the wool over people's eyes! She honeys up to papa and gets anything + in the world she wants out of him, and then makes fun of him behind his + back—yes, and to his face, but HE can't see it! She got him to give + her a twelve-thousand-dollar porch for their house after it was—” + </p> + <p> + “Good heavens!” said Bibbs, staring ahead as they reached the corner and + the car swung to the right, following a bend in the street. “Is that the + New House?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. What do you think of it?” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he drawled, “I'm pretty sure the sanitarium's about half a size + bigger; I can't be certain till I measure.” + </p> + <p> + And a moment later, as they entered the driveway, he added, seriously: + “But it's beautiful!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV + </h2> + <p> + It was gray stone, with long roofs of thick green slate. An architect who + loved the milder “Gothic motives” had built what he liked: it was to be + seen at once that he had been left unhampered, and he had wrought a + picture out of his head into a noble and exultant reality. At the same + time a landscape-designer had played so good a second, with ready-made + accessories of screen, approach and vista, that already whatever look of + newness remained upon the place was to its advantage, as showing at least + one thing yet clean under the grimy sky. For, though the smoke was thinner + in this direction, and at this long distance from the heart of the town, + it was not absent, and under tutelage of wind and weather could be + malignant even here, where cows had wandered in the meadows and corn had + been growing not ten years gone. + </p> + <p> + Altogether, the New House was a success. It was one of those architects' + successes which leave the owners veiled in privacy; it revealed nothing of + the people who lived in it save that they were rich. There are houses that + cannot be detached from their own people without protesting: every inch of + mortar seems to mourn the separation, and such a house—no matter + what be done to it—is ever murmurous with regret, whispering the old + name sadly to itself unceasingly. But the New House was of a kind to + change hands without emotion. In our swelling cities, great places of its + type are useful as financial gauges of the business tides; rich families, + one after another, take title and occupy such houses as fortunes rise and + fall—they mark the high tide. It was impossible to imagine a child's + toy wagon left upon a walk or driveway of the New House, and yet it was—as + Bibbs rightly called it—“beautiful.” + </p> + <p> + What the architect thought of the “Golfo di Napoli,” which hung in its + vast gold revel of rococo frame against the gray wood of the hall, is to + be conjectured—perhaps he had not seen it. + </p> + <p> + “Edith, did you say only eleven feet?” Bibbs panted, staring at it, as the + white-jacketed twin of a Pullman porter helped him to get out of his + overcoat. + </p> + <p> + “Eleven without the frame,” she explained. “It's splendid, don't you + think? It lightens things up so. The hall was kind of gloomy before.” + </p> + <p> + “No gloom now!” said Bibbs. + </p> + <p> + “This statue in the corner is pretty, too,” she remarked. “Mamma and I + bought that.” And Bibbs turned at her direction to behold, amid a grove of + tubbed palms, a “life-size,” black-bearded Moor, of a plastic composition + painted with unappeasable gloss and brilliancy. Upon his chocolate head he + wore a gold turban; in his hand he held a gold-tipped spear; and for the + rest, he was red and yellow and black and silver. + </p> + <p> + “Hallelujah!” was the sole comment of the returned wanderer, and Edith, + saying she would “find mamma,” left him blinking at the Moor. Presently, + after she had disappeared, he turned to the colored man who stood waiting, + Bibbs's traveling-bag in his hand. “What do YOU think of it?” Bibbs asked, + solemnly. + </p> + <p> + “Gran'!” replied the servitor. “She mighty hard to dus'. Dus' git in all + 'em wrinkles. Yessuh, she mighty hard to dus'.” + </p> + <p> + “I expect she must be,” said Bibbs, his glance returning reflectively to + the black bull beard for a moment. “Is there a place anywhere I could lie + down?” + </p> + <p> + “Yessuh. We got one nem spare rooms all fix up fo' you, suh. Right up + staihs, suh. Nice room.” + </p> + <p> + He led the way, and Bibbs followed slowly, stopping at intervals to rest, + and noting a heavy increase in the staff of service since the exodus from + the “old” house. Maids and scrubwomen were at work under the patently + nominal direction of another Pullman porter, who was profoundly enjoying + his own affectation of being harassed with care. + </p> + <p> + “Ev'ything got look spick an' span fo' the big doin's to-night,” Bibbs's + guide explained, chuckling. “Yessuh, we got big doin's to-night! Big + doin's!” + </p> + <p> + The room to which he conducted his lagging charge was furnished in every + particular like a room in a new hotel; and Bibbs found it pleasant—though, + indeed, any room with a good bed would have seemed pleasant to him after + his journey. He stretched himself flat immediately, and having replied + “Not now” to the attendant's offer to unpack the bag, closed his eyes + wearily. + </p> + <p> + White-jacket, racially sympathetic, lowered the window-shades and made an + exit on tiptoe, encountering the other white-jacket—the harassed + overseer—in the hall without. Said the emerging one: “He mighty + shaky, Mist' Jackson. Drop right down an' shet his eyes. Eyelids all + black. Rich folks gotta go same as anybody else. Anybody ast me if I + change 'ith 'at ole boy—No, suh! Le'm keep 'is money; I keep my + black skin an' keep out the ground!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Jackson expressed the same preference. “Yessuh, he look tuh me like + somebody awready laid out,” he concluded. And upon the stairway landing, + near by, two old women, on all-fours at their work, were likewise + pessimistic. + </p> + <p> + “Hech!” said one, lamenting in a whisper. “It give me a turn to see him go + by—white as wax an' bony as a dead fish! Mrs. Cronin, tell me: d'it + make ye kind o' sick to look at um?” + </p> + <p> + “Sick? No more than the face of a blessed angel already in heaven!” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said the other, “I'd a b'y o' me own come home t' die once—” + She fell silent at a rustling of skirts in the corridor above them. + </p> + <p> + It was Mrs. Sheridan hurrying to greet her son. + </p> + <p> + She was one of those fat, pink people who fade and contract with age like + drying fruit; and her outside was a true portrait of her. Her husband and + her daughter had long ago absorbed her. What intelligence she had was + given almost wholly to comprehending and serving those two, and except in + the presence of one of them she was nearly always absent-minded. Edith + lived all day with her mother, as daughters do; and Sheridan so held his + wife to her unity with him that she had long ago become unconscious of her + existence as a thing separate from his. She invariably perceived his + moods, and nursed him through them when she did not share them; and she + gave him a profound sympathy with the inmost spirit and purpose of his + being, even though she did not comprehend it and partook of it only as a + spectator. They had known but one actual altercation in their lives, and + that was thirty years past, in the early days of Sheridan's struggle, + when, in order to enhance the favorable impression he believed himself to + be making upon some capitalists, he had thought it necessary to accompany + them to a performance of “The Black Crook.” But she had not once referred + to this during the last ten years. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Sheridan's manner was hurried and inconsequent; her clothes rustled + more than other women's clothes; she seemed to wear too many at a time and + to be vaguely troubled by them, and she was patting a skirt down over some + unruly internal dissension at the moment she opened Bibbs's door. + </p> + <p> + At sight of the recumbent figure she began to close the door softly, + withdrawing, but the young man had heard the turning of the knob and the + rustling of skirts, and he opened his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Don't go, mother,” he said. “I'm not asleep.” He swung his long legs over + the side of the bed to rise, but she set a hand on his shoulder, + restraining him; and he lay flat again. + </p> + <p> + “No,” she said, bending over to kiss his cheek, “I just come for a minute, + but I want to see how you seem. Edith said—” + </p> + <p> + “Poor Edith!” he murmured. “She couldn't look at me. She—” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense!” Mrs. Sheridan, having let in the light at a window, came back + to the bedside. “You look a great deal better than what you did before you + went to the sanitarium, anyway. It's done you good; a body can see that + right away. You need fatting up, of course, and you haven't got much color—” + </p> + <p> + “No,” he said, “I haven't much color.” + </p> + <p> + “But you will have when you get your strength back.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes!” he responded, cheerfully. “THEN I will.” + </p> + <p> + “You look a great deal better than what I expected.” + </p> + <p> + “Edith must have a great vocabulary!” he chuckled. + </p> + <p> + “She's too sensitive,” said Mrs. Sheridan, “and it makes her exaggerate a + little. What about your diet?” + </p> + <p> + “That's all right. They told me to eat anything.” + </p> + <p> + “Anything at all?” + </p> + <p> + “Well—anything I could.” + </p> + <p> + “That's good,” she said, nodding. “They mean for you just to build up your + strength. That's what they told me the last time I went to see you at the + sanitarium. You look better than what you did then, and that's only a + little time ago. How long was it?” + </p> + <p> + “Eight months, I think.” + </p> + <p> + “No, it couldn't be. I know it ain't THAT long, but maybe it was longer'n + I thought. And this last month or so I haven't had scarcely even time to + write more than just a line to ask how you were gettin' along, but I told + Edith to write, the weeks I couldn't, and I asked Jim to, too, and they + both said they would, so I suppose you've kept up pretty well on the home + news.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes.” + </p> + <p> + “What I think you need,” said the mother, gravely, “is to liven up a + little and take an interest in things. That's what papa was sayin' this + morning, after we got your telegram; and that's what'll stimilate your + appetite, too. He was talkin' over his plans for you—” + </p> + <p> + “Plans?” Bibbs, turning on his side, shielded his eyes from the light with + his hand, so that he might see her better. “What—” He paused. “What + plans is he making for me, mother?” + </p> + <p> + She turned away, going back to the window to draw down the shade. “Well, + you better talk it over with HIM,” she said, with perceptible nervousness. + “He better tell you himself. I don't feel as if I had any call, exactly, + to go into it; and you better get to sleep now, anyway.” She came and + stood by the bedside once more. “But you must remember, Bibbs, whatever + papa does is for the best. He loves his chuldern and wants to do what's + right by ALL of 'em—and you'll always find he's right in the end.” + </p> + <p> + He made a little gesture of assent, which seemed to content her; and she + rustled to the door, turning to speak again after she had opened it. “You + get a good nap, now, so as to be all rested up for to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “You—you mean—he—” Bibbs stammered, having begun to + speak too quickly. Checking himself, he drew a long breath, then asked, + quietly, “Does father expect me to come down-stairs this evening?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I think he does,” she answered. “You see, it's the 'house-warming,' + as he calls it, and he said he thinks all our chuldern ought to be around + us, as well as the old friends and other folks. It's just what he thinks + you need—to take an interest and liven up. You don't feel too bad to + come down, do you?” + </p> + <p> + “Mother?” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “Take a good look at me,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, see here!” she cried, with brusque cheerfulness. “You're not so bad + off as you think you are, Bibbs. You're on the mend; and it won't do you + any harm to please your—” + </p> + <p> + “It isn't that,” he interrupted. “Honestly, I'm only afraid it might spoil + somebody's appetite. Edith—” + </p> + <p> + “I told you the child was too sensitive,” she interrupted, in turn. + “You're a plenty good-lookin' enough young man for anybody! You look like + you been through a long spell and begun to get well, and that's all there + is to it.” + </p> + <p> + “All right. I'll come to the party. If the rest of you can stand it, I + can!” + </p> + <p> + “It 'll do you good,” she returned, rustling into the hall. “Now take a + nap, and I'll send one o' the help to wake you in time for you to get + dressed up before dinner. You go to sleep right away, now, Bibbs!” + </p> + <p> + Bibbs was unable to obey, though he kept his eyes closed. Something she + had said kept running in his mind, repeating itself over and over + interminably. “His plans for you—his plans for you—his plans + for you—his plans for you—” And then, taking the place of “his + plans for you,” after what seemed a long, long while, her flurried voice + came back to him insistently, seeming to whisper in his ear: “He loves his + chuldern—he loves his chuldern—he loves his chuldern”—“you'll + find he's always right—you'll find he's always right—” Until + at last, as he drifted into the state of half-dreams and distorted + realities, the voice seemed to murmur from beyond a great black wing that + came out of the wall and stretched over his bed—it was a black wing + within the room, and at the same time it was a black cloud crossing the + sky, bridging the whole earth from pole to pole. It was a cloud of black + smoke, and out of the heart of it came a flurried voice whispering over + and over, “His plans for you—his plans for you—his plans for + you—” And then there was nothing. + </p> + <p> + He woke refreshed, stretched himself gingerly—as one might have a + care against too quick or too long a pull upon a frayed elastic—and, + getting to his feet, went blinking to the window and touched the shade so + that it flew up, letting in a pale sunset. + </p> + <p> + He looked out into the lemon-colored light and smiled wanly at the next + house, as Edith's grandiose phrase came to mind, “the old Vertrees country + mansion.” It stood in a broad lawn which was separated from the Sheridans' + by a young hedge; and it was a big, square, plain old box of a house with + a giant salt-cellar atop for a cupola. Paint had been spared for a long + time, and no one could have put a name to the color of it, but in spite of + that the place had no look of being out at heel, and the sward was as + neatly trimmed as the Sheridans' own. + </p> + <p> + The separating hedge ran almost beneath Bibbs's window—for this wing + of the New House extended here almost to the edge of the lot—and, + directly opposite the window, the Vertreeses' lawn had been graded so as + to make a little knoll upon which stood a small rustic “summer-house.” It + was almost on a level with Bibbs's window and not thirty feet away; and it + was easy for him to imagine the present dynasty of Vertreeses in grievous + outcry when they had found this retreat ruined by the juxtaposition of the + parvenu intruder. Probably the “summer-house” was pleasant and pretty in + summer. It had the look of a place wherein little girls had played for a + generation or so with dolls and “housekeeping,” or where a lovely old lady + might come to read something dull on warm afternoons; but now in the thin + light it was desolate, the color of dust, and hung with haggard vines + which had lost their leaves. + </p> + <p> + Bibbs looked at it with grave sympathy, probably feeling some kinship with + anything so dismantled; then he turned to a cheval-glass beside the window + and paid himself the dubious tribute of a thorough inspection. He looked + the mirror up and down, slowly, repeatedly, but came in the end to a long + and earnest scrutiny of the face. Throughout this cryptic seance his + manner was profoundly impersonal; he had the air of an entomologist intent + upon classifying a specimen, but finally he appeared to become + pessimistic. He shook his head solemnly; then gazed again and shook his + head again, and continued to shake it slowly, in complete disapproval. + </p> + <p> + “You certainly are one horrible sight!” he said, aloud. + </p> + <p> + And at that he was instantly aware of an observer. Turning quickly, he was + vouchsafed the picture of a charming lady, framed in a rustic aperture of + the “summer-house” and staring full into his window—straight into + his eyes, too, for the infinitesimal fraction of a second before the + flashingly censorious withdrawal of her own. Composedly, she pulled + several dead twigs from a vine, the manner of her action conveying a + message or proclamation to the effect that she was in the summer-house for + the sole purpose of such-like pruning and tending, and that no gentleman + could suppose her presence there to be due to any other purpose + whatsoever, or that, being there on that account, she had allowed her + attention to wander for one instant in the direction of things of which + she was in reality unconscious. + </p> + <p> + Having pulled enough twigs to emphasize her unconsciousness—and at + the same time her disapproval—of everything in the nature of a + Sheridan or belonging to a Sheridan, she descended the knoll with + maintained composure, and sauntered toward a side-door of the country + mansion of the Vertreeses. An elderly lady, bonneted and cloaked, opened + the door and came to meet her. + </p> + <p> + “Are you ready, Mary? I've been looking for you. What were you doing?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing. Just looking into one of Sheridans' windows,” said Mary + Vertrees. “I got caught at it.” + </p> + <p> + “Mary!” cried her mother. “Just as we were going to call! Good heavens!” + </p> + <p> + “We'll go, just the same,” the daughter returned. “I suppose those women + would be glad to have us if we'd burned their house to the ground.” + </p> + <p> + “But WHO saw you?” insisted Mrs. Vertrees. + </p> + <p> + “One of the sons, I suppose he was. I believe he's insane, or something. + At least I hear they keep him in a sanitarium somewhere, and never talk + about him. He was staring at himself in a mirror and talking to himself. + Then he looked out and caught me.” + </p> + <p> + “What did he—” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing, of course.” + </p> + <p> + “How did he look?” + </p> + <p> + “Like a ghost in a blue suit,” said Miss Vertrees, moving toward the + street and waving a white-gloved hand in farewell to her father, who was + observing them from the window of his library. “Rather tragic and + altogether impossible. Do come on, mother, and let's get it over!” + </p> + <p> + And Mrs. Vertrees, with many misgivings, set forth with her daughter for + their gracious assault upon the New House next door. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V + </h2> + <p> + Mr. Vertrees, having watched their departure with the air of a man who had + something at hazard upon the expedition, turned from the window and began + to pace the library thoughtfully, pending their return. He was about + sixty; a small man, withered and dry and fine, a trim little sketch of an + elderly dandy. His lambrequin mustache—relic of a forgotten + Anglomania—had been profoundly black, but now, like his smooth hair, + it was approaching an equally sheer whiteness; and though his clothes were + old, they had shapeliness and a flavor of mode. And for greater spruceness + there were some jaunty touches; gray spats, a narrow black ribbon across + the gray waistcoat to the eye-glasses in a pocket, a fleck of color from a + button in the lapel of the black coat, labeling him the descendant of + patriot warriors. + </p> + <p> + The room was not like him, being cheerful and hideous, whereas Mr. + Vertrees was anxious and decorative. Under a mantel of imitation black + marble a merry little coal-fire beamed forth upon high and narrow + “Eastlake” bookcases with long glass doors, and upon comfortable, + incongruous furniture, and upon meaningless “woodwork” everywhere, and + upon half a dozen Landseer engravings which Mr. and Mrs. Vertrees + sometimes mentioned to each other, after thirty years of possession, as + “very fine things.” They had been the first people in town to possess + Landseer engravings, and there, in art, they had rested, but they still + had a feeling that in all such matters they were in the van; and when Mr. + Vertrees discovered Landseers upon the walls of other people's houses he + thawed, as a chieftain to a trusted follower; and if he found an edition + of Bulwer Lytton accompanying the Landseers as a final corroboration of + culture, he would say, inevitably, “Those people know good pictures and + they know good books.” + </p> + <p> + The growth of the city, which might easily have made him a millionaire, + had ruined him because he had failed to understand it. When towns begin to + grow they have whims, and the whims of a town always ruin somebody. Mr. + Vertrees had been most strikingly the somebody in this case. At about the + time he bought the Landseers, he owned, through inheritance, an + office-building and a large house not far from it, where he spent the + winter; and he had a country place—a farm of four hundred acres—where + he went for the summers to the comfortable, ugly old house that was his + home now, perforce, all the year round. If he had known how to sit still + and let things happen he would have prospered miraculously; but, strangely + enough, the dainty little man was one of the first to fall down and + worship Bigness, the which proceeded straightway to enact the role of + Juggernaut for his better education. He was a true prophet of the + prodigious growth, but he had a fatal gift for selling good and buying + bad. He should have stayed at home and looked at his Landseers and read + his Bulwer, but he took his cow to market, and the trained milkers milked + her dry and then ate her. He sold the office-building and the house in + town to buy a great tract of lots in a new suburb; then he sold the farm, + except the house and the ground about it, to pay the taxes on the suburban + lots and to “keep them up.” The lots refused to stay up; but he had to do + something to keep himself and his family up, so in despair he sold the + lots (which went up beautifully the next year) for “traction stock” that + was paying dividends; and thereafter he ceased to buy and sell. Thus he + disappeared altogether from the commercial surface at about the time James + Sheridan came out securely on top; and Sheridan, until Mrs. Vertrees + called upon him with her “anti-smoke” committee, had never heard the name. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Vertrees, pinched, retired to his Landseers, and Mrs. Vertrees + “managed somehow” on the dividends, though “managing” became more and more + difficult as the years went by and money bought less and less. But there + came a day when three servitors of Bigness in Philadelphia took greedy + counsel with four fellow-worshipers from New York, and not long after that + there were no more dividends for Mr. Vertrees. In fact, there was nothing + for Mr. Vertrees, because the “traction stock” henceforth was no stock at + all, and he had mortgaged his house long ago to help “manage somehow” + according to his conception of his “position in life”—one of his own + old-fashioned phrases. Six months before the completion of the New House + next door, Mr. Vertrees had sold his horses and the worn Victoria and + “station-wagon,” to pay the arrears of his two servants and re-establish + credit at the grocer's and butcher's—and a pair of elderly + carriage-horses with such accoutrements are not very ample barter, in + these days, for six months' food and fuel and service. Mr. Vertrees had + discovered, too, that there was no salary for him in all the buzzing city—he + could do nothing. + </p> + <p> + It may be said that he was at the end of his string. Such times do come in + all their bitterness, finally, to the man with no trade or craft, if his + feeble clutch on that slippery ghost, Property, shall fail. + </p> + <p> + The windows grew black while he paced the room, and smoky twilight closed + round about the house, yet not more darkly than what closed round about + the heart of the anxious little man patrolling the fan-shaped zone of + firelight. But as the mantel clock struck wheezily six there was the + rattle of an outer door, and a rich and beautiful peal of laughter went + ringing through the house. Thus cheerfully did Mary Vertrees herald her + return with her mother from their expedition among the barbarians. + </p> + <p> + She came rushing into the library and threw herself into a deep chair by + the hearth, laughing so uncontrollably that tears were in her eyes. Mrs. + Vertrees followed decorously, no mirth about her; on the contrary, she + looked vaguely disturbed, as if she had eaten something not quite certain + to agree with her, and regretted it. + </p> + <p> + “Papa! Oh, oh!” And Miss Vertrees was fain to apply a handkerchief upon + her eyes. “I'm SO glad you made us go! I wouldn't have missed it—” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Vertrees shook her head. “I suppose I'm very dull,” she said, gently. + “I didn't see anything amusing. They're most ordinary, and the house is + altogether in bad taste, but we anticipated that, and—” + </p> + <p> + “Papa!” Mary cried, breaking in. “They asked us to DINNER!” + </p> + <p> + “What!” + </p> + <p> + “And I'm GOING!” she shouted, and was seized with fresh paroxysms. “Think + of it! Never in their house before; never met any of them but the daughter—and + just BARELY met her—” + </p> + <p> + “What about you?” interrupted Mr. Vertrees, turning sharply upon his wife. + </p> + <p> + She made a little face as if positive now that what she had eaten would + not agree with her. “I couldn't!” she said. “I—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that's just—just the way she—she looked when they asked + her!” cried Mary, choking. “And then she—she realized it, and tried + to turn it into a cough, and she didn't know how, and it sounded like—like + a squeal!” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose,” said Mrs. Vertrees, much injured, “that Mary will have an + uproarious time at my funeral. She makes fun of—” + </p> + <p> + Mary jumped up instantly and kissed her; then she went to the mantel and, + leaning an elbow upon it, gazed thoughtfully at the buckle of her shoe, + twinkling in the firelight. + </p> + <p> + “THEY didn't notice anything,” she said. “So far as they were concerned, + mamma, it was one of the finest coughs you ever coughed.” + </p> + <p> + “Who were 'they'?” asked her father. “Whom did you see?” + </p> + <p> + “Only the mother and daughter,” Mary answered. “Mrs. Sheridan is dumpy and + rustly; and Miss Sheridan is pretty and pushing—dresses by the + fashion magazines and talks about New York people that have their pictures + in 'em. She tutors the mother, but not very successfully—partly + because her own foundation is too flimsy and partly because she began too + late. They've got an enormous Moor of painted plaster or something in the + hall, and the girl evidently thought it was to her credit that she + selected it!” + </p> + <p> + “They have oil-paintings, too,” added Mrs. Vertrees, with a glance of + gentle pride at the Landseers. “I've always thought oil-paintings in a + private house the worst of taste.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, if one owned a Raphael or a Titian!” said Mr. Vertrees, finishing the + implication, not in words, but with a wave of his hand. “Go on, Mary. None + of the rest of them came in? You didn't meet Mr. Sheridan or—” He + paused and adjusted a lump of coal in the fire delicately with the poker. + “Or one of the sons?” + </p> + <p> + Mary's glance crossed his, at that, with a flash of utter comprehension. + He turned instantly away, but she had begun to laugh again. + </p> + <p> + “No,” she said, “no one except the women, but mamma inquired about the + sons thoroughly!” + </p> + <p> + “Mary!” Mrs. Vertrees protested. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, most adroitly, too!” laughed the girl. “Only she couldn't help + unconsciously turning to look at me—when she did it!” + </p> + <p> + “Mary Vertrees!” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind, mamma! Mrs. Sheridan and Miss Sheridan neither of THEM could + help unconsciously turning to look at me—speculatively—at the + same time! They all three kept looking at me and talking about the oldest + son, Mr. James Sheridan, Junior. Mrs. Sheridan said his father is very + anxious 'to get Jim to marry and settle down,' and she assured me that + 'Jim is right cultivated.' Another of the sons, the youngest one, caught + me looking in the window this afternoon; but they didn't seem to consider + him quite one of themselves, somehow, though Mrs. Sheridan mentioned that + a couple of years or so ago he had been 'right sick,' and had been to some + cure or other. They seemed relieved to bring the subject back to 'Jim' and + his virtues—and to look at me! The other brother is the middle one, + Roscoe; he's the one that owns the new house across the street, where that + young black-sheep of the Lamhorns, Robert, goes so often. I saw a short, + dark young man standing on the porch with Robert Lamhorn there the other + day, so I suppose that was Roscoe. 'Jim' still lurks in the mists, but I + shall meet him to-night. Papa—” She stepped nearer to him so that he + had to face her, and his eyes were troubled as he did. There may have been + a trouble deep within her own, but she kept their surface merry with + laughter. “Papa, Bibbs is the youngest one's name, and Bibbs—to the + best of our information—is a lunatic. Roscoe is married. Papa, does + it have to be Jim?” + </p> + <p> + “Mary!” Mrs. Vertrees cried, sharply. “You're outrageous! That's a + perfectly horrible way of talking!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'm close to twenty-four,” said Mary, turning to her. “I haven't + been able to like anybody yet that's asked me to marry him, and maybe I + never shall. Until a year or so ago I've had everything I ever wanted in + my life—you and papa gave it all to me—and it's about time I + began to pay back. Unfortunately, I don't know how to do anything—but + something's got to be done.” + </p> + <p> + “But you needn't talk of it like THAT!” insisted the mother, plaintively. + “It's not—it's not—” + </p> + <p> + “No, it's not,” said Mary. “I know that!” + </p> + <p> + “How did they happen to ask you to dinner?” Mr. Vertrees inquired, + uneasily. “'Stextrawdn'ry thing!” + </p> + <p> + “Climbers' hospitality,” Mary defined it. “We were so very cordial and + easy! I think Mrs. Sheridan herself might have done it just as any kind + old woman on a farm might ask a neighbor, but it was Miss Sheridan who did + it. She played around it awhile; you could see she wanted to—she's + in a dreadful hurry to get into things—and I fancied she had an idea + it might impress that Lamhorn boy to find us there to-night. It's a sort + of house-warming dinner, and they talked about it and talked about it—and + then the girl got her courage up and blurted out the invitation. And mamma—” + Here Mary was once more a victim to incorrigible merriment. “Mamma tried + to say yes, and COULDN'T! She swallowed and squealed—I mean you + coughed, dear! And then, papa, she said that you and she had promised to + go to a lecture at the Emerson Club to-night, but that her daughter would + be delighted to come to the Big Show! So there I am, and there's Mr. Jim + Sheridan—and there's the clock. Dinner's at seven-thirty!” + </p> + <p> + And she ran out of the room, scooping up her fallen furs with a gesture of + flying grace as she sped. + </p> + <p> + When she came down, at twenty minutes after seven, her father stood in the + hall, at the foot of the stairs, waiting to be her escort through the + dark. He looked up and watched her as she descended, and his gaze was fond + and proud—and profoundly disturbed. But she smiled and nodded gaily, + and, when she reached the floor, put a hand on his shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “At least no one could suspect me to-night,” she said. “I LOOK rich, don't + I, papa?” + </p> + <p> + She did. She had a look that worshipful girl friends bravely called + “regal.” A head taller than her father, she was as straight and jauntily + poised as a boy athlete; and her brown hair and her brown eyes were like + her mother's, but for the rest she went back to some stronger and livelier + ancestor than either of her parents. + </p> + <p> + “Don't I look too rich to be suspected?” she insisted. + </p> + <p> + “You look everything beautiful, Mary,” he said, huskily. + </p> + <p> + “And my dress?” She threw open her dark velvet cloak, showing a splendor + of white and silver. “Anything better at Nice next winter, do you think?” + She laughed, shrouding her glittering figure in the cloak again. “Two + years old, and no one would dream it! I did it over.” + </p> + <p> + “You can do anything, Mary.” + </p> + <p> + There was a curious humility in his tone, and something more—a + significance not veiled and yet abysmally apologetic. It was as if he + suggested something to her and begged her forgiveness in the same breath. + </p> + <p> + And upon that, for the moment, she became as serious as he. She lifted her + hand from his shoulder and then set it back more firmly, so that he should + feel the reassurance of its pressure. + </p> + <p> + “Don't worry,” she said, in a low voice and gravely. “I know exactly what + you want me to do.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI + </h2> + <p> + It was a brave and lustrous banquet; and a noisy one, too, because there + was an orchestra among some plants at one end of the long dining-room, and + after a preliminary stiffness the guests were impelled to converse—necessarily + at the tops of their voices. The whole company of fifty sat at a great + oblong table, improvised for the occasion by carpenters; but, not + betraying itself as an improvisation, it seemed a permanent continent of + damask and lace, with shores of crystal and silver running up to spreading + groves of orchids and lilies and white roses—an inhabited continent, + evidently, for there were three marvelous, gleaming buildings: one in the + center and one at each end, white miracles wrought by some inspired + craftsman in sculptural icing. They were models in miniature, and they + represented the Sheridan Building, the Sheridan Apartments, and the Pump + Works. Nearly all the guests recognized them without having to be told + what they were, and pronounced the likenesses superb. + </p> + <p> + The arrangement of the table was visibly baronial. At the head sat the + great Thane, with the flower of his family and of the guests about him; + then on each side came the neighbors of the “old” house, grading down to + vassals and retainers—superintendents, cashiers, heads of + departments, and the like—at the foot, where the Thane's lady took + her place as a consolation for the less important. Here, too, among the + thralls and bondmen, sat Bibbs Sheridan, a meek Banquo, wondering how + anybody could look at him and eat. + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, there was a vast, continuous eating, for these were + wholesome folk who understood that dinner meant something intended for + introduction into the system by means of an aperture in the face, devised + by nature for that express purpose. And besides, nobody looked at Bibbs. + </p> + <p> + He was better content to be left to himself; his voice was not strong + enough to make itself heard over the hubbub without an exhausting effort, + and the talk that went on about him was too fast and too fragmentary for + his drawl to keep pace with it. So he felt relieved when each of his + neighbors in turn, after a polite inquiry about his health, turned to seek + livelier responses in other directions. For the talk went on with the + eating, incessantly. It rose over the throbbing of the orchestra and the + clatter and clinking of silver and china and glass, and there was a mighty + babble. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir! Started without a dollar.”... “Yellow flounces on the overskirt—“... + “I says, 'Wilkie, your department's got to go bigger this year,' I + says.”... “Fifteen per cent. turnover in thirty-one weeks.”... “One of the + biggest men in the biggest—“... “The wife says she'll have to let + out my pants if my appetite—“... “Say, did you see that statue of a + Turk in the hall? One of the finest things I ever—“... “Not a + dollar, not a nickel, not one red cent do you get out o' me,' I says, and + so he ups and—“... “Yes, the baby makes four, they've lost now.”... + “Well, they got their raise, and they went in big.”... “Yes, sir! Not a + dollar to his name, and look at what—“... “You wait! The population + of this town's goin' to hit the million mark before she stops.”... “Well, + if you can show me a bigger deal than—” + </p> + <p> + And through the interstices of this clamoring Bibbs could hear the + continual booming of his father's heavy voice, and once he caught the + sentence, “Yes, young lady, that's just what did it for me, and that's + just what'll do it for my boys—they got to make two blades o' grass + grow where one grew before!” It was his familiar flourish, an old story to + Bibbs, and now jovially declaimed for the edification of Mary Vertrees. + </p> + <p> + It was a great night for Sheridan—the very crest of his wave. He sat + there knowing himself Thane and master by his own endeavor; and his big, + smooth, red face grew more and more radiant with good will and with the + simplest, happiest, most boy-like vanity. He was the picture of health, of + good cheer, and of power on a holiday. He had thirty teeth, none bought, + and showed most of them when he laughed; his grizzled hair was thick, and + as unruly as a farm laborer's; his chest was deep and big beneath its vast + facade of starched white linen, where little diamonds twinkled, circling + three large pearls; his hands were stubby and strong, and he used them + freely in gestures of marked picturesqueness; and, though he had grown fat + at chin and waist and wrist, he had not lost the look of readiness and + activity. + </p> + <p> + He dominated the table, shouting jocular questions and railleries at every + one. His idea was that when people were having a good time they were + noisy; and his own additions to the hubbub increased his pleasure, and, of + course, met the warmest encouragement from his guests. Edith had + discovered that he had very foggy notions of the difference between a band + and an orchestra, and when it was made clear to him he had held out for a + band until Edith threatened tears; but the size of the orchestra they + hired consoled him, and he had now no regrets in the matter. + </p> + <p> + He kept time to the music continually—with his feet, or pounding on + the table with his fist, and sometimes with spoon or knife upon his plate + or a glass, without permitting these side-products to interfere with the + real business of eating and shouting. + </p> + <p> + “Tell 'em to play 'Nancy Lee'!” he would bellow down the length of the + table to his wife, while the musicians were in the midst of the “Toreador” + song, perhaps. “Ask that fellow if they don't know 'Nancy Lee'!” And when + the leader would shake his head apologetically in answer to an obedient + shriek from Mrs. Sheridan, the “Toreador” continuing vehemently, Sheridan + would roar half-remembered fragments of “Nancy Lee,” naturally mingling + some Bizet with the air of that uxorious tribute. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, there she stands and waves her hands while I'm away! A sail-er's wife + a sail-er's star should be! Yo ho, oh, oh! Oh, Nancy, Nancy, Nancy Lee! + Oh, Na-hancy Lee!” + </p> + <p> + “HAY, there, old lady!” he would bellow. “Tell 'em to play 'In the + Gloaming.' In the gloaming, oh, my darling, la-la-lum-tee—Well, if + they don't know that, what's the matter with 'Larboard Watch, Ahoy'? + THAT'S good music! That's the kind o' music I like! Come on, now! Mrs. + Callin, get 'em singin' down in your part o' the table. What's the matter + you folks down there, anyway? Larboard watch, ahoy!” + </p> + <p> + “What joy he feels, as—ta-tum-dum-tee-dee-dum steals. La-a-r-board + watch, ahoy!” + </p> + <p> + No external bubbling contributed to this effervescence; the Sheridans' + table had never borne wine, and, more because of timidity about it than + conviction, it bore none now; though “mineral waters” were copiously + poured from bottles wrapped, for some reason, in napkins, and proved + wholly satisfactory to almost all of the guests. And certainly no wine + could have inspired more turbulent good spirits in the host. Not even + Bibbs was an alloy in this night's happiness, for, as Mrs. Sheridan had + said, he had “plans for Bibbs”—plans which were going to straighten + out some things that had gone wrong. + </p> + <p> + So he pounded the table and boomed his echoes of old songs, and then, + forgetting these, would renew his friendly railleries, or perhaps, turning + to Mary Vertrees, who sat near him, round the corner of the table at his + right, he would become autobiographical. Gentlemen less naive than he had + paid her that tribute, for she was a girl who inspired the + autobiographical impulse in every man who met her—it needed but the + sight of her. + </p> + <p> + The dinner seemed, somehow, to center about Mary Vertrees and the jocund + host as a play centers about its hero and heroine; they were the rubicund + king and the starry princess of this spectacle—they paid court to + each other, and everybody paid court to them. Down near the sugar Pump + Works, where Bibbs sat, there was audible speculation and admiration. + “Wonder who that lady is—makin' such a hit with the old man.” “Must + be some heiress.” “Heiress? Golly, I guess I could stand it to marry rich, + then!” + </p> + <p> + Edith and Sibyl were radiant: at first they had watched Miss Vertrees with + an almost haggard anxiety, wondering what disasterous effect Sheridan's + pastoral gaieties—and other things—would have upon her, but + she seemed delighted with everything, and with him most of all. She + treated him as if he were some delicious, foolish old joke that she + understood perfectly, laughing at him almost violently when he bragged—probably + his first experience of that kind in his life. It enchanted him. + </p> + <p> + As he proclaimed to the table, she had “a way with her.” She had, indeed, + as Roscoe Sheridan, upon her right, discovered just after the feast began. + Since his marriage three years before, no lady had bestowed upon him so + protracted a full view of brilliant eyes; and, with the look, his lovely + neighbor said—and it was her first speech to him— + </p> + <p> + “I hope you're very susceptible, Mr. Sheridan!” + </p> + <p> + Honest Roscoe was taken aback, and “Why?” was all he managed to say. + </p> + <p> + She repeated the look deliberately, which was noted, with a mystification + equal to his own, by his sister across the table. No one, reflected Edith, + could image Mary Vertrees the sort of girl who would “really flirt” with + married men—she was obviously the “opposite of all that.” Edith + defined her as a “thoroughbred,” a “nice girl”; and the look given to + Roscoe was astounding. Roscoe's wife saw it, too, and she was another whom + it puzzled—though not because its recipient was married. + </p> + <p> + “Because!” said Mary Vertrees, replying to Roscoe's monosyllable. “And + also because we're next-door neighbors at table, and it's dull times ahead + for both of us if we don't get along.” + </p> + <p> + Roscoe was a literal young man, all stocks and bonds, and he had been + brought up to believe that when a man married he “married and settled + down.” It was “all right,” he felt, for a man as old as his father to pay + florid compliments to as pretty a girl as this Miss Vertrees, but for + himself—“a young married man”—it wouldn't do; and it wouldn't + even be quite moral. He knew that young married people might have + friendships, like his wife's for Lamhorn; but Sibyl and Lamhorn never + “flirted”—they were always very matter-of-fact with each other. + Roscoe would have been troubled if Sibyl had ever told Lamhorn she hoped + he was susceptible. + </p> + <p> + “Yes—we're neighbors,” he said, awkwardly. + </p> + <p> + “Next-door neighbors in houses, too,” she added. + </p> + <p> + “No, not exactly. I live across the street.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, no!” she exclaimed, and seemed startled. “Your mother told me this + afternoon that you lived at home.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, of course I live at home. I built that new house across the street.” + </p> + <p> + “But you—” she paused, confused, and then slowly a deep color came + into her cheek. “But I understood—” + </p> + <p> + “No,” he said; “my wife and I lived with the old folks the first year, but + that's all. Edith and Jim live with them, of course.” + </p> + <p> + “I—I see,” she said, the deep color still deepening as she turned + from him and saw, written upon a card before the gentleman at her left the + name, “Mr. James Sheridan, Jr.” And from that moment Roscoe had little + enough cause for wondering what he ought to reply to her disturbing + coquetries. + </p> + <p> + Mr. James Sheridan had been anxiously waiting for the dazzling visitor to + “get through with old Roscoe,” as he thought of it, and give a bachelor a + chance. “Old Roscoe” was the younger, but he had always been the steady + wheel-horse of the family. Jim was “steady” enough, but was considered + livelier than Roscoe, which in truth is not saying much for Jim's + liveliness. As their father habitually boasted, both brothers were + “capable, hard-working young business men,” and the principal difference + between them was merely that which resulted from Jim's being still a + bachelor. Physically they were of the same type: dark of eyes and of hair, + fresh-colored and thick-set, and though Roscoe was several inches taller + than Jim, neither was of the height, breadth, or depth of the father. Both + wore young business men's mustaches, and either could have sat for the + tailor-shop lithographs of young business men wearing “rich suitings in + dark mixtures.” + </p> + <p> + Jim, approving warmly of his neighbor's profile, perceived her access of + color, which increased his approbation. “What's that old Roscoe saying to + you, Miss Vertrees?” he asked. “These young married men are mighty forward + nowadays, but you mustn't let 'em make you blush.” + </p> + <p> + “Am I blushing?” she said. “Are you sure?” And with that she gave him + ample opportunity to make sure, repeating with interest the look wasted + upon Roscoe. “I think you must be mistaken,” she continued. “I think it's + your brother who is blushing. I've thrown him into confusion.” + </p> + <p> + “How?” + </p> + <p> + She laughed, and then, leaning to him a little, said in a tone as + confidential as she could make it, under cover of the uproar. “By trying + to begin with him a courtship I meant for YOU!” + </p> + <p> + This might well be a style new to Jim; and it was. He supposed it a + nonsensical form of badinage, and yet it took his breath. He realized that + he wished what she said to be the literal truth, and he was instantly + snared by that realization. + </p> + <p> + “By George!” he said. “I guess you're the kind of girl that can say + anything—yes, and get away with it, too!” + </p> + <p> + She laughed again—in her way, so that he could not tell whether she + was laughing at him or at herself or at the nonsense she was talking; and + she said: “But you see I don't care whether I get away with it or not. I + wish you'd tell me frankly if you think I've got a chance to get away with + YOU?” + </p> + <p> + “More like if you've got a chance to get away FROM me!” Jim was inspired + to reply. “Not one in the world, especially after beginning by making fun + of me like that.” + </p> + <p> + “I mightn't be so much in fun as you think,” she said, regarding him with + sudden gravity. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Jim, in simple honesty, “you're a funny girl!” + </p> + <p> + Her gravity continued an instant longer. “I may not turn out to be funny + for YOU.” + </p> + <p> + “So long as you turn out to be anything at all for me, I expect I can + manage to be satisfied.” And with that, to his own surprise, it was his + turn to blush, whereupon she laughed again. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he said, plaintively, not wholly lacking intuition, “I can see + you're the sort of girl that would laugh the minute you see a man really + means anything!” + </p> + <p> + “'Laugh'!” she cried, gaily. “Why, it might be a matter of life and death! + But if you want tragedy, I'd better put the question at once, considering + the mistake I made with your brother.” + </p> + <p> + Jim was dazed. She seemed to be playing a little game of mockery and + nonsense with him, but he had glimpses of a flashing danger in it; he was + but too sensible of being outclassed, and had somewhere a consciousness + that he could never quite know this giddy and alluring lady, no matter how + long it pleased her to play with him. But he mightily wanted her to keep + on playing with him. + </p> + <p> + “Put what question?” he said, breathlessly. + </p> + <p> + “As you are a new neighbor of mine and of my family,” she returned, + speaking slowly and with a cross-examiner's severity, “I think it would be + well for me to know at once whether you are already walking out with any + young lady or not. Mr. Sheridan, think well! Are you spoken for?” + </p> + <p> + “Not yet,” he gasped. “Are you?” + </p> + <p> + “NO!” she cried, and with that they both laughed again; and the pastime + proceeded, increasing both in its gaiety and in its gravity. + </p> + <p> + Observing its continuance, Mr. Robert Lamhorn, opposite, turned from a + lively conversation with Edith and remarked covertly to Sibyl that Miss + Vertrees was “starting rather picturesquely with Jim.” And he added, + languidly, “Do you suppose she WOULD?” + </p> + <p> + For the moment Sibyl gave no sign of having heard him, but seemed + interested in the clasp of a long “rope” of pearls, a loop of which she + was allowing to swing from her fingers, resting her elbow upon the table + and following with her eyes the twinkle of diamonds and platinum in the + clasp at the end of the loop. She wore many jewels. She was pretty, but + hers was not the kind of prettiness to be loaded with too sumptuous + accessories, and jeweled head-dresses are dangerous—they may + emphasize the wrongness of the wearer. + </p> + <p> + “I said Miss Vertrees seems to be starting pretty strong with Jim,” + repeated Mr. Lamhorn. + </p> + <p> + “I heard you.” There was a latent discontent always somewhere in her eyes, + no matter what she threw upon the surface of cover it, and just now she + did not care to cover it; she looked sullen. “Starting any stronger than + you did with Edith?” she inquired. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, keep the peace!” he said, crossly. “That's off, of course.” + </p> + <p> + “You haven't been making her see it this evening—precisely,” said + Sibyl, looking at him steadily. “You've talked to her for—” + </p> + <p> + “For Heaven's sake,” he begged, “keep the peace!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what have you just been doing?” + </p> + <p> + “SH!” he said. “Listen to your father-in-law.” + </p> + <p> + Sheridan was booming and braying louder than ever, the orchestra having + begun to play “The Rosary,” to his vast content. + </p> + <p> + “I COUNT THEM OVER, LA-LA-TUM-TEE-DUM,” he roared, beating the measures + with his fork. “EACH HOUR A PEARL, EACH PEARL TEE-DUM-TUM-DUM—What's + the matter with all you folks? Why'n't you SING? Miss Vertrees, I bet a + thousand dollars YOU sing! Why'n't—” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Sheridan,” she said, turning cheerfully from the ardent Jim, “you + don't know what you interrupted! Your son isn't used to my rough ways, and + my soldier's wooing frightens him, but I think he was about to say + something important.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll say something important to him if he doesn't!” the father + threatened, more delighted with her than ever. “By gosh! if I was his age—or + a widower right NOW—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, wait!” cried Mary. “If they'd only make less noise! I want Mrs. + Sheridan to hear.” + </p> + <p> + “She'd say the same,” he shouted. “She'd tell me I was mighty slow if I + couldn't get ahead o' Jim. Why, when I was his age—” + </p> + <p> + “You must listen to your father,” Mary interrupted, turning to Jim, who + had grown red again. “He's going to tell us how, when he was your age, he + made those two blades of grass grow out of a teacup—and you could + see for yourself he didn't get them out of his sleeve!” + </p> + <p> + At that Sheridan pounded the table till it jumped. “Look here, young + lady!” he roared. “Some o' these days I'm either goin' to slap you—or + I'm goin' to kiss you!” + </p> + <p> + Edith looked aghast; she was afraid this was indeed “too awful,” but Mary + Vertrees burst into ringing laughter. + </p> + <p> + “Both!” she cried. “Both! The one to make me forget the other!” + </p> + <p> + “But which—” he began, and then suddenly gave forth such stentorian + trumpetings of mirth that for once the whole table stopped to listen. + “Jim,” he roared, “if you don't propose to that girl to-night I'll send + you back to the machine-shop with Bibbs!” + </p> + <p> + And Bibbs—down among the retainers by the sugar Pump Works, and + watching Mary Vertrees as a ragged boy in the street might watch a rich + little girl in a garden—Bibbs heard. He heard—and he knew what + his father's plans were now. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII + </h2> + <p> + Mrs. Vertrees “sat up” for her daughter, Mr. Vertrees having retired after + a restless evening, not much soothed by the society of his Landseers. Mary + had taken a key, insisting that he should not come for her and seeming + confident that she would not lack for escort; nor did the sequel prove her + confidence unwarranted. But Mrs. Vertrees had a long vigil of it. + </p> + <p> + She was not the woman to make herself easy—no servant had ever seen + her in a wrapper—and with her hair and dress and her shoes just what + they had been when she returned from the afternoon's call, she sat through + the slow night hours in a stiff little chair under the gaslight in her own + room, which was directly over the “front hall.” There, book in hand, she + employed the time in her own reminiscences, though it was her belief that + she was reading Madame de Remusat's. + </p> + <p> + Her thoughts went backward into her life and into her husband's; and the + deeper into the past they went, the brighter the pictures they brought her—and + there is tragedy. Like her husband, she thought backward because she did + not dare think forward definitely. What thinking forward this troubled + couple ventured took the form of a slender hope which neither of them + could have borne to hear put in words, and yet they had talked it over, + day after day, from the very hour when they heard Sheridan was to build + his New House next door. For—so quickly does any ideal of human + behavior become an antique—their youth was of the innocent old days, + so dead! of “breeding” and “gentility,” and no craft had been more + straitly trained upon them than that of talking about things without + mentioning them. Herein was marked the most vital difference between Mr. + and Mrs. Vertrees and their big new neighbor. Sheridan, though his youth + was of the same epoch, knew nothing of such matters. He had been chopping + wood for the morning fire in the country grocery while they were still + dancing. + </p> + <p> + It was after one o'clock when Mrs. Vertrees heard steps and the delicate + clinking of the key in the lock, and then, with the opening of the door, + Mary's laugh, and “Yes—if you aren't afraid—to-morrow!” + </p> + <p> + The door closed, and she rushed up-stairs, bringing with her a breath of + cold and bracing air into her mother's room. “Yes,” she said, before Mrs. + Vertrees could speak, “he brought me home!” + </p> + <p> + She let her cloak fall upon the bed, and, drawing an old red-velvet + rocking-chair forward, sat beside her mother after giving her a light pat + upon the shoulder and a hearty kiss upon the cheek. + </p> + <p> + “Mamma!” Mary exclaimed, when Mrs. Vertrees had expressed a hope that she + had enjoyed the evening and had not caught cold. “Why don't you ask me?” + </p> + <p> + This inquiry obviously made her mother uncomfortable. “I don't—” she + faltered. “Ask you what, Mary?” + </p> + <p> + “How I got along and what he's like.” + </p> + <p> + “Mary!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it isn't distressing!” said Mary. “And I got along so fast—” + She broke off to laugh; continuing then, “But that's the way I went at it, + of course. We ARE in a hurry, aren't we?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know what you mean,” Mrs. Vertrees insisted, shaking her head + plaintively. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Mary, “I'm going out in his car with him to-morrow afternoon, + and to the theater the next night—but I stopped it there. You see, + after you give the first push, you must leave it to them while YOU pretend + to run away!” + </p> + <p> + “My dear, I don't know what to—” + </p> + <p> + “What to make of anything!” Mary finished for her. “So that's all right! + Now I'll tell you all about it. It was gorgeous and deafening and + tee-total. We could have lived a year on it. I'm not good at figures, but + I calculated that if we lived six months on poor old Charlie and Ned and + the station-wagon and the Victoria, we could manage at least twice as long + on the cost of the 'house-warming.' I think the orchids alone would have + lasted us a couple of months. There they were, before me, but I couldn't + steal 'em and sell 'em, and so—well, so I did what I could!” + </p> + <p> + She leaned back and laughed reassuringly to her troubled mother. “It + seemed to be a success—what I could,” she said, clasping her hands + behind her neck and stirring the rocker to motion as a rhythmic + accompaniment to her narrative. “The girl Edith and her sister-in-law, + Mrs. Roscoe Sheridan, were too anxious about the effect of things on me. + The father's worth a bushel of both of them, if they knew it. He's what he + is. I like him.” She paused reflectively, continuing, “Edith's + 'interested' in that Lamhorn boy; he's good-looking and not stupid, but I + think he's—” She interrupted herself with a cheery outcry: “Oh! I + mustn't be calling him names! If he's trying to make Edith like him, I + ought to respect him as a colleague.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't understand a thing you're talking about,” Mrs. Vertrees + complained. + </p> + <p> + “All the better! Well, he's a bad lot, that Lamhorn boy; everybody's + always known that, but the Sheridans don't know the everybodies that know. + He sat between Edith and Mrs. Roscoe Sheridan. SHE'S like those people you + wondered about at the theater, the last time we went—dressed in + ball-gowns; bound to show their clothes and jewels SOMEwhere! She flatters + the father, and so did I, for that matter—but not that way. I + treated him outrageously!” + </p> + <p> + “Mary!” + </p> + <p> + “That's what flattered him. After dinner he made the whole regiment of us + follow him all over the house, while he lectured like a guide on the + Palatine. He gave dimensions and costs, and the whole b'ilin' of 'em + listened as if they thought he intended to make them a present of the + house. What he was proudest of was the plumbing and that Bay of Naples + panorama in the hall. He made us look at all the plumbing—bath-rooms + and everywhere else—and then he made us look at the Bay of Naples. + He said it was a hundred and eleven feet long, but I think it's more. And + he led us all into the ready-made library to see a poem Edith had taken a + prize with at school. They'd had it printed in gold letters and framed in + mother-of-pearl. But the poem itself was rather simple and wistful and + nice—he read it to us, though Edith tried to stop him. She was + modest about it, and said she'd never written anything else. And then, + after a while, Mrs. Roscoe Sheridan asked me to come across the street to + her house with them—her husband and Edith and Mr. Lamhorn and Jim + Sheridan—” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Vertrees was shocked. “'Jim'!” she exclaimed. “Mary, PLEASE—” + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” said Mary. “I'll make it as easy for you as I can, mamma. Mr. + James Sheridan, Junior. We went over there, and Mrs. Roscoe explained that + 'the men were all dying for a drink,' though I noticed that Mr. Lamhorn + was the only one near death's door on that account. Edith and Mrs. Roscoe + said they knew I'd been bored at the dinner. They were objectionably + apologetic about it, and they seemed to think NOW we were going to have a + 'good time' to make up for it. But I hadn't been bored at the dinner, I'd + been amused; and the 'good time' at Mrs. Roscoe's was horribly, horribly + stupid.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Mary,” her mother began, “is—is—” And she seemed unable + to complete the question. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind, mamma. I'll say it. Is Mr. James Sheridan, Junior, stupid? + I'm sure he's not at all stupid about business. Otherwise—Oh, what + right have I to be calling people 'stupid' because they're not exactly my + kind? On the big dinner-table they had enormous icing models of the + Sheridan Building—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no!” Mrs. Vertrees cried. “Surely not!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and two other things of that kind—I don't know what. But, + after all, I wondered if they were so bad. If I'd been at a dinner at a + palace in Italy, and a relief or inscription on one of the old silver + pieces had referred to some great deed or achievement of the family, I + shouldn't have felt superior; I'd have thought it picturesque and stately—I'd + have been impressed. And what's the real difference? The icing is + temporary, and that's much more modest, isn't it? And why is it vulgar to + feel important more on account of something you've done yourself than + because of something one of your ancestors did? Besides, if we go back a + few generations, we've all got such hundreds of ancestors it seems idiotic + to go picking out one or two to be proud of ourselves about. Well, then, + mamma, I managed not to feel superior to Mr. James Sheridan, Junior, + because he didn't see anything out of place in the Sheridan Building in + sugar.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Vertrees's expression had lost none of its anxiety pending the + conclusion of this lively bit of analysis, and she shook her head gravely. + “My dear, dear child,” she said, “it seems to me—It looks—I'm + afraid—” + </p> + <p> + “Say as much of it as you can, mamma,” said Mary, encouragingly. “I can + get it, if you'll just give me one key-word.” + </p> + <p> + “Everything you say,” Mrs. Vertrees began, timidly, “seems to have the air + of—it is as if you were seeking to—to make yourself—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I see! You mean I sound as if I were trying to force myself to like + him.” + </p> + <p> + “Not exactly, Mary. That wasn't quite what I meant,” said Mrs. Vertrees, + speaking direct untruth with perfect unconsciousness. “But you said that—that + you found the latter part of the evening at young Mrs. Sheridan's + unentertaining—” + </p> + <p> + “And as Mr. James Sheridan was there, and I saw more of him than at + dinner, and had a horribly stupid time in spite of that, you think I—” + And then it was Mary who left the deduction unfinished. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Vertrees nodded; and though both the mother and the daughter + understood, Mary felt it better to make the understanding definite. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” she asked, gravely, “is there anything else I can do? You and papa + don't want me to do anything that distresses me, and so, as this is the + only thing to be done, it seems it's up to me not to let it distress me. + That's all there is about it, isn't it?” + </p> + <p> + “But nothing MUST distress you!” the mother cried. + </p> + <p> + “That's what I say!” said Mary, cheerfully. “And so it doesn't. It's all + right.” She rose and took her cloak over her arm, as if to go to her own + room. But on the way to the door she stopped, and stood leaning against + the foot of the bed, contemplating a threadbare rug at her feet. “Mother, + you've told me a thousand times that it doesn't really matter whom a girl + marries.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no!” Mrs. Vertrees protested. “I never said such a—” + </p> + <p> + “No, not in words; I mean what you MEANT. It's true, isn't it, that + marriage really is 'not a bed of roses, but a field of battle'? To get + right down to it, a girl could fight it out with anybody, couldn't she? + One man as well as another?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my dear! I'm sure your father and I—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes,” said Mary, indulgently. “I don't mean you and papa. But isn't + it propinquity that makes marriages? So many people say so, there must be + something in it.” + </p> + <p> + “Mary, I can't bear for you to talk like that.” And Mrs. Vertrees lifted + pleading eyes to her daughter—eyes that begged to be spared. “It + sounds—almost reckless!” + </p> + <p> + Mary caught the appeal, came to her, and kissed her gaily. “Never fret, + dear! I'm not likely to do anything I don't want to do—I've always + been too thorough-going a little pig! And if it IS propinquity that does + our choosing for us, well, at least no girl in the world could ask for + more than THAT! How could there be any more propinquity than the very + house next door?” + </p> + <p> + She gave her mother a final kiss and went gaily all the way to the door + this time, pausing for her postscript with her hand on the knob. “Oh, the + one that caught me looking in the window, mamma, the youngest one—” + </p> + <p> + “Did he speak of it?” Mrs. Vertrees asked, apprehensively. + </p> + <p> + “No. He didn't speak at all, that I saw, to any one. I didn't meet him. + But he isn't insane, I'm sure; or if he is, he has long intervals when + he's not. Mr. James Sheridan mentioned that he lived at home when he was + 'well enough'; and it may be he's only an invalid. He looks dreadfully + ill, but he has pleasant eyes, and it struck me that if—if one were + in the Sheridan family”—she laughed a little ruefully—“he + might be interesting to talk to sometimes, when there was too much stocks + and bonds. I didn't see him after dinner.” + </p> + <p> + “There must be something wrong with him,” said Mrs. Vertrees. “They'd have + introduced him if there wasn't.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know. He's been ill so much and away so much—sometimes + people like that just don't seem to 'count' in a family. His father spoke + of sending him back to a machine-shop of some sort; I suppose he meant + when the poor thing gets better. I glanced at him just then, when Mr. + Sheridan mentioned him, and he happened to be looking straight at me; and + he was pathetic-looking enough before that, but the most tragic change + came over him. He seemed just to die, right there at the table!” + </p> + <p> + “You mean when his father spoke of sending him to the shop place?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Sheridan must be very unfeeling.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Mary, thoughtfully, “I don't think he is; but he might be + uncomprehending, and certainly he's the kind of man to do anything he once + sets out to do. But I wish I hadn't been looking at that poor boy just + then! I'm afraid I'll keep remembering—” + </p> + <p> + “I wouldn't.” Mrs. Vertrees smiled faintly, and in her smile there was the + remotest ghost of a genteel roguishness. “I'd keep my mind on pleasanter + things, Mary.” + </p> + <p> + Mary laughed and nodded. “Yes, indeed! Plenty pleasant enough, and + probably, if all were known, too good—even for me!” + </p> + <p> + And when she had gone Mrs. Vertrees drew a long breath, as if a burden + were off her mind, and, smiling, began to undress in a gentle reverie. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII + </h2> + <p> + Edith, glancing casually into the “ready-made” library, stopped abruptly, + seeing Bibbs there alone. He was standing before the pearl-framed and + golden-lettered poem, musingly inspecting it. He read it: + </p> +<div class="poetry"><div class="poem"> + <span style="margin-left: 4em;">FUGITIVE</span><br /> +<br /> + I will forget the things that sting:<br /> + The lashing look, the barbed word.<br /> + I know the very hands that fling<br /> + The stones at me had never stirred<br /> + To anger but for their own scars.<br /> + They've suffered so, that's why they strike.<br /> + I'll keep my heart among the stars<br /> + Where none shall hunt it out. Oh, like<br /> + These wounded ones I must not be,<br /> + For, wounded, I might strike in turn!<br /> + So, none shall hurt me. Far and free<br /> + Where my heart flies no one shall learn. +</div></div> + <p> + “Bibbs!” Edith's voice was angry, and her color deepened suddenly as she + came into the room, preceded by a scent of violets much more powerful than + that warranted by the actual bunch of them upon the lapel of her coat. + </p> + <p> + Bibbs did not turn his head, but wagged it solemnly, seeming depressed by + the poem. “Pretty young, isn't it?” he said. “There must have been + something about your looks that got the prize, Edith; I can't believe the + poem did it.” + </p> + <p> + She glanced hurriedly over her shoulder and spoke sharply, but in a low + voice: “I don't think it's very nice of you to bring it up at all, Bibbs. + I'd like a chance to forget the whole silly business. I didn't want them + to frame it, and I wish to goodness papa'd quit talking about it; but + here, that night, after the dinner, didn't he go and read it aloud to the + whole crowd of 'em! And then they all wanted to know what other poems I'd + written and why I didn't keep it up and write some more, and if I didn't, + why didn't I, and why this and why that, till I thought I'd die of shame!” + </p> + <p> + “You could tell 'em you had writer's cramp,” Bibbs suggested. + </p> + <p> + “I couldn't tell 'em anything! I just choke with mortification every time + anybody speaks of the thing.” + </p> + <p> + Bibbs looked grieved. “The poem isn't THAT bad, Edith. You see, you were + only seventeen when you wrote it.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, hush up!” she snapped. “I wish it had burnt my fingers the first time + I touched it. Then I might have had sense enough to leave it where it was. + I had no business to take it, and I've been ashamed—” + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” he said, comfortingly. “It was the very most flattering thing + ever happened to me. It was almost my last flight before I went to the + machine-shop, and it's pleasant to think somebody liked it enough to—” + </p> + <p> + “But I DON'T like it!” she exclaimed. “I don't even understand it—and + papa made so much fuss over its getting the prize, I just hate it! The + truth is I never dreamed it'd get the prize.” + </p> + <p> + “Maybe they expected father to endow the school,” Bibbs murmured. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I had to have something to turn in, and I couldn't write a LINE! I + hate poetry, anyhow; and Bobby Lamhorn's always teasing me about how I + 'keep my heart among the stars.' He makes it seem such a mushy kind of + thing, the way he says it. I hate it!” + </p> + <p> + “You'll have to live it down, Edith. Perhaps abroad and under another name + you might find—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, hush up! I'll hire some one to steal it and burn it the first chance + I get.” She turned away petulantly, moving to the door. “I'd like to think + I could hope to hear the last of it before I die!” + </p> + <p> + “Edith!” he called, as she went into the hall. + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “I want to ask you: Do I really look better, or have you just got used to + me?” + </p> + <p> + “What on earth do you mean?” she said, coming back as far as the + threshold. + </p> + <p> + “When I first came you couldn't look at me,” Bibbs explained, in his + impersonal way. “But I've noticed you look at me lately. I wondered if I'd—” + </p> + <p> + “It's because you look so much better,” she told him, cheerfully. “This + month you've been here's done you no end of good. It's the change.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that's what they said at the sanitarium—the change.” + </p> + <p> + “You look worse than 'most anybody I ever saw,” said Edith, with supreme + candor. “But I don't know much about it. I've never seen a corpse in my + life, and I've never even seen anybody that was terribly sick, so you + mustn't judge by me. I only know you do look better, I'm glad to say. But + you're right about my not being able to look at you at first. You had a + kind of whiteness that—Well, you're almost as thin, I suppose, but + you've got more just ordinarily pale; not that ghastly look. Anybody could + look at you now, Bibbs, and no—not get—” + </p> + <p> + “Sick?” + </p> + <p> + “Well—almost that!” she laughed. “And you're getting a better color + every day, Bibbs; you really are. You're getting along splendidly.” + </p> + <p> + “I—I'm afraid so,” he said, ruefully. + </p> + <p> + “'Afraid so'! Well, if you aren't the queerest! I suppose you mean father + might send you back to the machine-shop if you get well enough. I heard + him say something about it the night of the—” The jingle of a + distant bell interrupted her, and she glanced at her watch. “Bobby + Lamhorn! I'm going to motor him out to look at a place in the country. + Afternoon, Bibbs!” + </p> + <p> + When she had gone, Bibbs mooned pessimistically from shelf to shelf, his + eye wandering among the titles of the books. The library consisted almost + entirely of handsome “uniform editions”: Irving, Poe, Cooper, Goldsmith, + Scott, Byron, Burns, Longfellow, Tennyson, Hume, Gibbon, Prescott, + Thackeray, Dickens, De Musset, Balzac, Gautier, Flaubert, Goethe, + Schiller, Dante, and Tasso. There were shelves and shelves of + encyclopedias, of anthologies, of “famous classics,” of “Oriental + masterpieces,” of “masterpieces of oratory,” and more shelves of “selected + libraries” of “literature,” of “the drama,” and of “modern science.” They + made an effective decoration for the room, all these big, expensive books, + with a glossy binding here and there twinkling a reflection of the flames + that crackled in the splendid Gothic fireplace; but Bibbs had an + impression that the bookseller who selected them considered them a relief, + and that white-jacket considered them a burden of dust, and that nobody + else considered them at all. Himself, he disturbed not one. + </p> + <p> + There came a chime of bells from a clock in another part of the house, and + white-jacket appeared beamingly in the doorway, bearing furs. “Awready, + Mist' Bibbs,” he announced. “You' ma say wrap up wawm f' you' ride, an' + she cain' go with you to-day, an' not f'git go see you' pa at fo' 'clock. + Aw ready, suh.” + </p> + <p> + He equipped Bibbs for the daily drive Dr. Gurney had commanded; and in the + manner of a master of ceremonies unctuously led the way. In the hall they + passed the Moor, and Bibbs paused before it while white-jacket opened the + door with a flourish and waved condescendingly to the chauffeur in the car + which stood waiting in the driveway. + </p> + <p> + “It seems to me I asked you what you thought about this 'statue' when I + first came home, George,” said Bibbs, thoughtfully. “What did you tell + me?” + </p> + <p> + “Yessuh!” George chuckled, perfectly understanding that for some unknown + reason Bibbs enjoyed hearing him repeat his opinion of the Moor. “You ast + me when you firs' come home, an' you ast me nex' day, an' mighty near ev'y + day all time you been here; an' las' Sunday you ast me twicet.” He shook + his head solemnly. “Look to me mus' be somep'm might lamiDAL 'bout 'at + statue!” + </p> + <p> + “Mighty what?” + </p> + <p> + “Mighty lamiDAL!” George, burst out laughing. “What DO 'at word mean, + Mist' Bibbs?” + </p> + <p> + “It's new to me, George. Where did you hear it?” + </p> + <p> + “I nev' DID hear it!” said George. “I uz dess sittin' thinkum to myse'f + an' she pop in my head—'lamiDAL,' dess like 'at! An' she soun' so + good, seem like she GOTTA mean somep'm!” + </p> + <p> + “Come to think of it, I believe she does mean something. Why, yes—” + </p> + <p> + “Do she?” cried George. “WHAT she mean?” + </p> + <p> + “It's exactly the word for the statue,” said Bibbs, with conviction, as he + climbed into the car. “It's a lamiDAL statue.” + </p> + <p> + “Hiyi!” George exulted. “Man! Man! Listen! Well, suh, she mighty lamiDAL + statue, but lamiDAL statue heap o' trouble to dus'!”</p> +<p> “I expect she is!” + said Bibbs, as the engine began to churn; and a moment later he was swept + from sight. + </p> + <p> + George turned to Mist' Jackson, who had been listening benevolently in the + hallway. “Same he aw-ways say, Mist' Jackson—'I expec' she is!' Ev'y + day he try t' git me talk 'bout 'at lamiDAL statue, an' aw-ways, las' + thing HE say, 'I expec' she is!' You know, Mist' Jackson, if he git well, + 'at young man go' be pride o' the family, Mist' Jackson. Yes-suh, right + now I pick 'im fo' firs' money!” + </p> + <p> + “Look out with all 'at money, George!” Jackson warned the enthusiast. + “White folks 'n 'is house know 'im heap longer'n you. You the on'y man + bettin' on 'im!” + </p> + <p> + “I risk it!” cried George, merrily. “I put her all on now—ev'y cent! + 'At boy's go' be flower o' the flock!” + </p> + <p> + This singular prophecy, founded somewhat recklessly upon gratitude for the + meaning of “lamiDAL,” differed radically from another prediction + concerning Bibbs, set forth for the benefit of a fair auditor some twenty + minutes later. + </p> + <p> + Jim Sheridan, skirting the edges of the town with Mary Vertrees beside + him, in his own swift machine, encountered the invalid upon the highroad. + The two cars were going in opposite directions, and the occupants of Jim's + had only a swaying glimpse of Bibbs sitting alone on the back seat—his + white face startlingly white against cap and collar of black fur—but + he flashed into recognition as Mary bowed to him. + </p> + <p> + Jim waved his left hand carelessly. “It's Bibbs, taking his + constitutional,” he explained. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know,” said Mary. “I bowed to him, too, though I've never met him. + In fact, I've only seen him once—no, twice. I hope he won't think + I'm very bold, bowing to him.” + </p> + <p> + “I doubt if he noticed it,” said honest Jim. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no!” she cried. + </p> + <p> + “What's the trouble?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm almost sure people notice it when I bow to them.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I see!” said Jim. “Of course they would ordinarily, but Bibbs is + funny.” + </p> + <p> + “Is he? How?” she asked. “He strikes me as anything but funny.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'm his brother,” Jim said, deprecatingly, “but I don't know what + he's like, and, to tell the truth, I've never felt exactly like I WAS his + brother, the way I do Roscoe. Bibbs never did seem more than half alive to + me. Of course Roscoe and I are older, and when we were boys we were too + big to play with him, but he never played anyway, with boys his own age. + He'd rather just sit in the house and mope around by himself. Nobody could + ever get him to DO anything; you can't get him to do anything now. He + never had any LIFE in him; and honestly, if he is my brother, I must say I + believe Bibbs Sheridan is the laziest man God ever made! Father put him in + the machine-shop over at the Pump Works—best thing in the world for + him—and he was just plain no account. It made him sick! If he'd had + the right kind of energy—the kind father's got, for instance, or + Roscoe, either—why, it wouldn't have made him sick. And suppose it + was either of them—yes, or me, either—do you think any of us + would have stopped if we WERE sick? Not much! I hate to say it, but Bibbs + Sheridan'll never amount to anything as long as he lives.” + </p> + <p> + Mary looked thoughtful. “Is there any particular reason why he should?” + she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Good gracious!” he exclaimed. “You don't mean that, do you? Don't you + believe in a man's knowing how to earn his salt, no matter how much money + his father's got? Hasn't the business of this world got to be carried on + by everybody in it? Are we going to lay back on what we've got and see + other fellows get ahead of us? If we've got big things already, isn't it + every man's business to go ahead and make 'em bigger? Isn't it his duty? + Don't we always want to get bigger and bigger?” + </p> + <p> + “Ye-es—I don't know. But I feel rather sorry for your brother. He + looked so lonely—and sick.” + </p> + <p> + “He's gettin' better every day,” Jim said. “Dr. Gurney says so. There's + nothing much the matter with him, really—it's nine-tenths imaginary. + 'Nerves'! People that are willing to be busy don't have nervous diseases, + because they don't have time to imagine 'em.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean his trouble is really mental?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he's not a lunatic,” said Jim. “He's just queer. Sometimes he'll say + something right bright, but half the time what he says is 'way off the + subject, or else there isn't any sense to it at all. For instance, the + other day I heard him talkin' to one of the darkies in the hall. The darky + asked him what time he wanted the car for his drive, and anybody else in + the world would have just said what time they DID want it, and that would + have been all there was to it; but here's what Bibbs says, and I heard him + with my own ears. 'What time do I want the car?' he says. 'Well, now, that + depends—that depends,' he says. He talks slow like that, you know. + 'I'll tell you what time I want the car, George,' he says, 'if you'll tell + ME what you think of this statue!' That's exactly his words! Asked the + darky what he thought of that Arab Edith and mother bought for the hall!” + </p> + <p> + Mary pondered upon this. “He might have been in fun, perhaps,” she + suggested. + </p> + <p> + “Askin' a darky what he thought of a piece of statuary—of a work of + art! Where on earth would be the fun of that? No, you're just kind-hearted—and + that's the way you OUGHT to be, of course—” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Mr. Sheridan!” she laughed. + </p> + <p> + “See here!” he cried. “Isn't there any way for us to get over this Mister + and Miss thing? A month's got thirty-one days in it; I've managed to be + with you a part of pretty near all the thirty-one, and I think you know + how I feel by this time—” + </p> + <p> + She looked panic-stricken immediately. “Oh, no,” she protested, quickly. + “No, I don't, and—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you do,” he said, and his voice shook a little. “You couldn't help + knowing.” + </p> + <p> + “But I do!” she denied, hurriedly. “I do help knowing. I mean—Oh, + wait!” + </p> + <p> + “What for? You do know how I feel, and you—well, you've certainly + WANTED me to feel that way—or else pretended—” + </p> + <p> + “Now, now!” she lamented. “You're spoiling such a cheerful afternoon!” + </p> + <p> + “'Spoilin' it!'” He slowed down the car and turned his face to her + squarely. “See here, Miss Vertrees, haven't you—” + </p> + <p> + “Stop! Stop the car a minute.” And when he had complied she faced him as + squarely as he evidently desired her to face him. “Listen. I don't want + you to go on, to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” he asked, sharply. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean it's just a whim?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know,” she repeated. Her voice was low and troubled and honest, + and she kept her clear eyes upon his. + </p> + <p> + “Will you tell me something?” + </p> + <p> + “Almost anything.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you ever told any man you loved him?” + </p> + <p> + And at that, though she laughed, she looked a little contemptuous. “No,” + she said. “And I don't think I ever shall tell any man that—or ever + know what it means. I'm in earnest, Mr. Sheridan.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you—you've just been flirting with me!” Poor Jim looked both + furious and crestfallen. + </p> + <p> + “Not one bit!” she cried. “Not one word! Not one syllable! I've meant + every single thing!” + </p> + <p> + “I don't—” + </p> + <p> + “Of course you don't!” she said. “Now, Mr. Sheridan, I want you to start + the car. Now! Thank you. Slowly, till I finish what I have to say. I have + not flirted with you. I have deliberately courted you. One thing more, and + then I want you to take me straight home, talking about the weather all + the way. I said that I do not believe I shall ever 'care' for any man, and + that is true. I doubt the existence of the kind of 'caring' we hear about + in poems and plays and novels. I think it must be just a kind of emotional + TALK—most of it. At all events, I don't feel it. Now, we can go + faster, please.” + </p> + <p> + “Just where does that let me out?” he demanded. “How does that excuse you + for—” + </p> + <p> + “It isn't an excuse,” she said, gently, and gave him one final look, + wholly desolate. “I haven't said I should never marry.” + </p> + <p> + “What?” Jim gasped. + </p> + <p> + She inclined her head in a broken sort of acquiescence, very humble, + unfathomably sorrowful. + </p> + <p> + “I promise nothing,” she said, faintly. + </p> + <p> + “You needn't!” shouted Jim, radiant and exultant. “You needn't! By George! + I know you're square; that's enough for me! You wait and promise whenever + you're ready!” + </p> + <p> + “Don't forget what I asked,” she begged him. + </p> + <p> + “Talk about the weather? I will! God bless the old weather!” cried the + happy Jim. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX + </h2> + <p> + Through the open country Bibbs was borne flying between brown fields and + sun-flecked groves of gray trees, to breathe the rushing, clean air + beneath a glorious sky—that sky so despised in the city, and so + maltreated there, that from early October to mid-May it was impossible for + men to remember that blue is the rightful color overhead. + </p> + <p> + Upon each of Bibbs's cheeks there was a hint of something almost + resembling a pinkishness; not actual color, but undeniably its phantom. + How largely this apparition may have been the work of the wind upon his + face it is difficult to calculate, for beyond a doubt it was partly the + result of a lady's bowing to him upon no more formal introduction than the + circumstance of his having caught her looking into his window a month + before. She had bowed definitely; she had bowed charmingly. And it seemed + to Bibbs that she must have meant to convey her forgiveness. + </p> + <p> + There had been something in her recognition of him unfamiliar to his + experience, and he rode the warmer for it. Nor did he lack the impression + that he would long remember her as he had just seen her: her veil + tumultuously blowing back, her face glowing in the wind—and that + look of gay friendliness tossed to him like a fresh rose in carnival. + </p> + <p> + By and by, upon a rising ground, the driver halted the car, then backed + and tacked, and sent it forward again with its nose to the south and the + smoke. Far before him Bibbs saw the great smudge upon the horizon, that + nest of cloud in which the city strove and panted like an engine shrouded + in its own steam. But to Bibbs, who had now to go to the very heart of it, + for a commanded interview with his father, the distant cloud was like an + implacable genius issuing thunderously in smoke from his enchanted bottle, + and irresistibly drawing Bibbs nearer and nearer. + </p> + <p> + They passed from the farm lands, and came, in the amber light of November + late afternoon, to the farthermost outskirts of the city; and here the sky + shimmered upon the verge of change from blue to gray; the smoke did not + visibly permeate the air, but it was there, nevertheless—impalpable, + thin, no more than the dust of smoke. And then, as the car drove on, the + chimneys and stacks of factories came swimming up into view like miles of + steamers advancing abreast, every funnel with its vast plume, savage and + black, sweeping to the horizon, dripping wealth and dirt and suffocation + over league on league already rich and vile with grime. + </p> + <p> + The sky had become only a dingy thickening of the soiled air; and a roar + and clangor of metals beat deafeningly on Bibbs's ears. And now the car + passed two great blocks of long brick buildings, hideous in all ways + possible to make them hideous; doorways showing dark one moment and lurid + the next with the leap of some virulent interior flame, revealing + blackened giants, half naked, in passionate action, struggling with + formless things in the hot illumination. And big as these shops were, they + were growing bigger, spreading over a third block, where two new + structures were mushrooming to completion in some hasty cement process of + a stability not over-reassuring. Bibbs pulled the rug closer about him, + and not even the phantom of color was left upon his cheeks as he passed + this place, for he knew it too well. Across the face of one of the + buildings there was an enormous sign: “Sheridan Automatic Pump Co., Inc.” + </p> + <p> + Thence they went through streets of wooden houses, all grimed, and adding + their own grime from many a sooty chimney; flimsey wooden houses of a + thousand flimsy whimsies in the fashioning, built on narrow lots and + nudging one another crossly, shutting out the stingy sunlight from one + another; bad neighbors who would destroy one another root and branch some + night when the right wind blew. They were only waiting for that wind and a + cigarette, and then they would all be gone together—a pinch of + incense burned upon the tripod of the god. + </p> + <p> + Along these streets there were skinny shade-trees, and here and there a + forest elm or walnut had been left; but these were dying. Some people said + it was the scale; some said it was the smoke; and some were sure that + asphalt and “improving” the streets did it; but Bigness was in too Big a + hurry to bother much about trees. He had telegraph-poles and + telephone-poles and electric-light-poles and trolley-poles by the thousand + to take their places. So he let the trees die and put up his poles. They + were hideous, but nobody minded that; and sometimes the wires fell and + killed people—but not often enough to matter at all. + </p> + <p> + Thence onward the car bore Bibbs through the older parts of the town where + the few solid old houses not already demolished were in transition: some, + with their fronts torn away, were being made into segments of + apartment-buildings; others had gone uproariously into trade, brazenly + putting forth “show-windows” on their first floors, seeming to mean it for + a joke; one or two with unaltered facades peeped humorously over the tops + of temporary office buildings of one story erected in the old front yards. + Altogether, the town here was like a boarding-house hash the Sunday after + Thanksgiving; the old ingredients were discernible. + </p> + <p> + This was the fringe of Bigness's own sanctuary, and now Bibbs reached the + roaring holy of holies itself. The car must stop at every crossing while + the dark-garbed crowds, enveloped in maelstroms of dust, hurried before + it. Magnificent new buildings, already dingy, loomed hundreds of feet + above him; newer ones, more magnificent, were rising beside them, rising + higher; old buildings were coming down; middle-aged buildings were coming + down; the streets were laid open to their entrails and men worked + underground between palisades, and overhead in metal cobwebs like spiders + in the sky. Trolley-cars and long interurban cars, built to split the wind + like torpedo-boats, clanged and shrieked their way round swarming corners; + motor-cars of every kind and shape known to man babbled frightful warnings + and frantic demands; hospital ambulances clamored wildly for passage; + steam-whistles signaled the swinging of titanic tentacle and claw; + riveters rattled like machine-guns; the ground shook to the thunder of + gigantic trucks; and the conglomerate sound of it all was the sound of + earthquake playing accompaniments for battle and sudden death. On one of + the new steel buildings no work was being done that afternoon. The + building had killed a man in the morning—and the steel-workers + always stop for the day when that “happens.” + </p> + <p> + And in the hurrying crowds, swirling and sifting through the + brobdingnagian camp of iron and steel, one saw the camp-followers and the + pagan women—there would be work to-day and dancing to-night. For the + Puritan's dry voice is but the crackling of a leaf underfoot in the rush + and roar of the coming of the new Egypt. + </p> + <p> + Bibbs was on time. He knew it must be “to the minute” or his father would + consider it an outrage; and the big chronometer in Sheridan's office + marked four precisely when Bibbs walked in. Coincidentally with his + entrance five people who had been at work in the office, under Sheridan's + direction, walked out. They departed upon no visible or audible + suggestion, and with a promptness that seemed ominous to the new-comer. As + the massive door clicked softly behind the elderly stenographer, the last + of the procession, Bibbs had a feeling that they all understood that he + was a failure as a great man's son, a disappointment, the “queer one” of + the family, and that he had been summoned to judgment—a well-founded + impression, for that was exactly what they understood. + </p> + <p> + “Sit down,” said Sheridan. + </p> + <p> + It is frequently an advantage for deans, school-masters, and worried + fathers to place delinquents in the sitting-posture. Bibbs sat. + </p> + <p> + Sheridan, standing, gazed enigmatically upon his son for a period of + silence, then walked slowly to a window and stood looking out of it, his + big hands, loosely hooked together by the thumbs, behind his back. They + were soiled, as were all other hands down-town, except such as might be + still damp from a basin. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Bibbs,” he said at last, not altering his attitude, “do you know + what I'm goin' to do with you?” + </p> + <p> + Bibbs, leaning back in his chair, fixed his eyes contemplatively upon the + ceiling. “I heard you tell Jim,” he began, in his slow way. “You said + you'd send him to the machine-shop with me if he didn't propose to Miss + Vertrees. So I suppose that must be your plan for me. But—” + </p> + <p> + “But what?” said Sheridan, irritably, as the son paused. + </p> + <p> + “Isn't there somebody you'd let ME propose to?” + </p> + <p> + That brought his father sharply round to face him. “You beat the devil! + Bibbs, what IS the matter with you? Why can't you be like anybody else?” + </p> + <p> + “Liver, maybe,” said Bibbs, gently. + </p> + <p> + “Boh! Even ole Doc Gurney says there's nothin' wrong with you organically. + No. You're a dreamer, Bibbs; that's what's the matter, and that's ALL the + matter. Oh, not one o' these BIG dreamers that put through the big deals! + No, sir! You're the kind o' dreamer that just sets out on the back fence + and thinks about how much trouble there must be in the world! That ain't + the kind that builds the bridges, Bibbs; it's the kind that borrows + fifteen cents from his wife's uncle's brother-in-law to get ten cent's + worth o' plug tobacco and a nickel's worth o' quinine!” + </p> + <p> + He put the finishing touch on this etching with a snort, and turned again + to the window. + </p> + <p> + “Look out there!” he bade his son. “Look out o' that window! Look at the + life and energy down there! I should think ANY young man's blood would + tingle to get into it and be part of it. Look at the big things young men + are doin' in this town!” He swung about, coming to the mahogany desk in + the middle of the room. “Look at what I was doin' at your age! Look at + what your own brothers are doin'! Look at Roscoe! Yes, and look at Jim! I + made Jim president o' the Sheridan Realty Company last New-Year's, with + charge of every inch o' ground and every brick and every shingle and stick + o' wood we own; and it's an example to any young man—or ole man, + either—the way he took ahold of it. Last July we found out we wanted + two more big warehouses at the Pump Works—wanted 'em quick. + Contractors said it couldn't be done; said nine or ten months at the + soonest; couldn't see it any other way. What'd Jim do? Took the contract + himself; found a fellow with a new cement and concrete process; kept men + on the job night and day, and stayed on it night and day himself—and, + by George! we begin to USE them warehouses next week! Four months and a + half, and every inch fireproof! I tell you Jim's one o' these fellers that + make miracles happen! Now, I don't say every young man can be like Jim, + because there's mighty few got his ability, but every young man can go in + and do his share. This town is God's own country, and there's opportunity + for anybody with a pound of energy and an ounce o' gumption. I tell you + these young business men I watch just do my heart good! THEY don't set + around on the back fence—no, sir! They take enough exercise to keep + their health; and they go to a baseball game once or twice a week in + summer, maybe, and they're raisin' nice families, with sons to take their + places sometime and carry on the work—because the work's got to go + ON! They're puttin' their life-blood into it, I tell you, and that's why + we're gettin' bigger every minute, and why THEY'RE gettin' bigger, and why + it's all goin' to keep ON gettin' bigger!” + </p> + <p> + He slapped the desk resoundingly with his open palm, and then, observing + that Bibbs remained in the same impassive attitude, with his eyes still + fixed upon the ceiling in a contemplation somewhat plaintive, Sheridan was + impelled to groan. “Oh, Lord!” he said. “This is the way you always were. + I don't believe you understood a darn word I been sayin'! You don't LOOK + as if you did. By George! it's discouraging!” + </p> + <p> + “I don't understand about getting—about getting bigger,” said Bibbs, + bringing his gaze down to look at his father placatively. “I don't see + just why—” + </p> + <p> + “WHAT?” Sheridan leaned forward, resting his hands upon the desk and + staring across it incredulously at his son. + </p> + <p> + “I don't understand—exactly—what you want it all bigger for?” + </p> + <p> + “Great God!” shouted Sheridan, and struck the desk a blow with his + clenched fist. “A son of mine asks me that! You go out and ask the poorest + day-laborer you can find! Ask him that question—” + </p> + <p> + “I did once,” Bibbs interrupted; “when I was in the machine-shop. I—” + </p> + <p> + “Wha'd he say?” + </p> + <p> + “He said, 'Oh, hell!'” answered Bibbs, mildly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I reckon he would!” Sheridan swung away from the desk. “I reckon he + certainly would! And I got plenty sympathy with him right now, myself!” + </p> + <p> + “It's the same answer, then?” Bibbs's voice was serious, almost tremulous. + </p> + <p> + “Damnation!” Sheridan roared. “Did you ever hear the word Prosperity, you + ninny? Did you ever hear the word Ambition? Did you ever hear the word + PROGRESS?” + </p> + <p> + He flung himself into a chair after the outburst, his big chest surging, + his throat tumultuous with gutteral incoherences. “Now then,” he said, + huskily, when the anguish had somewhat abated, “what do you want to do?” + </p> + <p> + “Sir?” + </p> + <p> + “What do you WANT to do, I said.” + </p> + <p> + Taken by surprise, Bibbs stammered. “What—what do—I—what—” + </p> + <p> + “If I'd let you do exactly what you had the whim for, what would you do?” + </p> + <p> + Bibbs looked startled; then timidity overwhelmed him—a profound + shyness. He bent his head and fixed his lowered eyes upon the toe of his + shoe, which he moved to and fro upon the rug, like a culprit called to the + desk in school. + </p> + <p> + “What would you do? Loaf?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir.” Bibbs's voice was almost inaudible, and what little sound it + made was unquestionably a guilty sound. “I suppose I'd—I'd—” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose I'd try to—to write.” + </p> + <p> + “Write what?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing important—just poems and essays, perhaps.” + </p> + <p> + “That all?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “I see,” said his father, breathing quickly with the restraint he was + putting upon himself. “That is, you want to write, but you don't want to + write anything of any account.” + </p> + <p> + “You think—” + </p> + <p> + Sheridan got up again. “I take my hat off to the man that can write a good + ad,” he said, emphatically. “The best writin' talent in this country is + right spang in the ad business to-day. You buy a magazine for good writin'—look + on the back of it! Let me tell you I pay money for that kind o' writin'. + Maybe you think it's easy. Just try it! I've tried it, and I can't do it. + I tell you an ad's got to be written so it makes people do the hardest + thing in this world to GET 'em to do: it's got to make 'em give up their + MONEY! You talk about 'poems and essays.' I tell you when it comes to the + actual skill o' puttin' words together so as to make things HAPPEN, R. T. + Bloss, right here in this city, knows more in a minute than George Waldo + Emerson ever knew in his whole life!” + </p> + <p> + “You—you may be—” Bibbs said, indistinctly, the last word + smothered in a cough. + </p> + <p> + “Of COURSE I'm right! And if it ain't just like you to want to take up + with the most out-o'-date kind o' writin' there is! 'Poems and essays'! My + Lord, Bibbs, that's WOMEN'S work! You can't pick up a newspaper without + havin' to see where Mrs. Rumskididle read a paper on 'Jane Eyre,' or 'East + Lynne,' at the God-Knows-What Club. And 'poetry'! Why, look at Edith! I + expect that poem o' hers would set a pretty high-water mark for you, young + man, and it's the only one she's ever managed to write in her whole LIFE! + When I wanted her to go on and write some more she said it took too much + time. Said it took months and months. And Edith's a smart girl; she's got + more energy in her little finger than you ever give me a chance to see in + your whole body, Bibbs. Now look at the facts: say she could turn out four + or five poems a year and you could turn out maybe two. That medal she got + was worth about fifteen dollars, so there's your income—thirty + dollars a year! That's a fine success to make of your life! I'm not sayin' + a word against poetry. I wouldn't take ten thousand dollars right now for + that poem of Edith's; and poetry's all right enough in its place—but + you leave it to the girls. A man's got to do a man's work in this world!” + </p> + <p> + He seated himself in a chair at his son's side and, leaning over, tapped + Bibbs confidentially on the knee. “This city's got the greatest future in + America, and if my sons behave right by me and by themselves they're goin' + to have a mighty fair share of it—a mighty fair share. I love this + town. It's God's own footstool, and it's made money for me every day right + along, I don't know how many years. I love it like I do my own business, + and I'd fight for it as quick as I'd fight for my own family. It's a + beautiful town. Look at our wholesale district; look at any district you + want to; look at the park system we're puttin' through, and the boulevards + and the public statuary. And she grows. God! how she grows!” He had become + intensely grave; he spoke with solemnity. “Now, Bibbs, I can't take any of + it—nor any gold or silver nor buildings nor bonds—away with me + in my shroud when I have to go. But I want to leave my share in it to my + boys. I've worked for it; I've been a builder and a maker; and two blades + of grass have grown where one grew before, whenever I laid my hand on the + ground and willed 'em to grow. I've built big, and I want the buildin' to + go on. And when my last hour comes I want to know that my boys are ready + to take charge; that they're fit to take charge and go ON with it. Bibbs, + when that hour comes I want to know that my boys are big men, ready and + fit to take hold of big things. Bibbs, when I'm up above I want to know that + the big share I've made mine, here below, is growin' bigger and bigger in + the charge of my boys.” + </p> + <p> + He leaned back, deeply moved. “There!” he said, huskily. “I've never + spoken more what was in my heart in my life. I do it because I want you to + understand—and not think me a mean father. I never had to talk that + way to Jim and Roscoe. They understood without any talk, Bibbs.” + </p> + <p> + “I see,” said Bibbs. “At least I think I do. But—” + </p> + <p> + “Wait a minute!” Sheridan raised his hand. “If you see the least bit in + the world, then you understand how it feels to me to have my son set here + and talk about 'poems and essays' and such-like fooleries. And you must + understand, too, what it meant to start one o' my boys and have him come + back on me the way you did, and have to be sent to a sanitarium because he + couldn't stand work. Now, let's get right down to it, Bibbs. I've had a + whole lot o' talk with ole Doc Gurney about you, one time another, and I + reckon I understand your case just about as well as he does, anyway! Now + here, I'll be frank with you. I started you in harder than what I did the + other boys, and that was for your own good, because I saw you needed to be + shook up more'n they did. You were always kind of moody and mopish—and + you needed work that'd keep you on the jump. Now, why did it make you sick + instead of brace you up and make a man of you the way it ought of done? I + pinned ole Gurney down to it. I says, 'Look here, ain't it really because + he just plain hated it?' 'Yes,' he says, 'that's it. If he'd enjoyed it, + it wouldn't 'a' hurt him. He loathes it, and that affects his nervous + system. The more he tries it, the more he hates it; and the more he hates + it, the more injury it does him.' That ain't quite his words, but it's + what he meant. And that's about the way it is.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Bibbs, “that's about the way it is.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, I reckon it's up to me not only to make you do it, but to + make you like it!” + </p> + <p> + Bibbs shivered. And he turned upon his father a look that was almost + ghostly. “I can't,” he said, in a low voice. “I can't.” + </p> + <p> + “Can't go back to the shop?” + </p> + <p> + “No. Can't like it. I can't.” + </p> + <p> + Sheridan jumped up, his patience gone. To his own view, he had reasoned + exhaustively, had explained fully and had pleaded more than a father + should, only to be met in the end with the unreasoning and mysterious + stubbornness which had been Bibbs's baffling characteristic from + childhood. “By George, you will!” he cried. “You'll go back there and + you'll like it! Gurney says it won't hurt you if you like it, and he says + it'll kill you if you go back and hate it; so it looks as if it was about + up to you not to hate it. Well, Gurney's a fool! Hatin' work doesn't kill + anybody; and this isn't goin' to kill you, whether you hate it or not. + I've never made a mistake in a serious matter in my life, and it wasn't a + mistake my sendin' you there in the first place. And I'm goin' to prove it—I'm + goin' to send you back there and vindicate my judgment. Gurney says it's + all 'mental attitude.' Well, you're goin' to learn the right one! He says + in a couple more months this fool thing that's been the matter with you'll + be disappeared completely and you'll be back in as good or better + condition than you were before you ever went into the shop. And right then + is when you begin over—right in that same shop! Nobody can call me a + hard man or a mean father. I do the best I can for my chuldern, and I take + full responsibility for bringin' my sons up to be men. Now, so far, I've + failed with you. But I'm not goin' to keep ON failin'. I never tackled a + job YET I didn't put through, and I'm not goin' to begin with my own son. + I'm goin' to make a MAN of you. By God! I am!” + </p> + <p> + Bibbs rose and went slowly to the door, where he turned. “You say you give + me a couple of months?” he said. + </p> + <p> + Sheridan pushed a bell-button on his desk. “Gurney said two months more + would put you back where you were. You go home and begin to get yourself + in the right 'mental attitude' before those two months are up! Good-by!” + </p> + <p> + “Good-by, sir,” said Bibbs, meekly. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X + </h2> + <p> + Bibbs's room, that neat apartment for transients to which the “lamidal” + George had shown him upon his return, still bore the appearance of + temporary quarters, possibly because Bibbs had no clear conception of + himself as a permanent incumbent. However, he had set upon the mantelpiece + the two photographs that he owned: one, a “group” twenty years old—his + father and mother, with Jim and Roscoe as boys—and the other a + “cabinet” of Edith at sixteen. And upon a table were the books he had + taken from his trunk: Sartor Resartus, Virginibus Puerisque, Huckleberry + Finn, and Afterwhiles. There were some other books in the trunk—a + large one, which remained unremoved at the foot of the bed, adding to the + general impression of transiency. It contained nearly all the possessions + as well as the secret life of Bibbs Sheridan, and Bibbs sat beside it, the + day after his interview with his father, raking over a small collection of + manuscripts in the top tray. Some of these he glanced through dubiously, + finding little comfort in them; but one made him smile. Then he shook his + head ruefully indeed, and ruefully began to read it. It was written on + paper stamped “Hood Sanitarium,” and bore the title, “Leisure.” + </p> +<div class="blok"> +<p> A man may keep a quiet heart at seventy miles an hour, but not if + he is running the train. Nor is the habit of contemplation a useful + quality in the stoker of a foundry furnace; it will not be found to + recommend him to the approbation of his superiors. For a profession + adapted solely to the pursuit of happiness in thinking, I would + choose that of an invalid: his money is time and he may spend it on + Olympus. It will not suffice to be an amateur invalid. To my way + of thinking, the perfect practitioner must be to all outward + purposes already dead if he is to begin the perfect enjoyment of + life. His serenity must not be disturbed by rumors of recovery; he + must lie serene in his long chair in the sunshine. The world must + be on the other side of the wall, and the wall must be so thick and + so high that he cannot hear the roaring of the furnace fires and the + screaming of the whistles. Peace—</p> +</div> + <p> + Having read so far as the word “peace,” Bibbs suffered an interruption + interesting as a coincidence of contrast. High voices sounded in the hall + just outside his door; and it became evident that a woman's quarrel was in + progress, the parties to it having begun it in Edith's room, and + continuing it vehemently as they came out into the hall. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you BETTER go home!” Bibbs heard his sister vociferating, shrilly. + “You better go home and keep your mind a little more on your HUSBAND!” + </p> + <p> + “Edie, Edie!” he heard his mother remonstrating, as peacemaker. + </p> + <p> + “You see here!” This was Sibyl, and her voice was both acrid and + tremulous. “Don't you talk to me that way! I came here to tell Mother + Sheridan what I'd heard, and to let her tell Father Sheridan if she + thought she ought to, and I did it for your own good.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you did!” And Edith's gibing laughter tooted loudly. “Yes, you did! + YOU didn't have any other reason! OH no! YOU don't want to break it up + between Bobby Lamhorn and me because—” + </p> + <p> + “Edie, Edie! Now, now!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, hush up, mamma! I'd like to know, then, if she says her new friends + tell her he's got such a reputation that he oughtn't to come here, what + about his not going to HER house. How—” + </p> + <p> + “I've explained that to Mother Sheridan.” Sibyl's voice indicated that she + was descending the stairs. “Married people are not the same. Some things + that should be shielded from a young girl—” + </p> + <p> + This seemed to have no very soothing effect upon Edith. “'Shielded from a + young girl'!” she shrilled. “You seem pretty willing to be the shield! You + look out Roscoe doesn't notice what kind of a shield you are!” + </p> + <p> + Sibyl's answer was inaudible, but Mrs. Sheridan's flurried attempts at + pacification were renewed. “Now, Edie, Edie, she means it for your good, + and you'd oughtn't to—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, hush up, mamma, and let me alone! If you dare tell papa—” + </p> + <p> + “Now, now! I'm not going to tell him to-day, and maybe—” + </p> + <p> + “You've got to promise NEVER to tell him!” the girl cried, passionately. + </p> + <p> + “Well, we'll see. You just come back in your own room, and we'll—” + </p> + <p> + “No! I WON'T 'talk it over'! Stop pulling me! Let me ALONE!” And Edith, + flinging herself violently upon Bibbs's door, jerked it open, swung round + it into the room, slammed the door behind her, and threw herself, face + down, upon the bed in such a riot of emotion that she had no perception of + Bibbs's presence in the room. Gasping and sobbing in a passion of tears, + she beat the coverlet and pillows with her clenched fists. “Sneak!” she + babbled aloud. “Sneak! Snake-in-the-grass! Cat!” + </p> + <p> + Bibbs saw that she did not know he was there, and he went softly toward + the door, hoping to get away before she became aware of him; but some + sound of his movement reached her, and she sat up, startled, facing him. + </p> + <p> + “Bibbs! I thought I saw you go out awhile ago.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I came back, though. I'm sorry—” + </p> + <p> + “Did you hear me quarreling with Sibyl?” + </p> + <p> + “Only what you said in the hall. You lie down again, Edith. I'm going + out.” + </p> + <p> + “No; don't go.” She applied a handkerchief to her eyes, emitted a sob, and + repeated her request. “Don't go. I don't mind you; you're quiet, anyhow. + Mamma's so fussy, and never gets anywhere. I don't mind you at all, but I + wish you'd sit down.” + </p> + <p> + “All right.” And he returned to his chair beside the trunk. “Go ahead and + cry all you want, Edith,” he said. “No harm in that!” + </p> + <p> + “Sibyl told mamma—OH!” she began, choking. “Mary Vertrees had mamma + and Sibyl and I to tea, one afternoon two weeks or so ago, and she had + some women there that Sibyl's been crazy to get in with, and she just laid + herself out to make a hit with 'em, and she's been running after 'em ever + since, and now she comes over here and says THEY say Bobby Lamhorn is so + bad that, even though they like his family, none of the nice people in + town would let him in their houses. In the first place, it's a falsehood, + and I don't believe a word of it; and in the second place I know the + reason she did it, and, what's more, she KNOWS I know it! I won't SAY what + it is—not yet—because papa and all of you would think I'm as + crazy as she is snaky; and Roscoe's such a fool he'd probably quit + speaking to me. But it's true! Just you watch her; that's all I ask. Just + you watch that woman. You'll see!” + </p> + <p> + As it happened, Bibbs was literally watching “that woman.” Glancing from + the window, he saw Sibyl pause upon the pavement in front of the old house + next door. She stood a moment, in deep thought, then walked quickly up the + path to the door, undoubtedly with the intention of calling. But he did + not mention this to his sister, who, after delivering herself of a rather + vague jeremiad upon the subject of her sister-in-law's treacheries, + departed to her own chamber, leaving him to his speculations. The chief of + these concerned the social elasticities of women. Sibyl had just been a + participant in a violent scene; she had suffered hot insult of a kind that + could not fail to set her quivering with resentment; and yet she elected + to betake herself to the presence of people whom she knew no more than + “formally.” Bibbs marveled. Surely, he reflected, some traces of emotion + must linger upon Sibyl's face or in her manner; she could not have ironed + it all quite out in the three or four minutes it took her to reach the + Vertreeses' door. + </p> + <p> + And in this he was not mistaken, for Mary Vertrees was at that moment + wondering what internal excitement Mrs. Roscoe Sheridan was striving to + master. But Sibyl had no idea that she was allowing herself to exhibit + anything except the gaiety which she conceived proper to the manner of a + casual caller. She was wholly intent upon fulfilling the sudden purpose + that brought her, and she was no more self-conscious than she was finely + intelligent. For Sibyl Sheridan belonged to a type Scriptural in its + antiquity. She was merely the idle and half-educated intriguer who may and + does delude men, of course, and the best and dullest of her own sex as + well, finding invariably strong supporters among these latter. It is a + type that has wrought some damage in the world and would have wrought + greater, save for the check put upon its power by intelligent women and by + its own “lack of perspective,” for it is a type that never sees itself. + Sibyl followed her impulses with no reflection or question—it was + like a hound on the gallop after a master on horseback. She had not even + the instinct to stop and consider her effect. If she wished to make a + certain impression she believed that she made it. She believed that she + was believed. + </p> + <p> + “My mother asked me to say that she was sorry she couldn't come down,” + Mary said, when they were seated. + </p> + <p> + Sibyl ran the scale of a cooing simulance of laughter, which she had been + brought up to consider the polite thing to do after a remark addressed to + her by any person with whom she was not on familiar terms. It was intended + partly as a courtesy and partly as the foundation for an impression of + sweetness. + </p> + <p> + “Just thought I'd fly in a minute,” she said, continuing the cooing to + relieve the last doubt of her gentiality. “I thought I'd just behave like + REAL country neighbors. We are almost out in the country, so far from + down-town, aren't we? And it seemed such a LOVELY day! I wanted to tell + you how much I enjoyed meeting those nice people at tea that afternoon. + You see, coming here a bride and never having lived here before, I've had + to depend on my husband's friends almost entirely, and I really've known + scarcely anybody. Mr. Sheridan has been so engrossed in business ever + since he was a mere boy, why, of course—” + </p> + <p> + She paused, with the air of having completed an explanation. + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” said Mary, sympathetically accepting it. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I've been seeing quite a lot of the Kittersbys since that + afternoon,” Sibyl went on. “They're really delightful people. Indeed they + are! Yes—” + </p> + <p> + She stopped with unconscious abruptness, her mind plainly wandering to + another matter; and Mary perceived that she had come upon a definite + errand. Moreover, a tensing of Sibyl's eyelids, in that moment of + abstraction as she looked aside from her hostess, indicated that the + errand was a serious one for the caller and easily to be connected with + the slight but perceptible agitation underlying her assumption of cheerful + ease. There was a restlessness of breathing, a restlessness of hands. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Kittersby and her daughter were chatting about some of the people + here in town the other day,” said Sibyl, repeating the cooing and + protracting it. “They said something that took ME by surprise! We were + talking about our mutual friend, Mr. Robert Lamhorn—” + </p> + <p> + Mary interrupted her promptly. “Do you mean 'mutual' to include my mother + and me?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes; the Kittersbys and you and all of us Sheridans, I mean.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Mary. “We shouldn't consider Mr. Robert Lamhorn a friend of + ours.” + </p> + <p> + To her surprise, Sibyl nodded eagerly, as if greatly pleased. “That's just + the way Mrs. Kittersby talked!” she cried, with a vehemence that made Mary + stare. “Yes, and I hear that's the way ALL you old families here speak of + him!” + </p> + <p> + Mary looked aside, but otherwise she was able to maintain her composure. + “I had the impression he was a friend of yours,” she said; adding, + hastily, “and your husband's.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes,” said the caller, absently. “He is, certainly. A man's reputation + for a little gaiety oughtn't to make a great difference to married people, + of course. It's where young girls are in question. THEN it may be very, + very dangerous. There are a great many things safe and proper for married + people that might be awf'ly imprudent for a young girl. Don't you agree, + Miss Vertrees?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know,” returned the frank Mary. “Do you mean that you intend to + remain a friend of Mr. Lamhorn's, but disapprove of Miss Sheridan's doing + so?” + </p> + <p> + “That's it exactly!” was the naive and ardent response of Sibyl. “What I + feel about it is that a man with his reputation isn't at all suitable for + Edith, and the family ought to be made to understand it. I tell you,” she + cried, with a sudden access of vehemence, “her father ought to put his + foot down!” + </p> + <p> + Her eyes flashed with a green spark; something seemed to leap out and then + retreat, but not before Mary had caught a glimpse of it, as one might + catch a glimpse of a thing darting forth and then scuttling back into + hiding under a bush. + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” said Sibyl, much more composedly, “I hardly need say that + it's entirely on Edith's account that I'm worried about this. I'm as fond + of Edith as if she was really my sister, and I can't help fretting about + it. It would break my heart to have Edith's life spoiled.” + </p> + <p> + This tune was off the key, to Mary's ear. Sibyl tried to sing with pathos, + but she flatted. + </p> + <p> + And when a lady receives a call from another who suffers under the stress + of some feeling which she wishes to conceal, there is not uncommonly + developed a phenomenon of duality comparable to the effect obtained by + placing two mirrors opposite each other, one clear and the other flawed. + In this case, particularly, Sibyl had an imperfect consciousness of Mary. + The Mary Vertrees that she saw was merely something to be cozened to her + own frantic purpose—a Mary Vertrees who was incapable of penetrating + that purpose. Sibyl sat there believing that she was projecting the image + of herself that she desired to project, never dreaming that with every + word, every look, and every gesture she was more and more fully disclosing + the pitiable truth to the clear eyes of Mary. And the Sibyl that Mary saw + was an overdressed woman, in manner half rustic, and in mind as shallow as + a pan, but possessed by emotions that appeared to be strong—perhaps + even violent. What those emotions were Mary had not guessed, but she began + to suspect. + </p> + <p> + “And Edith's life WOULD be spoiled,” Sibyl continued. “It would be a + dreadful thing for the whole family. She's the very apple of Father + Sheridan's eye, and he's as proud of her as he is of Jim and Roscoe. It + would be a horrible thing for him to have her marry a man like Robert + Lamhorn; but he doesn't KNOW anything about him, and if somebody doesn't + tell him, what I'm most afraid of is that Edith might get his consent and + hurry on the wedding before he finds out, and then it would be too late. + You see, Miss Vertrees, it's very difficult for me to decide just what + it's my duty to do.” + </p> + <p> + “I see,” said Mary, looking at her thoughtfully, “Does Miss Sheridan seem + to—to care very much about him?” + </p> + <p> + “He's deliberately fascinated her,” returned the visitor, beginning to + breathe quickly and heavily. “Oh, she wasn't difficult! She knew she + wasn't in right in this town, and she was crazy to meet the people that + were, and she thought he was one of 'em. But that was only the start that + made it easy for him—and he didn't need it. He could have done it, + anyway!” Sibyl was launched now; her eyes were furious and her voice + shook. “He went after her deliberately, the way he does everything; he's + as cold-blooded as a fish. All he cares about is his own pleasure, and + lately he's decided it would be pleasant to get hold of a piece of real + money—and there was Edith! And he'll marry her! Nothing on earth can + stop him unless he finds out she won't HAVE any money if she marries him, + and the only person that could make him understand that is Father + Sheridan. Somehow, that's got to be managed, because Lamhorn is going to + hurry it on as fast as he can. He told me so last night. He said he was + going to marry her the first minute he could persuade her to it—and + little Edith's all ready to be persuaded!” Sibyl's eyes flashed green + again. “And he swore he'd do it,” she panted. “He swore he'd marry Edith + Sheridan, and nothing on earth could stop him!” + </p> + <p> + And then Mary understood. Her lips parted and she stared at the babbling + creature incredulously, a sudden vivid picture in her mind, a canvas of + unconscious Sibyl's painting. Mary beheld it with pity and horror: she saw + Sibyl clinging to Robert Lamhorn, raging, in a whisper, perhaps—for + Roscoe might have been in the house, or servants might have heard. She saw + Sibyl entreating, beseeching, threatening despairingly, and Lamhorn—tired + of her—first evasive, then brutally letting her have the truth; and + at last, infuriated, “swearing” to marry her rival. If Sibyl had not + babbled out the word “swore” it might have been less plain. + </p> + <p> + The poor woman blundered on, wholly unaware of what she had confessed. + “You see,” she said, more quietly, “whatever's going to be done ought to + be done right away. I went over and told Mother Sheridan what I'd heard + about Lamhorn—oh, I was open and aboveboard! I told her right before + Edith. I think it ought all to be done with perfect frankness, because + nobody can say it isn't for the girl's own good and what her best friend + would do. But Mother Sheridan's under Edith's thumb, and she's afraid to + ever come right out with anything. Father Sheridan's different. Edith can + get anything she wants out of him in the way of money or ordinary + indulgence, but when it comes to a matter like this he'd be a steel rock. + If it's a question of his will against anybody else's he'd make his will + rule if it killed 'em both! Now, he'd never in the world let Lamhorn come + near the house again if he knew his reputation. So, you see, somebody's + got to tell him. It isn't a very easy position for me, is it, Miss + Vertrees?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Mary, gravely. + </p> + <p> + “Well, to be frank,” said Sibyl, smiling, “that's why I've come to you.” + </p> + <p> + “To ME!” Mary frowned. + </p> + <p> + Sibyl rippled and cooed again. “There isn't ANYBODY ever made such a hit + with Father Sheridan in his life as you have. And of course we ALL hope + you're not going to be exactly an outsider in the affairs of the family!” + (This sally with another and louder effect of laughter). “And if it's MY + duty, why, in a way, I think it might be thought yours, too.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no!” exclaimed Mary, sharply. + </p> + <p> + “Listen,” said Sibyl. “Now suppose I go to Father Sheridan with this + story, and Edith says it's not true; suppose she says Lamhorn has a good + reputation and that I'm repeating irresponsible gossip, or suppose (what's + most likely) she loses her temper and says I invented it, then what am I + going to do? Father Sheridan doesn't know Mrs. Kittersby and her daughter, + and they're out of the question, anyway. But suppose I could say: 'All + right, if you want proof, ask Miss Vertrees. She came with me, and she's + waiting in the next room right now, to—” + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” said Mary, quickly. “You mustn't—” + </p> + <p> + “Listen just a minute more,” Sibyl urged, confidingly. She was on easy + ground now, to her own mind, and had no doubt of her success. “You + naturally don't want to begin by taking part in a family quarrel, but if + YOU take part in it, it won't be one. You don't know yourself what weight + you carry over there, and no one would have the right to say you did it + except out of the purest kindness. Don't you see that Jim and his father + would admire you all the more for it? Miss Vertrees, listen! Don't you see + we OUGHT to do it, you and I? Do you suppose Robert Lamhorn cares a snap + of his finger for her? Do you suppose a man like him would LOOK at Edith + Sheridan if it wasn't for the money?” And again Sibyl's emotion rose to + the surface. “I tell you he's after nothing on earth but to get his finger + in that old man's money-pile, over there, next door! He'd marry ANYBODY to + do it. Marry Edith?” she cried. “I tell you he'd marry their nigger cook + for THAT!” + </p> + <p> + She stopped, afraid—at the wrong time—that she had been too + vehement, but a glance at Mary reassured her, and Sibyl decided that she + had produced the effect she wished. Mary was not looking at her; she was + staring straight before her at the wall, her eyes wide and shining. She + became visibly a little paler as Sibyl looked at her. + </p> + <p> + “After nothing on earth but to get his finger in that old man's + money-pile, over there, next door!” The voice was vulgar, the words were + vulgar—and the plain truth was vulgar! How it rang in Mary + Vertrees's ears! The clear mirror had caught its own image clearly in the + flawed one at last. + </p> + <p> + Sibyl put forth her best bid to clench the matter. She offered her + bargain. “Now don't you worry,” she said, sunnily, “about this setting + Edith against you. She'll get over it after a while, anyway, but if she + tried to be spiteful and make it uncomfortable for you when you drop in + over there, or managed so as to sort of leave you out, why, I've got a + house, and Jim likes to come there. I don't THINK Edith WOULD be that way; + she's too crazy to have you take her around with the smart crowd, but if + she DID, you needn't worry. And another thing—I guess you won't mind + Jim's own sister-in-law speaking of it. Of course, I don't know just how + matters stand between you and Jim, but Jim and Roscoe are about as much + alike as two brothers can be, and Roscoe was very slow making up his mind; + sometimes I used to think he actually never WOULD. Now, what I mean is, + sisters-in-law can do lots of things to help matters on like that. There's + lots of little things can be said, and lots—” + </p> + <p> + She stopped, puzzled. Mary Vertrees had gone from pale to scarlet, and + now, still scarlet indeed, she rose, without a word of explanation, or any + other kind of word, and walked slowly to the open door and out of the + room. + </p> + <p> + Sibyl was a little taken aback. She supposed Mary had remembered something + neglected and necessary for the instruction of a servant, and that she + would return in a moment; but it was rather a rude excess of + absent-mindedness not to have excused herself, especially as her guest was + talking. And, Mary's return being delayed, Sibyl found time to think this + unprefaced exit odder and ruder than she had first considered it. There + might have been more excuse for it, she thought, had she been speaking of + matters less important—offering to do the girl all the kindness in + her power, too! + </p> + <p> + Sibyl yawned and swung her muff impatiently; she examined the sole of her + shoe; she decided on a new shape of heel; she made an inventory of the + furniture of the room, of the rugs, of the wall-paper and engravings. Then + she looked at her watch and frowned; went to a window and stood looking + out upon the brown lawn, then came back to the chair she had abandoned, + and sat again. There was no sound in the house. + </p> + <p> + A strange expression began imperceptibly to alter the planes of her face, + and slowly she grew as scarlet as Mary—scarlet to the ears. She + looked at her watch again—and twenty-five minutes had elapsed since + she had looked at it before. + </p> + <p> + She went into the hall, glanced over her shoulder oddly; then she let + herself softly out of the front door, and went across the street to her + own house. + </p> + <p> + Roscoe met her upon the threshold, gloomily. “Saw you from the window,” he + explained. “You must find a lot to say to that old lady.” + </p> + <p> + “What old lady?” + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Vertrees. I been waiting for you a long time, and I saw the daughter + come out, fifteen minutes ago, and post a letter, and then walk on up the + street. Don't stand out on the porch,” he said, crossly. “Come in here. + There's something it's come time I'll have to talk to you about. Come in!” + </p> + <p> + But as she was moving to obey he glanced across at his father's house and + started. He lifted his hand to shield his eyes from the setting sun, + staring fixedly. “Something's the matter over there,” he muttered, and + then, more loudly, as alarm came into his voice, he said, “What's the + matter over there?” + </p> + <p> + Bibbs dashed out of the gate in an automobile set at its highest speed, + and as he saw Roscoe he made a gesture singularly eloquent of calamity, + and was lost at once in a cloud of dust down the street. Edith had + followed part of the way down the drive, and it could be seen that she was + crying bitterly. She lifted both arms to Roscoe, summoning him. + </p> + <p> + “By George!” gasped Roscoe. “I believe somebody's dead!” + </p> + <p> + And he started for the New House at a run. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI + </h2> + <p> + Sheridan had decided to conclude his day's work early that afternoon, and + at about two o'clock he left his office with a man of affairs from foreign + parts, who had traveled far for a business conference with Sheridan and + his colleagues. Herr Favre, in spite of his French name, was a gentleman + of Bavaria. It was his first visit to our country, and Sheridan took + pleasure in showing him the sights of the country's finest city. They got + into an open car at the main entrance of the Sheridan Building, and were + driven first, slowly and momentously, through the wholesale district and + the retail district; then more rapidly they inspected the packing-houses + and the stock-yards; then skirmished over the “park system” and + “boulevards”; and after that whizzed through the “residence section” on + their way to the factories and foundries. + </p> + <p> + “All cray,” observed Herr Favre, smilingly. + </p> + <p> + “'Cray'?” echoed Sheridan. “I don't know what you mean. 'Cray'?” + </p> + <p> + “No white,” said Herr Favre, with a wave of his hand toward the long rows + of houses on both sides of the street. “No white lace window-curtains; all + cray lace window-curtains.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh. I see!” Sheridan laughed indulgently. “You mean 'GRAY.' No, they + ain't, they're white. I never saw any gray ones.” + </p> + <p> + Herr Favre shook his head, much amused. “There are NO white ones,” he + said. “There is no white ANYTHING in your city; no white window-curtains, + no white house, no white peeble!” He pointed upward. “Smoke!” Then he + sniffed the air and clasped his nose between forefinger and thumb. “Smoke! + Smoke ef'rywhere. Smoke in your insites.” He tapped his chest. “Smoke in + your lunks!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! SMOKE!” Sheridan cried with gusto, drawing in a deep breath and + patently finding it delicious. “You BET we got smoke!” + </p> + <p> + “Exbensif!” said Herr Favre. “Ruins foliage; ruins fabrics. Maybe in + summer it iss not so bad, but I wonder your wifes will bear it.” + </p> + <p> + Sheridan laughed uproariously. “They know it means new spring hats for + 'em!” + </p> + <p> + “They must need many, too!” said the visitor. “New hats, new all things, + but nothing white. In Munchen we could not do it; we are a safing peeble.” + </p> + <p> + “Where's that?” + </p> + <p> + “In Munchen. You say 'Munich.'” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I never been to Munich, but I took in the Mediterranean trip, and I + tell you, outside o' some right good scenery, all I saw was mighty dirty + and mighty shiftless and mighty run-down at the heel. Now comin' right + down TO it, Mr. Farver, wouldn't you rather live here in this town than in + Munich? I know you got more enterprise up there than the part of the old + country I saw, and I know YOU'RE a live business man and you're associated + with others like you, but when it comes to LIVIN' in a place, wouldn't you + heap rather be here than over there?” + </p> + <p> + “For me,” said Herr Favre, “no. Here I should not think I was living. It + would be like the miner who goes into the mine to work; nothing else.” + </p> + <p> + “We got a good many good citizens here from your part o' the world. THEY + like it.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes.” And Herr Favre laughed deprecatingly. “The first generation, + they bring their Germany with them; then, after that, they are Americans, + like you.” He tapped his host's big knee genially. “You are patriot; so + are they.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I reckon you must be a pretty hot little patriot yourself, Mr. + Farver!” Sheridan exclaimed, gaily. “You certainly stand up for your own + town, if you stick to sayin' you'd rather live there than you would here. + Yes, SIR! You sure are some patriot to say THAT—after you've seen + our city! It ain't reasonable in you, but I must say I kind of admire you + for it; every man ought to stick up for his own, even when he sees the + other fellow's got the goods on him. Yet I expect way down deep in your + heart, Mr. Farver, you'd rather live right here than any place else in the + world, if you had your choice. Man alive! this is God's country, Mr. + Farver, and a blind man couldn't help seein' it! You couldn't stand where + you do in a business way and NOT see it. Soho, boy! Here we are. This is + the big works, and I'll show you something now that'll make your eyes + stick out!” + </p> + <p> + They had arrived at the Pump Works; and for an hour Mr. Favre was + personally conducted and personally instructed by the founder and + president, the buzzing queen bee of those buzzing hives. + </p> + <p> + “Now I'll take you for a spin in the country,” said Sheridan, when at last + they came out to the car again. “We'll take a breezer.” But, with his foot + on the step, he paused to hail a neat young man who came out of the office + smiling a greeting. “Hello, young fellow!” Sheridan said, heartily. “On + the job, are you, Jimmie? Ha! They don't catch you OFF of it very often, I + guess, though I do hear you go automobile-ridin' in the country sometimes + with a mighty fine-lookin' girl settin' up beside you!” He roared with + laughter, clapping his son upon the shoulder. “That's all right with me—if + it is with HER! So, Jimmie? Well, when we goin' to move into your new + warehouses? Monday?” + </p> + <p> + “Sunday, if you want to,” said Jim. + </p> + <p> + “No!” cried his father, delighted. “Don't tell me you're goin' to keep + your word about dates! That's no way to do contractin'! Never heard of a + contractor yet didn't want more time.” + </p> + <p> + “They'll be all ready for you on the minute,” said Jim. “I'm going over + both of 'em now, with Links and Sherman, from foundation to roof. I guess + they'll pass inspection, too!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, when you get through with that,” said his father, “you go and + take your girl out ridin'. By George! you've earned it! You tell her you + stand high with ME!” He stepped into the car, waving a waggish farewell, + and when the wheels were in motion again, he turned upon his companion a + broad face literally shining with pride. “That's my boy Jimmie!” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Fine young man, yes,” said Herr Favre. + </p> + <p> + “I got two o' the finest boys,” said Sheridan, “I got two o' the finest + boys God ever made, and that's a fact, Mr. Farver! Jim's the oldest, and I + tell you they got to get up the day before if they expect to catch HIM in + bed! My other boy, Roscoe, he's always to the good, too, but Jim's a + wizard. You saw them two new-process warehouses, just about finished? + Well, JIM built 'em. I'll tell you about that, Mr. Farver.” And he recited + this history, describing the new process at length; in fact, he had such + pride in Jim's achievement that he told Herr Favre all about it more than + once. + </p> + <p> + “Fine young man, yes,” repeated the good Munchner, three-quarters of an + hour later. They were many miles out in the open country by this time. + </p> + <p> + “He is that!” said Sheridan, adding, as if confidentially: “I got a fine + family, Mr. Farver—fine chuldern. I got a daughter now; you take her + and put her anywhere you please, and she'll shine up with ANY of 'em. + There's culture and refinement and society in this town by the car-load, + and here lately she's been gettin' right in the thick of it—her and + my daughter-in-law, both. I got a mighty fine daughter-in-law, Mr. Farver. + I'm goin' to get you up for a meal with us before you leave town, and + you'll see—and, well, sir, from all I hear the two of 'em been + holdin' their own with the best. Myself, I and the wife never had time for + much o' that kind o' doin's, but it's all right and good for the chuldern; + and my daughter she's always kind of taken to it. I'll read you a poem she + wrote when I get you up at the house. She wrote it in school and took the + first prize for poetry with it. I tell you they don't make 'em any + smarter'n that girl, Mr. Farver. Yes, sir; take us all round, we're a + pretty happy family; yes, sir. Roscoe hasn't got any chuldern yet, and I + haven't ever spoke to him and his wife about it—it's kind of a + delicate matter—but it's about time the wife and I saw some + gran'-chuldern growin' up around us. I certainly do hanker for about four + or five little curly-headed rascals to take on my knee. Boys, I hope, o' + course; that's only natural. Jim's got his eye on a mighty + splendid-lookin' girl; lives right next door to us. I expect you heard me + joshin' him about it back yonder. She's one of the ole blue-bloods here, + and I guess it was a mighty good stock—to raise HER! She's one these + girls that stand right up and look at you! And pretty? She's the prettiest + thing you ever saw! Good size, too; good health and good sense. Jim'll be + just right if he gets her. I must say it tickles ME to think o' the way + that boy took ahold o' that job back yonder. Four months and a half! Yes, + sir—” + </p> + <p> + He expanded this theme once more; and thus he continued to entertain the + stranger throughout the long drive. Darkness had fallen before they + reached the city on their return, and it was after five when Sheridan + allowed Herr Favre to descend at the door of his hotel, where boys were + shrieking extra editions of the evening paper. + </p> + <p> + “Now, good night, Mr. Farver,” said Sheridan, leaning from the car to + shake hands with his guest. “Don't forget I'm goin' to come around and + take you up to—Go on away, boy!” + </p> + <p> + A newsboy had thrust himself almost between them, yelling, “Extry! Secon' + Extry. Extry, all about the horrable acciDENT. Extry!” + </p> + <p> + “Get out!” laughed Sheridan. “Who wants to read about accidents? Get out!” + </p> + <p> + The boy moved away philosophically. “Extry! Extry!” he shrilled. “Three + men killed! Extry! Millionaire killed! Two other men killed! Extry! + Extry!” + </p> + <p> + “Don't forget, Mr. Farver,” Sheridan completed his interrupted farewells. + “I'll come by to take you up to our house for dinner. I'll be here for you + about half-past five to-morrow afternoon. Hope you 'njoyed the drive much + as I have. Good night—good night!” He leaned back, speaking to the + chauffer. “Now you can take me around to the Central City barber-shop, + boy. I want to get a shave 'fore I go up home.” + </p> + <p> + “Extry! Extry!” screamed the newsboys, zig-zagging among the crowds like + bats in the dusk. “Extry! All about the horrable acciDENT! Extry!” It + struck Sheridan that the papers sent out too many “Extras”; they printed + “Extras” for all sorts of petty crimes and casualties. It was a mistake, + he decided, critically. Crying “Wolf!” too often wouldn't sell the goods; + it was bad business. The papers would “make more in the long run,” he was + sure, if they published an “Extra” only when something of real importance + happened. + </p> + <p> + “Extry! All about the hor'ble AX'nt! Extry!” a boy squawked under his + nose, as he descended from the car. + </p> + <p> + “Go on away!” said Sheridan, gruffly, though he smiled. He liked to see + the youngsters working so noisily to get on in the world. + </p> + <p> + But as he crossed the pavement to the brilliant glass doors of the + barber-shop, a second newsboy grasped the arm of the one who had thus + cried his wares. + </p> + <p> + “Say, Yallern,” said this second, hoarse with awe, “'n't chew know who + that IS?” + </p> + <p> + “Who?” + </p> + <p> + “It's SHERIDAN!” + </p> + <p> + “Jeest!” cried the first, staring insanely. + </p> + <p> + At about the same hour, four times a week—Monday, Wednesday, Friday, + and Saturday—Sheridan stopped at this shop to be shaved by the head + barber. The barbers were negroes, he was their great man, and it was their + habit to give him a “reception,” his entrance being always the signal for + a flurry of jocular hospitality, followed by general excesses of briskness + and gaiety. But it was not so this evening. + </p> + <p> + The shop was crowded. Copies of the “Extra” were being read by men + waiting, and by men in the latter stages of treatment. “Extras” lay upon + vacant seats and showed from the pockets of hanging coats. + </p> + <p> + There was a loud chatter between the practitioners and their recumbent + patients, a vocal charivari which stopped abruptly as Sheridan opened the + door. His name seemed to fizz in the air like the last sputtering of a + firework; the barbers stopped shaving and clipping; lathered men turned + their prostrate heads to stare, and there was a moment of amazing silence + in the shop. + </p> + <p> + The head barber, nearest the door, stood like a barber in a tableau. His + left hand held stretched between thumb and forefinger an elastic section + of his helpless customer's cheek, while his right hand hung poised above + it, the razor motionless. And then, roused from trance by the door's + closing, he accepted the fact of Sheridan's presence. The barber + remembered that there are no circumstances in life—or just after it—under + which a man does not need to be shaved. + </p> + <p> + He stepped forward, profoundly grave. “I be through with this man in the + chair one minute, Mist' Sheridan,” he said, in a hushed tone. “Yessuh.” + And of a solemn negro youth who stood by, gazing stupidly, “You goin' + RESIGN?” he demanded in a fierce undertone. “You goin' take Mist' + Sheridan's coat?” He sent an angry look round the shop, and the barbers, + taking his meaning, averted their eyes and fell to work, the murmur of + subdued conversation buzzing from chair to chair. + </p> + <p> + “You sit down ONE minute, Mist' Sheridan,” said the head barber, gently. + “I fix nice chair fo' you to wait in.” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind,” said Sheridan. “Go on get through with your man.” + </p> + <p> + “Yessuh.” And he went quickly back to his chair on tiptoe, followed by + Sheridan's puzzled gaze. + </p> + <p> + Something had gone wrong in the shop, evidently. Sheridan did not know + what to make of it. Ordinarily he would have shouted a hilarious demand + for the meaning of the mystery, but an inexplicable silence had been + imposed upon him by the hush that fell upon his entrance and by the odd + look every man in the shop had bent upon him. + </p> + <p> + Vaguely disquieted, he walked to one of the seats in the rear of the shop, + and looked up and down the two lines of barbers, catching quickly shifted, + furtive glances here and there. He made this brief survey after wondering + if one of the barbers had died suddenly, that day, or the night before; + but there was no vacancy in either line. + </p> + <p> + The seat next to his was unoccupied, but some one had left a copy of the + “Extra” there, and, frowning, he picked it up and glanced at it. The first + of the swollen display lines had little meaning to him: + </p> +<div class="blok"><p class="c"> + Fatally Faulty. New Process Roof Collapses Hurling Capitalist to<br /> + Death with Inventor. Seven Escape When Crash Comes. Death Claims—</p> +</div> + <p> + Thus far had he read when a thin hand fell upon the paper, covering the + print from his eyes; and, looking up, he saw Bibbs standing before him, + pale and gentle, immeasurably compassionate. + </p> + <p> + “I've come for you, father,” said Bibbs. “Here's the boy with your coat + and hat. Put them on and come home.” + </p> + <p> + And even then Sheridan did not understand. So secure was he in the + strength and bigness of everything that was his, he did not know what + calamity had befallen him. But he was frightened. + </p> + <p> + Without a word, he followed Bibbs heavily out throught the still shop, but + as they reached the pavement he stopped short and, grasping his son's + sleeve with shaking fingers, swung him round so that they stood face to + face. + </p> + <p> + “What—what—” His mouth could not do him the service he asked + of it, he was so frightened. + </p> + <p> + “Extry!” screamed a newsboy straight in his face. “Young North Side + millionaire insuntly killed! Extry!” + </p> + <p> + “Not—JIM!” said Sheridan. + </p> + <p> + Bibbs caught his father's hand in his own. + </p> + <p> + “And YOU come to tell me that?” + </p> + <p> + Sheridan did not know what he said. But in those first words and in the + first anguish of the big, stricken face Bibbs understood the unuttered cry + of accusation: + </p> + <p> + “Why wasn't it you?” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII + </h2> + <p> + Standing in the black group under gaunt trees at the cemetery, three days + later, Bibbs unwillingly let an old, old thought become definite in his + mind: the sickly brother had buried the strong brother, and Bibbs wondered + how many million times that had happened since men first made a word to + name the sons of one mother. Almost literally he had buried his strong + brother, for Sheridan had gone to pieces when he saw his dead son. He had + nothing to help him meet the shock, neither definite religion nor + “philosophy” definite or indefinite. He could only beat his forehead and + beg, over and over, to be killed with an ax, while his wife was helpless + except to entreat him not to “take on,” herself adding a continuous + lamentation. Edith, weeping, made truce with Sibyl and saw to it that the + mourning garments were beyond criticism. Roscoe was dazed, and he shirked, + justifying himself curiously by saying he “never had any experience in + such matters.” So it was Bibbs, the shy outsider, who became, during this + dreadful little time, the master of the house; for as strange a thing as + that, sometimes, may be the result of a death. He met the relatives from + out of town at the station; he set the time for the funeral and the time + for meals; he selected the flowers and he selected Jim's coffin; he did + all the grim things and all the other things. Jim had belonged to an order + of Knights, who lengthened the rites with a picturesque ceremony of their + own, and at first Bibbs wished to avoid this, but upon reflection he + offered no objection—he divined that the Knights and their service + would be not precisely a consolation, but a satisfaction to his father. So + the Knights led the procession, with their band playing a dirge part of + the long way to the cemetery; and then turned back, after forming in two + lines, plumed hats sympathetically in hand, to let the hearse and the + carriages pass between. + </p> + <p> + “Mighty fine-lookin' men,” said Sheridan, brokenly. “They all—all + liked him. He was—” His breath caught in a sob and choked him. “He + was—a Grand Supreme Herald.” + </p> + <p> + Bibbs had divined aright. + </p> + <p> + “Dust to dust,” said the minister, under the gaunt trees; and at that + Sheridan shook convulsively from head to foot. All of the black group + shivered, except Bibbs, when it came to “Dust to dust.” Bibbs stood + passive, for he was the only one of them who had known that thought as a + familiar neighbor; he had been close upon dust himself for a long, long + time, and even now he could prophesy no protracted separation between + himself and dust. The machine-shop had brought him very close, and if he + had to go back it would probably bring him closer still; so close—as + Dr. Gurney predicted—that no one would be able to tell the + difference between dust and himself. And Sheridan, if Bibbs read him + truly, would be all the more determined to “make a man” of him, now that + there was a man less in the family. To Bibbs's knowledge, no one and + nothing had ever prevented his father from carrying through his plans, + once he had determined upon them; and Sheridan was incapable of believing + that any plan of his would not work out according to his calculations. His + nature unfitted him to accept failure. He had the gift of terrible + persistence, and with unflecked confidence that his way was the only way + he would hold to that way of “making a man” of Bibbs, who understood very + well, in his passive and impersonal fashion, that it was a way which might + make, not a man, but dust of him. But he had no shudder for the thought. + </p> + <p> + He had no shudder for that thought or for any other thought. The truth + about Bibbs was in the poem which Edith had adopted: he had so thoroughly + formed the over-sensitive habit of hiding his feelings that no doubt he + had forgotten—by this time—where he had put some of them, + especially those which concerned himself. But he had not hidden his + feelings about his father where they could not be found. He was strange to + his father, but his father was not strange to him. He knew that Sheridan's + plans were conceived in the stubborn belief that they would bring about a + good thing for Bibbs himself; and whatever the result was to be, the son + had no bitterness. Far otherwise, for as he looked at the big, woeful + figure, shaking and tortured, an almost unbearable pity laid hands upon + Bibbs's throat. Roscoe stood blinking, his lip quivering; Edith wept + audibly; Mrs. Sheridan leaned in half collapse against her husband; but + Bibbs knew that his father was the one who cared. + </p> + <p> + It was over. Men in overalls stepped forward with their shovels, and Bibbs + nodded quickly to Roscoe, making a slight gesture toward the line of + waiting carriages. Roscoe understood—Bibbs would stay and see the + grave filled; the rest were to go. The groups began to move away over the + turf; wheels creaked on the graveled drive; and one by one the carriages + filled and departed, the horses setting off at a walk. Bibbs gazed + steadfastly at the workmen; he knew that his father kept looking back as + he went toward the carriage, and that was a thing he did not want to see. + But after a little while there were no sounds of wheels or hoofs on the + gravel, and Bibbs, glancing up, saw that every one had gone. A coupe had + been left for him, the driver dozing patiently. + </p> + <p> + The workmen placed the flowers and wreaths upon the mound and about it, + and Bibbs altered the position of one or two of these, then stood looking + thoughtfully at the grotesque brilliancy of that festal-seeming hillock + beneath the darkening November sky. “It's too bad!” he half whispered, his + lips forming the words—and his meaning was that it was too bad that + the strong brother had been the one to go. For this was his last thought + before he walked to the coupe and saw Mary Vertrees standing, all alone, + on the other side of the drive. + </p> + <p> + She had just emerged from a grove of leafless trees that grew on a slope + where the tombs were many; and behind her rose a multitude of the barbaric + and classic shapes we so strangely strew about our graveyards: urn-crowned + columns and stone-draped obelisks, shop-carved angels and shop-carved + children poising on pillars and shafts, all lifting—in unthought + pathos—their blind stoniness toward the sky. Against such a + background, Bibbs was not incongruous, with his figure, in black, so long + and slender, and his face so long and thin and white; nor was the + undertaker's coupe out of keeping, with the shabby driver dozing on the + box and the shaggy horses standing patiently in attitudes without hope and + without regret. But for Mary Vertrees, here was a grotesque setting—she + was a vivid, living creature of a beautiful world. And a graveyard is not + the place for people to look charming. + </p> + <p> + She also looked startled and confused, but not more startled and confused + than Bibbs. In “Edith's” poem he had declared his intention of hiding his + heart “among the stars”; and in his boyhood one day he had successfully + hidden his body in the coal-pile. He had been no comrade of other boys or + of girls, and his acquaintances of a recent period were only a few + fellow-invalids and the nurses at the Hood Sanitarium. All his life Bibbs + had kept himself to himself—he was but a shy onlooker in the world. + Nevertheless, the startled gaze he bent upon the unexpected lady before + him had causes other than his shyness and her unexpectedness. For Mary + Vertrees had been a shining figure in the little world of late given to + the view of this humble and elusive outsider, and spectators sometimes + find their hearts beating faster than those of the actors in the + spectacle. Thus with Bibbs now. He started and stared; he lifted his hat + with incredible awkwardness, his fingers fumbling at his forehead before + they found the brim. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Sheridan,” said Mary, “I'm afraid you'll have to take me home with + you. I—” She stopped, not lacking a momentary awkwardness of her + own. + </p> + <p> + “Why—why—yes,” Bibbs stammered. “I'll—I'll be de—Won't + you get in?” + </p> + <p> + In that manner and in that place they exchanged their first words. Then + Mary without more ado got into the coupe, and Bibbs followed, closing the + door. + </p> + <p> + “You're very kind,” she said, somewhat breathlessly. “I should have had to + walk, and it's beginning to get dark. It's three miles, I think.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Bibbs. “It—it is beginning to get dark. I—I + noticed that.” + </p> + <p> + “I ought to tell you—I—” Mary began, confusedly. She bit her + lip, sat silent a moment, then spoke with composure. “It must seem odd, my—” + </p> + <p> + “No, no!” Bibbs protested, earnestly. “Not in the—in the least.” + </p> + <p> + “It does, though,” said Mary. “I had not intended to come to the cemetery, + Mr. Sheridan, but one of the men in charge at the house came and whispered + to me that 'the family wished me to'—I think your sister sent him. + So I came. But when we reached here I—oh, I felt that perhaps I—” + </p> + <p> + Bibbs nodded gravely. “Yes, yes,” he murmured. + </p> + <p> + “I got out on the opposite side of the carriage,” she continued. “I mean + opposite from—from where all of you were. And I wandered off over in + the other direction; and I didn't realize how little time it takes. From + where I was I couldn't see the carriages leaving—at least I didn't + notice them. So when I got back, just now, you were the only one here. I + didn't know the other people in the carriage I came in, and of course they + didn't think to wait for me. That's why—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Bibbs, “I—” And that seemed all he had to say just then. + </p> + <p> + Mary looked out through the dusty window. “I think we'd better be going + home, if you please,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” Bibbs agreed, not moving. “It will be dark before we get there.” + </p> + <p> + She gave him a quick little glance. “I think you must be very tired, Mr. + Sheridan; and I know you have reason to be,” she said, gently. “If you'll + let me, I'll—” And without explaining her purpose she opened the + door on her side of the coupe and leaned out. + </p> + <p> + Bibbs started in blank perplexity, not knowing what she meant to do. + </p> + <p> + “Driver!” she called, in her clear voice, loudly. “Driver! We'd like to + start, please! Driver! Stop at the house just north of Mr. Sheridan's, + please.” The wheels began to move, and she leaned back beside Bibbs once + more. “I noticed that he was asleep when we got in,” she said. “I suppose + they have a great deal of night work.” + </p> + <p> + Bibbs drew a long breath and waited till he could command his voice. “I've + never been able to apologize quickly,” he said, with his accustomed + slowness, “because if I try to I stammer. My brother Roscoe whipped me + once, when we were boys, for stepping on his slate-pencil. It took me so + long to tell him it was an accident, he finished before I did.” + </p> + <p> + Mary Vertrees had never heard anything quite like the drawling, gentle + voice or the odd implication that his not noticing the motionless state of + their vehicle was an “accident.” She had formed a casual impression of + him, not without sympathy, but at once she discovered that he was unlike + any of her cursory and vague imaginings of him. And suddenly she saw a + picture he had not intended to paint for sympathy: a sturdy boy hammering + a smaller, sickly boy, and the sickly boy unresentful. Not that picture + alone; others flashed before her. Instantaneously she had a glimpse of + Bibbs's life and into his life. She had a queer feeling, new to her + experience, of knowing him instantly. It startled her a little; and then, + with some surprise, she realized that she was glad he had sat so long, + after getting into the coupe, before he noticed that it had not started. + What she did not realize, however, was that she had made no response to + his apology, and they passed out of the cemetery gates, neither having + spoken again. + </p> + <p> + Bibbs was so content with the silence he did not know that it was silence. + The dusk, gathering in their small inclosure, was filled with a rich + presence for him; and presently it was so dark that neither of the two + could see the other, nor did even their garments touch. But neither had + any sense of being alone. The wheels creaked steadily, rumbling presently + on paved streets; there were the sounds, as from a distance, of the + plod-plod of the horses; and sometimes the driver became audible, coughing + asthmatically, or saying, “You, JOE!” with a spiritless flap of the whip + upon an unresponsive back. Oblongs of light from the lamps at + street-corners came swimming into the interior of the coupe and, thinning + rapidly to lances, passed utterly, leaving greater darkness. And yet + neither of these two last attendants at Jim Sheridan's funeral broke the + silence. + </p> + <p> + It was Mary who preceived the strangeness of it—too late. Abruptly + she realized that for an indefinite interval she had been thinking of her + companion and not talking to him. “Mr. Sheridan,” she began, not knowing + what she was going to say, but impelled to say anything, as she realized + the queerness of this drive—“Mr. Sheridan, I—” + </p> + <p> + The coupe stopped. “You, JOE!” said the driver, reproachfully, and climbed + down and opened the door. + </p> + <p> + “What's the trouble?” Bibbs inquired. + </p> + <p> + “Lady said stop at the first house north of Mr. Sheridan's, sir.” + </p> + <p> + Mary was incredulous; she felt that it couldn't be true and that it + mustn't be true that they had driven all the way without speaking. + </p> + <p> + “What?” Bibbs demanded. + </p> + <p> + “We're there, sir,” said the driver, sympathetically. “Next house north of + Mr. Sheridan's.” + </p> + <p> + Bibbs descended to the curb. “Why, yes,” he said. “Yes, you seem to be + right.” And while he stood staring at the dimly illuminated front windows + of Mr. Vertrees's house Mary got out, unassisted. + </p> + <p> + “Let me help you,” said Bibbs, stepping toward her mechanically; and she + was several feet from the coupe when he spoke. + </p> + <p> + “Oh no,” she murmured. “I think I can—” She meant that she could get + out of the coupe without help, but, perceiving that she had already + accomplished this feat, she decided not to complete the sentence. + </p> + <p> + “You, JOE!” cried the driver, angrily, climbing to his box. And he rumbled + away at his team's best pace—a snail's. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you for bringing me home, Mr. Sheridan,” said Mary, stiffly. She + did not offer her hand. “Good night.” + </p> + <p> + “Good night,” Bibbs said in response, and, turning with her, walked beside + her to the door. Mary made that a short walk; she almost ran. Realization + of the queerness of their drive was growing upon her, beginning to shock + her; she stepped aside from the light that fell through the glass panels + of the door and withheld her hand as it touched the old-fashioned + bell-handle. + </p> + <p> + “I'm quite safe, thank you,” she said, with a little emphasis. “Good + night.” + </p> + <p> + “Good night,” said Bibbs, and went obediently. When he reached the street + he looked back, but she had vanished within the house. + </p> + <p> + Moving slowly away, he caromed against two people who were turning out + from the pavement to cross the street. They were Roscoe and his wife. + </p> + <p> + “Where are your eyes, Bibbs?” demanded Roscoe. “Sleep-walking, as usual?” + </p> + <p> + But Sibyl took the wanderer by the arm. “Come over to our house for a + little while, Bibbs,” she urged. “I want to—” + </p> + <p> + “No, I'd better—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I want you to. Your father's gone to bed, and they're all quiet over + there—all worn out. Just come for a minute.” + </p> + <p> + He yielded, and when they were in the house she repeated herself with real + feeling: “'All worn out!' Well, if anybody is, YOU are, Bibbs! And I don't + wonder; you've done every bit of the work of it. You mustn't get down sick + again. I'm going to make you take a little brandy.” + </p> + <p> + He let her have her own way, following her into the dining-room, and was + grateful when she brought him a tiny glass filled from one of the + decanters on the sideboard. Roscoe gloomily poured for himself a much + heavier libation in a larger glass; and the two men sat, while Sibyl + leaned against the sideboard, reviewing the episodes of the day and + recalling the names of the donors of flowers and wreaths. She pressed + Bibbs to remain longer when he rose to go, and then, as he persisted, she + went with him to the front door. He opened it, and she said: + </p> + <p> + “Bibbs, you were coming out of the Vertreeses' house when we met you. How + did you happen to be there?” + </p> + <p> + “I had only been to the door,” he said. “Good night, Sibyl.” + </p> + <p> + “Wait,” she insisted. “We saw you coming out.” + </p> + <p> + “I wasn't,” he explained, moving to depart. “I'd just brought Miss + Vertrees home.” + </p> + <p> + “What?” she cried. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he said, and stepped out upon the porch, “that was it. Good night, + Sibyl.” + </p> + <p> + “Wait!” she said, following him across the threshold. “How did that + happen? I thought you were going to wait while those men filled the—the—” + She paused, but moved nearer him insistently. + </p> + <p> + “I did wait. Miss Vertrees was there,” he said, reluctantly. “She had + walked away for a while and didn't notice that the carriages were leaving. + When she came back the coupe waiting for me was the only one left.” + </p> + <p> + Sibyl regarded him with dilating eyes. She spoke with a slow + breathlessness. “And she drove home from Jim's funeral—with you!” + </p> + <p> + Without warning she burst into laughter, clapped her hand ineffectually + over her mouth, and ran back uproariously into the house, hurling the door + shut behind her. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII + </h2> + <p> + Bibbs went home pondering. He did not understand why Sibyl had laughed. + The laughter itself had been spontaneous and beyond suspicion, but it + seemed to him that she had only affected the effort to suppress it and + that she wished it to be significant. Significant of what? And why had she + wished to impress upon him the fact of her overwhelming amusement? He + found no answer, but she had succeeded in disturbing him, and he wished + that he had not encountered her. + </p> + <p> + At home, uncles, aunts, and cousins from out of town were wandering about + the house, several mournfully admiring the “Bay of Naples,” and others + occupied with the Moor and the plumbing, while they waited for trains. + Edith and her mother had retired to some upper fastness, but Bibbs + interviewed Jackson and had the various groups of relatives summoned to + the dining-room for food. One great-uncle, old Gideon Sheridan from + Boonville, could not be found, and Bibbs went in search of him. He + ransacked the house, discovering the missing antique at last by accident. + Passing his father's closed door on tiptoe, Bibbs heard a murmurous sound, + and paused to listen. The sound proved to be a quavering and rickety + voice, monotonously bleating: + </p> + <p> + “The Lo-ord givuth and the Lo-ord takuth away! We got to remember that; we + got to remember that! I'm a-gittin' along, James; I'm a-gittin' along, and + I've seen a-many of 'em go—two daughters and a son the Lord give me, + and He has taken all away. For the Lo-ord givuth and the Lo-ord takuth + away! Remember the words of Bildad the Shuhite, James. Bildad the Shuhite + says, 'He shall have neither son nor nephew among his people, nor any + remaining in his dwellings.' Bildad the Shuhite—” + </p> + <p> + Bibbs opened the door softly. His father was lying upon the bed, in his + underclothes, face downward, and Uncle Gideon sat near by, swinging + backward and forward in a rocking-chair, stroking his long white beard and + gazing at the ceiling as he talked. Bibbs beckoned him urgently, but Uncle + Gideon paid no attention. + </p> + <p> + “Bildad the Shuhite spake and he says, 'If thy children have sinned + against Him and He have cast them away—'” + </p> + <p> + There was a muffled explosion beneath the floor, and the windows rattled. + The figure lying face downward on the bed did not move, but Uncle Gideon + leaped from his chair. “My God!” he cried. “What's that?” + </p> + <p> + There came a second explosion, and Uncle Gideon ran out into the hall. + Bibbs went to the head of the great staircase, and, looking down, + discovered the source of the disturbance. Gideon's grandson, a boy of + fourteen, had brought his camera to the funeral and was taking + “flash-lights” of the Moor. Uncle Gideon, reassured by Bibbs's + explanation, would have returned to finish his quotation from Bildad the + Shuhite, but Bibbs detained him, and after a little argument persuaded him + to descend to the dining-room whither Bibbs followed, after closing the + door of his father's room. + </p> + <p> + He kept his eye on Gideon after dinner, diplomatically preventing several + attempts on the part of that comforter to reascend the stairs; and it was + a relief to Bibbs when George announced that an automobile was waiting to + convey the ancient man and his grandson to their train. They were the last + to leave, and when they had gone Bibbs went sighing to his own room. + </p> + <p> + He stretched himself wearily upon the bed, but presently rose, went to the + window, and looked for a long time at the darkened house where Mary + Vertrees lived. Then he opened his trunk, took therefrom a small note-book + half filled with fragmentary scribblings, and began to write: + </p> +<div class="blok"> + <p>Laughter after a funeral. In this reaction people will laugh at + anything and at nothing. The band plays a dirge on the way to the + cemetery, but when it turns back, and the mourning carriages are + out of hearing, it strikes up, “Darktown is Out To-night.” That + is natural—but there are women whose laughter is like the whirring + of whips. Why is it that certain kinds of laughter seem to spoil + something hidden away from the laughers? If they do not know of + it, and have never seen it, how can their laughter hurt it? Yet it + does. Beauty is not out of place among grave-stones. It is not + out of place anywhere. But a woman who has been betrothed to a + man would not look beautiful at his funeral. A woman might look + beautiful, though, at the funeral of a man whom she had known and + liked. And in that case, too, she would probably not want to talk + if she drove home from the cemetery with his brother: nor would + she want the brother to talk. Silence is usually either stupid or + timid. But for a man who stammers if he tries to talk fast, and + drawls so slowly, when he doesn't stammer, that nobody has time to + listen to him, silence is advisable. Nevertheless, too much silence + is open to suspicion. It may be reticence, or it may be a vacuum. + It may be dignity, or it may be false teeth.</p> + +<p> Sometimes an imperceptible odor will become perceptible in a small + inclosure, such as a closed carriage. The ghost of gasoline rising + from a lady's glove might be sweeter to the man riding beside her + than all the scents of Arcady in spring. It depends on the lady— + but there ARE! Three miles may be three hundred miles, or it may + be three feet. When it is three feet you have not time to say a + great deal before you reach the end of it. Still, it may be that + one should begin to speak.</p> + +<p> + + No one could help wishing to stay in a world that holds some of + the people that are in this world. There are some so wonderful + you do not understand how the dead COULD die. How could they let + themselves? A falling building does not care who falls with it. + It does not choose who shall be upon its roof and who shall not. + Silence CAN be golden? Yes. But perhaps if a woman of the world + should find herself by accident sitting beside a man for the length + of time it must necessarily take two slow old horses to jog three + miles, she might expect that man to say something of some sort! + Even if she thought him a feeble hypochondriac, even if she had + heard from others that he was a disappointment to his own people, + even if she had seen for herself that he was a useless and + irritating encumbrance everywhere, she might expect him at least + to speak—she might expect him to open his mouth and try to make + sounds, if he only barked. If he did not even try, but sat every + step of the way as dumb as a frozen fish, she might THINK him a + frozen fish. And she might be right. She might be right if she + thought him about as pleasant a companion as—as Bildad the Shuhite!</p> +</div> + <p> + Bibbs closed his note-book, replacing it in his trunk. Then, after a + period of melancholy contemplation, he undressed, put on a dressing-gown + and slippers, and went softly out into the hall—to his father's + door. Upon the floor was a tray which Bibbs had sent George, earlier in + the evening, to place upon a table in Sheridan's room—but the food + was untouched. Bibbs stood listening outside the door for several minutes. + There came no sound from within, and he went back to his own room and to + bed. + </p> + <p> + In the morning he woke to a state of being hitherto unknown in his + experience. Sometimes in the process of waking there is a little pause—sleep + has gone, but coherent thought has not begun. It is a curious half-void, a + glimpse of aphasia; and although the person experiencing it may not know + for that instant his own name or age or sex, he may be acutely conscious + of depression or elation. It is the moment, as we say, before we + “remember”; and for the first time in Bibbs's life it came to him bringing + a vague happiness. He woke to a sense of new riches; he had the feeling of + a boy waking to a birthday. But when the next moment brought him his + memory, he found nothing that could explain his exhilaration. On the + contrary, under the circumstances it seemed grotesquely unwarranted. + However, it was a brief visitation and was gone before he had finished + dressing. It left a little trail, the pleased recollection of it and the + puzzle of it, which remained unsolved. And, in fact, waking happily in the + morning is not usually the result of a drive home from a funeral. No + wonder the sequence evaded Bibbs Sheridan! + </p> + <p> + His father had gone when he came down-stairs. “Went on down to 's office, + jes' same,” Jackson informed him. “Came sat breakfas'-table, all by + 'mself; eat nothin'. George bring nice breakfas', but he di'n' eat a + thing. Yessuh, went on down-town, jes' same he yoosta do. Yessuh, I reckon + putty much ev'y-thing goin' go on same as it yoosta do.” + </p> + <p> + It struck Bibbs that Jackson was right. The day passed as other days had + passed. Mrs. Sheridan and Edith were in black, and Mrs. Sheridan cried a + little, now and then, but no other external difference was to be seen. + Edith was quiet, but not noticeably depressed, and at lunch proved herself + able to argue with her mother upon the propriety of receiving calls in the + earliest stages of “mourning.” Lunch was as usual—for Jim and his + father had always lunched down-town—and the afternoon was as usual. + Bibbs went for his drive, and his mother went with him, as she sometimes + did when the weather was pleasant. Altogether, the usualness of things was + rather startling to Bibbs. + </p> + <p> + During the drive Mrs. Sheridan talked fragmentarily of Jim's childhood. + “But you wouldn't remember about that,” she said, after narrating an + episode. “You were too little. He was always a good boy, just like that. + And he'd save whatever papa gave him, and put it in the bank. I reckon + it'll just about kill your father to put somebody in his place as + president of the Realty Company, Bibbs. I know he can't move Roscoe over; + he told me last week he'd already put as much on Roscoe as any one man + could handle and not go crazy. Oh, it's a pity—” She stopped to wipe + her eyes. “It's a pity you didn't run more with Jim, Bibbs, and kind o' + pick up his ways. Think what it'd meant to papa now! You never did run + with either Roscoe or Jim any, even before you got sick. Of course, you + were younger; but it always DID seem queer—and you three bein' + brothers like that. I don't believe I ever saw you and Jim sit down + together for a good talk in my life.” + </p> + <p> + “Mother, I've been away so long,” Bibbs returned, gently. “And since I + came home I—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I ain't reproachin' you, Bibbs,” she said. “Jim ain't been home much + of an evening since you got back—what with his work and callin' and + goin' to the theater and places, and often not even at the house for + dinner. Right the evening before he got hurt he had his dinner at some + miser'ble rest'rant down by the Pump Works, he was so set on overseein' + the night work and gettin' everything finished up right to the minute he + told papa he would. I reckon you might 'a' put in more time with Jim if + there'd been more opportunity, Bibbs. I expect you feel almost as if you + scarcely really knew him right well.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose I really didn't, mother. He was busy, you see, and I hadn't + much to say about the things that interested him, because I don't know + much about them.” + </p> + <p> + “It's a pity! Oh, it's a pity!” she moaned. “And you'll have to learn to + know about 'em NOW, Bibbs! I haven't said much to you, because I felt it + was all between your father and you, but I honestly do believe it will + just kill him if he has to have any more trouble on top of all this! You + mustn't LET him, Bibbs—you mustn't! You don't know how he's grieved + over you, and now he can't stand any more—he just can't! Whatever he + says for you to do, you DO it, Bibbs, you DO it! I want you to promise me + you will.” + </p> + <p> + “I would if I could,” he said, sorrowfully. + </p> + <p> + “No, no! Why can't you?” she cried, clutching his arm. “He wants you to go + back to the machine-shop and—” + </p> + <p> + “And—'like it'!” said Bibbs. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that's it—to go in a cheerful spirit. Dr. Gurney said it + wouldn't hurt you if you went in a cheerful spirit—the doctor said + that himself, Bibbs. So why can't you do it? Can't you do that much for + your father? You ought to think what he's done for YOU. You got a + beautiful house to live in; you got automobiles to ride in; you got fur + coats and warm clothes; you been taken care of all your life. And you + don't KNOW how he worked for the money to give all these things to you! + You don't DREAM what he had to go through and what he risked when we were + startin' out in life; and you never WILL know! And now this blow has + fallen on him out of a clear sky, and you make it out to be a hardship to + do like he wants you to! And all on earth he asks is for you to go back to + the work in a cheerful spirit, so it won't hurt you! That's all he asks. + Look, Bibbs, we're gettin' back near home, but before we get there I want + you to promise me that you'll do what he asks you to. Promise me!” + </p> + <p> + In her earnestness she cleared away her black veil that she might see him + better, and it blew out on the smoky wind. He readjusted it for her before + he spoke. + </p> + <p> + “I'll go back in as cheerful a spirit as I can, mother,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “There!” she exclaimed, satisfied. “That's a good boy! That's all I wanted + you to say.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't give me any credit,” he said, ruefully. “There isn't anything else + for me to do.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, don't begin talkin' THAT way!” + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” he soothed her. “We'll have to begin to make the spirit a + cheerful one. We may—” They were turning into their own driveway as + he spoke, and he glanced at the old house next door. Mary Vertrees was + visible in the twilight, standing upon the front steps, bareheaded, the + door open behind her. She bowed gravely. + </p> + <p> + “'We may'—what?” asked Mrs. Sheridan, with a slight impatience. + </p> + <p> + “What is it, mother?” + </p> + <p> + “You said, 'We may,' and didn't finish what you were sayin'.” + </p> + <p> + “Did I?” said Bibbs, blankly. “Well, what WERE we saying?” + </p> + <p> + “Of all the queer boys!” she cried. “You always were. Always! You haven't + forgot what you just promised me, have you?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” he answered, as the car stopped. “No, the spirit will be as cheerful + as the flesh will let it, mother. It won't do to behave like—” + </p> + <p> + His voice was low, and in her movement to descend from the car she failed + to hear his final words. + </p> + <p> + “Behave like who, Bibbs?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing.” + </p> + <p> + But she was fretful in her grief. “You said it wouldn't do to behave like + SOMEBODY. Behave like WHO?” + </p> + <p> + “It was just nonsense,” he explained, turning to go in. “An obscure person + I don't think much of lately.” + </p> + <p> + “Behave like WHO?” she repeated, and upon his yielding to her petulant + insistence, she made up her mind that the only thing to do was to tell Dr. + Gurney about it. + </p> + <p> + “Like Bildad the Shuhite!” was what Bibbs said. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV + </h2> + <p> + The outward usualness of things continued after dinner. It was Sheridan's + custom to read the evening paper beside the fire in the library, while his + wife, sitting near by, either sewed (from old habit) or allowed herself to + be repeatedly baffled by one of the simpler forms of solitaire. To-night + she did neither, but sat in her customary chair, gazing at the fire, while + Sheridan let the unfolded paper rest upon his lap, though now and then he + lifted it, as if to read, and let it fall back upon his knees again. Bibbs + came in noiselessly and sat in a corner, doing nothing; and from a + “reception-room” across the hall an indistinct vocal murmur became just + audible at intervals. Once, when this murmur grew louder, under stress of + some irrepressible merriment, Edith's voice could be heard—“Bobby, + aren't you awful!” and Sheridan glanced across at his wife appealingly. + </p> + <p> + She rose at once and went into the “reception-room”; there was a flurry of + whispering, and the sound of tiptoeing in the hall—Edith and her + suitor changing quarters to a more distant room. Mrs. Sheridan returned to + her chair in the library. + </p> + <p> + “They won't bother you any more, papa,” she said, in a comforting voice. + “She told me at lunch he'd 'phoned he wanted to come up this evening, and + I said I thought he'd better wait a few days, but she said she'd already + told him he could.” She paused, then added, rather guiltily: “I got kind + of a notion maybe Roscoe don't like him as much as he used to. Maybe—maybe + you better ask Roscoe, papa.” And as Sheridan nodded solemnly, she + concluded, in haste: “Don't say I said to. I might be wrong about it, + anyway.” + </p> + <p> + He nodded again, and they sat for some time in a silence which Mrs. + Sheridan broke with a little sniff, having fallen into a reverie that + brought tears. “That Miss Vertrees was a good girl,” she said. “SHE was + all right.” + </p> + <p> + Her husband evidently had no difficulty in following her train of thought, + for he nodded once more, affirmatively. + </p> + <p> + “Did you—How did you fix it about the—the Realty Company?” she + faltered. “Did you—” + </p> + <p> + He rose heavily, helping himself to his feet by the arms of his chair. “I + fixed it,” he said, in a husky voice. “I moved Cantwell up, and put + Johnston in Cantwell's place, and split up Johnston's work among the four + men with salaries high enough to take it.” He went to her, put his hand + upon her shoulder, and drew a long, audible, tremulous breath. “It's my + bedtime, mamma; I'm goin' up.” He dropped the hand from her shoulder and + moved slowly away, but when he reached the door he stopped and spoke + again, without turning to look at her. “The Realty Company'll go right on + just the same,” he said. “It's like—it's like sand, mamma. It puts + me in mind of chuldern playin' in a sand-pile. One of 'em sticks his + finger in the sand and makes a hole, and another of 'em'll pat the place + with his hand, and all the little grains of sand run in and fill it up and + settle against one another; and then, right away it's flat on top again, + and you can't tell there ever was a hole there. The Realty Company'll go + on all right, mamma. There ain't anything anywhere, I reckon, that + wouldn't go right on—just the same.” + </p> + <p> + And he passed out slowly into the hall; then they heard his heavy tread + upon the stairs. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Sheridan, rising to follow him, turned a piteous face to her son. + “It's so forlone,” she said, chokingly. “That's the first time he spoke + since he came in the house this evening. I know it must 'a' hurt him to + hear Edith laughin' with that Lamhorn. She'd oughtn't to let him come, + right the very first evening this way; she'd oughtn't to done it! She just + seems to lose her head over him, and it scares me. You heard what Sibyl + said the other day, and—and you heard what—what—” + </p> + <p> + “What Edith said to Sibyl?” Bibbs finished the sentence for her. + </p> + <p> + “We CAN'T have any trouble o' THAT kind!” she wailed. “Oh, it looks as if + movin' up to this New House had brought us awful bad luck! It scares me!” + She put both her hands over her face. “Oh, Bibbs, Bibbs! if you only + wasn't so QUEER! If you could only been a kind of dependable son! I don't + know what we're all comin' to!” And, weeping, she followed her husband. + </p> + <p> + Bibbs gazed for a while at the fire; then he rose abruptly, like a man who + has come to a decision, and briskly sought the room—it was called + “the smoking-room”—where Edith sat with Mr. Lamhorn. They looked up + in no welcoming manner, at Bibbs's entrance, and moved their chairs to a + less conspicuous adjacency. + </p> + <p> + “Good evening,” said Bibbs, pleasantly; and he seated himself in a leather + easy-chair near them. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” asked Edith, plainly astonished. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing,” he returned, smiling. + </p> + <p> + She frowned. “Did you want something?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing in the world. Father and mother have gone up-stairs; I sha'n't be + going up for several hours, and there didn't seem to be anybody left for + me to chat with except you and Mr. Lamhorn.” + </p> + <p> + “'CHAT with'!” she echoed, incredulously. + </p> + <p> + “I can talk about almost anything,” said Bibbs with an air of genial + politeness. “It doesn't matter to ME. I don't know much about business—if + that's what you happened to be talking about. But you aren't in business, + are you, Mr. Lamhorn?” + </p> + <p> + “Not now,” returned Lamhorn, shortly. + </p> + <p> + “I'm not, either,” said Bibbs. “It was getting cloudier than usual, I + noticed, just before dark, and there was wind from the southwest. Rain + to-morrow, I shouldn't be surprised.” + </p> + <p> + He seemed to feel that he had begun a conversation the support of which + had now become the pleasurable duty of other parties; and he sat + expectantly, looking first at his sister, then at Lamhorn, as if implying + that it was their turn to speak. Edith returned his gaze with a mixture of + astonishment and increasing anger, while Mr. Lamhorn was obviously + disturbed, though Bibbs had been as considerate as possible in presenting + the weather as a topic. Bibbs had perceived that Lamhorn had nothing in + his mind at any time except “personalities”—he could talk about + people and he could make love. Bibbs, wishing to be courteous, offered the + weather. + </p> + <p> + Lamhorn refused it, and concluded from Bibbs's luxurious attitude in the + leather chair that this half-crazy brother was a permanent fixture for the + rest of the evening. There was not reason to hope that he would move, and + Lamhorn found himself in danger of looking silly. + </p> + <p> + “I was just going,” he said, rising. + </p> + <p> + “Oh NO!” Edith cried, sharply. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Good night! I think I—” + </p> + <p> + “Too bad,” said Bibbs, genially, walking to the door with the visitor, + while Edith stood staring as the two disappeared in the hall. She heard + Bibbs offering to “help” Lamhorn with his overcoat and the latter rather + curtly declining assistance, these episodes of departure being followed by + the closing of the outer door. She ran into the hall. + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter with you?” she cried, furiously. “What do you MEAN? How + did you dare come in there when you knew—” + </p> + <p> + Her voice broke; she made a gesture of rage and despair, and ran up the + stairs, sobbing. She fled to her mother's room, and when Bibbs came up, a + few minutes later, Mrs. Sheridan met him at his door. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Bibbs,” she said, shaking her head woefully, “you'd oughtn't to + distress your sister! She says you drove that young man right out of the + house. You'd ought to been more considerate.” + </p> + <p> + Bibbs smiled faintly, noting that Edith's door was open, with Edith's + naive shadow motionless across its threshold. “Yes,” he said. “He doesn't + appear to be much of a 'man's man.' He ran at just a glimpse of one.” + </p> + <p> + Edith's shadow moved; her voice came quavering: “You call yourself one?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” he answered. “I said, 'just a glimpse of one.' I didn't claim—” + But her door slammed angrily; and he turned to his mother. + </p> + <p> + “There,” he said, sighing. “That's almost the first time in my life I ever + tried to be a man of action, mother, and I succeeded perfectly in what I + tried to do. As a consequence I feel like a horse-thief!” + </p> + <p> + “You hurt her feelin's,” she groaned. “You must 'a' gone at it too rough, + Bibbs.” + </p> + <p> + He looked upon her wanly. “That's my trouble, mother,” he murmured. “I'm a + plain, blunt fellow. I have rough ways, and I'm a rough man.” + </p> + <p> + For once she perceived some meaning in his queerness. “Hush your + nonsense!” she said, good-naturedly, the astral of a troubled smile + appearing. “You go to bed.” + </p> + <p> + He kissed her and obeyed. + </p> + <p> + Edith gave him a cold greeting the next morning at the breakfast-table. + </p> + <p> + “You mustn't do that under a misapprehension,” he warned her, when they + were alone in the dining-room. + </p> + <p> + “Do what under a what?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Speak to me. I came into the smoking-room last night 'on purpose,'” he + told her, gravely. “I have a prejudice against that young man.” + </p> + <p> + She laughed. “I guess you think it means a great deal who you have + prejudices against!” In mockery she adopted the manner of one who + implores. “Bibbs, for pity's sake PROMISE me, DON'T use YOUR influence + with papa against him!” And she laughed louder. + </p> + <p> + “Listen,” he said, with peculiar earnestness. “I'll tell you now, because—because + I've decided I'm one of the family.” And then, as if the earnestness were + too heavy for him to carry it further, he continued, in his usual tone, + “I'm drunk with power, Edith.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you want to tell me?” she demanded, brusquely. + </p> + <p> + “Lamhorn made love to Sibyl,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Edith hooted. “SHE did to HIM! And because you overheard that spat between + us the other day when I the same as accused her of it, and said something + like that to you afterward—” + </p> + <p> + “No,” he said, gravely. “I KNOW.” + </p> + <p> + “How?” + </p> + <p> + “I was there, one day a week ago, with Roscoe, and I heard Sibyl and + Lamhorn—” + </p> + <p> + Edith screamed with laughter. “You were with ROSCOE—and you heard + Lamhorn making love to Sibyl!” + </p> + <p> + “No. I heard them quarreling.” + </p> + <p> + “You're funnier than ever, Bibbs!” she cried. “You say he made love to her + because you heard them quarreling!” + </p> + <p> + “That's it. If you want to know what's 'between' people, you can—by + the way they quarrel.” + </p> + <p> + “You'll kill me, Bibbs! What were they quarreling about?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing. That's how I knew. People who quarrel over nothing!—it's + always certain—” + </p> + <p> + Edith stopped laughing abruptly, but continued her mockery. “You ought to + know. You've had so much experience, yourself!” + </p> + <p> + “I haven't any, Edith,” he said. “My life has been about as exciting as an + incubator chicken's. But I look out through the glass at things.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then,” she said, “if you look out through the glass you must know + what effect such stuff would have upon ME!” She rose, visibly agitated. + “What if it WAS true?” she demanded, bitterly. “What if it was true a + hundred times over? You sit there with your silly face half ready to + giggle and half ready to sniffle, and tell me stories like that, about + Sibyl picking on Bobby Lamhorn and worrying him to death, and you think it + matters to ME? What if I already KNEW all about their 'quarreling'? What + if I understood WHY she—” She broke off with a violent gesture, a + sweep of her arm extended at full length, as if she hurled something to + the ground. “Do you think a girl that really cared for a man would pay any + attention to THAT? Or to YOU, Bibbs Sheridan!” + </p> + <p> + He looked at her steadily, and his gaze was as keen as it was steady. She + met it with unwavering pride. Finally he nodded slowly, as if she had + spoken and he meant to agree with what she said. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, yes,” he said. “I won't come into the smoking-room again. I'm sorry, + Edith. Nobody can make you see anything now. You'll never see until you + see for yourself. The rest of us will do better to keep out of it—especially + me!” + </p> + <p> + “That's sensible,” she responded, curtly. “You're most surprising of all + when you're sensible, Bibbs.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he sighed. “I'm a dull dog. Shake hands and forgive me, Edith.” + </p> + <p> + Thawing so far as to smile, she underwent this brief ceremony, and George + appeared, summoning Bibbs to the library; Dr. Gurney was waiting there, he + announced. And Bibbs gave his sister a shy but friendly touch upon the + shoulder as a complement to the handshaking, and left her. + </p> + <p> + Dr. Gurney was sitting by the log fire, alone in the room, and he merely + glanced over his shoulder when his patient came in. He was not over fifty, + in spite of Sheridan's habitual “ole Doc Gurney.” He was gray, however, + almost as thin as Bibbs, and nearly always he looked drowsy. + </p> + <p> + “Your father telephoned me yesterday afternoon, Bibbs,” he said, not + rising. “Wants me to 'look you over' again. Come around here in front of + me—between me and the fire. I want to see if I can see through you.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean you're too sleepy to move,” returned Bibbs, complying. “I think + you'll notice that I'm getting worse.” + </p> + <p> + “Taken on about twelve pounds,” said Gurney. “Thirteen, maybe.” + </p> + <p> + “Twelve.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it won't do.” The doctor rubbed his eyelids. “You're so much better + I'll have to use some machinery on you before we can know just where you + are. You come down to my place this afternoon. Walk down—all the + way. I suppose you know why your father wants to know.” + </p> + <p> + Bibbs nodded. “Machine-shop.” + </p> + <p> + “Still hate it?” + </p> + <p> + Bibbs nodded again. + </p> + <p> + “Don't blame you!” the doctor grunted. “Yes, I expect it'll make a lump in + your gizzard again. Well, what do you say? Shall I tell him you've got the + old lump there yet? You still want to write, do you?” + </p> + <p> + “What's the use?” Bibbs said, smiling ruefully. “My kind of writing!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” the doctor agreed. “I suppose if you broke away and lived on roots + and berries until you began to 'attract the favorable attention of + editors' you might be able to hope for an income of four or five hundred + dollars a year by the time you're fifty.” + </p> + <p> + “That's about it,” Bibbs murmured. + </p> + <p> + “Of course I know what you want to do,” said Gurney, drowsily. “You don't + hate the machine-shop only; you hate the whole show—the noise and + jar and dirt, the scramble—the whole bloomin' craze to 'get on.' + You'd like to go somewhere in Algiers, or to Taormina, perhaps, and bask + on a balcony, smelling flowers and writing sonnets. You'd grow fat on it + and have a delicate little life all to yourself. Well, what do you say? I + can lie like sixty, Bibbs! Shall I tell your father he'll lose another of + his boys if you don't go to Sicily?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't want to go to Sicily,” said Bibbs. “I want to stay right here.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor's drowsiness disappeared for a moment, and he gave his patient + a sharp glance. “It's a risk,” he said. “I think we'll find you're so much + better he'll send you back to the shop pretty quick. Something's got hold + of you lately; you're not quite so lackadaisical as you used to be. But I + warn you: I think the shop will knock you just as it did before, and + perhaps even harder, Bibbs.” + </p> + <p> + He rose, shook himself, and rubbed his eyelids. “Well, when we go over you + this afternoon what are we going to say about it?” + </p> + <p> + “Tell him I'm ready,” said Bibbs, looking at the floor. + </p> + <p> + “Oh no,” Gurney laughed. “Not quite yet; but you may be almost. We'll see. + Don't forget I said to walk down.” + </p> + <p> + And when the examination was concluded, that afternoon, the doctor + informed Bibbs that the result was much too satisfactory to be pleasing. + “Here's a new 'situation' for a one-act farce,” he said, gloomily, to his + next patient when Bibbs had gone. “Doctor tells a man he's well, and + that's his death sentence, likely. Dam' funny world!” + </p> + <p> + Bibbs decided to walk home, though Gurney had not instructed him upon this + point. In fact, Gurney seemed to have no more instructions on any point, + so discouraging was the young man's improvement. It was a dingy afternoon, + and the smoke was evident not only to Bibbs's sight, but to his nostrils, + though most of the pedestrians were so saturated with the smell they could + no longer detect it. Nearly all of them walked hurriedly, too intent upon + their destinations to be more than half aware of the wayside; they wore + the expressions of people under a vague yet constant strain. They were all + lightly powdered, inside and out, with fine dust and grit from the + hard-paved streets, and they were unaware of that also. They did not even + notice that they saw the smoke, though the thickened air was like a + shrouding mist. And when Bibbs passed the new “Sheridan Apartments,” now + almost completed, he observed that the marble of the vestibule was already + streaky with soot, like his gloves, which were new. + </p> + <p> + That recalled to him the faint odor of gasolene in the coupe on the way + from his brother's funeral, and this incited a train of thought which + continued till he reached the vicinity of his home. His route was by a + street parallel to that on which the New House fronted, and in his + preoccupation he walked a block farther than he intended, so that, having + crossed to his own street, he approached the New House from the north, and + as he came to the corner of Mr. Vertrees's lot Mr. Vertrees's daughter + emerged from the front door and walked thoughtfully down the path to the + old picket gate. She was unconscious of the approach of the pedestrian + from the north, and did not see him until she had opened the gate and he + was almost beside her. Then she looked up, and as she saw him she started + visibly. And if this thing had happened to Robert Lamhorn, he would have + had a thought far beyond the horizon of faint-hearted Bibbs's thoughts. + Lamhorn, indeed, would have spoken his thought. He would have said: “You + jumped because you were thinking of me!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV + </h2> + <p> + Mary was the picture of a lady flustered. She stood with one hand closing + the gate behind her, and she had turned to go in the direction Bibbs was + walking. There appeared to be nothing for it but that they should walk + together, at least as far as the New House. But Bibbs had paused in his + slow stride, and there elapsed an instant before either spoke or moved—it + was no longer than that, and yet it sufficed for each to seem to say, by + look and attitude, “Why, it's YOU!” + </p> + <p> + Then they both spoke at once, each hurriedly pronouncing the other's name + as if about to deliver a message of importance. Then both came to a stop + simultaneously, but Bibbs made a heroic effort, and as they began to walk + on together he contrived to find his voice. + </p> + <p> + “I—I—hate a frozen fish myself,” he said. “I think three miles + was too long for you to put up with one.” + </p> + <p> + “Good gracious!” she cried, turning to him a glowing face from which + restraint and embarrassment had suddenly fled. “Mr. Sheridan, you're + lovely to put it that way. But it's always the girl's place to say it's + turning cooler! I ought to have been the one to show that we didn't know + each other well enough not to say SOMETHING! It was an imposition for me + to have made you bring me home, and after I went into the house I decided + I should have walked. Besides, it wasn't three miles to the car-line. I + never thought of it!” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Bibbs, earnestly. “I didn't, either. I might have said + something if I'd thought of anything. I'm talking now, though; I must + remember that, and not worry about it later. I think I'm talking, though + it doesn't sound intelligent even to me. I made up my mind that if I ever + met you again I'd turn on my voice and keep it going, no mater what it + said. I—” + </p> + <p> + She interrupted him with laughter, and Mary Vertrees's laugh was one which + Bibbs's father had declared, after the house-warming, “a cripple would + crawl five miles to hear.” And at the merry lilting of it Bibbs's father's + son took heart to forget some of his trepidation. “I'll be any kind of + idiot,” he said, “if you'll laugh at me some more. It won't be difficult + for me.” + </p> + <p> + She did; and Bibbs's cheeks showed a little actual color, which Mary + perceived. It recalled to her, by contrast, her careless and irritated + description of him to her mother just after she had seen him for the first + time. “Rather tragic and altogether impossible.” It seemed to her now that + she must have been blind. + </p> + <p> + They had passed the New House without either of them showing—or + possessing—any consciousness that it had been the destination of one + of them. + </p> + <p> + “I'll keep on talking,” Bibbs continued, cheerfully, “and you keep on + laughing. I'm amounting to something in the world this afternoon. I'm + making a noise, and that makes you make music. Don't be bothered by my + bleating out such things as that. I'm really frightened, and that makes me + bleat anything. I'm frightened about two things: I'm afraid of what I'll + think of myself later if I don't keep talking—talking now, I mean—and + I'm afraid of what I'll think of myself if I do. And besides these two + things, I'm frightened, anyhow. I don't remember talking as much as this + more than once or twice in my life. I suppose it was always in me to do + it, though, the first time I met any one who didn't know me well enough + not to listen.” + </p> + <p> + “But you're not really talking to me,” said Mary. “You're just thinking + aloud.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” he returned, gravely. “I'm not thinking at all; I'm only making + vocal sounds because I believe it's more mannerly. I seem to be the + subject of what little meaning they possess, and I'd like to change it, + but I don't know how. I haven't any experience in talking, and I don't + know how to manage it.” + </p> + <p> + “You needn't change the subject on my account, Mr. Sheridan,” she said. + “Not even if you really talked about yourself.” She turned her face toward + him as she spoke, and Bibbs caught his breath; he was pathetically amazed + by the look she gave him. It was a glowing look, warmly friendly and + understanding, and, what almost shocked him, it was an eagerly interested + look. Bibbs was not accustomed to anything like that. + </p> + <p> + “I—you—I—I'm—” he stammered, and the faint color + in his cheeks grew almost vivid. + </p> + <p> + She was still looking at him, and she saw the strange radiance that came + into his face. There was something about him, too, that explained how + “queer” many people might think him; but he did not seem “queer” to Mary + Vertrees; he seemed the most quaintly natural person she had ever met. + </p> + <p> + He waited, and became coherent. “YOU say something now,” he said. “I don't + even belong in the chorus, and here I am, trying to sing the funny man's + solo! You—” + </p> + <p> + “No,” she interrupted. “I'd rather play your accompaniment.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll stop and listen to it, then.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps—” she began, but after pausing thoughtfully she made a + gesture with her muff, indicating a large brick church which they were + approaching. “Do you see that church, Mr. Sheridan?” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose I could,” he answered in simple truthfulness, looking at her. + “But I don't want to. Once, when I was ill, the nurse told me I'd better + say anything that was on my mind, and I got the habit. The other reason I + don't want to see the church is that I have a feeling it's where you're + going, and where I'll be sent back.” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head in cheery negation. “Not unless you want to be. Would + you like to come with me?” + </p> + <p> + “Why—why—yes,” he said. “Anywhere!” And again it was apparent + that he spoke in simple truthfulness. + </p> + <p> + “Then come—if you care for organ music. The organist is an old + friend of mine, and sometimes he plays for me. He's a dear old man. He had + a degree from Bonn, and was a professor afterward, but he gave up + everything for music. That's he, waiting in the doorway. He looks like + Beethoven, doesn't he? I think he knows that, perhaps and enjoys it a + little. I hope so.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Bibbs, as they reached the church steps. “I think Beethoven + would like it, too. It must be pleasant to look like other people.” + </p> + <p> + “I haven't kept you?” Mary said to the organist. + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” he answered, heartily. “I would not mind so only you should + shooer come!” + </p> + <p> + “This is Mr. Sheridan, Dr. Kraft. He has come to listen with me.” + </p> + <p> + The organist looked bluntly surprised. “Iss that SO?” he exclaimed. “Well, + I am glad if you wish him, and if he can stant my liddle playink. He iss + musician himself, then, of course.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Bibbs, as the three entered the church together. “I—I + played the—I tried to play—” Fortunately he checked himself; + he had been about to offer the information that he had failed to master + the jews'-harp in his boyhood. “No, I'm not a musician,” he contented + himself with saying. + </p> + <p> + “What?” Dr. Kraft's surprise increased. “Young man, you are fortunate! I + play for Miss Vertrees; she comes always alone. You are the first. You are + the first one EVER!” + </p> + <p> + They had reached the head of the central aisle, and as the organist + finished speaking Bibbs stopped short, turning to look at Mary Vertrees in + a dazed way that was not of her perceiving; for, though she stopped as he + did, her gaze followed the organist, who was walking away from them toward + the front of the church, shaking his white Beethovian mane roguishly. + </p> + <p> + “It's false pretenses on my part,” Bibbs said. “You mean to be kind to the + sick, but I'm not an invalid any more. I'm so well I'm going back to work + in a few days. I'd better leave before he begins to play, hadn't I?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Mary, beginning to walk forward. “Not unless you don't like + great music.” + </p> + <p> + He followed her to a seat about half-way up the aisle while Dr. Kraft + ascended to the organ. It was an enormous one, the procession of pipes + ranging from long, starveling whistles to thundering fat guns; they + covered all the rear wall of the church, and the organist's figure, + reaching its high perch, looked like that of some Lilliputian magician + ludicrously daring the attempt to control a monster certain to overwhelm + him. + </p> + <p> + “This afternoon some Handel!” he turned to shout. + </p> + <p> + Mary nodded. “Will you like that?” she asked Bibbs. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know. I never heard any except 'Largo.' I don't know anything + about music. I don't even know how to pretend I do. If I knew enough to + pretend, I would.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Mary, looking at him and smiling faintly, “you wouldn't.” + </p> + <p> + She turned away as a great sound began to swim and tremble in the air; the + huge empty space of the church filled with it, and the two people + listening filled with it; the universe seemed to fill and thrill with it. + The two sat intensely still, the great sound all round about them, while + the church grew dusky, and only the organist's lamp made a tiny star of + light. His white head moved from side to side beneath it rhythmically, or + lunged and recovered with the fierceness of a duelist thrusting, but he + was magnificently the master of his giant, and it sang to his magic as he + bade it. + </p> + <p> + Bibbs was swept away upon that mighty singing. Such a thing was wholly + unknown to him; there had been no music in his meager life. Unlike the + tale, it was the Princess Bedrulbudour who had brought him to the + enchanted cave, and that—for Bibbs—was what made its magic + dazing. It seemed to him a long, long time since he had been walking home + drearily from Dr. Gurney's office; it seemed to him that he had set out + upon a happy journey since then, and that he had reached another planet, + where Mary Vertrees and he sat alone together listening to a vast choiring + of invisible soldiers and holy angels. There were armies of voices about + them singing praise and thanksgiving; and yet they were alone. It was + incredible that the walls of the church were not the boundaries of the + universe, to remain so for ever; incredible that there was a smoky street + just yonder, where housemaids were bringing in evening papers from front + steps and where children were taking their last spins on roller-skates + before being haled indoors for dinner. + </p> + <p> + He had a curious sense of communication with his new friend. He knew it + could not be so, and yet he felt as if all the time he spoke to her, + saying: “You hear this strain? You hear that strain? You know the dream + that these sounds bring to me?” And it seemed to him as though she + answered continually: “I hear! I hear that strain, and I hear the new one + that you are hearing now. I know the dream that these sounds bring to you. + Yes, yes, I hear it all! We hear—together!” + </p> + <p> + And though the church grew so dim that all was mysterious shadow except + the vague planes of the windows and the organist's light, with the white + head moving beneath it, Bibbs had no consciousness that the girl sitting + beside him had grown shadowy; he seemed to see her as plainly as ever in + the darkness, though he did not look at her. And all the mighty chanting + of the organ's multitudinous voices that afternoon seemed to Bibbs to be + chorusing of her and interpreting her, singing her thoughts and singing + for him the world of humble gratitude that was in his heart because she + was so kind to him. It all meant Mary. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI + </h2> + <p> + But when she asked him what it meant, on their homeward way, he was + silent. They had come a few paces from the church without speaking, + walking slowly. + </p> + <p> + “I'll tell you what it meant to me,” she said, as he did not immediately + reply. “Almost any music of Handel's always means one thing above all + others to me: courage! That's it. It makes cowardice of whining seem so + infinitesimal—it makes MOST things in our hustling little lives seem + infinitesimal.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he said. “It seems odd, doesn't it, that people down-town are + hurrying to trains and hanging to straps in trolley-cars, weltering every + way to get home and feed and sleep so they can get down-town to-morrow. + And yet there isn't anything down there worth getting to. They're like + servants drudging to keep the house going, and believing the drudgery + itself is the great thing. They make so much noise and fuss and dirt they + forget that the house was meant to live in. The housework has to be done, + but the people who do it have been so overpaid that they're confused and + worship the housework. They're overpaid, and yet, poor things! they + haven't anything that a chicken can't have. Of course, when the world gets + to paying its wages sensibly that will be different.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean 'communism'?” she asked, and she made their slow pace a + little slower—they had only three blocks to go. + </p> + <p> + “Whatever the word is, I only mean that things don't look very sensible + now—especially to a man that wants to keep out of 'em and can't! + 'Communism'? Well, at least any 'decent sport' would say it's fair for all + the strong runners to start from the same mark and give the weak ones a + fair distance ahead, so that all can run something like even on the + stretch. And wouldn't it be pleasant, really, if they could all cross the + winning-line together? Who really enjoys beating anybody—if he sees + the beaten man's face? The only way we can enjoy getting ahead of other + people nowadays is by forgetting what the other people feel. And that,” he + added, “is nothing of what the music meant to me. You see, if I keep + talking about what it didn't mean I can keep from telling you what it did + mean.” + </p> + <p> + “Didn't it mean courage to you, too—a little?” she asked. “Triumph + and praise were in it, and somehow those things mean courage to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, they were all there,” Bibbs said. “I don't know the name of what he + played, but I shouldn't think it would matter much. The man that makes the + music must leave it to you what it can mean to you, and the name he puts + to it can't make much difference—except to himself and people very + much like him, I suppose.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose that's true, though I'd never thought of it like that.” + </p> + <p> + “I imagine music must make feelings and paint pictures in the minds of the + people who hear it,” Bibbs went on, musingly, “according to their own + natures as much as according to the music itself. The musician might + compose something and play it, wanting you to think of the Holy Grail, and + some people who heard it would think of a prayer-meeting, and some would + think of how good they were themselves, and a boy might think of himself + at the head of a solemn procession, carrying a banner and riding a white + horse. And then, if there were some jubilant passages in the music, he'd + think of a circus.” + </p> + <p> + They had reached her gate, and she set her hand upon it, but did not open + it. Bibbs felt that this was almost the kindest of her kindnesses—not + to be prompt in leaving him. + </p> + <p> + “After all,” she said, “you didn't tell me whether you liked it.” + </p> + <p> + “No. I didn't need to.” + </p> + <p> + “No, that's true, and I didn't need to ask. I knew. But you said you were + trying to keep from telling me what it did mean.” + </p> + <p> + “I can't keep from telling it any longer,” he said. “The music meant to me—it + meant the kindness of—of you.” + </p> + <p> + “Kindness? How?” + </p> + <p> + “You thought I was a sort of lonely tramp—and sick—” + </p> + <p> + “No,” she said, decidedly. “I thought perhaps you'd like to hear Dr. Kraft + play. And you did.” + </p> + <p> + “It's curious; sometimes it seemed to me that it was you who were + playing.” + </p> + <p> + Mary laughed. “I? I strum! Piano. A little Chopin—Grieg—Chaminade. + You wouldn't listen!” + </p> + <p> + Bibbs drew a deep breath. “I'm frightened again,” he said, in an unsteady + voice. “I'm afraid you'll think I'm pushing, but—” He paused, and + the words sank to a murmur. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, if you want ME to play for you!” she said. “Yes, gladly. It will be + merely absurd after what you heard this afternoon. I play like a hundred + thousand other girls, and I like it. I'm glad when any one's willing to + listen, and if you—” She stopped, checked by a sudden recollection, + and laughed ruefully. “But my piano won't be here after to-night. I—I'm + sending it away to-morrow. I'm afraid that if you'd like me to play to you + you'd have to come this evening.” + </p> + <p> + “You'll let me?” he cried. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, if you care to.” + </p> + <p> + “If I could play—” he said, wistfully, “if I could play like that + old man in the church I could thank you.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, but you haven't heard me play. I KNOW you liked this afternoon, but—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Bibbs. “It was the greatest happiness I've ever known.” + </p> + <p> + It was too dark to see his face, but his voice held such plain honesty, + and he spoke with such complete unconsciousness of saying anything + especially significant, that she knew it was the truth. For a moment she + was nonplussed, then she opened the gate and went in. “You'll come after + dinner, then?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he said, not moving. “Would you mind if I stood here until time to + come in?” + </p> + <p> + She had reached the steps, and at that she turned, offering him the + response of laughter and a gay gesture of her muff toward the lighted + windows of the New House, as though bidding him to run home to his dinner. + </p> + <p> + That night, Bibbs sat writing in his note-book. + </p> +<div class="blok"><p> + Music can come into a blank life, and fill it. Everything that + is beautiful is music, if you can listen.</p> + +<p> There is no gracefulness like that of a graceful woman at a grand + piano. There is a swimming loveliness of line that seems to merge + with the running of the sound, and you seem, as you watch her, to + see what you are hearing and to hear what you are seeing.</p> + +<p> There are women who make you think of pine woods coming down to + a sparkling sea. The air about such a woman is bracing, and when + she is near you, you feel strong and ambitious; you forget that + the world doesn't like you. You think that perhaps you are a great + fellow, after all. Then you come away and feel like a boy who has + fallen in love with his Sunday-school teacher. You'll be whipped + for it—and ought to be.</p> + +<p> There are women who make you think of Diana, crowned with the moon. + But they do not have the “Greek profile.” I do not believe Helen + of Troy had a “Greek profile”; they would not have fought about her + if her nose had been quite that long. The Greek nose is not the + adorable nose. The adorable nose is about an eighth of an inch + shorter.</p> + +<p> Much of the music of Wagner, it appears, is not suitable to the + piano. Wagner was a composer who could interpret into music such + things as the primitive impulses of humanity—he could have made a + machine-shop into music. But not if he had to work in it. Wagner + was always dealing in immensities—a machine-shop would have put a + majestic lump in so grand a gizzard as that. +</p> +<p> There is a mystery about pianos, it seems. Sometimes they have to + be “sent away.” That is how some people speak of the penitentiary. + “Sent away” is a euphuism for “sent to prison.” But pianos are not + sent to prison, and they are not sent to the tuner—the tuner is + sent to them. Why are pianos “sent away”—and where?</p> + +<p> Sometimes a glorious day shines into the most ordinary and useless + life. Happiness and beauty come caroling out of the air into the + gloomy house of that life as if some stray angel just happened to + perch on the roof-tree, resting and singing. And the night after + such a day is lustrous and splendid with the memory of it. Music + and beauty and kindness—those are the three greatest things God + can give us. To bring them all in one day to one who expected + nothing—ah! the heart that received them should be as humble as + it is thankful. But it is hard to be humble when one is so rich + with new memories. It is impossible to be humble after a day of + glory.</p> + +<p> Yes—the adorable nose is more than an eighth of an inch shorter + than the Greek nose. It is a full quarter of an inch shorter.</p> + +<p> There are women who will be kinder to a sick tramp than to a + conquering hero. But the sick tramp had better remember that's + what he is. Take care, take care! Humble's the word!</p> +</div> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII + </h2> + <p> + That “mystery about pianos” which troubled Bibbs had been a mystery to Mr. + Vertrees, and it was being explained to him at about the time Bibbs + scribbled the reference to it in his notes. Mary had gone up-stairs upon + Bibbs's departure at ten o'clock, and Mr. and Mrs. Vertrees sat until + after midnight in the library, talking. And in all that time they found + not one cheerful topic, but became more depressed with everything and with + every phase of everything that they discussed—no extraordinary state + of affairs in a family which has always “held up its head,” only to arrive + in the end at a point where all it can do is to look on helplessly at the + processes of its own financial dissolution. For that was the point which + this despairing couple had reached—they could do nothing except look + on and talk about it. They were only vaporing, and they knew it. + </p> + <p> + “She needn't to have done that about her piano,” vapored Mr. Vertrees. “We + could have managed somehow without it. At least she ought to have + consulted me, and if she insisted I could have arranged the details with + the—the dealer.” + </p> + <p> + “She thought that it might be—annoying for you,” Mrs. Vertrees + explained. “Really, she planned for you not to know about it until they + had removed—until after to-morrow, that is, but I decided to—to + mention it. You see, she didn't even tell me about it until this morning. + She has another idea, too, I'm afraid. It's—it's—” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” he urged, as she found it difficult to go on. + </p> + <p> + “Her other idea is—that is, it was—I think it can be avoided, + of course—it was about her furs.” + </p> + <p> + “No!” he exclaimed, quickly. “I won't have it! You must see to that. I'd + rather not talk to her about it, but you mustn't let her.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll try not,” his wife promised. “Of course, they're very handsome.” + </p> + <p> + “All the more reason for her to keep them!” he returned, irritably. “We're + not THAT far gone, I think!” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps not yet,” Mrs. Vertrees said. “She seems to be troubled about the—the + coal matter and—about Tilly. Of course the piano will take care of + some things like those for a while and—” + </p> + <p> + “I don't like it. I gave her the piano to play on, not to—” + </p> + <p> + “You mustn't be distressed about it in ONE way,” she said, comfortingly. + “She arranged with the—with the purchaser that the men will come for + it about half after five in the afternoon. The days are so short now it's + really quite winter.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes,” he agreed, moodily. “So far as that goes people have a right to + move a piece of furniture without stirring up the neighbors, I suppose, + even by daylight. I don't suppose OUR neighbors are paying much attention + just now, though I hear Sheridan was back in his office early the morning + after the funeral.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Vertrees made a little sound of commiseration. “I don't believe that + was because he wasn't suffering, though. I'm sure it was only because he + felt his business was so important. Mary told me he seemed wrapped up in + his son's succeeding; and that was what he bragged about most. He isn't + vulgar in his boasting, I understand; he doesn't talk a great deal about + his—his actual money—though there was something about blades + of grass that I didn't comprehend. I think he meant something about his + energy—but perhaps not. No, his bragging usually seemed to be not so + much a personal vainglory as about his family and the greatness of this + city.” + </p> + <p> + “'Greatness of this city'!” Mr. Vertrees echoed, with dull bitterness. + “It's nothing but a coal-hole! I suppose it looks 'great' to the man who + has the luck to make it work for him. I suppose it looks 'great' to any + YOUNG man, too, starting out to make his fortune out of it. The fellows + that get what they want out of it say it's 'great,' and everybody else + gets the habit. But you have a different point of view if it's the city + that got what it wanted out of you! Of course Sheridan says it's 'great'.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Vertrees seemed unaware of this unusual outburst. “I believe,” she + began, timidly, “he doesn't boast of—that is, I understand he has + never seemed so interested in the—the other one.” + </p> + <p> + Her husband's face was dark, but at that a heavier shadow fell upon it; he + looked more haggard than before. “'The other one',” he repeated, averting + his eyes. “You mean—you mean the third son—the one that was + here this evening?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, the—the youngest,” she returned, her voice so feeble it was + almost a whisper. + </p> + <p> + And then neither of them spoke for several long minutes. Nor did either + look at the other during that silence. + </p> + <p> + At last Mr. Vertrees contrived to cough, but not convincingly. “What—ah—what + was it Mary said about him out in the hall, when she came in this + afternoon? I heard you asking her something about him, but she answered in + such a low voice I didn't—ah—happen to catch it.” + </p> + <p> + “She—she didn't say much. All she said was this: I asked her if she + had enjoyed her walk with him, and she said, 'He's the most wistful + creature I've ever known.'” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “That was all. He IS wistful-looking; and so fragile—though he + doesn't seem quite so much so lately. I was watching Mary from the window + when she went out to-day, and he joined her, and if I hadn't known about + him I'd have thought he had quite an interesting face.” + </p> + <p> + “If you 'hadn't known about him'? Known what?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, nothing, of course,” she said, hurriedly. “Nothing definite, that is. + Mary said decidely, long ago, that he's not at all insane, as we thought + at first. It's only—well, of course it IS odd, their attitude about + him. I suppose it's some nervous trouble that makes him—perhaps a + little queer at times, so that he can't apply himself to anything—or + perhaps does odd things. But, after all, of course, we only have an + impression about it. We don't know—that is, positively. I—” + She paused, then went on: “I didn't know just how to ask—that is—I + didn't mention it to Mary. I didn't—I—” The poor lady + floundered pitifully, concluding with a mumble. “So soon after—after + the—the shock.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't think I've caught more than a glimpse of him,” said Mr. Vertrees. + “I wouldn't know him if I saw him, but your impression of him is—” + He broke off suddenly, springing to his feet in agitation. “I can't + imagine her—oh, NO!” he gasped. And he began to pace the floor. “A + half-witted epileptic!” + </p> + <p> + “No, no!” she cried. “He may be all right. We—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it's horrible! I can't—” He threw himself back into his chair + again, sweeping his hands across his face, then letting them fall limply + at his sides. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Vertrees was tremulous. “You mustn't give way so,” she said, inspired + for once almost to direct discourse. “Whatever Mary might think of doing, + it wouldn't be on her own account; it would be on ours. But if WE should—should + consider it, that wouldn't be on OUR own account. It isn't because we + think of ourselves.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh God, no!” he groaned. “Not for us! We can go to the poorhouse, but + Mary can't be a stenographer!” + </p> + <p> + Sighing, Mrs. Vertrees resumed her obliqueness. “Of course,” she murmured, + “it all seems very premature, speculating about such things, but I had a + queer sort of feeling that she seemed quite interested in this—” She + had almost said “in this one,” but checked herself. “In this young man. + It's natural, of course; she is always so strong and well, and he is—he + seems to be, that is—rather appealing to the—the sympathies.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes!” he agreed, bitterly. “Precisely. The sympathies!” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps,” she faltered, “perhaps you might feel easier if I could have a + little talk with some one?” + </p> + <p> + “With whom?” + </p> + <p> + “I had thought of—not going about it too brusquely, of course, but + perhaps just waiting for his name to be mentioned, if I happened to be + talking with somebody that knew the family—and then I might find a + chance to say that I was sorry to hear he'd been ill so much, and—Something + of that kind perhaps?” + </p> + <p> + “You don't know anybody that knows the family.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. That is—well, in a way, of course, one OF the family. That + Mrs. Roscoe Sheridan is not a—that is, she's rather a pleasant-faced + little woman, I think, and of course rather ordinary. I think she is + interested about—that is, of course, she'd be anxious to be more + intimate with Mary, naturally. She's always looking over here from her + house; she was looking out the window this afternoon when Mary went out, I + noticed—though I don't think Mary saw her. I'm sure she wouldn't + think it out of place to—to be frank about matters. She called the + other day, and Mary must rather like her—she said that evening that + the call had done her good. Don't you think it might be wise?” + </p> + <p> + “Wise? I don't know. I feel the whole matter is impossible.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, so do I,” she returned, promptly. “It isn't really a thing we should + be considering seriously, of course. Still—” + </p> + <p> + “I should say not! But possibly—” + </p> + <p> + Thus they skirmished up and down the field, but before they turned the + lights out and went up-stairs it was thoroughly understood between them + that Mrs. Vertrees should seek the earliest opportunity to obtain definite + information from Sibyl Sheridan concerning the mental and physical status + of Bibbs. And if he were subject to attacks of lunacy, the unhappy pair + decided to prevent the sacrifice they supposed their daughter intended to + make of herself. Altogether, if there were spiteful ghosts in the old + house that night, eavesdropping upon the woeful comedy, they must have + died anew of laughter! + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Vertrees's opportunity occurred the very next afternoon. Darkness had + fallen, and the piano-movers had come. They were carrying the piano down + the front steps, and Mrs. Vertrees was standing in the open doorway behind + them, preparing to withdraw, when she heard a sharp exclamation; and Mrs. + Roscoe Sheridan, bareheaded, emerged from the shadow into the light of the + doorway. + </p> + <p> + “Good gracious!” she cried. “It did give me a fright!” + </p> + <p> + “It's Mrs. Sheridan, isn't it?” Mrs. Vertrees was perplexed by this + informal appearance, but she reflected that it might be providential. + “Won't you come in?” + </p> + <p> + “No. Oh no, thank you!” Sibyl panted, pressing her hand to her side. “You + don't know what a fright you've given me! And it was nothing but your + piano!” She laughed shrilly. “You know, since our tragedy coming so + suddenly the other day, you have no idea how upset I've been—almost + hysterical! And I just glanced out of the window, a minute or so ago, and + saw your door wide open and black figures of men against the light, + carrying something heavy, and I almost fainted. You see, it was just the + way it looked when I saw them bringing my poor brother-in-law in, next + door, only such a few short days ago. And I thought I'd seen your daughter + start for a drive with Bibbs Sheridan in a car about three o'clock—and— + They aren't back yet, are they?” + </p> + <p> + “No. Good heavens!” + </p> + <p> + “And the only thing I could think of was that something must have happened + to them, and I just dashed over—and it was only your PIANO!” She + broke into laughter again. “I suppose you're just sending it somewhere to + be repaired, aren't you?” + </p> + <p> + “It's—it's being taken down-town,” said Mrs. Vertrees. “Won't you + come in and make me a little visit. I was SO sorry, the other day, that I + was—ah—” She stopped inconsequently, then repeated her + invitation. “Won't you come in? I'd really—” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, but I must be running back. My husband usually gets home about + this time, and I make a little point of it always to be there.” + </p> + <p> + “That's very sweet.” Mrs. Vertrees descended the steps and walked toward + the street with Sibyl. “It's quite balmy for so late in November, isn't + it? Almost like a May evening.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid Miss Vertrees will miss her piano,” said Sibyl, watching the + instrument disappear into the big van at the curb. “She plays wonderfully, + Mrs. Kittersby tells me.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, she plays very well. One of your relatives came to hear her + yesterday, after dinner, and I think she played all evening for him.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean Bibbs?” asked Sibyl. + </p> + <p> + “The—the youngest Mr. Sheridan. Yes. He's very musical, isn't he?” + </p> + <p> + “I never heard of it. But I shouldn't think it would matter much whether + he was or not, if he could get Miss Vertrees to play to him. Does your + daughter expect the piano back soon?” + </p> + <p> + “I—I believe not immediately. Mr. Sheridan came last evening to hear + her play because she had arranged with the—that is, it was to be + removed this afternoon. He seems almost well again.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” Sibyl nodded. “His father's going to try to start him to work.” + </p> + <p> + “He seems very delicate,” said Mrs. Vertrees. “I shouldn't think he would + be able to stand a great deal, either physically or—” She paused and + then added, glowing with the sense of her own adroitness—“or + mentally.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, mentally Bibbs is all right,” said Sibyl, in an odd voice. + </p> + <p> + “Entirely?” Mrs. Vertrees asked, breathlessly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, entirely.” + </p> + <p> + “But has he ALWAYS been?” This question came with the same anxious + eagerness. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly. He had a long siege of nervous dyspepsia, but he's over it.” + </p> + <p> + “And you think—” + </p> + <p> + “Bibbs is all right. You needn't wor—” Sibyl choked, and pressed her + handkerchief to her mouth. “Good night, Mrs. Vertrees,” she said, + hurriedly, as the head-lights of an automobile swung round the corner + above, sending a brightening glare toward the edge of the pavement where + the two ladies were standing. + </p> + <p> + “Won't you come in?” urged Mrs. Vertrees, cordially, hearing the sound of + a cheerful voice out of the darkness beyond the approaching glare. “Do! + There's Mary now, and she—” + </p> + <p> + But Sibyl was half-way across the street. “No, thanks,” she called. “I + hope she won't miss her piano!” And she ran into her own house and plunged + headlong upon a leather divan in the hall, holding her handkerchief over + her mouth. + </p> + <p> + The noise of her tumultuous entrance was evidently startling in the quiet + house, for upon the bang of the door there followed the crash of a + decanter, dropped upon the floor of the dining-room at the end of the + hall; and, after a rumble of indistinct profanity, Roscoe came forth, + holding a dripping napkin in his hand. + </p> + <p> + “What's your excitement?” he demanded. “What do you find to go into + hysterics over? Another death in the family?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it's funny!” she gasped. “Those old frost-bitten people! I guess + THEY'RE getting their come-uppance!” Lying prone, she elevated her feet in + the air, clapped her heels together repeatedly, in an ecstasy. + </p> + <p> + “Come through, come through!” said her husband, crossly. “What you been up + to?” + </p> + <p> + “Me?” she cried, dropping her feet and swinging around to face him. + “Nothing. It's them! Those Vertreeses!” She wiped her eyes. “They've had + to sell their piano!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what of it?” + </p> + <p> + “That Mrs. Kittersby told me all about 'em a week ago,” said Sibyl. + “They've been hard up for a long time, and she says as long ago as last + winter she knew that girl got a pair of walking-shoes re-soled and + patched, because she got it done the same place Mrs. Kittersby's cook had + HERS! And the night of the house-warming I kind of got suspicious, myself. + She didn't have one single piece of any kind of real jewelry, and you + could see her dress was an old one done over. Men can't tell those things, + and you all made a big fuss over her, but I thought she looked a sight, + myself! Of course, EDITH was crazy to have her, and—” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well?” he urged, impatiently. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'm TELLING you! Mrs. Kittersby says they haven't got a THING! Just + absolutely NOTHING—and they don't know anywhere to turn! The + family's all died out but them, and all the relatives they got are very + distant, and live East and scarcely know 'em. She says the whole town's + been wondering what WOULD become of 'em. The girl had plenty chances to + marry up to a year or so ago, but she was so indifferent she scared the + men off, and the ones that had wanted to went and married other girls. + Gracious! they were lucky! Marry HER? The man that found himself tied up + to THAT girl—” + </p> + <p> + “Terrible funny, terrible funny!” said Roscoe, with sarcasm. “It's so + funny I broke a cut-glass decanter and spilled a quart of—” + </p> + <p> + “Wait!” she begged. “You'll see. I was sitting by the window a little + while ago, and I saw a big wagon drive up across the street and some men + go into the house. It was too dark to make out much, and for a minute I + got the idea they were moving out—the house has been foreclosed on, + Mrs. Kittersby says. It seemed funny, too, because I knew that girl was + out riding with Bibbs. Well, I thought I'd see, so I slipped over—and + it was their PIANO! They'd sold it and were trying to sneak it out after + dark, so nobody'd catch on!” Again she gave way to her enjoyment, but + resumed, as her husband seemed about to interrupt the narrative. “Wait a + minute, can't you? The old lady was superintending, and she gave it all + away. I sized her up for one of those old churchy people that tell all + kinds of lies except when it comes to so many words, and then they can't. + She might just as well told me outright! Yes, they'd sold it; and I hope + they'll pay some of their debts. They owe everybody, and last week a + coal-dealer made an awful fuss at the door with Mr. Vertrees. Their cook + told our upstairs girl, and she said she didn't know WHEN she'd seen any + money, herself! Did you ever hear of such a case as that girl in your + LIFE?” + </p> + <p> + “What girl? Their cook?” + </p> + <p> + “That Vertrees girl! Don't you see they looked on our coming up into this + neighborhood as their last chance? They were just going down and out, and + here bobs up the green, rich Sheridan family! So they doll the girl up in + her old things, made over, and send her out to get a Sheridan—she's + GOT to get one! And she just goes in blind; and she tries it on first with + YOU. You remember, she just plain TOLD you she was going to mash you, and + then she found out you were the married one, and turned right square + around to Jim and carried him off his feet. Oh, Jim was landed—there's + no doubt about THAT! But Jim was lucky; he didn't live to STAY landed, and + it's a good thing for him!” Sibyl's mirth had vanished, and she spoke with + virulent rapidity. “Well, she couldn't get you, because you were married, + and she couldn't get Jim, because Jim died. And there they were, dead + broke! Do you know what she did? Do you know what she's DOING?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I don't,” said Roscoe, gruffly. + </p> + <p> + Sibyl's voice rose and culminated in a scream of renewed hilarity. “BIBBS! + She waited in the grave-yard, and drove home with him from JIM'S FUNERAL! + Never spoke to him before! Jim wasn't COLD!” + </p> + <p> + She rocked herself back and forth upon the divan. “Bibbs!” she shrieked. + “Bibbs! Roscoe, THINK of it! BIBBS!” + </p> + <p> + He stared unsympathetically, but her mirth was unabated for all that. “And + yesterday,” she continued, between paroxysms—“yesterday she came out + of the house—just as he was passing. She must have been looking out—waiting + for the chance; I saw the old lady watching at the window! And she got him + there last night—to 'PLAY' to him; the old lady gave that away! And + to-day she made him take her out in a machine! And the cream of it is that + they didn't even know whether he was INSANE or not—they thought + maybe he was, but she went after him just the same! The old lady set + herself to pump me about it to-day. BIBBS! Oh, my Lord! BIBBS!” + </p> + <p> + But Roscoe looked grim. “So it's funny to you, is it? It sounds kind of + pitiful to me. I should think it would to a woman, too.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it might,” she returned, sobering. “It might, if those people weren't + such frozen-faced smart Alecks. If they'd had the decency to come down off + the perch a little I probably wouldn't think it was funny, but to see 'em + sit up on their pedestal all the time they're eating dirt—well, I + think it's funny! That girl sits up as if she was Queen Elizabeth, and + expects people to wallow on the ground before her until they get near + enough for her to give 'em a good kick with her old patched shoes—oh, + she'd do THAT, all right!—and then she powders up and goes out to + mash—BIBBS SHERIDAN!” + </p> + <p> + “Look here,” said Roscoe, heavily; “I don't care about that one way or + another. If you're through, I got something I want to talk to you about. I + was going to, that day just before we heard about Jim.” + </p> + <p> + At this Sibyl stiffened quickly; her eyes became intensely bright. “What + is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he began, frowning, “what I was going to say then—” He broke + off, and, becoming conscious that he was still holding the wet napkin in + his hand, threw it pettishly into a corner. “I never expected I'd have to + say anything like this to anybody I MARRIED; but I was going to ask you + what was the matter between you and Lamhorn.” + </p> + <p> + Sibyl uttered a sharp monosyllable. “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “I felt the time had come for me to know about it,” he went on. “You never + told me anything—” + </p> + <p> + “You never asked,” she interposed, curtly. + </p> + <p> + “Well, we'd got in a way of not talking much,” said Roscoe. “It looks to + me now as if we'd pretty much lost the run of each other the way a good + many people do. I don't say it wasn't my fault. I was up early and down to + work all day, and I'd come home tired at night, and want to go to bed soon + as I'd got the paper read—unless there was some good musical show in + town. Well, you seemed all right until here lately, the last month or so, + I began to see something was wrong. I couldn't help seeing it.” + </p> + <p> + “Wrong?” she said. “What like?” + </p> + <p> + “You changed; you didn't look the same. You were all strung up and excited + and fidgety; you got to looking peakid and run down. Now then, Lamhorn had + been going with us a good while, but I noticed that not long ago you got + to picking on him about every little thing he did; you got to quarreling + with him when I was there and when I wasn't. I could see you'd been + quarreling whenever I came in and he was here.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you object to that?” asked Sibyl, breathing quickly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes—when it injures my wife's health!” he returned, with a quick + lift of his eyes to hers. “You began to run down just about the time you + began falling out with him.” He stepped close to her. “See here, Sibyl, + I'm going to know what it means.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you ARE?” she snapped. + </p> + <p> + “You're trembling,” he said, gravely. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I'm angry enough to do more than tremble, you'll find. Go on!” + </p> + <p> + “That was all I was going to say the other day,” he said. “I was going to + ask you—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that was all you were going to say THE OTHER DAY. Yes. What else + have you to say to-night?” + </p> + <p> + “To-night,” he replied, with grim swiftness, “I want to know why you keep + telephoning him you want to see him since he stopped coming here.” + </p> + <p> + She made a long, low sound of comprehension before she said, “And what + else did Edith want you to ask me?” + </p> + <p> + “I want to know what you say over the telephone to Lamhorn,” he said, + fiercely. + </p> + <p> + “Is that all Edith told you to ask me? You saw her when you stopped in + there on your way home this evening, didn't you? Didn't she tell you then + what I said over the telephone to Mr. Lamhorn?” + </p> + <p> + “No, she didn't!” he vociferated, his voice growing louder. “She said, + 'You tell your wife to stop telephoning Robert Lamhorn to come and see + her, because he isn't going to do it!' That's what she said! And I want to + know what it means. I intend—” + </p> + <p> + A maid appeared at the lower end of the hall. “Dinner is ready,” she said, + and, giving the troubled pair one glance, went demurely into the + dining-room. Roscoe disregarded the interruption. + </p> + <p> + “I intend to know exactly what has been going on,” he declared. “I mean to + know just what—” + </p> + <p> + Sibyl jumped up, almost touching him, standing face to face with him. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you DO!” she cried, shrilly. “You mean to know just what's what, do + you? You listen to your sister insinuating ugly things about your wife, + and then you come home making a scene before the servants and humiliating + me in their presence! Do you suppose that Irish girl didn't hear every + word you said? You go in there and eat your dinner alone! Go on! Go and + eat your dinner alone—because I won't eat with you!” + </p> + <p> + And she broke away from the detaining grasp he sought to fasten upon her, + and dashed up the stairway, panting. He heard the door of her room slam + overhead, and the sharp click of the key in the lock. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVIII + </h2> + <p> + At seven o'clock on the last morning of that month, Sheridan, passing + through the upper hall on his way to descend the stairs for breakfast, + found a couple of scribbled sheets of note-paper lying on the floor. A + window had been open in Bibbs's room the evening before; he had left his + note-book on the sill—and the sheets were loose. The door was open, + and when Bibbs came in and closed it, he did not notice that the two + sheets had blown out into the hall. Sheridan recognized the handwriting + and put the sheets in his coat pocket, intending to give them to George or + Jackson for return to the owner, but he forgot and carried them down-town + with him. At noon he found himself alone in his office, and, having a + little leisure, remembered the bits of manuscript, took them out, and + glanced at them. A glance was enough to reveal that they were not + epistolary. Sheridan would not have read a “private letter” that came into + his possession in that way, though in a “matter of business” he might have + felt it his duty to take advantage of an opportunity afforded in any + manner whatsoever. Having satisfied himself that Bibbs's scribblings were + only a sample of the kind of writing his son preferred to the + machine-shop, he decided, innocently enough, that he would be justified in + reading them. + </p> +<div class="blok"> +<p> It appears that a lady will nod pleasantly upon some windy + generalization of a companion, and will wear the most agreeable + expression of accepting it as the law, and then—days afterward, + when the thing is a mummy to its promulgator—she will inquire out + of a clear sky: “WHY did you say that the people down-town have + nothing in life that a chicken hasn't? What did you mean?” And she + may say it in a manner that makes a sensible reply very difficult + —you will be so full of wonder that she remembered so seriously.</p> + +<p> Yet, what does the rooster lack? He has food and shelter; he is + warm in winter; his wives raise not one fine family for him, but + dozens. He has a clear sky over him; he breathes sweet air; he + walks in his April orchard under a roof of flowers. He must die, + violently perhaps, but quickly. Is Midas's cancer a better way? + The rooster's wives and children must die. Are those of Midas + immortal? His life is shorter than the life of Midas, but Midas's + life is only a sixth as long as that of the Galapagos tortoise.</p> + +<p> The worthy money-worker takes his vacation so that he may refresh + himself anew for the hard work of getting nothing that the rooster + doesn't get. The office-building has an elevator, the rooster + flies up to the bough. Midas has a machine to take him to his work; + the rooster finds his worm underfoot. The “business man” feels + a pressure sometimes, without knowing why, and sits late at wine + after the day's labor; next morning he curses his head because it + interferes with the work—he swears never to relieve that pressure + again. The rooster has no pressure and no wine; this difference is + in his favor.</p> + +<p> The rooster is a dependent; he depends upon the farmer and the + weather. Midas is a dependent; he depends upon the farmer and the + weather. The rooster thinks only of the moment; Midas provides for + to-morrow. What does he provide for to-morrow? Nothing that the + rooster will not have without providing.</p> + +<p> The rooster and the prosperous worker: they are born, they grub, + they love; they grub and love grubbing; they grub and they die. + Neither knows beauty; neither knows knowledge. And after all, when + Midas dies and the rooster dies, there is one thing Midas has had + and rooster has not. Midas has had the excitement of accumulating + what he has grubbed, and that has been his life and his love and + his god. He cannot take that god with him when he dies. I wonder + if the worthy gods are those we can take with us.</p> + +<p> Midas must teach all to be as Midas; the young must be raised in + his religion—</p> +</div> + <p> + The manuscript ended there, and Sheridan was not anxious for more. He + crumpled the sheets into a ball, depositing it (with vigor) in a + waste-basket beside him; then, rising, he consulted a Cyclopedia of Names, + which a book-agent had somehow sold to him years before; a volume now + first put to use for the location of “Midas.” Having read the legend, + Sheridan walked up and down the spacious office, exhaling the breath of + contempt. “Dam' fool!” he mumbled. But this was no new thought, nor was + the contrariness of Bibbs's notes a surpise to him; and presently he + dismissed the matter from his mind. + </p> + <p> + He felt very lonely, and this was, daily, his hardest hour. For a long + time he and Jim had lunched together habitually. Roscoe preferred a club + luncheon, but Jim and his father almost always went to a small restaurant + near the Sheridan Building, where they spent twenty minutes in the + consumption of food, and twenty in talk, with cigars. Jim came for his + father every day, at five minutes after twelve, and Sheridan was again in + his office at five minutes before one. But now that Jim no longer came, + Sheridan remained alone in his office; he had not gone out to lunch since + Jim's death, nor did he have anything sent to him—he fasted until + evening. + </p> + <p> + It was the time he missed Jim personally the most—the voice and eyes + and handshake, all brisk and alert, all business-like. But these things + were not the keenest in Sheridan's grief; his sense of loss went far + deeper. Roscoe was dependable, a steady old wheel-horse, and that was a + great comfort; but it was in Jim that Sheridan had most happily perceived + his own likeness. Jim was the one who would have been surest to keep the + great property growing greater, year by year. Sheridan had fallen asleep, + night after night, picturing what the growth would be under Jim. He had + believed that Jim was absolutely certain to be one of the biggest men in + the country. Well, it was all up to Roscoe now! + </p> + <p> + That reminded him of a question he had in mind to ask Roscoe. It was a + question Sheridan considered of no present importance, but his wife had + suggested it—though vaguely—and he had meant to speak to + Roscoe about it. However, Roscoe had not come into his father's office for + several days, and when Sheridan had seen his son at home there had been no + opportunity. + </p> + <p> + He waited until the greater part of his day's work was over, toward four + o'clock, and then went down to Roscoe's office, which was on a lower + floor. He found several men waiting for business interviews in an outer + room of the series Roscoe occupied; and he supposed that he would find his + son busy with others, and that his question would have to be postponed, + but when he entered the door marked “R. C. Sheridan. Private,” Roscoe was + there alone. + </p> + <p> + He was sitting with his back to the door, his feet on a window-sill, and + he did not turn as his father opened the door. + </p> + <p> + “Some pretty good men out there waitin' to see you, my boy,” said + Sheridan. “What's the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing,” Roscoe answered indistinctly, not moving. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I guess that's all right, too. I let 'em wait sometimes myself! I + just wanted to ask you a question, but I expect it'll keep, if you're + workin' something out in your mind!” + </p> + <p> + Roscoe made no reply; and his father, who had turned to the door, paused + with his hand on the knob, staring curiously at the motionless figure in + the chair. Usually the son seemed pleased and eager when he came to the + office. “You're all right, ain't you?” said Sheridan. “Not sick, are you?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + Sheridan was puzzled; then, abruptly, he decided to ask his question. “I + wanted to talk to you about that young Lamhorn,” he said. “I guess your + mother thinks he's comin' to see Edith pretty often, and you known him + longer'n any of us, so—” + </p> + <p> + “I won't,” said Roscoe, thickly—“I won't say a dam' thing about + him!” + </p> + <p> + Sheridan uttered an exclamation and walked quickly to a position near the + window where he could see his son's face. Roscoe's eyes were bloodshot and + vacuous; his hair was disordered, his mouth was distorted, and he was + deathly pale. The father stood aghast. + </p> + <p> + “By George!” he muttered. “ROSCOE!” + </p> + <p> + “My name,” said Roscoe. “Can' help that.” + </p> + <p> + “ROSCOE!” Blank astonishment was Sheridan's first sensation. Probably + nothing in the world could have more amazed his than to find Roscoe—the + steady old wheel-horse—in this condition. “How'd you GET this way?” + he demanded. “You caught cold and took too much for it?” + </p> + <p> + For reply Roscoe laughed hoarsely. “Yeuh! Cold! I been drinkun all time, + lately. Firs' you notice it?” + </p> + <p> + “By George!” cried Sheridan. “I THOUGHT I'd smelt it on you a good deal + lately, but I wouldn't 'a' believed you'd take more'n was good for you. + Boh! To see you like a common hog!” + </p> + <p> + Roscoe chuckled and threw out his right arm in a meaningless gesture. + “Hog!” he repeated, chuckling. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, a hog!” said Sheridan, angrily. “In business hours! I don't object + to anybody's takin' a drink if you wants to, out o' business hours; nor, + if a man keeps his work right up to the scratch, I wouldn't be the one to + baste him if he got good an' drunk once in two, three years, maybe. It + ain't MY way. I let it alone, but I never believed in forcin' my way on a + grown-up son in moral matters. I guess I was wrong! You think them men out + there are waitin' to talk business with a drunkard? You think you can come + to your office and do business drunk? By George! I wonder how often this + has been happening and me not on to it! I'll have a look over your books + to-morrow, and I'll—” + </p> + <p> + Roscoe stumbled to his feet, laughing wildly, and stood swaying, + contriving to hold himself in position by clutching the back of the heavy + chair in which he had been sitting. + </p> + <p> + “Hoo—hoorah!” he cried. “'S my principles, too. Be drunkard all you + want to—outside business hours. Don' for Gossake le'n'thing + innerfere business hours! Business! Thassit! You're right, father. Drink! + Die! L'everything go to hell, but DON' let innerfere business!” + </p> + <p> + Sheridan had seized the telephone upon Roscoe's desk, and was calling his + own office, overhead. “Abercrombie? Come down to my son Roscoe's suite and + get rid of some gentlemen that are waitin' there to see him in room + two-fourteen. There's Maples and Schirmer and a couple o' fellows on the + Kinsey business. Tell 'em something's come up I have to go over with + Roscoe, and tell 'em to come back day after to-morrow at two. You needn't + come in to let me know they're gone; we don't want to be disturbed. Tell + Pauly to call my house and send Claus down here with a closed car. We may + have to go out. Tell him to hustle, and call me at Roscoe's room as soon + as the car gets here. 'T's all!” + </p> + <p> + Roscoe had laughed bitterly throughout this monologue. “Drunk in business + hours! Thass awf'l! Mus'n' do such thing! Mus'n' get drunk, mus'n' gamble, + mus'n' kill 'nybody—not in business hours! All right any other time. + Kill 'nybody you want to—'s long 'tain't in business hours! Fine! + Mus'n' have any trouble 't'll innerfere business. Keep your trouble 't + home. Don' bring it to th' office. Might innerfere business! Have funerals + on Sunday—might innerfere business! Don' let your wife innerfere + business! Keep all, all, ALL your trouble an' your meanness, an' your trad—your + tradegy—keep 'em ALL for home use! If you got die, go on die 't home—don' + die round th' office! Might innerfere business!” + </p> + <p> + Sheridan picked up a newspaper from Roscoe's desk, and sat down with his + back to his son, affecting to read. Roscoe seemed to be unaware of his + father's significant posture. + </p> + <p> + “You know wh' I think?” he went on. “I think Bibbs only one the fam'ly any + 'telligence at all. Won' work, an' di'n' get married. Jim worked, an' he + got killed. I worked, an' I got married. Look at me! Jus' look at me, I + ask you. Fine 'dustriss young business man. Look whass happen' to me! + Fine!” He lifted his hand from the sustaining chair in a deplorable + gesture, and, immediately losing his balance, fell across the chair and + caromed to the floor with a crash, remaining prostrate for several + minutes, during which Sheridan did not relax his apparent attention to the + newspaper. He did not even look round at the sound of Roscoe's fall. + </p> + <p> + Roscoe slowly climbed to an upright position, pulling himself up by + holding to the chair. He was slightly sobered outwardly, having progressed + in the prostrate interval to a state of befuddlement less volatile. He + rubbed his dazed eyes with the back of his left hand. + </p> + <p> + “What—what you ask me while ago?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Nothin'.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you did. What—what was it?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothin'. You better sit down.” + </p> + <p> + “You ask' me what I thought about Lamhorn. You did ask me that. Well, I + won't tell you. I won't say dam' word 'bout him!” + </p> + <p> + The telephone-bell tinkled. Sheridan placed the receiver to his ear and + said, “Right down.” Then he got Roscoe's coat and hat from a closet and + brought them to his son. “Get into this coat,” he said. “You're goin' + home.” + </p> + <p> + “All ri',” Roscoe murmured, obediently. + </p> + <p> + They went out into the main hall by a side door, not passing through the + outer office; and Sheridan waited for an empty elevator, stopped it, and + told the operator to take on no more passengers until they reached the + ground floor. Roscoe walked out of the building and got into the + automobile without lurching, and twenty minutes later walked into his own + house in the same manner, neither he nor his father having spoken a word + in the interval. + </p> + <p> + Sheridan did not go in with him; he went home, and to his own room without + meeting any of his family. But as he passed Bibbs's door he heard from + within the sound of a cheerful young voice humming jubilant fragments of + song: + </p> +<div class="poetry"><div class="poem"> + WHO looks a mustang in the eye?...<br /> + With a leap from the ground<br /> + To the saddle in a bound.<br /> + And away—and away!<br /> + Hi-yay!<br /> +</div></div> + <p> + It was the first time in Sheridan's life that he had ever detected any + musical symptom whatever in Bibbs—he had never even heard him + whistle—and it seemed the last touch of irony that the useless fool + should be merry to-day. + </p> + <p> + To Sheridan it was Tom o' Bedlam singing while the house burned; and he + did not tarry to enjoy the melody, but went into his own room and locked + the door. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIX + </h2> + <p> + He emerged only upon a second summons to dinner, two hours later, and came + to the table so white and silent that his wife made her anxiety manifest + and was but partially reassured by his explanation that his lunch had + “disagreed” with him a little. + </p> + <p> + Presently, however, he spoke effectively. Bibbs, whose appetite had become + hearty, was helping himself to a second breast of capon from + white-jacket's salver. “Here's another difference between Midas and + chicken,” Sheridan remarked, grimly. “Midas can eat rooster, but rooster + can't eat Midas. I reckon you overlooked that. Midas looks to me like he + had the advantage there.” + </p> + <p> + Bibbs retained enough presence of mind to transfer the capon breast to his + plate without dropping it and to respond, “Yes—he crows over it.” + </p> + <p> + Having returned his antagonists's fire in this fashion, he blushed—for + he could blush distinctly now—and his mother looked upon him with + pleasure, though the reference to Midas and roosters was of course jargon + to her. “Did you ever see anybody improve the way that child has!” she + exclaimed. “I declare, Bibbs, sometimes lately you look right handsome!” + </p> + <p> + “He's got to be such a gadabout,” Edith giggled. + </p> + <p> + “I found something of his on the floor up-stairs this morning, before + anybody was up,” said Sheridan. “I reckon if people lose things in this + house and expect to get 'em back, they better get up as soon as I do.” + </p> + <p> + “What was it he lost?” asked Edith. + </p> + <p> + “He knows!” her father returned. “Seems to me like I forgot to bring it + home with me. I looked it over—thought probably it was something + pretty important, belongin' to a busy man like him.” He affected to search + his pockets. “What DID I do with it, now? Oh yes! Seems to me like I + remember leavin' it down at the office—in the waste-basket.” + </p> + <p> + “Good place for it,” Bibbs murmured, still red. + </p> + <p> + Sheridan gave him a grin. “Perhaps pretty soon you'll be gettin' up early + enough to find things before I do!” + </p> + <p> + It was a threat, and Bibbs repeated the substance of it, later in the + evening, to Mary Vertrees—they had come to know each other that + well. + </p> + <p> + “My time's here at last,” he said, as they sat together in the melancholy + gas-light of the room which had been denuded of its piano. That removal + had left an emptiness so distressing to Mr. and Mrs. Vertrees that neither + of them had crossed the threshold since the dark day; but the gas-light, + though from a single jet, shed no melancholy upon Bibbs, nor could any + room seem bare that knew the glowing presence of Mary. He spoke lightly, + not sadly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it's come. I've shirked and put off, but I can't shirk and put off + any longer. It's really my part to go to him—at least it would save + my face. He means what he says, and the time's come to serve my sentence. + Hard labor for life, I think.” + </p> + <p> + Mary shook her head. “I don't think so. He's too kind.” + </p> + <p> + “You think my father's KIND?” And Bibbs stared at her. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. I'm sure of it. I've felt that he has a great, brave heart. It's + only that he has to be kind in his own way—because he can't + understand any other way.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah yes,” said Bibbs. “If that's what you mean by 'kind'!” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him gravely, earnest concern in her friendly eyes. “It's + going to be pretty hard for you, isn't it?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh—self-pity!” he returned, smiling. “This has been just the last + flicker of revolt. Nobody minds work if he likes the kind of work. There'd + be no loafers in the world if each man found the thing that he could do + best; but the only work I happen to want to do is useless—so I have + to give it up. To-morrow I'll be a day-laborer.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it like—exactly?” + </p> + <p> + “I get up at six,” he said. “I have a lunch-basket to carry with me, which + is aristocratic and no advantage. The other workmen have tin buckets, and + tin buckets are better. I leave the house at six-thirty, and I'm at work + in my overalls at seven. I have an hour off at noon, and work again from + one till five.” + </p> + <p> + “But the work itself?” + </p> + <p> + “It wasn't muscularly exhausting—not at all. They couldn't give me a + heavier job because I wasn't good enough.” + </p> + <p> + “But what will you do? I want to know.” + </p> + <p> + “When I left,” said Bibbs, “I was 'on' what they call over there a + 'clipping-machine,' in one of the 'by-products' departments, and that's + what I'll be sent back to.” + </p> + <p> + “But what is it?” she insisted. + </p> + <p> + Bibbs explained. “It's very simple and very easy. I feed long strips of + zinc into a pair of steel jaws, and the jaws bite the zinc into little + circles. All I have to do is to see that the strip goes into the jaws at a + certain angle—and yet I was a very bad hand at it.” + </p> + <p> + He had kept his voice cheerful as he spoke, but he had grown a shade + paler, and there was a latent anguish deep in his eyes. He may have known + it and wished her not to see it, for he turned away. + </p> + <p> + “You do that all day long?” she asked, and as he nodded, “It seems + incredible!” she exclaimed. “YOU feeding a strip of zinc into a machine + nine hours a day! No wonder—” She broke off, and then, after a keen + glance at his face, she said: “I should think you WOULD have been a 'bad + hand at it'!” + </p> + <p> + He laughed ruefully. “I think it's the noise, though I'm ashamed to say + it. You see, it's a very powerful machine, and there's a sort of + rhythmical crashing—a crash every time the jaws bite off a circle.” + </p> + <p> + “How often is that?” + </p> + <p> + “The thing should make about sixty-eight disks a minute—a little + more than one a second.” + </p> + <p> + “And you're close to it?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, the workman has to sit in its lap,” he said, turning to her more + gaily. “The others don't mind. You see, it's something wrong with me. I + have an idiotic way of flinching from the confounded thing—I flinch + and duck a little every time the crash comes, and I couldn't get over it. + I was a treat to the other workmen in that room; they'll be glad to see me + back. They used to laugh at me all day long.” + </p> + <p> + Mary's gaze was averted from Bibbs now; she sat with her elbow resting on + the arm of the chair, her lifted hand pressed against her cheek. She was + staring at the wall, and her eyes had a burning brightness in them. + </p> + <p> + “It doesn't seem possible any one could do that to you,” she said, in a + low voice. “No. He's not kind. He ought to be proud to help you to the + leisure to write books; it should be his greatest privilege to have them + published for you—” + </p> + <p> + “Can't you SEE him?” Bibbs interrupted, a faint ripple of hilarity in his + voice. “If he could understand what you're saying—and if you can + imagine his taking such a notion, he'd have had R. T. Bloss put up posters + all over the country: 'Read B. Sheridan. Read the Poet with a Punch!' No. + It's just as well he never got the—But what's the use? I've never + written anything worth printing, and I never shall.” + </p> + <p> + “You could!” she said. + </p> + <p> + “That's because you've never seen the poor little things I've tried to + do.” + </p> + <p> + “You wouldn't let me, but I KNOW you could! Ah, it's a pity!” + </p> + <p> + “It isn't,” said BIBBS, honestly. “I never could—but you're the + kindest lady in this world, Miss Vertrees.” + </p> + <p> + She gave him a flashing glance, and it was as kind as he said she was. + “That sounds wrong,” she said, impulsively. “I mean 'Miss Vertrees.' I've + thought of you by your first name ever since I met you. Wouldn't you + rather call me 'Mary'?” + </p> + <p> + Bibbs was dazzled; he drew a long, deep breath and did not speak. + </p> + <p> + “Wouldn't you?” she asked, without a trace of coquetry. + </p> + <p> + “If I CAN!” he said, in a low voice. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, that's very pretty!” she laughed. “You're such an honest person, it's + pleasant to have you gallant sometimes, by way of variety.” She became + grave again immediately. “I hear myself laughing as if it were some one + else. It sounds like laughter on the eve of a great calamity.” She got up + restlessly, crossed the room and leaned against the wall, facing him. + “You've GOT to go back to that place?” + </p> + <p> + He nodded. + </p> + <p> + “And the other time you did it—” + </p> + <p> + “Just over it,” said Bibbs. “Two years. But I don't mind the prospect of a + repetition so much as—” + </p> + <p> + “So much as what?” she prompted, as he stopped. + </p> + <p> + Bibbs looked up at her shyly. “I want to say it, but—but I come to a + dead balk when I try. I—” + </p> + <p> + “Go on. Say it, whatever it is,” she bade him. “You wouldn't know how to + say anything I shouldn't like.” + </p> + <p> + “I doubt if you'd either like or dislike what I want to say,” he returned, + moving uncomfortably in his chair and looking at his feet—he seemed + to feel awkward, thoroughly. “You see, all my life—until I met you—if + I ever felt like saying anything, I wrote it instead. Saying things is a + new trick for me, and this—well, it's just this: I used to feel as + if I hadn't ever had any sort of a life at all. I'd never been of use to + anything or anybody, and I'd never had anything, myself, except a kind of + haphazard thinking. But now it's different—I'm still of no use to + anybody, and I don't see any prospect of being useful, but I have had + something for myself. I've had a beautiful and happy experience, and it + makes my life seem to be—I mean I'm glad I've lived it! That's all; + it's your letting me be near you sometimes, as you have, this strange, + beautiful, happy little while!” + </p> + <p> + He did not once look up, and reached silence, at the end of what he had to + say, with his eyes still awkwardly regarding his feet. She did not speak, + but a soft rustling of her garments let him know that she had gone back to + her chair again. The house was still; the shabby old room was so quiet + that the sound of a creaking in the wall seemed sharp and loud. + </p> + <p> + And yet, when Mary spoke at last, her voice was barely audible. “If you + think it has been—happy—to be friends with me—you'd want + to—to make it last.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Bibbs, as faintly. + </p> + <p> + “You'd want to go on being my friend as long as we live, wouldn't you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he gulped. + </p> + <p> + “But you make that kind of speech to me because you think it's over.” + </p> + <p> + He tried to evade her. “Oh, a day-laborer can't come in his overalls—” + </p> + <p> + “No,” she interrupted, with a sudden sharpness. “You said what you did + because you think the shop's going to kill you.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you do think that!” She rose to her feet again and came and stood + before him. “Or you think it's going to send you back to the sanitarium. + Don't deny it, Bibbs. There! See how easily I call you that! You see I'm a + friend, or I couldn't do it. Well, if you meant what you said—and + you did mean it, I know it!—you're not going to go back to the + sanitarium. The shop sha'n't hurt you. It sha'n't!” + </p> + <p> + And now Bibbs looked up. She stood before him, straight and tall, splendid + in generous strength, her eyes shining and wet. + </p> + <p> + “If I mean THAT much to you,” she cried, “they can't harm you! Go back to + the shop—but come to me when your day's work is done. Let the + machines crash their sixty-eight times a minute, but remember each crash + that deafens you is that much nearer the evening and me!” + </p> + <p> + He stumbled to his feet. “You say—” he gasped. + </p> + <p> + “Every evening, dear Bibbs!” + </p> + <p> + He could only stare, bewildered. + </p> + <p> + “EVERY evening. I want you. They sha'n't hurt you again!” And she held out + her hand to him; it was strong and warm in his tremulous clasp. “If I + could, I'd go and feed the strips of zinc to the machine with you,” she + said. “But all day long I'll send my thoughts to you. You must keep + remembering that your friend stands beside you. And when the work is done—won't + the night make up for the day?” + </p> + <p> + Light seemed to glow from her; he was blinded by that radiance of + kindness. But all he could say was, huskily, “To think you're there—with + me—standing beside the old zinc-eater—” + </p> + <p> + And they laughed and looked at each other, and at last Bibbs found what it + meant not to be alone in the world. He had a friend. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XX + </h2> + <p> + When he came into the New House, a few minutes later, he found his father + sitting alone by the library fire. Bibbs went in and stood before him. + “I'm cured, father,” he said. “When do I go back to the shop? I'm ready.” + </p> + <p> + The desolate and grim old man did not relax. “I was sittin' up to give you + a last chance to say something like that. I reckon it's about time! I just + wanted to see if you'd have manhood enough not to make me take you over + there by the collar. Last night I made up my mind I'd give you just one + more day. Well, you got to it before I did—pretty close to the + eleventh hour! All right. Start in to-morrow. It's the first o' the month. + Think you can get up in time?” + </p> + <p> + “Six o'clock,” Bibbs responded, briskly. “And I want to tell you—I'm + going in a 'cheerful spirit.' As you said, I'll go and I'll 'like it'!” + </p> + <p> + “That's YOUR lookout!” his father grunted. “They'll put you back on the + clippin'-machine. You get nine dollars a week.” + </p> + <p> + “More than I'm worth, too,” said Bibbs, cheerily. “That reminds me, I + didn't mean YOU by 'Midas' in that nonsense I'd been writing. I meant—” + </p> + <p> + “Makes a hell of a lot o' difference what you meant!” + </p> + <p> + “I just wanted you to know. Good night, father.” + </p> + <p> + “G'night!” + </p> + <p> + The sound of the young man's footsteps ascending the stairs became + inaudible, and the house was quiet. But presently, as Sheridan sat staring + angrily at the fire, the shuffling of a pair of slippers could be heard + descending, and Mrs. Sheridan made her appearance, her oblique expression + and the state of her toilette being those of a person who, after trying + unsuccessfully to sleep on one side, has got up to look for burglars. + </p> + <p> + “Papa!” she exclaimed, drowsily. “Why'n't you go to bed? It must be goin' + on 'leven o'clock!” + </p> + <p> + She yawned, and seated herself near him, stretching out her hands to the + fire. “What's the matter?” she asked, sleep and anxiety striving + sluggishly with each other in her voice. “I knew you were worried all + dinner-time. You got something new on your mind besides Jim's bein' taken + away like he was. What's worryin' you now, papa?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothin'.” + </p> + <p> + She jeered feebly. “N' tell ME that! You sat up to see Bibbs, didn't you?” + </p> + <p> + “He starts in at the shop again to-morrow morning,” said Sheridan. + </p> + <p> + “Just the same as he did before?” + </p> + <p> + “Just pre-CISELY!” + </p> + <p> + “How—how long you goin' to keep him at it, papa?” she asked, + timidly. + </p> + <p> + “Until he KNOWS something!” The unhappy man struck his palms together, + then got to his feet and began to pace the room, as was his wont when he + talked. “He'll go back to the machine he couldn't learn to tend properly + in the six months he was there, and he'll stick to it till he DOES learn + it! Do you suppose that lummix ever asked himself WHY I want him to learn + it? No! And I ain't a-goin' to tell him, either! When he went there I had + 'em set him on the simplest machine we got—and he stuck there! How + much prospect would there be of his learnin' to run the whole business if + he can't run the easiest machine in it? I sent him there to make him + THOROUGH. And what happened? He didn't LIKE it! That boy's whole life, + there's been a settin' up o' something mulish that's against everything I + want him to do. I don't know what it is, but it's got to be worked out of + him. Now, labor ain't any more a simple question than what it was when we + were young. My idea is that, outside o' union troubles, the man that can + manage workin'-men is the man that's been one himself. Well, I set Bibbs + to learn the men and to learn the business, and HE set himself to balk on + the first job! That's what he did, and the balk's lasted close on to three + years. If he balks again I'm just done with him! Sometimes I feel like I + was pretty near done with everything, anyhow!” + </p> + <p> + “I knew there was something else,” said Mrs. Sheridan, blinking over a + yawn. “You better let it go till to-morrow and get to bed now—'less + you'll tell me?” + </p> + <p> + “Suppose something happened to Roscoe,” he said. “THEN what'd I have to + look forward to? THEN what could I depend on to hold things together? A + lummix! A lummix that hasn't learned how to push a strip o' zinc along a + groove!” + </p> + <p> + “Roscoe?” she yawned. “You needn't worry about Roscoe, papa. He's the + strongest child we had. I never did know anybody keep better health than + he does. I don't believe he's even had a cold in five years. You better go + up to bed, papa.” + </p> + <p> + “Suppose something DID happen to him, though. You don't know what it + means, keepin' property together these days—just keepin' it ALIVE, + let alone makin' it grow the way I do. I've seen too many estates hacked + away in chunks, big and little. I tell you when a man dies the wolves come + out o' the woods, pack after pack, to see what they can tear off for + themselves; and if that dead man's chuldern ain't on the job, night and + day, everything he built'll get carried off. Carried off? I've seen a big + fortune behave like an ash-barrel in a cyclone—there wasn't even a + dust-heap left to tell where it stood! I've seen it, time and again. My + Lord! when I think o' such things comin' to ME! It don't seem like I + deserved it—no man ever tried harder to raise his boys right than I + have. I planned and planned and planned how to bring 'em up to be guards + to drive the wolves off, and how to be builders to build, and build + bigger. I tell you this business life is no fool's job nowadays—a + man's got to have eyes in the back of his head. You hear talk, sometimes, + 'd make you think the millennium had come—but right the next breath + you'll hear somebody hollerin' about 'the great unrest.' You BET there's a + 'great unrest'! There ain't any man alive smart enough to see what it's + goin' to do to us in the end, nor what day it's got set to bust loose, but + it's frothin' and bubblin' in the boiler. This country's been fillin' up + with it from all over the world for a good many years, and the old + camp-meetin' days are dead and done with. Church ain't what it used to be. + Nothin's what it used to be—everything's turned up from the bottom, + and the growth is so big the roots stick out in the air. There's an awful + ruction goin' on, and you got to keep hoppin' if you're goin' to keep your + balance on the top of it. And the schemers! They run like bugs on the + bottom of a board—after any piece o' money they hear is loose. Fool + schemes and crooked schemes; the fool ones are the most and the worst! You + got to FIGHT to keep your money after you've made it. And the woods are + full o' mighty industrious men that's got only one motto: 'Get the other + fellow's money before he gets yours!' And when a man's built as I have, + when he's built good and strong, and made good things grow and prosper—THOSE + are the fellows that lay for the chance to slide in and sneak the benefit + of it and put their names to it! And what's the use of my havin' ever been + born, if such a thing as that is goin' to happen? What's the use of my + havin' worked my life and soul into my business, if it's all goin' to be + dispersed and scattered soon as I'm in the ground?” + </p> + <p> + He strode up and down the long room, gesticulating—little regarding + the troubled and drowsy figure by the fireside. His throat rumbled + thunderously; the words came with stormy bitterness. “You think this is a + time for young men to be lyin' on beds of ease? I tell you there never was + such a time before; there never was such opportunity. The sluggard is + despoiled while he sleeps—yes, by George! if a man lays down they'll + eat him before he wakes!—but the live man can build straight up till + he touches the sky! This is the business man's day; it used to be the + soldier's day and the statesman's day, but this is OURS! And it ain't a + Sunday to go fishin'—it's turmoil! turmoil!—and you got to go + out and live it and breathe it and MAKE it yourself, or you'll only be a + dead man walkin' around dreamin' you're alive. And that's what my son + Bibbs has been doin' all his life, and what he'd rather do now than go out + and do his part by me. And if anything happens to Roscoe—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, do stop worryin' over such nonsense,” Mrs. Sheridan interrupted, + irritated into sharp wakefulness for the moment. “There isn't anything + goin' to happen to Roscoe, and you're just tormentin' yourself about + nothin'. Aren't you EVER goin' to bed?” + </p> + <p> + Sheridan halted. “All right, mamma,” he said, with a vast sigh. “Let's go + up.” And he snapped off the electric light, leaving only the rosy glow of + the fire. + </p> + <p> + “Did you speak to Roscoe?” she yawned, rising lopsidedly in her + drowsiness. “Did you mention about what I told you the other evening?” + </p> + <p> + “No. I will to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + But Roscoe did not come down-town the next day, nor the next; nor did + Sheridan see fit to enter his son's house. He waited. Then, on the fourth + day of the month, Roscoe walked into his father's office at nine in the + morning, when Sheridan happened to be alone. + </p> + <p> + “They told me down-stairs you'd left word you wanted to see me.” + </p> + <p> + “Sit down,” said Sheridan, rising. + </p> + <p> + Roscoe sat. His father walked close to him, sniffed suspiciously, and then + walked away, smiling bitterly. “Boh!” he exclaimed. “Still at it!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Roscoe. “I've had a couple of drinks this morning. What about + it?” + </p> + <p> + “I reckon I better adopt some decent young man,” his father returned. “I'd + bring Bibbs up here and put him in your place if he was fit. I would!” + </p> + <p> + “Better do it,” Roscoe assented, sullenly. + </p> + <p> + “When'd you begin this thing?” + </p> + <p> + “I always did drink a little. Ever since I grew up, that is.” + </p> + <p> + “Leave that talk out! You know what I mean.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I don't know as I ever had too much in office hours—until the + other day.” + </p> + <p> + Sheridan began cutting. “It's a lie. I've had Ray Wills up from your + office. He didn't want to give you away, but I put the hooks into him, and + he came through. You were drunk twice before and couldn't work. You been + leavin' your office for drinks every few hours for the last three weeks. I + been over your books. Your office is way behind. You haven't done any + work, to count, in a month.” + </p> + <p> + “All right,” said Roscoe, drooping under the torture. “It's all true.” + </p> + <p> + “What you goin' to do about it?” + </p> + <p> + Roscoe's head was sunk between his shoulders. “I can't stand very much + talk about it, father,” he said, pleadingly. + </p> + <p> + “No!” Sheridan cried. “Neither can I! What do you think it means to ME?” + He dropped into the chair at his big desk, groaning. “I can't stand to + talk about it any more'n you can to listen, but I'm goin' to find out + what's the matter with you, and I'm goin' to straighten you out!” + </p> + <p> + Roscoe shook his head helplessly. + </p> + <p> + “You can't straighten me out.” + </p> + <p> + “See here!” said Sheridan. “Can you go back to your office and stay sober + to-day, while I get my work done, or will I have to hire a couple o' + huskies to follow you around and knock the whiskey out o' your hand if + they see you tryin' to take it?” + </p> + <p> + “You needn't worry about that,” said Roscoe, looking up with a faint + resentment. “I'm not drinking because I've got a thirst.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what have you got?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing. Nothing you can do anything about. Nothing, I tell you.” + </p> + <p> + “We'll see about that!” said Sheridan, harshly. “Now I can't fool with you + to-day, and you get up out o' that chair and get out o' my office. You + bring your wife to dinner to-morrow. You didn't come last Sunday—but + you come to-morrow. I'll talk this out with you when the women-folks are + workin' the phonograph, after dinner. Can you keep sober till then? You + better be sure, because I'm going to send Abercrombie down to your office + every little while, and he'll let me know.” + </p> + <p> + Roscoe paused at the door. “You told Abercrombie about it?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “TOLD him!” And Sheridan laughed hideously. “Do you suppose there's an + elevator-boy in the whole dam' building that ain't on to you?” + </p> + <p> + Roscoe settled his hat down over his eyes and went out. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXI + </h2> +<div class="poetry"><div class="poem"> + “WHO looks a mustang in the eye?<br /> + Changety, chang, chang! Bash! Crash! BANG!” + </div></div> + <p> + So sang Bibbs, his musical gaieties inaudible to his fellow-workmen + because of the noise of the machinery. He had discovered long ago that the + uproar was rhythmical, and it had been intolerable; but now, on the + afternoon of the fourth day of his return, he was accompanying the swing + and clash of the metals with jubilant vaquero fragments, mingling + improvisations of his own among them, and mocking the zinc-eater's crash + with vocal imitations: + </p> +<div class="poetry"><div class="poem"> + Fearless and bold,<br /> + Chang! Bash! Behold!<br /> + With a leap from the ground<br /> + To the saddle in a bound,<br /> + And away—and away!<br /> + Hi-YAY!<br /> + WHO looks a chang, chang, bash, crash, bang!<br /> + WHO cares a dash how you bash and you crash?<br /> + NIGHT'S on the way<br /> + EACH time I say,<br /> + Hi-YAY!<br /> + Crash, chang! Bash, chang! Chang, bang, BANG! +</div></div> + <p> + The long room was ceaselessly thundering with metallic sound; the air was + thick with the smell of oil; the floor trembled perpetually; everything + was implacably in motion—nowhere was there a rest for the dizzied + eye. The first time he had entered the place Bibbs had become dizzy + instantly, and six months of it had only added increasing nausea to + faintness. But he felt neither now. “ALL DAY LONG I'LL SEND MY THOUGHTS TO + YOU. YOU MUST KEEP REMEMBERING THAT YOUR FRIEND STANDS BESIDE YOU.” He saw + her there beside him, and the greasy, roaring place became suffused with + radiance. The poet was happy in his machine-shop; he was still a poet + there. And he fed his old zinc-eater, and sang: + </p> +<div class="poetry"><div class="poem"> + Away—and away!<br /> + Hi-YAY!<br /> + Crash, bash, crash, bash, CHANG!<br /> + Wild are his eyes,<br /> + Fiercely he dies!<br /> + Hi-YAH!<br /> + Crash, bash, bang! Bash, CHANG!<br /> + Ready to fling<br /> + Our gloves in the ring—<br /> +</div></div> + <p> + He was unaware of a sensation that passed along the lines of workmen. + Their great master had come among them, and they grinned to see him + standing with Dr. Gurney behind the unconscious Bibbs. Sheridan nodded to + those nearest him—he had personal acquaintance with nearly all of + them—but he kept his attention upon his son. Bibbs worked steadily, + never turning from his machine. Now and then he varied his musical + programme with remarks addressed to the zinc-eater. + </p> + <p> + “Go on, you old crash-basher! Chew it up! It's good for you, if you don't + try to bolt your vittles. Fletcherize, you pig! That's right—YOU'LL + never get a lump in your gizzard. Want some more? Here's a nice, shiny + one.” + </p> + <p> + The words were indistinguishable, but Sheridan inclined his head to + Gurney's ear and shouted fiercely: “Talkin' to himself! By George!” + </p> + <p> + Gurney laughed reassuringly, and shook his head. + </p> + <p> + Bibbs returned to song: + </p> +<div class="poetry"><div class="poem"> + Chang! Chang, bash, chang! It's I!<br /> + WHO looks a mustang in the eye?<br /> + Fearless and bo— +</div></div> + <p> + His father grasped him by the arm. “Here!” he shouted. “Let ME show you + how to run a strip through there. The foreman says you're some better'n + you used to be, but that's no way to handle—Get out the way and let + me show you once.” + </p> + <p> + “Better be careful,” Bibbs warned him, stepping to one side. + </p> + <p> + “Careful? Boh!” Sheridan seized a strip of zinc from the box. “What you + talkin' to yourself about? Tryin' to make yourself think you're so abused + you're goin' wrong in the head?” + </p> + <p> + “'Abused'? No!” shouted Bibbs. “I was SINGING—because I 'like it'! I + told you I'd come back and 'like it.'” + </p> + <p> + Sheridan may not have understood. At all events, he made no reply, but + began to run the strip of zinc through the machine. He did it awkwardly—and + with bad results. + </p> + <p> + “Here!” he shouted. “This is the way. Watch how I do it. There's nothin' + to it, if you put your mind on it.” By his own showing then his mind was + not upon it. He continued to talk. “All you got to look out for is to keep + it pressed over to—” + </p> + <p> + “Don't run your hand up with it,” Bibbs vociferated, leaning toward him. + </p> + <p> + “Run nothin'! You GOT to—” + </p> + <p> + “Look out!” shouted Bibbs and Gurney together, and they both sprang + forward. But Sheridan's right hand had followed the strip too far, and the + zinc-eater had bitten off the tips of the first and second fingers. He + swore vehemently, and wrung his hand, sending a shower of red drops over + himself and Bibbs, but Gurney grasped his wrist, and said, sharply: + </p> + <p> + “Come out of here. Come over to the lavatory in the office. Bibbs, fetch + my bag. It's in my machine, outside.” + </p> + <p> + And when Bibbs brought the bag to the washroom he found the doctor still + grasping Sheridan's wrist, holding the injured hand over a basin. Sheridan + had lost color, and temper, too. He glared over his shoulder at his son as + the latter handed the bag to Gurney. + </p> + <p> + “You go on back to your work,” he said. “I've had worse snips than that + from a pencil-sharpener.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh no, you haven't!” said Gurney. + </p> + <p> + “I have, too!” Sheridan retorted, angrily. “Bibbs, you go on back to your + work. There's no reason to stand around here watchin' ole Doc Gurney + tryin' to keep himself awake workin' on a scratch that only needs a little + court-plaster. I slipped, or it wouldn't happened. You get back on your + job.” + </p> + <p> + “All right,” said Bibbs. + </p> + <p> + “HERE!” Sheridan bellowed, as his son was passing out of the door. “You + watch out when you're runnin' that machine! You hear what I say? I + slipped, or I wouldn't got scratched, but you—YOU'RE liable to get + your whole hand cut off! You keep your eyes open!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” And Bibbs returned to the zinc-eater thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + Half an hour later, Gurney touched him on the shoulder and beckoned him + outside, where conversation was possible. “I sent him home, Bibbs. He'll + have to be careful of that hand. Go get your overalls off. I'll take you + for a drive and leave you at home.” + </p> + <p> + “Can't,” said Bibbs. “Got to stick to my job till the whistle blows.” + </p> + <p> + “No, you don't,” the doctor returned, smothering a yawn. “He wants me to + take you down to my office and give you an overhauling to see how much + harm these four days on the machine have done you. I guess you folks have + got that old man pretty thoroughly upset, between you, up at your house! + But I don't need to go over you. I can see with my eyes half shut—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” Bibbs interrupted, “that's what they are.” + </p> + <p> + “I say I can see you're starting out, at least, in good shape. What's made + the difference?” + </p> + <p> + “I like the machine,” said Bibbs. “I've made a friend of it. I serenade it + and talk to it, and then it talks back to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, indeed? What does it say?” + </p> + <p> + “What I want to hear.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well!” The doctor stretched himself and stamped his foot + repeatedly. “Better come along and take a drive with me. You can take the + time off that he allowed for the examination, and—” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all,” said Bibbs. “I'm going to stand by my old zinc-eater till + five o'clock. I tell you I LIKE it!” + </p> + <p> + “Then I suppose that's the end of your wanting to write.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know about that,” Bibbs said, thoughtfully; “but the zinc-eater + doesn't interfere with my thinking, at least. It's better than being in + business; I'm sure of that. I don't want anything to change. I'd be + content to lead just the life I'm leading now to the end of my days.” + </p> + <p> + “You do beat the devil!” exclaimed Gurney. “Your father's right when he + tells me you're a mystery. Perhaps the Almighty knew what He was doing + when He made you, but it takes a lot of faith to believe it! Well, I'm + off. Go on back to your murdering old machine.” He climbed into his car, + which he operated himself, but he refrained from setting it immediately in + motion. “Well, I rubbed it in on the old man that you had warned him not + to slide his hand along too far, and that he got hurt because he didn't + pay attention to your warning, and because he was trying to show you how + to do something you were already doing a great deal better than he could. + You tell him I'll be around to look at it and change the dressing + to-morrow morning. Good-by.” + </p> + <p> + But when he paid the promised visit, the next morning, he did more than + change the dressing upon the damaged hand. The injury was severe of its + kind, and Gurney spent a long time over it, though Sheridan was rebellious + and scornful, being brought to a degree of tractability only by means of + horrible threats and talk of amputation. However, he appeared at the + dinner-table with his hand supported in a sling, which he seemed to regard + as an indignity, while the natural inquiries upon the subject evidently + struck him as deliberate insults. Mrs. Sheridan, having been unable to + contain her solicitude several times during the day, and having been + checked each time in a manner that blanched her cheek, hastened to warn + Roscoe and Sibyl, upon their arrival at five, to omit any reference to the + injury and to avoid even looking at the sling if they possibly could. + </p> + <p> + The Sheridans dined on Sundays at five. Sibyl had taken pains not to + arrive either before or after the hand was precisely on the hour; and the + members of the family were all seated at the table within two minutes + after she and Roscoe had entered the house. + </p> + <p> + It was a glum gathering, overhung with portents. The air seemed charged, + awaiting any tiny ignition to explode; and Mrs. Sheridan's expression, as + she sat with her eyes fixed almost continually upon her husband, was that + of a person engaged in prayer. Edith was pale and intent. Roscoe looked + ill; Sibyl looked ill; and Sheridan looked both ill and explosive. Bibbs + had more color than any of these, and there was a strange brightness, like + a light, upon his face. It was curious to see anything so happy in the + tense gloom of that household. + </p> + <p> + Edith ate little, but gazed nearly all the time at her plate. She never + once looked at Sibyl, though Sibyl now and then gave her a quick glance, + heavily charged, and then looked away. Roscoe ate nothing, and, like + Edith, kept his eyes upon his plate and made believe to occupy himself + with the viands thereon, loading his fork frequently, but not lifting it + to his mouth. He did not once look at his father, though his father gazed + heavily at him most of the time. And between Edith and Sibyl, and between + Roscoe and his father, some bitter wireless communication seemed + continually to be taking place throughout the long silences prevailing + during this enlivening ceremony of Sabbath refection. + </p> + <p> + “Didn't you go to church this morning, Bibbs?” his mother asked, in the + effort to break up one of those ghastly intervals. + </p> + <p> + “What did you say, mother?” + </p> + <p> + “Didn't you go to church this morning?” + </p> + <p> + “I think so,” he answered, as from a roseate trance. + </p> + <p> + “You THINK so! Don't you know?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes. Yes, I went to church!” + </p> + <p> + “Which one?” + </p> + <p> + “Just down the street. It's brick.” + </p> + <p> + “What was the sermon about?” + </p> + <p> + “What, mother?” + </p> + <p> + “Can't you hear me?” she cried. “I asked you what the sermon was about?” + </p> + <p> + He roused himself. “I think it was about—” He frowned, seeming to + concentrate his will to recollect. “I think it was about something in the + Bible.” + </p> + <p> + White-jacket George was glad of an opportunity to leave the room and lean + upon Mist' Jackson's shoulder in the pantry. “He don't know they WAS any + suhmon!” he concluded, having narrated the dining-room dialogue. “All he + know is he was with 'at lady lives nex' do'!” George was right. + </p> + <p> + “Did you go to church all by yourself, Bibbs?” Sibyl asked. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he answered. “No, I didn't go alone.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh?” Sibyl gave the ejaculation an upward twist, as of mocking inquiry, + and followed it by another, expressive of hilarious comprehension. “OH!” + </p> + <p> + Bibbs looked at her studiously, but she spoke no further. And that + completed the conversation at the lugubrious feast. + </p> + <p> + Coffee came finally, was disposed of quickly, and the party dispersed to + other parts of the house. Bibbs followed his father and Roscoe into the + library, but was not well received. + </p> + <p> + “YOU go and listen to the phonograph with the women-folks,” Sheridan + commanded. + </p> + <p> + Bibbs retreated. “Sometimes you do seem to be a hard sort of man!” he + said. + </p> + <p> + However, he went obediently to the gilt-and-brocade room in which his + mother and his sister and his sister-in-law had helplessly withdrawn, + according to their Sabbatical custom. Edith sat in a corner, tapping her + feet together and looking at them; Sibyl sat in the center of the room, + examining a brooch which she had detached from her throat; and Mrs. + Sheridan was looking over a collection of records consisting exclusively + of Caruso and rag-time. She selected one of the latter, remarking that she + thought it “right pretty,” and followed it with one of the former and the + same remark. + </p> + <p> + As the second reached its conclusion, George appeared in the broad + doorway, seeming to have an errand there, but he did not speak. Instead, + he favored Edith with a benevolent smile, and she immediately left the + room, George stepping aside for her to precede him, and then disappearing + after her in the hall with an air of successful diplomacy. He made it + perfectly clear that Edith had given him secret instructions and that it + had been his pride and pleasure to fulfil them to the letter. + </p> + <p> + Sibyl stiffened in her chair; her lips parted, and she watched with + curious eyes the vanishing back of the white jacket. + </p> + <p> + “What's that?” she asked, in a low voice, but sharply. + </p> + <p> + “Here's another right pretty record,” said Mrs. Sheridan, affecting—with + patent nervousness—not to hear. And she unloosed the music. + </p> + <p> + Sibyl bit her lip and began to tap her chin with the brooch. After a + little while she turned to Bibbs, who reposed at half-length in a gold + chair, with his eyes closed. + </p> + <p> + “Where did Edith go?” she asked, curiously. + </p> + <p> + “Edith?” he repeated, opening his eyes blankly. “Is she gone?” + </p> + <p> + Sibyl got up and stood in the doorway. She leaned against the casing, + still tapping her chin with the brooch. Her eyes were dilating; she was + suddenly at high tension, and her expression had become one of sharp + excitement. She listened intently. + </p> + <p> + When the record was spun out she could hear Sheridan rumbling in the + library, during the ensuing silence, and Roscoe's voice, querulous and + husky: “I won't say anything at all. I tell you, you might just as well + let me alone!” + </p> + <p> + But there were other sounds: a rustling and murmur, whispering, low + protesting cadences in a male voice. And as Mrs. Sheridan started another + record, a sudden, vital resolve leaped like fire in the eyes of Sibyl. She + walked down the hall and straight into the smoking-room. + </p> + <p> + Lamhorn and Edith both sprang to their feet, separating. Edith became + instantly deathly white with a rage that set her shaking from head to + foot, and Lamhorn stuttered as he tried to speak. + </p> + <p> + But Edith's shaking was not so violent as Sibyl's, nor was her face so + white. At sight of them and of their embrace, all possible consequences + became nothing to Sibyl. She courtesied, holding up her skirts and + contorting her lips to the semblance of a smile. + </p> + <p> + “Sit just as you were—both of you!” she said. And then to Edith: + “Did you tell my husband I had been telephoning to Lamhorn?” + </p> + <p> + “You march out of here!” said Edith, fiercely. “March straight out of + here!” + </p> + <p> + Sibyl leveled a forefinger at Lamhorn. + </p> + <p> + “Did you tell her I'd been telephoning you I wanted you to come?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, good God!” Lamhorn said. “Hush!” + </p> + <p> + “You knew she'd tell my husband, DIDN'T you?” she cried. “You knew that!” + </p> + <p> + “HUSH!” he begged, panic-stricken. + </p> + <p> + “That was a MANLY thing to do! Oh, it was like a gentleman! You wouldn't + come—you wouldn't even come for five minutes to hear what I had to + say! You were TIRED of what I had to say! You'd heard it all a thousand + times before, and you wouldn't come! No! No! NO!” she stormed. “You + wouldn't even come for five minutes, but you could tell that little cat! + And SHE told my husband! You're a MAN!” + </p> + <p> + Edith saw in a flash that the consequences of battle would be ruinous to + Sibyl, and the furious girl needed no further temptation to give way to + her feelings. “Get out of this house!” she shrieked. “This is my father's + house. Don't you dare speak to Robert like that!” + </p> + <p> + “No! No! I mustn't SPEAK—” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you DARE!” + </p> + <p> + Edith and Sibyl began to scream insults at each other simultaneously, + fronting each other, their furious faces close. Their voices shrilled and + rose and cracked—they screeched. They could be heard over the noise + of the phonograph, which was playing a brass-band selection. They could be + heard all over the house. They were heard in the kitchen; they could have + been heard in the cellar. Neither of them cared for that. + </p> + <p> + “You told my husband!” screamed Sibyl, bringing her face still closer to + Edith's. “You told my husband! This man put THAT in your hands to strike + me with! HE did!” + </p> + <p> + “I'll tell your husband again! I'll tell him everything I know! It's TIME + your husband—” + </p> + <p> + They were swept asunder by a bandaged hand. “Do you want the neighbors + in?” Sheridan thundered. + </p> + <p> + There fell a shocking silence. Frenzied Sibyl saw her husband and his + mother in the doorway, and she understood what she had done. She moved + slowly toward the door; then suddenly she began to run. She ran into the + hall, and through it, and out of the house. Roscoe followed her heavily, + his eyes on the ground. + </p> + <p> + “NOW THEN!” said Sheridan to Lamhorn. + </p> + <p> + The words were indefinite, but the voice was not. Neither was the vicious + gesture of the bandaged hand, which concluded its orbit in the direction + of the door in a manner sufficient for the swift dispersal of George and + Jackson and several female servants who hovered behind Mrs. Sheridan. They + fled lightly. + </p> + <p> + “Papa, papa!” wailed Mrs. Sheridan. “Look at your hand! You'd oughtn't to + been so rough with Edie; you hurt your hand on her shoulder. Look!” + </p> + <p> + There was, in fact, a spreading red stain upon the bandages at the tips of + the fingers, and Sheridan put his hand back in the sling. “Now then!” he + repeated. “You goin' to leave my house?” + </p> + <p> + “He will NOT!” sobbed Edith. “Don't you DARE order him out!” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you bother, dear,” said Lamhorn, quietly. “He doesn't understand. + YOU mustn't be troubled.” Pallor was becoming to him; he looked very + handsome, and as he left the room he seemed in the girl's distraught eyes + a persecuted noble, indifferent to the rabble yawping insult at his heels—the + rabble being enacted by her father. + </p> + <p> + “Don't come back, either!” said, Sheridan, realistic in this + impersonation. “Keep off the premises!” he called savagely into the hall. + “This family's through with you!” + </p> + <p> + “It is NOT!” Edith cried, breaking from her mother. “You'll SEE about + that! You'll find out! You'll find out what'll happen! What's HE done? I + guess if I can stand it, it's none of YOUR business, is it? What's HE + done, I'd like to know? You don't know anything about it. Don't you s'pose + he told ME? She was crazy about him soon as he began going there, and he + flirted with her a little. That's everything he did, and it was before he + met ME! After that he wouldn't, and it wasn't anything, anyway—he + never was serious a minute about it. SHE wanted it to be serious, and she + was bound she wouldn't give him up. He told her long ago he cared about + me, but she kept persecuting him and—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Sheridan, sternly; “that's HIS side of it! That'll do! He + doesn't come in this house again!” + </p> + <p> + “You look out!” Edith cried. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I'll look out! I'd 'a' told you to-day he wasn't to be allowed on + the premises, but I had other things on my mind. I had Abercrombie look up + this young man privately, and he's no 'count. He's no 'count on earth! + He's no good! He's NOTHIN'! But it wouldn't matter if he was George + Washington, after what's happened and what I've heard to-night!” + </p> + <p> + “But, papa,” Mrs. Sheridan began, “if Edie says it was all Sibyl's fault, + makin' up to him, and he never encouraged her much, nor—” + </p> + <p> + “'S enough!” he roared. “He keeps off these premises! And if any of you so + much as ever speak his name to me again—” + </p> + <p> + But Edith screamed, clapping her hands over her ears to shut out the sound + of his voice, and ran up-stairs, sobbing loudly, followed by her mother. + However, Mrs. Sheridan descended a few minutes later and joined her + husband in the library. Bibbs, still sitting in his gold chair, saw her + pass, roused himself from reverie, and strolled in after her. + </p> + <p> + “She locked her door,” said Mrs. Sheridan, shaking her head woefully. “She + wouldn't even answer me. They wasn't a sound from her room.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said her husband, “she can settle her mind to it. She never speaks + to that fellow again, and if he tries to telephone her to-morrow—Here! + You tell the help if he calls up to ring off and say it's my orders. No, + you needn't. I'll tell 'em myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Better not,” said Bibbs, gently. + </p> + <p> + His father glared at him. + </p> + <p> + “It's no good,” said Bibbs. “Mother, when you were in love with father—” + </p> + <p> + “My goodness!” she cried. “You ain't a-goin' to compare your father to + that—” + </p> + <p> + “Edith feels about him just what you did about father,” said Bibbs. “And + if YOUR father had told you—” + </p> + <p> + “I won't LISTEN to such silly talk!” she declared, angrily. + </p> + <p> + “So you're handin' out your advice, are you, Bibbs?” said Sheridan. “What + is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Let her see him all she wants.” + </p> + <p> + “You're a—” Sheridan gave it up. “I don't know what to call you!” + </p> + <p> + “Let her see him all she wants,” Bibbs repeated, thoughtfully. “You're up + against something too strong for you. If Edith were a weakling you'd have + a chance this way, but she isn't. She's got a lot of your determination, + father, and with what's going on inside of her she'll beat you. You can't + keep her from seeing him, as long as she feels about him the way she does + now. You can't make her think less of him, either. Nobody can. Your only + chance is that she'll do it for herself, and if you give her time and go + easy she probably will. Marriage would do it for her quickest, but that's + just what you don't want, and as you DON'T want it, you'd better—” + </p> + <p> + “I can't stand any more!” Sheridan burst out. “If it's come to BIBBS + advisin' me how to run this house I better resign. Mamma, where's that + nigger George? Maybe HE'S got some plan how I better manage my family. + Bibbs, for God's sake go and lay down! 'Let her see him all she wants'! + Oh, Lord! here's wisdom; here's—” + </p> + <p> + “Bibbs,” said Mrs. Sheridan, “if you haven't got anything to do, you might + step over and take Sibyl's wraps home—she left 'em in the hall. I + don't think you seem to quiet your poor father very much just now.” + </p> + <p> + “All right.” And Bibbs bore Sibyl's wraps across the street and delivered + them to Roscoe, who met him at the door. Bibbs said only, “Forgot these,” + and, “Good night, Roscoe,” cordially and cheerfully, and returned to the + New House. His mother and father were still talking in the library, but + with discretion he passed rapidly on and upward to his own room, and there + he proceeded to write in his note-book. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXII + </h2> +<div class="blok"><p> + There seems to be another curious thing about Love [Bibbs wrote]. + Love is blind while it lives and only opens its eyes and becomes + very wide awake when it dies. Let it alone until then. +</p> + +<p> + You cannot reason with love or with any other passion. The wise + will not wish for love—nor for ambition. These are passions + and bring others in their train—hatreds and jealousies—all + blind. Friendship and a quiet heart for the wise. +</p> + +<p> + What a turbulence is love! It is dangerous for a blind thing to + be turbulent; there are precipices in life. One would not cross + a mountain-pass with a thick cloth over his eyes. Lovers do. + Friendship walks gently and with open eyes. +</p> + +<p> + To walk to church with a friend! To sit beside her there! To rise + when she rises, and to touch with one's thumb and fingers the other + half of the hymn-book that she holds! What lover, with his fierce + ways, could know this transcendent happiness?</p> + +<p> Friendship brings everything that heaven could bring. There is no + labor that cannot become a living rapture if you know that a friend + is thinking of you as you labor. So you sing at your work. For + the work is part of the thoughts of your friend; so you love it!</p> + +<p> Love is demanding and claiming and insistent. Friendship is all + kindness—it makes the world glorious with kindness. What color + you see when you walk with a friend! You see that the gray sky + is brilliant and shimmering; you see that the smoke has warm + browns and is marvelously sculptured—the air becomes iridescent. + You see the gold in brown hair. Light floods everything.</p> + +<p> When you walk to church with a friend you know that life can give + you nothing richer. You pray that there will be no change in + anything for ever.</p> + +<p> What an adorable thing it is to discover a little foible in your + friend, a bit of vanity that gives you one thing more about her to + adore! On a cold morning she will perhaps walk to church with you + without her furs, and she will blush and return an evasive answer + when you ask her why she does not wear them. You will say no + more, because you understand. She looks beautiful in her furs; + you love their darkness against her cheek; but you comprehend that + they conceal the loveliness of her throat and the fine line of her + chin, and that she also has comprehended this, and, wishing to + look still more bewitching, discards her furs at the risk of + taking cold. So you hold your peace, and try to look as if you + had not thought it out.</p> + +<p> This theory is satisfactory except that it does not account for + the absence of the muff. Ah, well, there must always be a mystery + somewhere! Mystery is a part of enchantment.</p> + +<p> Manual labor is best. Your heart can sing and your mind can dream + while your hands are working. You could not have a singing heart + and a dreaming mind all day if you had to scheme out dollars, + or if you had to add columns of figures. Those things take your + attention. You cannot be thinking of your friend while you write + letters beginning “Yours of the 17th inst. rec'd and contents + duly noted.” But to work with your hands all day, thinking and + singing, and then, after nightfall, to hear the ineffable kindness + of your friend's greeting—always there—for you! Who would wake + from such a dream as this?</p> + +<p> Dawn and the sea—music in moonlit gardens—nightingales + serenading through almond-groves in bloom—what could bring such + things into the city's turmoil? Yet they are here, and roses + blossom in the soot. That is what</p> it means not to be alone! + That is what a friend gives you! +</div> + <p> + Having thus demonstrated that he was about twenty-five and had formed a + somewhat indefinite definition of friendship, but one entirely his own + (and perhaps Mary's) Bibbs went to bed, and was the only Sheridan to sleep + soundly through the night and to wake at dawn with a light heart. + </p> + <p> + His cheerfulness was vaguely diminished by the troublous state of affairs + of his family. He had recognized his condition when he wrote, “Who would + wake from such a dream as this?” Bibbs was a sympathetic person, easily + touched, but he was indeed living in a dream, and all things outside of it + were veiled and remote—for that is the way of youth in a dream. And + Bibbs, who had never before been of any age, either old or young, had come + to his youth at last. + </p> + <p> + He went whistling from the house before even his father had come + down-stairs. There was a fog outdoors, saturated with a fine powder of + soot, and though Bibbs noticed absently the dim shape of an automobile at + the curb before Roscoe's house, he did not recognize it as Dr. Gurney's, + but went cheerily on his way through the dingy mist. And when he was once + more installed beside his faithful zinc-eater he whistled and sang to it, + as other workmen did to their own machines sometimes, when things went + well. His comrades in the shop glanced at him amusedly now and then. They + liked him, and he ate his lunch at noon with a group of Socialists who + approved of his ideas and talked of electing him to their association. + </p> + <p> + The short days of the year had come, and it was dark before the whistles + blew. When the signal came, Bibbs went to the office, where he divested + himself of his overalls—his single divergence from the routine of + his fellow-workmen—and after that he used soap and water copiously. + This was his transformation scene: he passed into the office a rather + frail young working-man noticeably begrimed, and passed out of it to the + pavement a cheerfully pre-occupied sample of gentry, fastidious to the + point of elegance. + </p> + <p> + The sidewalk was crowded with the bearers of dinner-pails, men and boys + and women and girls from the work-rooms that closed at five. Many hurried + and some loitered; they went both east and west, jostling one another, and + Bibbs, turning his face homeward, was forced to go slowly. + </p> + <p> + Coming toward him, as slowly, through the crowd, a tall girl caught sight + of his long, thin figure and stood still until he had almost passed her, + for in the thick crowd and the thicker gloom he did not recognize her, + though his shoulder actually touched hers. He would have gone by, but she + laughed delightedly; and he stopped short, startled. Two boys, one chasing + the other, swept between them, and Bibbs stood still, peering about him in + deep perplexity. She leaned toward him. + </p> + <p> + “I knew YOU!” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Good heavens!” cried Bibbs. “I thought it was your voice coming out of a + star!” + </p> + <p> + “There's only smoke overhead,” said Mary, and laughed again. “There aren't + any stars.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes, there were—when you laughed!” + </p> + <p> + She took his arm, and they went on. “I've come to walk home with you, + Bibbs. I wanted to.” + </p> + <p> + “But were you here in the—” + </p> + <p> + “In the dark? Yes! Waiting? Yes!” + </p> + <p> + Bibbs was radiant; he felt suffocated with happiness. He began to scold + her. + </p> + <p> + “But it's not safe, and I'm not worth it. You shouldn't have—you + ought to know better. What did—” + </p> + <p> + “I only waited about twelve seconds,” she laughed. “I'd just got here.” + </p> + <p> + “But to come all this way and to this part of town in the dark, you—” + </p> + <p> + “I was in this part of town already,” she said. “At least, I was only + seven or eight blocks away, and it was dark when I came out, and I'd have + had to go home alone—and I preferred going home with you.” + </p> + <p> + “It's pretty beautiful for me,” said Bibbs, with a deep breath. “You'll + never know what it was to hear your laugh in the darkness—and then + to—to see you standing there! Oh, it was like—it was like—how + can I TELL you what it was like?” They had passed beyond the crowd now, + and a crossing-lamp shone upon them, which revealed the fact that again + she was without her furs. Here was a puzzle. Why did that adorable little + vanity of hers bring her out without them in the DARK? But of course she + had gone out long before dark. For undefinable reasons this explanation + was not quite satisfactory; however, allowing it to stand, his solicitude + for her took another turn. “I think you ought to have a car,” he said, + “especially when you want to be out after dark. You need one in winter, + anyhow. Have you ever asked your father for one?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Mary. “I don't think I'd care for one particularly.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish you would.” Bibbs's tone was earnest and troubled. “I think in + winter you—” + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” she interrupted, lightly. “I don't need—” + </p> + <p> + “But my mother tried to insist on sending one over here every afternoon + for me. I wouldn't let her, because I like the walk, but a girl—” + </p> + <p> + “A girl likes to walk, too,” said Mary. “Let me tell you where I've been + this afternoon and how I happened to be near enough to make you take me + home. I've been to see a little old man who makes pictures of the smoke. + He has a sort of warehouse for a studio, and he lives there with his + mother and his wife and their seven children, and he's gloriously happy. + I'd seen one of his pictures at an exhibition, and I wanted to see more of + them, so he showed them to me. He has almost everthing he ever painted; I + don't suppose he's sold more than four or five pictures in his life. He + gives drawing-lessons to keep alive.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you mean he paints the smoke?” Bibbs asked. + </p> + <p> + “Literally. He paints from his studio window and from the street—anywhere. + He just paints what's around him—and it's beautiful.” + </p> + <p> + “The smoke?” + </p> + <p> + “Wonderful! He sees the sky through it, somehow. He does the ugly roofs of + cheap houses through a haze of smoke, and he does smoky sunsets and smoky + sunrises, and he has other things with the heavy, solid, slow columns of + smoke going far out and growing more ethereal and mixing with the hazy + light in the distance; and he has others with the broken sky-line of + down-town, all misted with the smoke and puffs and jets of vapor that have + colors like an orchard in mid-April. I'm going to take you there some + Sunday afternoon, Bibbs.” + </p> + <p> + “You're showing me the town,” he said. “I didn't know what was in it at + all.” + </p> + <p> + “There are workers in beauty here,” she told him, gently. “There are other + painters more prosperous than my friend. There are all sorts of things.” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't know.” + </p> + <p> + “No. Since the town began growing so great that it called itself + 'greater,' one could live here all one's life and know only the side of it + that shows.” + </p> + <p> + “The beauty-workers seem buried very deep,” said Bibbs. “And I imagine + that your friend who makes the smoke beautiful must be buried deepest of + all. My father loves the smoke, but I can't imagine his buying one of your + friend's pictures. He'd buy the 'Bay of Naples,' but he wouldn't get one + of those. He'd think smoke in a picture was horrible—unless he could + use it for an advertisement.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she said, thoughtfully. “And really he's the town. They ARE buried + pretty deep, it seems, sometimes, Bibbs.” + </p> + <p> + “And yet it's all wonderful,” he said. “It's wonderful to me.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean the town is wonderful to you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, because everything is, since you called me your friend. The city is + only a rumble on the horizon for me. It can't come any closer than the + horizon so long as you let me see you standing by my old zinc-eater all + day long, helping me. Mary—” He stopped with a gasp. “That's the + first time I've called you 'Mary'!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” She laughed, a little tremuously. “Though I wanted you to!” + </p> + <p> + “I said it without thinking. It must be because you came there to walk + home with me. That must be it.” + </p> + <p> + “Women like to have things said,” Mary informed him, her tremulous + laughter continuing. “Were you glad I came for you?” + </p> + <p> + “No—not 'glad.' I felt as if I were being carried straight up and up + and up—over the clouds. I feel like that still. I think I'm that way + most of the time. I wonder what I was like before I knew you. The person I + was then seems to have been somebody else, not Bibbs Sheridan at all. It + seems long, long ago. I was gloomy and sickly—somebody else—somebody + I don't understand now, a coward afraid of shadows—afraid of things + that didn't exist—afraid of my old zinc-eater! And now I'm only + afraid of what might change anything.” + </p> + <p> + She was silent a moment, and then, “You're happy, Bibbs?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, don't you see?” he cried. “I want it to last for a thousand, thousand + years, just as it is! You've made me so rich, I'm a miser. I wouldn't have + one thing different—nothing, nothing!” + </p> + <p> + “Dear Bibbs!” she said, and laughed happily. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIII + </h2> + <p> + Bibbs continued to live in the shelter of his dream. He had told Edith, + after his ineffective effort to be useful in her affairs, that he had + decided that he was “a member of the family”; but he appeared to have + relapsed to the retired list after that one attempt at participancy—he + was far enough detached from membership now. These were turbulent days in + the New House, but Bibbs had no part whatever in the turbulence—he + seemed an absent-minded stranger, present by accident and not wholly aware + that he was present. He would sit, faintly smiling over pleasant + imaginings and dear reminiscences of his own, while battle raged between + Edith and her father, or while Sheridan unloosed jeremiads upon the sullen + Roscoe, who drank heavily to endure them. The happy dreamer wandered into + storm-areas like a somnambulist, and wandered out again unawakened. He was + sorry for his father and for Roscoe, and for Edith and for Sibyl, but + their sufferings and outcries seemed far away. + </p> + <p> + Sibyl was under Gurney's care. Roscoe had sent for him on Sunday night, + not long after Bibbs returned the abandoned wraps; and during the first + days of Sibyl's illness the doctor found it necessary to be with her + frequently, and to install a muscular nurse. And whether he would or no, + Gurney received from his hysterical patient a variety of pungent + information which would have staggered anybody but a family physician. + Among other things he was given to comprehend the change in Bibbs, and why + the zinc-eater was not putting a lump in the operator's gizzard as of + yore. + </p> + <p> + Sibyl was not delirious—she was a thin little ego writhing and + shrieking in pain. Life had hurt her, and had driven her into hurting + herself; her condition was only the adult's terrible exaggeration of that + of a child after a bad bruise—there must be screaming and telling + mother all about the hurt and how it happened. Sibyl babbled herself + hoarse when Gurney withheld morphine. She went from the beginning to the + end in a breath. No protest stopped her; nothing stopped her. + </p> + <p> + “You ought to let me die!” she wailed. “It's cruel not to let me die! What + harm have I ever done to anybody that you want to keep me alive? Just look + at my life! I only married Roscoe to get away from home, and look what + that got me into!—look where I am now! He brought me to this town, + and what did I have in my life but his FAMILY? And they didn't even know + the right crowd! If they had, it might have been SOMETHING! I had nothing—nothing—nothing + in the world! I wanted to have a good time—and how could I? Where's + any good time among these Sheridans? They never even had wine on the + table! I thought I was marrying into a rich family where I'd meet + attractive people I'd read about, and travel, and go to dances—and, + oh, my Lord! all I got was these Sheridans! I did the best I could; I did, + indeed! Oh, I DID! I just tried to live. Every woman's got a right to + live, some time in her life, I guess! Things were just beginning to look + brighter—we'd moved up here, and that frozen crowd across the street + were after Jim for their daughter, and they'd have started us with the + right people—and then I saw how Edith was getting him away from me. + She did it, too! She got him! A girl with money can do that to a married + woman—yes, she can, every time! And what could I do? What can any + woman do in my fix? I couldn't do ANYTHING but try to stand it—and I + couldn't stand it! I went to that icicle—that Vertrees girl—and + she could have helped me a little, and it wouldn't have hurt her. It + wouldn't have done her any harm to help me THAT little! She treated me as + if I'd been dirt that she wouldn't even take the trouble to sweep out of + her house! Let her WAIT!” + </p> + <p> + Sibyl's voice, hoarse from babbling, became no more than a husky whisper, + though she strove to make it louder. She struggled half upright, and the + nurse restrained her. “I'd get up out of this bed to show her she can't do + such things to me! I was absolutely ladylike, and she walked out and left + me there alone! She'll SEE! She started after Bibbs before Jim's casket + was fairly underground, and she thinks she's landed that poor loon—but + she'll see! She'll see! If I'm ever able to walk across the street again + I'll show her how to treat a woman in trouble that comes to her for help! + It wouldn't have hurt her any—it wouldn't—it wouldn't. And + Edith needn't have told what she told Roscoe—it wouldn't have hurt + her to let me alone. And HE told her I bored him—telephoning him I + wanted to see him. He needn't have done it! He needn't—needn't—” + Her voice grew fainter, for that while, with exhaustion, though she would + go over it all again as soon as her strength returned. She lay panting. + Then, seeing her husband standing disheveled in the doorway, “Don't come + in, Roscoe,” she murmured. “I don't want to see you.” And as he turned + away she added, “I'm kind of sorry for you, Roscoe.” + </p> + <p> + Her antagonist, Edith, was not more coherent in her own wailings, and she + had the advantage of a mother for listener. She had also the disadvantage + of a mother for duenna, and Mrs. Sheridan, under her husband's sharp + tutelage, proved an effective one. Edith was reduced to telephoning + Lamhorn from shops whenever she could juggle her mother into a momentary + distraction over a counter. + </p> + <p> + Edith was incomparably more in love than before Lamhorn's expulsion. Her + whole being was nothing but the determination to hurdle everything that + separated her from him. She was in a state that could be altered by only + the lightest and most delicate diplomacy of suggestion, but Sheridan, like + legions of other parents, intensified her passion and fed it hourly fuel + by opposing to it an intolerable force. He swore she should cool, and thus + set her on fire. + </p> + <p> + Edith planned neatly. She fought hard, every other evening, with her + father, and kept her bed betweentimes to let him see what his violence had + done to her. Then, when the mere sight of her set him to breathing fast, + she said pitiably that she might bear her trouble better if she went away; + it was impossible to be in the same town with Lamhorn and not think always + of him. Perhaps in New York she might forget a little. She had written to + a school friend, established quietly with an aunt in apartments—and + a month or so of theaters and restaurants might bring peace. Sheridan + shouted with relief; he gave her a copious cheque, and she left upon a + Monday morning wearing violets with her mourning and having kissed + everybody good-by except Sibyl and Bibbs. She might have kissed Bibbs, but + he failed to realize that the day of her departure had arrived, and was + surprised, on returning from his zinc-eater, that evening, to find her + gone. “I suppose they'll be maried there,” he said, casually. + </p> + <p> + Sheridan, seated, warming his stockinged feet at the fire, jumped up, + fuming. “Either you go out o' here, or I will, Bibbs!” he snorted. “I + don't want to be in the same room with the particular kind of idiot you + are! She's through with that riff-raff; all she needed was to be kept away + from him a few weeks, and I KEPT her away, and it did the business. For + Heaven's sake, go on out o' here!” + </p> + <p> + Bibbs obeyed the gesture of a hand still bandaged. And the black silk + sling was still round Sheridan's neck, but no word of Gurney's and no + excruciating twinge of pain could keep Sheridan's hand in the sling. The + wounds, slight enough originally, had become infected the first time he + had dislodged the bandages, and healing was long delayed. Sheridan had the + habit of gesture; he could not “take time to remember,” he said, that he + must be careful, and he had also a curious indignation with his hurt; he + refused to pay it the compliment of admitting its existence. + </p> + <p> + The Saturday following Edith's departure Gurney came to the Sheridan + Building to dress the wounds and to have a talk with Sheridan which the + doctor felt had become necessary. But he was a little before the appointed + time and was obliged to wait a few minutes in an anteroom—there was + a directors' meeting of some sort in Sheridan's office. The door was + slightly ajar, leaking cigar-smoke and oratory, the latter all Sheridan's, + and Gurney listened. + </p> + <p> + “No, sir; no, sir; no, sir!” he heard the big voice rumbling, and then, + breaking into thunder, “I tell you NO! Some o' you men make me sick! You'd + lose your confidence in Almighty God if a doodle-bug flipped his hind leg + at you! You say money's tight all over the country. Well, what if it is? + There's no reason for it to be tight, and it's not goin' to keep OUR money + tight! You're always runnin' to the woodshed to hide your nickels in a + crack because some fool newspaper says the market's a little skeery! You + listen to every street-corner croaker and then come and set here and try + to scare ME out of a big thing! We're IN on this—understand? I tell + you there never WAS better times. These are good times and big times, and + I won't stand for any other kind o' talk. This country's on its feet as it + never was before, and this city's on its feet and goin' to stay there!” + And Gurney heard a series of whacks and thumps upon the desk. “'Bad + times'!” Sheridan vociferated, with accompanying thumps. “Rabbit talk! + These times are glorious, I tell you! We're in the promised land, and + we're goin' to STAY there! That's all, gentlemen. The loan goes!” + </p> + <p> + The directors came forth, flushed and murmurous, and Gurney hastened in. + His guess was correct: Sheridan had been thumping the desk with his right + hand. The physician scolded wearily, making good the fresh damage as best + he might; and then he said what he had to say on the subject of Roscoe and + Sibyl, his opinion meeting, as he expected, a warmly hostile reception. + But the result of this conversation was that by telephonic command Roscoe + awaited his father, an hour later, in the library at the New House. + </p> + <p> + “Gurney says your wife's able to travel,” Sheridan said brusquely, as he + came in. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” Roscoe occupied a deep chair and sat in the dejected attitude which + had become his habit. “Yes, she is.” + </p> + <p> + “Edith had to leave town, and so Sibyl thinks she'll have to, too!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I wouldn't put it that way,” Roscoe protested, drearily. + </p> + <p> + “No, I hear YOU wouldn't!” There was a bitter gibe in the father's voice, + and he added: “It's a good thing she's goin' abroad—if she'll stay + there. I shouldn't think any of us want her here any more—you least + of all!” + </p> + <p> + “It's no use your talking that way,” said Roscoe. “You won't do any good.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, when are you comin' back to your office?” Sheridan used a brisker, + kinder tone. “Three weeks since you showed up there at all. When you goin' + to be ready to cut out whiskey and all the rest o' the foolishness and + start in again? You ought to be able to make up for a lot o' lost time and + a lot o' spilt milk when that woman takes herself out o' the way and lets + you and all the rest of us alone.” + </p> + <p> + “It's no use, father, I tell you. I know what Gurney was going to say to + you. I'm not going back to the office. I'm DONE!” + </p> + <p> + “Wait a minute before you talk that way!” Sheridan began his sentry-go up + and down the room. “I suppose you know it's taken two pretty good men + about sixteen hours a day to set things straight and get 'em runnin' right + again, down in your office?” + </p> + <p> + “They must be good men.” Roscoe nodded indifferently. “I thought I was + doing about eight men's work. I'm glad you found two that could handle + it.” + </p> + <p> + “Look here! If I worked you it was for your own good. There are plenty men + drive harder'n I do, and—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. There are some that break down all the other men that work with 'em. + They either die, or go crazy, or have to quit, and are no use the rest of + their lives. The last's my case, I guess—'complicated by domestic + difficulties'!” + </p> + <p> + “You set there and tell me you give up?” Sheridan's voice shook, and so + did the gesticulating hand which he extended appealingly toward the + despondent figure. “Don't do it, Roscoe! Don't say it! Say you'll come + down there again and be a man! This woman ain't goin' to trouble you any + more. The work ain't goin' to hurt you if you haven't got her to worry + you, and you can get shut o' this nasty whiskey-guzzlin'; it ain't + fastened on you yet. Don't say—” + </p> + <p> + “It's no use on earth,” Roscoe mumbled. “No use on earth.” + </p> + <p> + “Look here! If you want another month's vacation—” + </p> + <p> + “I know Gurney told you, so what's the use talking about 'vacations'?” + </p> + <p> + “Gurney!” Sheridan vociferated the name savagely. “It's Gurney, Gurney, + Gurney! Always Gurney! I don't know what the world's comin' to with + everybody runnin' around squealin', 'The doctor says this,' and, 'The + doctor says that'! It makes me sick! How's this country expect to get its + Work done if Gurney and all the other old nanny-goats keep up this + blattin'—'Oh, oh! Don't lift that stick o' wood; you'll ruin your + NERVES!' So he says you got 'nervous exhaustion induced by overwork and + emotional strain.' They always got to stick the Work in if they see a + chance! I reckon you did have the 'emotional strain,' and that's all's the + matter with you. You'll be over it soon's this woman's gone, and Work's + the very thing to make you quit frettin' about her.” + </p> + <p> + “Did Gurney tell you I was fit to work?” + </p> + <p> + “Shut up!” Sheridan bellowed. “I'm so sick o' that man's name I feel like + shootin' anybody that says it to me!” He fumed and chafed, swearing + indistinctly, then came and stood before his son. “Look here; do you think + you're doin' the square thing by me? Do you? How much you worth?” + </p> + <p> + “I've got between seven and eight thousand a year clear, of my own, + outside the salary. That much is mine whether I work or not.” + </p> + <p> + “It is? You could'a pulled it out without me, I suppose you think, at your + age?” + </p> + <p> + “No. But it's mine, and it's enough.” + </p> + <p> + “My Lord! It's about what a Congressman gets, and you want to quit there! + I suppose you think you'll get the rest when I kick the bucket, and all + you have to do is lay back and wait! You let me tell you right here, + you'll never see one cent of it. You go out o' business now, and what + would you know about handlin' it five or ten or twenty years from now? + Because I intend to STAY here a little while yet, my boy! They'd either + get it away from you or you'd sell for a nickel and let it be split up and—” + He whirled about, marched to the other end of the room, and stood silent a + moment. Then he said, solemnly: “Listen. If you go out now, you leave me + in the lurch, with nothin' on God's green earth to depend on but your + brother—and you know what he is. I've depended on you for it ALL + since Jim died. Now you've listened to that dam' doctor, and he says maybe + you won't ever be as good a man as you were, and that certainly you won't + be for a year or so—probably more. Now, that's all a lie. Men don't + break down that way at your age. Look at ME! And I tell you, you can shake + this thing off. All you need is a little GET-up and a little gumption. Men + don't go away for YEARS and then come back into MOVING businesses like + ours—they lose the strings. And if you could, I won't let you—if + you lay down on me now, I won't—and that's because if you lay down + you prove you ain't the man I thought you were.” He cleared his throat and + finished quietly: “Roscoe, will you take a month's vacation and come back + and go to it?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Roscoe, listlessly. “I'm through.” + </p> + <p> + “All right,” said Sheridan. He picked up the evening paper from a table, + went to a chair by the fire and sat down, his back to his son. “Good-by.” + </p> + <p> + Roscoe rose, his head hanging, but there was a dull relief in his eyes. + “Best I can do,” he muttered, seeming about to depart, yet lingering. “I + figure it out a good deal like this,” he said. “I didn't KNOW my job was + any strain, and I managed all right, but from what Gur—from what I + hear, I was just up to the limit of my nerves from overwork, and the—the + trouble at home was the extra strain that's fixed me the way I am. I tried + to brace, so I could stand the work and the trouble too, on whiskey—and + that put the finish to me! I—I'm not hitting it as hard as I was for + a while, and I reckon pretty soon, if I can get to feeling a little more + energy, I better try to quit entirely—I don't know. I'm all in—and + the doctor says so. I thought I was running along fine up to a few months + ago, but all the time I was ready to bust, and didn't know it. Now, then, + I don't want you to blame Sibyl, and if I were you I wouldn't speak of her + as 'that woman,' because she's your daughter-in-law and going to stay that + way. She didn't do anything wicked. It was a shock to me, and I don't deny + it, to find what she had done—encouraging that fellow to hang around + her after he began trying to flirt with her, and losing her head over him + the way she did. I don't deny it was a shock and that it'll always be a + hurt inside of me I'll never get over. But it was my fault; I didn't + understand a woman's nature.” Poor Roscoe spoke in the most profound and + desolate earnest. “A woman craves society, and gaiety, and meeting + attractive people, and traveling. Well, I can't give her the other things, + but I can give her the traveling—real traveling, not just going to + Atlantic City or New Orleans, the way she has, two, three times. A woman + has to have something in her life besides a business man. And that's ALL I + was. I never understood till I heard her talking when she was so sick, and + I believe if you'd heard her then you wouldn't speak so hard-heartedly + about her; I believe you might have forgiven her like I have. That's all. + I never cared anything for any girl but her in my life, but I was so busy + with business I put it ahead of her. I never THOUGHT about her, I was so + busy thinking business. Well, this is where it's brought us to—and + now when you talk about 'business' to me I feel the way you do when + anybody talks about Gurney to you. The word 'business' makes me dizzy—it + makes me honestly sick at the stomach. I believe if I had to go down-town + and step inside that office door I'd fall down on the floor, deathly sick. + You talk about a 'month's vacation'—and I get just as sick. I'm + rattled—I can't plan—I haven't got any plans—can't make + any, except to take my girl and get just as far away from that office as I + can—and stay. We're going to Japan first, and if we—” + </p> + <p> + His father rustled the paper. “I said good-by, Roscoe.” + </p> + <p> + “Good-by,” said Roscoe, listlessly. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIV + </h2> + <p> + Sheridan waited until he heard the sound of the outer door closing; then + he rose and pushed a tiny disk set in the wall. Jackson appeared. + </p> + <p> + “Has Bibbs got home from work?” + </p> + <p> + “Mist' Bibbs? No, suh.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell him I want to see him, soon as he comes.” + </p> + <p> + “Yessuh.” + </p> + <p> + Sheridan returned to his chair and fixed his attention fiercely upon the + newspaper. He found it difficult to pursue the items beyond their + explanatory rubrics—there was nothing unusual or startling to + concentrate his attention: + </p> +<div class="poetry"><div class="poem"> + “Motorman Puts Blame on Brakes. Three Killed when Car Slides.”<br /> + “Burglars Make Big Haul.”<br /> + “Board Works Approve Big Car-line Extension.”<br /> + “Hold-up Men Injure Two. Man Found in Alley, Skull Fractured.”<br /> + “Sickening Story Told in Divorce Court.”<br /> + “Plan New Eighteen-story Structure.”<br /> + “School-girl Meets Death under Automobile.”<br /> + “Negro Cuts Three. One Dead.”<br /> + “Life Crushed Out. Third Elevator Accident in Same Building Causes Action by Coroner.”<br /> + “Declare Militia will be Menace. Polish Societies Protest to Governor in Church Rioting Case.”<br /> + “Short $3,500 in Accounts, Trusted Man Kills Self with Drug.”<br /> + “Found Frozen. Family Without Food or Fuel. Baby Dead when + Parents Return Home from Seeking Work.”<br /> + “Minister Returned from Trip Abroad Lectures on Big Future of Our<br /> + City. Sees Big Improvement during Short Absence. Says No<br /> + European City Holds Candle.” (Sheridan nodded approvingly here.)<br /> +</div></div> + <p> + Bibbs came through the hall whistling, and entered the room briskly. + “Well, father, did you want me?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Sit down.” Sheridan got up, and Bibbs took a seat by the fire, + holding out his hands to the crackling blaze, for it was cold outdoors. + </p> + <p> + “I came within seven of the shop record to-day,” he said. “I handled more + strips than any other workman has any day this month. The nearest to me is + sixteen behind.” + </p> + <p> + “There!” exclaimed his father, greatly pleased. “What'd I tell you? I'd + like to hear Gurney hint again that I wasn't right in sending you there—I + would just like to hear him! And you—ain't you ashamed of makin' + such a fuss about it? Ain't you?” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't go at it in the right spirit the other time,” Bibbs said, + smiling brightly, his face ruddy in the cheerful firelight. “I didn't know + the difference it meant to like a thing.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I guess I've pretty thoroughly vindicated my judgement. I guess I + HAVE! I said the shop'd be good for you, and it was. I said it wouldn't + hurt you, and it hasn't. It's been just exactly what I said it would be. + Ain't that so?” + </p> + <p> + “Looks like it!” Bibbs agreed, gaily. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'd like to know any place I been wrong, first and last! Instead o' + hurting you, it's been the makin' of you—physically. You're a good + inch taller'n what I am, and you'd be a bigger man than what I am if you'd + get some flesh on your bones; and you ARE gettin' a little. Physically, + it's started you out to be the huskiest one o' the whole family. Now, + then, mentally—that's different. I don't say it unkindly, Bibbs, but + you got to do something for yourself mentally, just like what's begun + physically. And I'm goin' to help you.” + </p> + <p> + Sheridan decided to sit down again. He brought his chair close to his + son's, and, leaning over, tapped Bibbs's knee confidentially. “I got plans + for you, Bibbs,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Bibbs instantly looked thoroughly alarmed. He drew back. “I—I'm all + right now, father.” + </p> + <p> + “Listen.” Sheridan settled himself in his chair, and spoke in the tone of + a reasonable man reasoning. “Listen here, Bibbs. I had another blow + to-day, and it was a hard one and right in the face, though I HAVE been + expectin' it some little time back. Well, it's got to be met. Now I'll be + frank with you. As I said a minute ago, mentally I couldn't ever called + you exactly strong. You been a little weak both ways, most of your life. + Not but what I think you GOT a mentality, if you'd learn to use it. You + got will-power, I'll say that for you. I never knew boy or man that could + be stubborner—never one in my life! Now, then, you've showed you + could learn to run that machine best of any man in the shop, in no time at + all. That looks to me like you could learn to do other things. I don't + deny but what it's an encouragin' sign. I don't deny that, at all. Well, + that helps me to think the case ain't so hopeless as it looks. You're all + I got to meet this blow with, but maybe you ain't as poor material as I + thought. Your tellin' me about comin' within seven strips of the shop's + record to-day looks to me like encouragin' information brought in at just + about the right time. Now, then, I'm goin' to give you a raise. I wanted + to send you straight on up through the shops—a year or two, maybe—but + I can't do it. I lost Jim, and now I've lost Roscoe. He's quit. He's laid + down on me. If he ever comes back at all, he'll be a long time pickin' up + the strings, and, anyway, he ain't the man I thought he was. I can't count + on him. I got to have SOMEBODY I KNOW I can count on. And I'm down to + this: you're my last chance. Bibbs, I got to learn you to use what brains + you got and see if we can't develop 'em a little. Who knows? And I'm goin' + to put my time in on it. I'm goin' to take you right down-town with ME, + and I won't be hard on you if you're a little slow at first. And I'm goin' + to do the big thing for you. I'm goin' to make you feel you got to do the + big thing for me, in return. I've vindicated my policy with you about the + shop, and now I'm goin' to turn right around and swing you 'way over ahead + of where the other boys started, and I'm goin' to make an appeal to your + ambition that'll make you dizzy!” He tapped his son on the knee again. + “Bibbs, I'm goin' to start you off this way: I'm goin' to make you a + director in the Pump Works Company; I'm goin' to make you vice-president + of the Realty Company and a vice-president of the Trust Company!” + </p> + <p> + Bibbs jumped to his feet, blanched. “Oh no!” he cried. + </p> + <p> + Sheridan took his dismay to be the excitement of sudden joy. “Yes, sir! + And there's some pretty fat little salaries goes with those + vice-presidencies, and a pinch o' stock in the Pump Company with the + directorship. You thought I was pretty mean about the shop—oh, I + know you did!—but you see the old man can play it both ways. And so + right now, the minute you've begun to make good the way I wanted you to, I + deal from the new deck. And I'll keep on handin' it out bigger and bigger + every time you show me you're big enough to play the hand I deal you. I'm + startin' you with a pretty big one, my boy!” + </p> + <p> + “But I don't—I don't—I don't want it!” Bibbs stammered. + </p> + <p> + “What'd you say?” Sheridan thought he had not heard aright. + </p> + <p> + “I don't want it, father. I thank you—I do thank you—” + </p> + <p> + Sheridan looked perplexed. “What's the matter with you? Didn't you + understand what I was tellin' you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “You sure? I reckon you didn't. I offered—” + </p> + <p> + “I know, I know! But I can't take it.” + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter with you?” Sheridan was half amazed, half suspicious. + “Your head feel funny?” + </p> + <p> + “I've never been quite so sane in my life,” said Bibbs, “as I have lately. + And I've got just what I want. I'm living exactly the right life. I'm + earning my daily bread, and I'm happy in doing it. My wages are enough. I + don't want any more money, and I don't deserve any—” + </p> + <p> + “Damnation!” Sheridan sprang up. “You've turned Socialist! You been + listening to those fellows down there, and you—” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir. I think there's a great deal in what they say, but that isn't + it.” + </p> + <p> + Sheridan tried to restrain his growing fury, and succeeded partially. + “Then what is it? What's the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing,” his son returned, nervously. “Nothing—except that I'm + content. I don't want to change anything.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + Bibbs had the incredible folly to try to explain. “I'll tell you, father, + if I can. I know it may be hard to understand—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I think it may be,” said Sheridan, grimly. “What you say usually is + a LITTLE that way. Go on!” + </p> + <p> + Perturbed and distressed, Bibbs rose instinctively; he felt himself at + every possible disadvantage. He was a sleeper clinging to a dream—a + rough hand stretched to shake him and waken him. He went to a table and + made vague drawings upon it with a finger, and as he spoke he kept his + eyes lowered. “You weren't altogether right about the shop—that is, + in one way you weren't, father.” He glanced up apprehensively. Sheridan + stood facing him, expressionless, and made no attempt to interrupt. + “That's difficult to explain,” Bibbs continued, lowering his eyes again, + to follow the tracings of his finger. “I—I believe the shop might + have done for me this time if I hadn't—if something hadn't helped me + to—oh, not only to bear it, but to be happy in it. Well, I AM happy + in it. I want to go on just as I am. And of all things on earth that I + don't want, I don't want to live a business life—I don't want to be + drawn into it. I don't think it IS living—and now I AM living. I + have the healthful toil—and I can think. In business as important as + yours I couldn't think anything but business. I don't—I don't think + making money is worth while.” + </p> + <p> + “Go on,” said Sheridan, curtly, as Bibbs paused timidly. + </p> + <p> + “It hasn't seemed to get anywhere, that I can see,” said Bibbs. “You think + this city is rich and powerful—but what's the use of its being rich + and powerful? They don't teach the children any more in the schools + because the city is rich and powerful. They teach them more than they used + to because some people—not rich and powerful people—have + thought the thoughts to teach the children. And yet when you've been + reading the paper I've heard you objecting to the children being taught + anything except what would help them to make money. You said it was + wasting the taxes. You want them taught to make a living, but not to live. + When I was a little boy this wasn't an ugly town; now it's hideous. What's + the use of being big just to be hideous? I mean I don't think all this has + meant really going ahead—it's just been getting bigger and dirtier + and noisier. Wasn't the whole country happier and in many ways wiser when + it was smaller and cleaner and quieter and kinder? I know you think I'm an + utter fool, father, but, after all, though, aren't business and politics + just the housekeeping part of life? And wouldn't you despise a woman that + not only made her housekeeping her ambition, but did it so noisily and + dirtily that the whole neighborhood was in a continual turmoil over it? + And suppose she talked and thought about her housekeeping all the time, + and was always having additions built to her house when she couldn't keep + clean what she already had; and suppose, with it all, she made the house + altogether unpeaceful and unlivable—” + </p> + <p> + “Just one minute!” Sheridan interrupted, adding, with terrible courtesy, + “If you will permit me? Have you ever been right about anything?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't quite—” + </p> + <p> + “I ask the simple question: Have you ever been right about anything + whatever in the course of your life? Have you ever been right upon any + subject or question you've thought about and talked about? Can you mention + one single time when you were proved to be right?” + </p> + <p> + He was flourishing the bandaged hand as he spoke, but Bibbs said only, “If + I've always been wrong before, surely there's more chance that I'm right + about this. It seems reasonable to suppose something would be due to bring + up my average.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I thought you wouldn't see the point. And there's another you + probably couldn't see, but I'll take the liberty to mention it. You been + balkin' all your life. Pretty much everything I ever wanted you to do, + you'd let out SOME kind of a holler, like you are now—and yet I + can't seem to remember once when you didn't have to lay down and do what I + said. But go on with your remarks about our city and the business of this + country. Go on!” + </p> + <p> + “I don't want to be a part of it,” said Bibbs, with unwonted decision. “I + want to keep to myself, and I'm doing it now. I couldn't, if I went down + there with you. I'd be swallowed into it. I don't care for money enough to—” + </p> + <p> + “No,” his father interrupted, still dangerously quiet. “You've never had + to earn a living. Anybody could tell that by what you say. Now, let me + remind you: you're sleepin' in a pretty good bed; you're eatin' pretty + fair food; you're wearin' pretty fine clothes. Just suppose one o' these + noisy housekeepers—me, for instance—decided to let you do your + own housekeepin'. May I ask what your proposition would be?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm earning nine dollars a week,” said Bibbs, sturdily. “It's enough. I + shouldn't mind at all.” + </p> + <p> + “Who's payin' you that nine dollars a week?” + </p> + <p> + “My work!” Bibbs answered. “And I've done so well on that clipping-machine + I believe I could work up to fifteen or even twenty a week at another job. + I could be a fair plumber in a few months, I'm sure. I'd rather have a + trade than be in business—I should, infinitely!” + </p> + <p> + “You better set about learnin' one pretty dam' quick!” But Sheridan + struggled with his temper and again was partially successful in + controlling it. “You better learn a trade over Sunday, because you're + either goin' down with me to my office Monday morning—or—you + can go to plumbing!” + </p> + <p> + “All right,” said Bibbs, gently. “I can get along.” + </p> + <p> + Sheridan raised his hands sardonically, as in prayer. “O God,” he said, + “this boy was crazy enough before he began to earn his nine dollars a + week, and now his money's gone to his head! Can't You do nothin' for him?” + Then he flung his hands apart, palms outward, in a furious gesture of + dismissal. “Get out o' this room! You got a skull that's thicker'n a + whale's thigh-bone, but it's cracked spang all the way across! You hated + the machine-shop so bad when I sent you there, you went and stayed sick + for over two years—and now, when I offer to take you out of it and + give you the mint, you holler for the shop like a calf for its mammy! + You're cracked! Oh, but I got a fine layout here! One son died, one quit, + and one's a loon! The loon's all I got left! H. P. Ellersly's wife had a + crazy brother, and they undertook to keep him at the house. First morning + he was there he walked straight though a ten-dollar plate-glass window out + into the yard. He says, 'Oh, look at the pretty dandelion!' That's what + you're doin'! You want to spend your life sayin', 'Oh, look at the pretty + dandelion!' and you don't care a tinker's dam' what you bust! Well, + mister, loon or no loon, cracked and crazy or whatever you are, I'll take + you with me Monday morning, and I'll work you and learn you—yes, and + I'll lam you, if I got to—until I've made something out of you + that's fit to be called a business man! I'll keep at you while I'm able to + stand, and if I have to lay down to die I'll be whisperin' at you till + they get the embalmin'-fluid into me! Now go on, and don't let me hear + from you again till you can come and tell me you've waked up, you poor, + pitiful, dandelion-pickin' SLEEP-WALKER!” + </p> + <p> + Bibbs gave him a queer look. There was something like reproach in it, for + once; but there was more than that—he seemed to be startled by his + father's last word. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXV + </h2> + <p> + There was sleet that evening, with a whopping wind, but neither this storm + nor that other which so imminently threatened him held place in the + consciousness of Bibbs Sheridan when he came once more to the presence of + Mary. All was right in his world as he sat with her, reading Maurice + Maeterlinck's Alladine and Palomides. The sorrowful light of the gas-jet + might have been May morning sunshine flashing amber and rose through the + glowing windows of the Sainte-Chapelle, it was so bright for Bibbs. And + while the zinc-eater held out to bring him such golden nights as these, + all the king's horses and all the king's men might not serve to break the + spell. + </p> + <p> + Bibbs read slowly, but in a reasonable manner, as if he were talking; and + Mary, looking at him steadily from beneath her curved fingers, appeared to + discover no fault. It had grown to be her habit to look at him whenever + there was an opportunity. It may be said, in truth, that while they were + together, and it was light, she looked at him all the time. + </p> + <p> + When he came to the end of Alladine and Palomides they were silent a + little while, considering together; then he turned back the pages and + said: “There's something I want to read over. This:” + </p> +<div class="blok"> +<p> You would think I threw a window open on the dawn.... She has a + soul that can be seen around her—that takes you in its arms like + an ailing child and without saying anything to you consoles you + for everything.... I shall never understand it all. I do not know + how it can all be, but my knees bend in spite of me when I speak + of it....</p> +</div> + <p> + He stopped and looked at her. + </p> + <p> + “You boy!” said Mary, not very clearly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes,” he returned. “But it's true—especially my knees!” + </p> + <p> + “You boy!” she murmured again, blushing charmingly. “You might read + another line over. The first time I ever saw you, Bibbs, you were looking + into a mirror. Do it again. But you needn't read it—I can give it to + you: 'A little Greek slave that came from the heart of Arcady!'” + </p> + <p> + “I! I'm one of the hands at the Pump Works—and going to stay one, + unless I have to decide to study plumbing.” + </p> + <p> + “No.” She shook her head. “You love and want what's beautiful and delicate + and serene; it's really art that you want in your life, and have always + wanted. You seemed to me, from the first, the most wistful person I had + ever known, and that's what you were wistful for.” + </p> + <p> + Bibbs looked doubtful and more wistful than ever; but after a moment or + two the matter seemed to clarify itself to him. “Why, no,” he said; “I + wanted something else more than that. I wanted you.” + </p> + <p> + “And here I am!” she laughed, completely understanding. “I think we're + like those two in The Cloister and the Hearth. I'm just the rough + Burgundian cross-bow man, Denys, who followed that gentle Gerard and told + everybody that the devil was dead.” + </p> + <p> + “He isn't, though,” said Bibbs, as a hoarse little bell in the next room + began a series of snappings which proved to be ten, upon count. “He gets + into the clock whenever I'm with you.” And, sighing deeply he rose to go. + </p> + <p> + “You're always very prompt about leaving me.” + </p> + <p> + “I—I try to be,” he said. “It isn't easy to be careful not to risk + everything by giving myself a little more at a time. If I ever saw you + look tired—” + </p> + <p> + “Have you ever?” + </p> + <p> + “Not yet. You always look—you always look—” + </p> + <p> + “How?” + </p> + <p> + “Care-free. That's it. Except when you feel sorry for me about something, + you always have that splendid look. It puts courage into people to see it. + If I had a struggle to face I'd keep remembering that look—and I'd + never give up! It's a brave look, too, as though gaiety might be a kind of + gallantry on your part, and yet I don't quite understand why it should be, + either.” He smiled quizzically, looking down upon her. “Mary, you haven't + a 'secret sorrow,' have you?” + </p> + <p> + For answer she only laughed. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he said; “I can't imagine you with a care in the world. I think + that's why you were so kind to me—you have nothing but happiness in + your own life, and so you could spare time to make my troubles turn to + happiness, too. But there's one little time in the twenty-four hours when + I'm not happy. It's now, when I have to say good night. I feel dismal + every time it comes—and then, when I've left the house, there's a + bad little blankness, a black void, as though I were temporarily dead; and + it lasts until I get it established in my mind that I'm really beginning + another day that's to end with YOU again. Then I cheer up. But now's the + bad time—and I must go through it, and so—good night.” And he + added with a pungent vehemence of which he was little aware, “I hate it!” + </p> + <p> + “Do you?” she said, rising to go to the door with him. But he stood + motionless, gazing at her wonderingly. + </p> + <p> + “Mary! Your eyes are so—” He stopped. + </p> + <p> + “Yes?” But she looked quickly away. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know,” he said. “I thought just then—” + </p> + <p> + “What did you think?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know—it seemed to me that there was something I ought to + understand—and didn't.” + </p> + <p> + She laughed and met his wondering gaze again frankly. “My eyes are + pleased,” she said. “I'm glad that you miss me a little after you go.” + </p> + <p> + “But to-morrow's coming faster than other days if you'll let it,” he said. + </p> + <p> + She inclined her head. “Yes. I'll—'let it'!” + </p> + <p> + “Going to church,” said Bibbs. “It IS going to church when I go with you!” + </p> + <p> + She went to the front door with him; she always went that far. They had + formed a little code of leave-taking, by habit, neither of them ever + speaking of it; but it was always the same. She always stood in the + doorway until he reached the sidewalk, and there he always turned and + looked back, and she waved her hand to him. Then he went on, halfway to + the New House, and looked back again, and Mary was not in the doorway, but + the door was open and the light shone. It was as if she meant to tell him + that she would never shut him out; he could always see that friendly light + of the open doorway—as if it were open for him to come back, if he + would. He could see it until a wing of the New House came between, when he + went up the path. The open doorway seemed to him the beautiful symbol of + her friendship—of her thought of him; a symbol of herself and of her + ineffable kindness. + </p> + <p> + And she kept the door open—even to-night, though the sleet and fine + snow swept in upon her bare throat and arms, and her brown hair was strewn + with tiny white stars. His heart leaped as he turned and saw that she was + there, waving her hand to him, as if she did not know that the storm + touched her. When he had gone on, Mary did as she always did—she + went into an unlit room across the hall from that in which they had spent + the evening, and, looking from the window, watched him until he was out of + sight. The storm made that difficult to-night, but she caught a glimpse of + him under the street-lamp that stood between the two houses, and saw that + he turned to look back again. Then, and not before, she looked at the + upper windows of Roscoe's house across the street. They were dark. Mary + waited, but after a little while she closed the front door and returned to + her window. A moment later two of the upper windows of Roscoe's house + flashed into light and a hand lowered the shade of one of them. Mary felt + the cold then—it was the third night she had seen those windows + lighted and the shade lowered, just after Bibbs had gone. + </p> + <p> + But Bibbs had no glance to spare for Roscoe's windows. He stopped for his + last look back at the open door, and, with a thin mantle of white already + upon his shoulders, made his way, gasping in the wind, to the lee of the + sheltering wing of the New House. + </p> + <p> + A stricken George, muttering hoarsely, admitted him, and Bibbs became + aware of a paroxysm within the house. Terrible sounds came from the + library: Sheridan cursing as never before; his wife sobbing, her voice + rising to an agonized squeal of protest upon each of a series of muffled + detonations—the outrageous thumping of a bandaged hand upon wood; + then Gurney, sharply imperious, “Keep your hand in that sling! Keep your + hand in that sling, I say!” + </p> + <p> + “LOOK!” George gasped, delighted to play herald for so important a + tragedy; and he renewed upon his face the ghastly expression with which he + had first beheld the ruins his calamitous gesture laid before the eyes of + Bibbs. “Look at 'at lamidal statue!” + </p> + <p> + Gazing down the hall, Bibbs saw heroic wreckage, seemingly Byzantine—painted + colossal fragments of the shattered torso, appallingly human; and gilded + and silvered heaps of magnificence strewn among ruinous palms like the + spoil of a barbarians' battle. There had been a massacre in the oasis—the + Moor had been hurled headlong from his pedestal. + </p> + <p> + “He hit 'at ole lamidal statue,” said George. “POW!” + </p> + <p> + “My father?” + </p> + <p> + “YESsuh! POW! he hit 'er! An' you' ma run tell me git doctuh quick 's I + kin telefoam—she sho' you' pa goin' bus' a blood-vessel. He ain't + takin' on 'tall NOW. He ain't nothin' 'tall to what he was 'while ago. You + done miss' it, Mist' Bibbs. Doctuh got him all quiet' down, to what he + was. POW! he hit'er! Yessuh!” He took Bibbs's coat and proffered a + crumpled telegraph form. “Here what come,” he said. “I pick 'er up when he + done stompin' on 'er. You read 'er, Mist' Bibbs—you' ma tell me tuhn + 'er ovuh to you soon's you come in.” + </p> + <p> + Bibbs read the telegram quickly. It was from New York and addressed to + Mrs. Sheridan. + </p> +<div class="blok"> +<p> Sure you will all approve step have taken as was so wretched my + health would probably suffered severely Robert and I were married + this afternoon thought best have quiet wedding absolutely sure + you will understand wisdom of step when you know Robert better am + happiest woman in world are leaving for Florida will wire address + when settled will remain till spring love to all father will like + him too when knows him like I do he is just ideal.</p> + <p class="rt">Edith Lamhorn.</p> +</div> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVI + </h2> + <p> + George departed, and Bibbs was left gazing upon chaos and listening to + thunder. He could not reach the stairway without passing the open doors of + the library, and he was convinced that the mere glimpse of him, just then, + would prove nothing less than insufferable for his father. For that reason + he was about to make his escape into the gold-and-brocade room, intending + to keep out of sight, when he heard Sheridan vociferously demanding his + presence. + </p> + <p> + “Tell him to come in here! He's out there. I heard George just let him in. + Now you'll SEE!” And tear-stained Mrs. Sheridan, looking out into the + hall, beckoned to her son. + </p> + <p> + Bibbs went as far as the doorway. Gurney sat winding a strip of white + cotton, his black bag open upon a chair near by; and Sheridan was striding + up and down, his hand so heavily wrapped in fresh bandages that he seemed + to be wearing a small boxing-glove. His eyes were bloodshot; his forehead + was heavily bedewed; one side of his collar had broken loose, and there + were blood-stains upon his right cuff. + </p> + <p> + “THERE'S our little sunshine!” he cried, as Bibbs appeared. “THERE'S the + hope o' the family—my lifelong pride and joy! I want—” + </p> + <p> + “Keep you hand in that sling,” said Gurney, sharply. + </p> + <p> + Sheridan turned upon him, uttering a sound like a howl. “For God's sake, + sing another tune!” he cried. “You said you 'came as a doctor but stay as + a friend,' and in that capacity you undertake to sit up and criticize ME—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, talk sense,” said the doctor, and yawned intentionally. “What do you + want Bibbs to say?” + </p> + <p> + “You were sittin' up there tellin' me I got 'hysterical'—'hysterical,' + oh Lord! You sat up there and told me I got 'hysterical' over nothin'! You + sat up there tellin' me I didn't have as heavy burdens as many another man + you knew. I just want you to hear THIS. Now listen!” He swung toward the + quiet figure waiting in the doorway. “Bibbs, will you come down-town with + me Monday morning and let me start you with two vice-presidencies, a + directorship, stock, and salaries? I ask you.” + </p> + <p> + “No, father,” said Bibbs, gently. + </p> + <p> + Sheridan looked at Gurney and then faced his son once more. + </p> + <p> + “Bibbs, you want to stay in the shop, do you, at nine dollars a week, + instead of takin' up my offer?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “And I'd like the doctor to hear: What'll you do if I decide you're too + high-priced a workin'-man either to live in my house or work in my shop?” + </p> + <p> + “Find other work,” said Bibbs. + </p> + <p> + “There! You hear him for yourself!” Sheridan cried. “You hear what—” + </p> + <p> + “Keep you hand in that sling! Yes, I hear him.” + </p> + <p> + Sheridan leaned over Gurney and shouted, in a voice that cracked and + broke, piping into falsetto: “He thinks of bein' a PLUMBER! He wants to be + a PLUMBER! He told me he couldn't THINK if he went into business—he + wants to be a plumber so he can THINK!” + </p> + <p> + He fell back a step, wiping his forhead with the back of his left hand. + “There! That's my son! That's the only son I got now! That's my chance to + live,” he cried, with a bitterness that seemed to leave ashes in his + throat. “That's my one chance to live—that thing you see in the + doorway yonder!” + </p> + <p> + Dr. Gurney thoughtfully regarded the bandage strip he had been winding, + and tossed it into the open bag. “What's the matter with giving Bibbs a + chance to live?” he said, coolly. “I would if I were you. You've had TWO + that went into business.” + </p> + <p> + Sheridan's mouth moved grotesquely before he could speak. “Joe Gurney,” he + said, when he could command himself so far, “are you accusin' me of the + responsibility for the death of my son James?” + </p> + <p> + “I accuse you of nothing,” said the doctor. “But just once I'd like to + have it out with you on the question of Bibbs—and while he's here, + too.” He got up, walked to the fire, and stood warming his hands behind + his back and smiling. “Look here, old fellow, let's be reasonable,” he + said. “You were bound Bibbs should go to the shop again, and I gave you + and him, both, to understand pretty plainly that if he went it was at the + risk of his life. Well, what did he do? He said he wanted to go. And he + did go, and he's made good there. Now, see: Isn't that enough? Can't you + let him off now? He wants to write, and how do you know that he couldn't + do it if you gave him a chance? How do you know he hasn't some message—something + to say that might make the world just a little bit happier or wiser? He + MIGHT—in time—it's a possibility not to be denied. Now he + can't deliver any message if he goes down there with you, and he won't + HAVE any to deliver. I don't say going down with you is likely to injure + his health, as I thought the shop would, and as the shop did, the first + time. I'm not speaking as doctor now, anyhow. But I tell you one thing I + know: if you take him down there you'll kill something that I feel is in + him, and it's finer, I think, than his physical body, and you'll kill it + deader than a door-nail! And so why not let it live? You've about come to + the end of your string, old fellow. Why not stop this perpetual devilish + fighting and give Bibbs his chance?” + </p> + <p> + Sheridan stood looking at him fixedly. “What 'fighting?'” + </p> + <p> + “Yours—with nature.” Gurney sustained the daunting gaze of his + fierce antagonist equably. “You don't seem to understand that you've been + struggling against actual law.” + </p> + <p> + “What law?” + </p> + <p> + “Natural law,” said Gurney. “What do you think beat you with Edith? Did + Edith, herself, beat you? Didn't she obey without question something + powerful that was against you? EDITH wasn't against you, and you weren't + against HER, but you set yourself against the power that had her in its + grip, and it shot out a spurt of flame—and won in a walk! What's + taken Roscoe from you? Timbers bear just so much strain, old man; but YOU + wanted to send the load across the broken bridge, and you thought you + could bully or coax the cracked thing into standing. Well, you couldn't! + Now here's Bibbs. There are thousands of men fit for the life you want him + to lead—and so is he. It wouldn't take half of Bibbs's brains to be + twice as good a business man as Jim and Roscoe put together.” + </p> + <p> + “WHAT!” Sheridan goggled at him like a zany. + </p> + <p> + “Your son Bibbs,” said the doctor, composedly, “Bibbs Sheridan has the + kind and quantity of 'gray matter' that will make him a success in + anything—if he ever wakes up! Personally I should prefer him to + remain asleep. I like him that way. But the thousands of men fit for the + life you want him to lead aren't fit to do much with the life he OUGHT to + lead. Blindly, he's been fighting for the chance to lead it—he's + obeying something that begs to stay alive within him; and, blindly, he + knows you'll crush it out. You've set your will to do it. Let me tell you + something more. You don't know what you've become since Jim's going + thwarted you—and that's what was uppermost, a bafflement stronger + than your normal grief. You're half mad with a consuming fury against the + very self of the law—for it was the very self of the law that took + Jim from you. That was a law concerning the cohesion of molecules. The + very self of the law took Roscoe from you and gave Edith the certainty of + beating you; and the very self of the law makes Bibbs deny you to-night. + The LAW beats you. Haven't you been whipped enough? But you want to whip + the law—you've set yourself against it, to bend it to your own ends, + to wield it and twist it—” + </p> + <p> + The voice broke from Sheridan's heaving chest in a shout. “Yes! And by + God, I will!” + </p> + <p> + “So Ajax defied the lightning,” said Gurney. + </p> + <p> + “I've heard that dam'-fool story, too,” Sheridan retorted, fiercely. + “That's for chuldern and niggers. It ain't twentieth century, let me tell + you! 'Defied the lightning,' did he, the jackass! If he'd been half a man + he'd 'a' got away with it. WE don't go showin' off defyin' the lightning—we + hitch it up and make it work for us like a black-steer! A man nowadays + would just as soon think o' defyin' a wood-shed!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what about Bibbs?” said Gurney. “Will you be a really big man now + and—” + </p> + <p> + “Gurney, you know a lot about bigness!” Sheridan began to walk to and fro + again, and the doctor returned gloomily to his chair. He had shot his bolt + the moment he judged its chance to strike center was best, but the target + seemed unaware of the marksman. + </p> + <p> + “I'm tryin' to make a big man out o' that poor truck yonder,” Sheridan + went on, “and you step in, beggin' me to let him be Lord knows what—I + don't! I suppose you figure it out that now I got a SON-IN-LAW, I mightn't + need a son! Yes, I got a son-in-law now—a spender!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, put your hand back!” said Gurney, wearily. + </p> + <p> + There was a bronze inkstand upon the table. Sheridan put his right hand in + the sling, but with his left he swept the inkstand from the table and + half-way across the room—a comet with a destroying black tail. Mrs. + Sheridan shrieked and sprang toward it. + </p> + <p> + “Let it lay!” he shouted, fiercely. “Let it lay!” And, weeping, she + obeyed. “Yes, sir,” he went on, in a voice the more ominous for the sudden + hush he put upon it. “I got a spender for a son-in-law! It's wonderful + where property goes, sometimes. There was ole man Tracy—you remember + him, Doc—J. R. Tracy, solid banker. He went into the bank as + messenger, seventeen years old; he was president at forty-three, and he + built that bank with his life for forty years more. He was down there from + nine in the morning until four in the afternoon the day before he died—over + eighty! Gilt edge, that bank? It was diamond edge! He used to eat a bag o' + peanuts and an apple for lunch; but he wasn't stingy—he was just + livin' in his business. He didn't care for pie or automobiles—he had + his bank. It was an institution, and it come pretty near bein' the beatin' + heart o' this town in its time. Well, that ole man used to pass one o' + these here turned-up-nose and turned-up-pants cigarette boys on the + streets. Never spoke to him, Tracy didn't. Speak to him? God! he wouldn't + 'a' coughed on him! He wouldn't 'a' let him clean the cuspidors at the + bank! Why, if he'd 'a' just seen him standin' in FRONT the bank he'd 'a' + had him run off the street. And yet all Tracy was doin' every day of his + life was workin' for that cigarette boy! Tracy thought it was for the + bank; he thought he was givin' his life and his life-blood and the blood + of his brain for the bank, but he wasn't. It was every bit—from the + time he went in at seventeen till he died in harness at eighty-three—it + was every last lick of it just slavin' for that turned-up-nose, + turned-up-pants cigarette boy. AND TRACY DIDN'T EVEN KNOW HIS NAME! He + died, not ever havin' heard it, though he chased him off the front steps + of his house once. The day after Tracy died his old-maid daughter married + the cigarette—and there AIN'T any Tracy bank any more! And now”—his + voice rose again—“and now I got a cigarette son-in-law!” + </p> + <p> + Gurney pointed to the flourishing right hand without speaking, and + Sheridan once more returned it to the sling. + </p> + <p> + “My son-in-law likes Florida this winter,” Sheridan went on. “That's good, + and my son-in-law better enjoy it, because I don't think he'll be there + next winter. They got twelve-thousand dollars to spend, and I hear it can + be done in Florida by rich sons-in-law. When Roscoe's woman got me to + spend that much on a porch for their new house, Edith wouldn't give me a + minute's rest till I turned over the same to her. And she's got it, + besides what I gave her to go East on. It'll be gone long before this time + next year, and when she comes home and leaves the cigarette behind—for + good—she'll get some more. MY name ain't Tracy, and there ain't + goin' to be any Tracy business in the Sheridan family. And there ain't + goin' to be any college foundin' and endowin' and trusteein', nor + God-knows-what to keep my property alive when I'm gone! Edith'll be back, + and she'll get a girl's share when she's through with that cigarette, but—” + </p> + <p> + “By the way,” interposed Gurney, “didn't Mrs. Sheridan tell me that Bibbs + warned you Edith would marry Lamhorn in New York?” + </p> + <p> + Sheridan went completely to pieces: he swore, while his wife screamed and + stopped her ears. And as he swore he pounded the table with his wounded + hand, and when the doctor, after storming at him ineffectively, sprang to + catch and protect that hand, Sheridan wrenched it away, tearing the + bandage. He hammered the table till it leaped. + </p> + <p> + “Fool!” he panted, choking. “If he's shown gumption enough to guess right + the first time in his life, it's enough for me to begin learnin' him on!” + And, struggling with the doctor, he leaned toward Bibbs, thrusting forward + his convulsed face, which was deathly pale. “My name ain't Tracy, I tell + you!” he screamed, hoarsely. “You give in, you stubborn fool! I've had my + way with you before, and I'll have my way with you now!” + </p> + <p> + Bibbs's face was as white as his father's, but he kept remembering that + “splendid look” of Mary's which he had told her would give him courage in + a struggle, so that he would “never give up.” + </p> + <p> + “No. You can't have your way,” he said. And then, obeying a significant + motion of Gurney's head, he went out quickly, leaving them struggling. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0027" id="link2HCH0027"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVII + </h2> + <p> + Mrs. Sheridan, in a wrapper, noiselessly opened the door of her husband's + room at daybreak the next morning, and peered within the darkened chamber. + At the “old” house they had shared a room, but the architect had chosen to + separate them at the New, and they had not known how to formulate an + objection, although to both of them something seemed vaguely reprehensible + in the new arrangement. + </p> + <p> + Sheridan did not stir, and she was withdrawing her head from the aperture + when he spoke. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I'm AWAKE! Come in, if you want to, and shut the door.” + </p> + <p> + She came and sat by the bed. “I woke up thinkin' about it,” she explained. + “And the more I thought about it the surer I got I must be right, and I + knew you'd be tormentin' yourself if you was awake, so—well, you got + plenty other troubles, but I'm just sure you ain't goin' to have the worry + with Bibbs it looks like.” + </p> + <p> + “You BET I ain't!” he grunted. + </p> + <p> + “Look how biddable he was about goin' back to the Works,” she continued. + “He's a right good-hearted boy, really, and sometimes I honestly have to + say he seems right smart, too. Now and then he'll say something sounds + right bright. 'Course, most always it doesn't, and a good deal of the + time, when he says things, why, I have to feel glad we haven't got + company, because they'd think he didn't have any gumption at all. Yet, + look at the way he did when Jim—when Jim got hurt. He took right + hold o' things. 'Course he'd been sick himself so much and all—and + the rest of us never had, much, and we were kind o' green about what to do + in that kind o' trouble—still, he did take hold, and everything went + off all right; you'll have to say that much, papa. And Dr. Gurney says + he's got brains, and you can't deny but what the doctor's right + considerable of a man. He acts sleepy, but that's only because he's got + such a large practice—he's a pretty wide-awake kind of a man some + ways. Well, what he says last night about Bibbs himself bein' asleep, and + how much he'd amount to if he ever woke up—that's what I got to + thinkin' about. You heard him, papa; he says, 'Bibbs'll be a bigger + business man than what Jim and Roscoe was put together—if he ever + wakes up,' he says. Wasn't that exactly what he says?” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose so,” said Sheridan, without exhibiting any interest. “Gurney's + crazier'n Bibbs, but if he wasn't—if what he says was true—what + of it?” + </p> + <p> + “Listen, papa. Just suppose Bibbs took it into his mind to get married. + You know where he goes all the time—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Lord, yes!” Sheridan turned over in the bed, his face to the wall, + leaving visible of himself only the thick grizzle of his hair. “You better + go back to sleep. He runs over there—every minute she'll let him, I + suppose. Go back to bed. There's nothin' in it.” + </p> + <p> + “WHY ain't there?” she urged. “I know better—there is, too! You wait + and see. There's just one thing in the world that'll wake the sleepiest + young man alive up—yes, and make him JUMP up—and I don't care + who he is or how sound asleep it looks like he is. That's when he takes it + into his head to pick out some girl and settle down and have a home and + chuldern of his own. THEN, I guess, he'll go out after the money! You'll + see. I've known dozens o' cases, and so've you—moony, no-'count + young men, all notions and talk, goin' to be ministers, maybe or + something; and there's just this one thing takes it out of 'em and brings + 'em right down to business. Well, I never could make out just what it is + Bibbs wants to be, really; doesn't seem he wants to be a minister exactly—he's + so far-away you can't tell, and he never SAYS—but I know this is + goin' to get him right down to common sense. Now, I don't say that Bibbs + has got the idea in his head yet—'r else he wouldn't be talkin' that + fool-talk about nine dollars a week bein' good enough for him to live on. + But it's COMIN', papa, and he'll JUMP for whatever you want to hand him + out. He will! And I can tell you this much, too: he'll want all the salary + and stock he can get hold of, and he'll hustle to keep gettin' more. That + girl's the kind that a young husband just goes crazy to give things to! + She's pretty and fine-lookin', and things look nice on her, and I guess + she'd like to have 'em about as well as the next. And I guess she isn't + gettin' many these days, either, and she'll be pretty ready for the + change. I saw her with her sleeves rolled up at the kitchen window the + other day, and Jackson told me yesterday their cook left two weeks ago, + and they haven't tried to hire another one. He says her and her mother + been doin' the housework a good while, and now they're doin' the cookin,' + too. 'Course Bibbs wouldn't know that unless she's told him, and I reckon + she wouldn't; she's kind o' stiffish-lookin', and Bibbs is too up in the + clouds to notice anything like that for himself. They've never asked him + to a meal in the house, but he wouldn't notice that, either—he's + kind of innocent. Now I was thinkin'—you know, I don't suppose we've + hardly mentioned the girl's name at table since Jim went, but it seems to + me maybe if—” + </p> + <p> + Sheridan flung out his arms, uttering a sound half-groan, half-yawn. + “You're barkin' up the wrong tree! Go on back to bed, mamma!” + </p> + <p> + “Why am I?” she demanded, crossly. “Why am I barkin' up the wrong tree?” + </p> + <p> + “Because you are. There's nothin' in it.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll bet you,” she said, rising—“I'll bet you he goes to church + with her this morning. What you want to bet?” + </p> + <p> + “Go back to bed,” he commanded. “I KNOW what I'm talkin' about; there's + nothin' in it, I tell you.” + </p> + <p> + She shook her head perplexedly. “You think because—because Jim was + runnin' so much with her it wouldn't look right?” + </p> + <p> + “No. Nothin' to do with it.” + </p> + <p> + “Then—do you know something about it that you ain't told me?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I do,” he grunted. “Now go on. Maybe I can get a little sleep. I + ain't had any yet!” + </p> + <p> + “Well—” She went to the door, her expression downcast. “I thought + maybe—but—” She coughed prefatorily. “Oh, papa, something else + I wanted to tell you. I was talkin' to Roscoe over the 'phone last night + when the telegram came, so I forgot to tell you, but—well, Sibyl + wants to come over this afternoon. Roscoe says she has something she wants + to say to us. It'll be the first time she's been out since she was able to + sit up—and I reckon she wants to tell us she's sorry for what + happened. They expect to get off by the end o' the week, and I reckon she + wants to feel she's done what she could to kind o' make up. Anyway, that's + what he said. I 'phoned him again about Edith, and he said it wouldn't + disturb Sibyl, because she'd been expectin' it; she was sure all along it + was goin' to happen; and, besides, I guess she's got all that foolishness + pretty much out of her, bein' so sick. But what I thought was, no use + bein' rough with her, papa—I expect she's suffered a good deal—and + I don't think we'd ought to be, on Roscoe's account. You'll—you'll + be kind o' polite to her, won't you, papa?” + </p> + <p> + He mumbled something which was smothered under the coverlet he had pulled + over his head. + </p> + <p> + “What?” she said, timidly. “I was just sayin' I hoped you'd treat Sibyl + all right when she comes, this afternoon. You will, won't you, papa?” + </p> + <p> + He threw the coverlet off furiously. “I presume so!” he roared. + </p> + <p> + She departed guiltily. + </p> + <p> + But if he had accepted her proffered wager that Bibbs would go to church + with Mary Vertrees that morning, Mrs. Sheridan would have lost. + Nevertheless, Bibbs and Mary did certainly set out from Mr. Vertrees's + house with the purpose of going to church. That was their intention, and + they had no other. They meant to go to church. + </p> + <p> + But it happened that they were attentively preoccupied in a conversation + as they came to the church; and though Mary was looking to the right and + Bibbs was looking to the left, Bibbs's leftward glance converged with + Mary's rightward glance, and neither was looking far beyond the other at + this time. It also happened that, though they were a little jostled among + groups of people in the vicinity of the church, they passed this somewhat + prominent edifice without being aware of their proximity to it, and they + had gone an incredible number of blocks beyond it before they discovered + their error. However, feeling that they might be embarrassingly late if + they returned, they decided that a walk would make them as good. It was a + windless winter morning, with an inch of crisp snow over the ground. So + they walked, and for the most part they were silent, but on their way + home, after they had turned back at noon, they began to be talkative + again. + </p> + <p> + “Mary,” said Bibbs, after a time, “am I a sleep-walker?” + </p> + <p> + She laughed a little, then looked grave. “Does your father say you are?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—when he's in a mood to flatter me. Other times, other names. He + has quite a list.” + </p> + <p> + “You mustn't mind,” she said, gently. “He's been getting some pretty + severe shocks. What you've told me makes me pretty sorry for him, Bibbs. + I've always been sure he's very big.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Big and—blind. He's like a Hercules without eyes and without + any consciousness except that of his strength and of his purpose to grow + stronger. Stronger for what? For nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure, Bibbs? It CAN'T be for nothing; it must be stronger for + something, even though he doesn't know what it is. Perhaps what he and his + kind are struggling for is something so great they COULDN'T see it—so + great none of us could see it.” + </p> + <p> + “No, he's just like some blind, unconscious thing heaving underground—” + </p> + <p> + “Till he breaks through and leaps out into the daylight,” she finished for + him, cheerily. + </p> + <p> + “Into the smoke,” said Bibbs. “Look at the powder of coal-dust already + dirtying the decent snow, even though it's Sunday. That's from the little + pigs; the big ones aren't so bad, on Sunday! There's a fleck of soot on + your cheek. Some pig sent it out into the air; he might as well have + thrown it on you. It would have been braver, for then he'd have taken his + chance of my whipping him for it if I could.” + </p> + <p> + “IS there soot on my cheek, Bibbs, or were you only saying so + rhetorically? IS there?” + </p> + <p> + “Is there? There ARE soot on your cheeks, Mary—a fleck on each. One + landed since I mentioned the first.” + </p> + <p> + She halted immediately, giving him her handkerchief, and he succeeded in + transferring most of the black from her face to the cambric. They were + entirely matter-of-course about it. + </p> + <p> + An elderly couple, it chanced, had been walking behind Bibbs and Mary for + the last block or so, and passed ahead during the removal of the soot. + “There!” said the elderly wife. “You're always wrong when you begin + guessing about strangers. Those two young people aren't honeymooners at + all—they've been married for years. A blind man could see that.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish I did know who threw that soot on you,” said Bibbs, looking up at + the neighboring chimneys, as they went on. “They arrest children for + throwing snowballs at the street-cars, but—” + </p> + <p> + “But they don't arrest the street-cars for shaking all the pictures in the + houses crooked every time they go by. Nor for the uproar they make. I + wonder what's the cost in nerves for the noise of the city each year. Yes, + we pay the price for living in a 'growing town,' whether we have money to + pay or none.” + </p> + <p> + “Who is it gets the pay?” said Bibbs. + </p> + <p> + “Not I!” she laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Nobody gets it. There isn't any pay; there's only money. And only some of + the men down-town get much of that. That's what my father wants me to + get.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she said, smiling to him, and nodding. “And you don't want it, and + you don't need it.” + </p> + <p> + “But you don't think I'm a sleep-walker, Mary?” He had told her of his + father's new plans for him, though he had not described the vigor and + picturesqueness of their setting forth. “You think I'm right?” + </p> + <p> + “A thousand times!” she cried. “There aren't so many happy people in this + world, I think—and you say you've found what makes you happy. If + it's a dream—keep it!” + </p> + <p> + “The thought of going down there—into the money shuffle—I hate + it as I never hated the shop!” he said. “I hate it! And the city itself, + the city that the money shuffle has made—just look at it! Look at it + in winter. The snow's tried hard to make the ugliness bearable, but the + ugliness is winning; it's making the snow hideous; the snow's getting + dirty on top, and it's foul underneath with the dirt and disease of the + unclean street. And the dirt and the ugliness and the rush and the noise + aren't the worst of it; it's what the dirt and ugliness and rush and noise + MEAN—that's the worst! The outward things are insufferable, but + they're only the expression of a spirit—a blind embryo of a spirit, + not yet a soul—oh, just greed! And this 'go ahead' nonsense! + Oughtn't it all to be a fellowship? I shouldn't want to get ahead if I + could—I'd want to help the other fellow to keep up with me.” + </p> + <p> + “I read something the other day and remembered it for you,” said Mary. “It + was something Burne-Jones said of a picture he was going to paint: 'In the + first picture I shall make a man walking in the street of a great city, + full of all kinds of happy life: children, and lovers walking, and ladies + leaning from the windows all down great lengths of a street leading to the + city walls; and there the gates are wide open, letting in a space of green + field and cornfield in harvest; and all round his head a great rain of + swirling autumn leaves blowing from a little walled graveyard.” + </p> + <p> + “And if I painted,” Bibbs returned, “I'd paint a lady walking in the + street of a great city, full of all kinds of uproarious and futile life—children + being taught only how to make money, and lovers hurrying to get richer, + and ladies who'd given up trying to wash their windows clean, and the + gates of the city wide open, letting in slums and slaughter-houses and + freight-yards, and all round this lady's head a great rain of swirling + soot—” He paused, adding, thoughtfully: “And yet I believe I'm glad + that soot got on your cheek. It was just as if I were your brother—the + way you gave me your handkerchief to rub it off for you. Still, Edith + never—” + </p> + <p> + “Didn't she?” said Mary, as he paused again. + </p> + <p> + “No. And I—” He contented himself with shaking his head instead of + offering more definite information. Then he realized that they were + passing the New House, and he sighed profoundly. “Mary, our walk's almost + over.” + </p> + <p> + She looked as blank. “So it is, Bibbs.” + </p> + <p> + They said no more until they came to her gate. As they drifted slowly to a + stop, the door of Roscoe's house opened, and Roscoe came out with Sibyl, + who was startlingly pale. She seemed little enfeebled by her illness, + however, walking rather quickly at her husband's side and not taking his + arm. The two crossed the street without appearing to see Mary and her + companion, and entering the New House, were lost to sight. Mary gazed + after them gravely, but Bibbs, looking at Mary, did not see them. + </p> + <p> + “Mary,” he said, “you seem very serious. Is anything bothering you?” + </p> + <p> + “No, Bibbs.” And she gave him a bright, quick look that made him instantly + unreasonably happy. + </p> + <p> + “I know you want to go in—” he began. + </p> + <p> + “No. I don't want to.” + </p> + <p> + “I mustn't keep you standing here, and I mustn't go in with you—but—I + just wanted to say—I've seemed very stupid to myself this morning, + grumbling about soot and all that—while all the time I—Mary, I + think it's been the very happiest of all the hours you've given me. I do. + And—I don't know just why—but it's seemed to me that it was + one I'd always remember. And you,” he added, falteringly, “you look so—so + beautiful to-day!” + </p> + <p> + “It must have been the soot on my cheek, Bibbs.” + </p> + <p> + “Mary, will you tell me something?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “I think I will.” + </p> + <p> + “It's something I've had a lot of theories about, but none of them ever + just fits. You used to wear furs in the fall, but now it's so much colder, + you don't—you never wear them at all any more. Why don't you?” + </p> + <p> + Her eyes fell for a moment, and she grew red. Then she looked up gaily. + “Bibbs, if I tell you the answer will you promise not to ask any more + questions?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Why did you stop wearing them?” + </p> + <p> + “Because I found I'd be warmer without them!” She caught his hand quickly + in her own for an instant, laughed into his eyes, and ran into the house. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0028" id="link2HCH0028"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVIII + </h2> + <p> + It is the consoling attribute of unused books that their decorative warmth + will so often make even a ready-made library the actual “living-room” of a + family to whom the shelved volumes are indeed sealed. Thus it was with + Sheridan, who read nothing except newspapers, business letters, and + figures; who looked upon books as he looked upon bric-a-brac or crocheting—when + he was at home, and not abed or eating, he was in the library. + </p> + <p> + He stood in the many-colored light of the stained-glass window at the far + end of the long room, when Roscoe and his wife came in, and he exhaled a + solemnity. His deference to the Sabbath was manifest, as always, in the + length of his coat and the closeness of his Saturday-night shave; and his + expression, to match this religious pomp, was more than Sabbatical, but + the most dismaying of his demonstrations was his keeping his hand in his + sling. + </p> + <p> + Sibyl advanced to the middle of the room and halted there, not looking at + him, but down at her muff, in which, it could be seen, her hands were + nervously moving. Roscoe went to a chair in another part of the room. + There was a deadly silence. + </p> + <p> + But Sibyl found a shaky voice, after an interval of gulping, though she + was unable to lift her eyes, and the darkling lids continued to veil them. + She spoke hurriedly, like an ungifted child reciting something committed + to memory, but her sincerity was none the less evident for that. + </p> + <p> + “Father Sheridan, you and mother Sheridan have always been so kind to me, + and I would hate to have you think I don't appreciate it, from the way I + acted. I've come to tell you I am sorry for the way I did that night, and + to say I know as well as anybody the way I behaved, and it will never + happen again, because it's been a pretty hard lesson; and when we come + back, some day, I hope you'll see that you've got a daughter-in-law you + never need to be ashamed of again. I want to ask you to excuse me for the + way I did, and I can say I haven't any feelings toward Edith now, but only + wish her happiness and good in her new life. I thank you for all your + kindness to me, and I know I made a poor return for it, but if you can + overlook the way I behaved I know I would feel a good deal happier—and + I know Roscoe would, too. I wish to promise not to be as foolish in the + future, and the same error would never occur again to make us all so + unhappy, if you can be charitable enough to excuse it this time.” + </p> + <p> + He looked steadily at her without replying, and she stood before him, + never lifting her eyes; motionless, save where the moving fur proved the + agitation of her hands within the muff. + </p> + <p> + “All right,” he said at last. + </p> + <p> + She looked up then with vast relief, though there was a revelation of + heavy tears when the eyelids lifted. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” she said. “There's something else—about something + different—I want to say to you, but I want mother Sheridan to hear + it, too.” + </p> + <p> + “She's up-stairs in her room,” said Sheridan. “Roscoe—” + </p> + <p> + Sibyl interrupted. She had just seen Bibbs pass through the hall and begin + to ascend the stairs; and in a flash she instinctively perceived the + chance for precisely the effect she wanted. + </p> + <p> + “No, let me go,” she said. “I want to speak to her a minute first, + anyway.” + </p> + <p> + And she went away quickly, gaining the top of the stairs in time to see + Bibbs enter his room and close the door. Sibyl knew that Bibbs, in his + room, had overheard her quarrel with Edith in the hall outside; for bitter + Edith, thinking the more to shame her, had subsequently informed her of + the circumstance. Sibyl had just remembered this, and with the + recollection there had flashed the thought—out of her own experience—that + people are often much more deeply impressed by words they overhear than by + words directly addressed to them. Sibyl intended to make it impossible for + Bibbs not to overhear. She did not hesitate—her heart was hot with + the old sore, and she believed wholly in the justice of her cause and in + the truth of what she was going to say. Fate was virtuous at times; it had + delivered into her hands the girl who had affronted her. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Sheridan was in her own room. The approach of Sibyl and Roscoe had + driven her from the library, for she had miscalculated her husband's mood, + and she felt that if he used his injured hand as a mark of emphasis again, + in her presence, she would (as she thought of it) “have a fit right + there.” She heard Sibyl's step, and pretended to be putting a touch to her + hair before a mirror. + </p> + <p> + “I was just coming down,” she said, as the door opened. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he wants you to,” said Sibyl. “It's all right, mother Sheridan. He's + forgiven me.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Sheridan sniffed instantly; tears appeared. She kissed her + daughter-in-law's cheek; then, in silence, regarded the mirror afresh, + wiped her eyes, and applied powder. + </p> + <p> + “And I hope Edith will be happy,” Sibyl added, inciting more applications + of Mrs. Sheridan's handkerchief and powder. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes,” murmured the good woman. “We mustn't make the worst of + things.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, there was something else I had to say, and he wants you to hear it, + too,” said Sibyl. “We better go down, mother Sheridan.” + </p> + <p> + She led the way, Mrs. Sheridan following obediently, but when they came to + a spot close by Bibbs's door, Sibyl stopped. “I want to tell you about it + first,” she said, abruptly. “It isn't a secret, of course, in any way; + it's something the whole family has to know, and the sooner the whole + family knows it the better. It's something it wouldn't be RIGHT for us ALL + not to understand, and of course father Sheridan most of all. But I want + to just kind of go over it first with you; it'll kind of help me to see I + got it all straight. I haven't got any reason for saying it except the + good of the family, and it's nothing to me, one way or the other, of + course, except for that. I oughtn't to've behaved the way I did that + night, and it seems to me if there's anything I can do to help the family, + I ought to, because it would help show I felt the right way. Well, what I + want to do is to tell this so's to keep the family from being made a fool + of. I don't want to see the family just made use of and twisted around her + finger by somebody that's got no more heart than so much ice, and just as + sure to bring troubles in the long run as—as Edith's mistake is. + Well, then, this is the way it is. I'll just tell you how it looks to me + and see if it don't strike you the same way.” + </p> + <p> + Within the room, Bibbs, much annoyed, tapped his ear with his pencil. He + wished they wouldn't stand talking near his door when he was trying to + write. He had just taken from his trunk the manuscript of a poem begun the + preceding Sunday afternoon, and he had some ideas he wanted to fix upon + paper before they maliciously seized the first opportunity to vanish, for + they were but gossamer. Bibbs was pleased with the beginnings of his poem, + and if he could carry it through he meant to dare greatly with it—he + would venture it upon an editor. For he had his plan of life now: his day + would be of manual labor and thinking—he could think of his friend + and he could think in cadences for poems, to the crashing of the strong + machine—and if his father turned him out of home and out of the + Works, he would work elsewhere and live elsewhere. His father had the + right, and it mattered very little to Bibbs—he faced the prospect of + a working-man's lodging-house without trepidation. He could find a + washstand to write upon, he thought; and every evening when he left Mary + he would write a little; and he would write on holidays and on Sundays—on + Sundays in the afternoon. In a lodging-house, at least he wouldn't be + interrupted by his sister-in-law's choosing the immediate vicinity of his + door for conversations evidently important to herself, but merely + disturbing to him. He frowned plaintively, wishing he could think of some + polite way of asking her to go away. But, as she went on, he started + violently, dropping manuscript and pencil upon the floor. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know whether you heard it, mother Sheridan,” she said, “but this + old Vertrees house, next door, had been sold on foreclosure, and all THEY + got out of it was an agreement that let's 'em live there a little longer. + Roscoe told me, and he says he heard Mr. Vertrees has been up and down the + streets more'n two years, tryin' to get a job he could call a 'position,' + and couldn't land it. You heard anything about it, mother Sheridan?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I DID know they been doin' their own house-work a good while back,” + said Mrs. Sheridan. “And now they're doin' the cookin', too.” + </p> + <p> + Sibyl sent forth a little titter with a sharp edge. “I hope they find + something to cook! She sold her piano mighty quick after Jim died!” + </p> + <p> + Bibbs jumped up. He was trembling from head to foot and he was dizzy—of + all the real things he could never have dreamed in his dream the last + would have been what he heard now. He felt that something incredible was + happening, and that he was powerless to stop it. It seemed to him that + heavy blows were falling on his head and upon Mary's; it seemed to him + that he and Mary were being struck and beaten physically—and that + something hideous impended. He wanted to shout to Sibyl to be silent, but + he could not; he could only stand, swallowing and trembling. + </p> + <p> + “What I think the whole family ought to understand is just this,” said + Sibyl, sharply. “Those people were so hard up that this Miss Vertrees + started after Bibbs before they knew whether he was INSANE or not! They'd + got a notion he might be, from his being in a sanitarium, and Mrs. + Vertrees ASKED me if he was insane, the very first day Bibbs took the + daughter out auto-riding!” She paused a moment, looking at Mrs. Sheridan, + but listening intently. There was no sound from within the room. + </p> + <p> + “No!” exclaimed Mrs. Sheridan. + </p> + <p> + “It's the truth,” Sibyl declared, loudly. “Oh, of course we were all crazy + about that girl at first. We were pretty green when we moved up here, and + we thought she'd get us IN—but it didn't take ME long to read her! + Her family were down and out when it came to money—and they had to + go after it, one way or another, SOMEHOW! So she started for Roscoe; but + she found out pretty quick he was married, and she turned right around to + Jim—and she landed him! There's no doubt about it, she had Jim, and + if he'd lived you'd had another daughter-in-law before this, as sure as I + stand here telling you the God's truth about it! Well—when Jim was + left in the cemetery she was waiting out there to drive home with Bibbs! + Jim wasn't COLD—and she didn't know whether Bibbs was insane or not, + but he was the only one of the rich Sheridan boys left. She had to get + him.” + </p> + <p> + The texture of what was the truth made an even fabric with what was not, + in Sibyl's mind; she believed every word that she uttered, and she spoke + with the rapidity and vehemence of fierce conviction. + </p> + <p> + “What I feel about it is,” she said, “it oughtn't to be allowed to go on. + It's too mean! I like poor Bibbs, and I don't want to see him made such a + fool of, and I don't want to see the family made such a fool of! I like + poor Bibbs, but if he'd only stop to think a minute himself he'd have to + realize he isn't the kind of man ANY girl would be apt to fall in love + with. He's better-looking lately, maybe, but you know how he WAS—just + kind of a long white rag in good clothes. And girls like men with some GO + to 'em—SOME sort of dashingness, anyhow! Nobody ever looked at poor + Bibbs before, and neither'd she—no, SIR! not till she'd tried both + Roscoe and Jim first! It was only when her and her family got desperate + that she—” + </p> + <p> + Bibbs—whiter than when he came from the sanitarium—opened the + door. He stepped across its threshold and stook looking at her. Both women + screamed. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, good heavens!” cried Sibyl. “Were you in THERE? Oh, I wouldn't—” + She seized Mrs. Sheridan's arm, pulling her toward the stairway. “Come on, + mother Sheridan!” she urged, and as the befuddled and confused lady + obeyed, Sibyl left a trail of noisy exclamations: “Good gracious! Oh, I + wouldn't—too bad! I didn't DREAM he was there! I wouldn't hurt his + feelings! Not for the world! Of course he had to know SOME time! But, good + heavens—” + </p> + <p> + She heard his door close as she and Mrs. Sheridan reached the top of the + stairs, and she glanced over her shoulder quickly, but Bibbs was not + following; he had gone back into his room. + </p> + <p> + “He—he looked—oh, terrible bad!” stammered Mrs. Sheridan. “I—I + wish—” + </p> + <p> + “Still, it's a good deal better he knows about it,” said Sibyl. “I + shouldn't wonder it might turn out the very best thing could happened. + Come on!” + </p> + <p> + And completing their descent to the library, the two made their appearance + to Roscoe and his father. Sibyl at once gave a full and truthful account + of what had taken place, repeating her own remarks, and omitting only the + fact that it was through her design that Bibbs had overheard them. + </p> + <p> + “But as I told mother Sheridan,” she said, in conclusion, “it might turn + out for the very best that he did hear—just that way. Don't you + think so, father Sheridan?” + </p> + <p> + He merely grunted in reply, and sat rubbing the thick hair on the top of + his head with his left hand and looking at the fire. He had given no sign + of being impressed in any manner by her exposure of Mary Vertrees's + character; but his impassivity did not dismay Sibyl—it was Bibbs + whom she desired to impress, and she was content in that matter. + </p> + <p> + “I'm sure it was all for the best,” she said. “It's over now, and he knows + what she is. In one way I think it was lucky, because, just hearing a + thing that way, a person can tell it's SO—and he knows I haven't got + any ax to grind except his own good and the good of the family.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Sheridan went nervously to the door and stood there, looking toward + the stairway. “I wish—I wish I knew what he was doin',” she said. + “He did look terrible bad. It was like something had been done to him that + was—I don't know what. I never saw anybody look like he did. He + looked—so queer. It was like you'd—” She called down the hall, + “George!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes'm?” + </p> + <p> + “Were you up in Mr. Bibbs's room just now?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes'm. He ring bell; tole me make him fiah in his grate. I done buil' him + nice fiah. I reckon he ain' feelin' so well. Yes'm.” He departed. + </p> + <p> + “What do you expect he wants a fire for?” she asked, turning toward her + husband. “The house is warm as can be, I do wish I—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, quit frettin'!” said Sheridan. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I—I kind o' wish you hadn't said anything, Sibyl. I know you + meant it for the best and all, but I don't believe it would been so much + harm if—” + </p> + <p> + “Mother Sheridan, you don't mean you WANT that kind of a girl in the + family? Why, she—” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know, I don't know,” the troubled woman quavered. “If he liked + her it seems kind of a pity to spoil it. He's so queer, and he hasn't ever + taken much enjoyment. And besides, I believe the way it was, there was + more chance of him bein' willin' to do what papa wants him to. If she + wants to marry him—” + </p> + <p> + Sheridan interrupted her with a hooting laugh. “She don't!” he said. + “You're barkin' up the wrong tree, Sibyl. She ain't that kind of a girl.” + </p> + <p> + “But, father Sheridan, didn't she—” + </p> + <p> + He cut her short. “That's enough. You may mean all right, but you guess + wrong. So do you, mamma.” + </p> + <p> + Sibyl cried out, “Oh! But just LOOK how she ran after Jim—” + </p> + <p> + “She did not,” he said, curtly. “She wouldn't take Jim. She turned him + down cold.” + </p> + <p> + “But that's impossi—” + </p> + <p> + “It's not. I KNOW she did.” + </p> + <p> + Sibyl looked flatly incredulous. + </p> + <p> + “And YOU needn't worry,” he said, turning to his wife. “This won't have + any effect on your idea, because there wasn't any sense to it, anyhow. + D'you think she'd be very likely to take Bibbs—after she wouldn't + take JIM? She's a good-hearted girl, and she lets Bibbs come to see her, + but if she'd ever given him one sign of encouragement the way you women + think, he wouldn't of acted the stubborn fool he has—he'd 'a' been + at me long ago, beggin' me for some kind of a job he could support a wife + on. There's nothin' in it—and I've got the same old fight with him + on my hands I've had all his life—and the Lord knows what he won't + do to balk me! What's happened now'll probably only make him twice as + stubborn, but—” + </p> + <p> + “SH!” Mrs. Sheridan, still in the doorway, lifted her hand. “That's his + step—he's comin' down-stairs.” She shrank away from the door as if + she feared to have Bibbs see her. “I—I wonder—” she said, + almost in a whisper—“I wonder what he's goin'—to do.” + </p> + <p> + Her timorousness had its effect upon the others. Sheridan rose, frowning, + but remained standing beside his chair; and Roscoe moved toward Sibyl, who + stared uneasily at the open doorway. They listened as the slow steps + descended the stairs and came toward the library. + </p> + <p> + Bibbs stopped upon the threshold, and with sick and haggard eyes looked + slowly from one to the other until at last his gaze rested upon his + father. Then he came and stood before him. + </p> + <p> + “I'm sorry you've had so much trouble with me,” he said, gently. “You + won't, any more. I'll take the job you offered me.” + </p> + <p> + Sheridan did not speak—he stared, astounded and incredulous; and + Bibbs had left the room before any of its occupants uttered a sound, + though he went as slowly as he came. Mrs. Sheridan was the first to move. + She went nervously back to the doorway, and then out into the hall. Bibbs + had gone from the house. + </p> + <p> + Bibbs's mother had a feeling about him then that she had never known + before; it was indefinite and vague, but very poignant—something in + her mourned for him uncomprehendingly. She felt that an awful thing had + been done to him, though she did not know what it was. She went up to his + room. + </p> + <p> + The fire George had built for him was almost smothered under thick, + charred ashes of paper. The lid of his trunk stood open, and the large + upper tray, which she remembered to have seen full of papers and + note-books, was empty. And somehow she understood that Bibbs had given up + the mysterious vocation he had hoped to follow—and that he had given + it up for ever. She thought it was the wisest thing he could have done—and + yet, for an unknown reason, she sat upon the bed and wept a little before + she went down-stairs. + </p> + <p> + So Sheridan had his way with Bibbs, all through. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0029" id="link2HCH0029"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIX + </h2> + <p> + As Bibbs came out of the New House, a Sunday trio was in course of passage + upon the sidewalk: an ample young woman, placid of face; a black-clad, + thin young man, whose expression was one of habitual anxiety, habitual + wariness and habitual eagerness. He propelled a perambulator containing + the third—and all three were newly cleaned, Sundayfied, and made fit + to dine with the wife's relatives. + </p> + <p> + “How'd you like for me to be THAT young fella, mamma?” the husband + whispered. “He's one of the sons, and there ain't but two left now.” + </p> + <p> + The wife stared curiously at Bibbs. “Well, I don't know,” she returned. + “He looks to me like he had his own troubles.” + </p> + <p> + “I expect he has, like anybody else,” said the young husband, “but I guess + we could stand a good deal if we had his money.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, maybe, if you keep on the way you been, baby'll be as well fixed as + the Sheridans. You can't tell.” She glanced back at Bibbs, who had turned + north. “He walks kind of slow and stooped over, like.” + </p> + <p> + “So much money in his pockets it makes him sag, I guess,” said the young + husband, with bitter admiration. + </p> + <p> + Mary, happening to glance from a window, saw Bibbs coming, and she + started, clasping her hands together in a sudden alarm. She met him at the + door. + </p> + <p> + “Bibbs!” she cried. “What is the matter? I saw something was terribly + wrong when I—You look—” She paused, and he came in, not + lifting his eyes to hers. Always when he crossed that threshold he had + come with his head up and his wistful gaze seeking hers. “Ah, poor boy!” + she said, with a gesture of understanding and pity. “I know what it is!” + </p> + <p> + He followed her into the room where they always sat, and sank into a + chair. + </p> + <p> + “You needn't tell me,” she said. “They've made you give up. Your father's + won—you're going to do what he wants. You've given up.” + </p> + <p> + Still without looking at her, he inclined his head in affirmation. + </p> + <p> + She gave a little cry of compassion, and came and sat near him. “Bibbs,” + she said. “I can be glad of one thing, though it's selfish. I can be glad + you came straight to me. It's more to me than even if you'd come because + you were happy.” She did not speak again for a little while; then she + said: “Bibbs—dear—could you tell me about it? Do you want to?” + </p> + <p> + Still he did not look up, but in a voice, shaken and husky he asked her a + question so grotesque that at first she thought she had misunderstood his + words. + </p> + <p> + “Mary,” he said, “could you marry me?” + </p> + <p> + “What did you say, Bibbs?” she asked, quietly. + </p> + <p> + His tone and attitude did not change. “Will you marry me?” + </p> + <p> + Both of her hands leaped to her cheeks—she grew red and then white. + She rose slowly and moved backward from him, staring at him, at first + incredulously, then with an intense perplexity more and more luminous in + her wide eyes; it was like a spoken question. The room filled with + strangeness in the long silence—the two were so strange to each + other. At last she said: + </p> + <p> + “What made you say that?” + </p> + <p> + He did not answer. + </p> + <p> + “Bibbs, look at me!” Her voice was loud and clear. “What made you say + that? Look at me!” + </p> + <p> + He could not look at her, and he could not speak. + </p> + <p> + “What was it that made you?” she said. “I want you to tell me.” + </p> + <p> + She went closer to him, her eyes ever brighter and wider with that + intensity of wonder. “You've given up—to your father,” she said, + slowly, “and then you came to ask me—” She broke off. “Bibbs, do you + want me to marry you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he said, just audibly. + </p> + <p> + “No!” she cried. “You do not. Then what made you ask me? What is it that's + happened?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “Wait,” she said. “Let me think. It's something that happened since our + walk this morning—yes, since you left me at noon. Something happened + that—” She stopped abruptly, with a tremulous murmur of amazement + and dawning comprehension. She remembered that Sibyl had gone to the New + House. + </p> + <p> + Bibbs swallowed painfully and contrived to say, “I do—I do want you + to—marry me, if—if—you could.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him, and slowly shook her head. “Bibbs, do you—” Her + voice was as unsteady as his—little more than a whisper. “Do you + think I'm—in love with you?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Somewhere in the still air of the room there was a whispered word; it did + not seem to come from Mary's parted lips, but he was aware of it. “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “I've had nothing but dreams,” Bibbs said, desolately, “but they weren't + like that. Sibyl said no girl could care about me.” He smiled faintly, + though still he did not look at Mary. “And when I first came home Edith + told me Sibyl was so anxious to marry that she'd have married ME. She + meant it to express Sibyl's extremity, you see. But I hardly needed either + of them to tell me. I hadn't thought of myself as—well, not as + particularly captivating!” + </p> + <p> + Oddly enough, Mary's pallor changed to an angry flush. “Those two!” she + exclaimed, sharply; and then, with thoroughgoing contempt: “Lamhorn! + That's like them!” She turned away, went to the bare little black mantel, + and stood leaning upon it. Presently she asked: “WHEN did Mrs. Roscoe + Sheridan say that 'no girl' could care about you?” + </p> + <p> + “To-day.” + </p> + <p> + Mary drew a deep breath. “I think I'm beginning to understand—a + little.” She bit her lip; there was anger in good truth in her eyes and in + her voice. “Answer me once more,” she said. “Bibbs, do you know now why I + stopped wearing my furs?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought so! Your sister-in-law told you, didn't she?” + </p> + <p> + “I—I heard her say—” + </p> + <p> + “I think I know what happened, now.” Mary's breath came fast and her voice + shook, but she spoke rapidly. “You 'heard her say' more than that. You + 'heard her say' that we were bitterly poor, and on that account I tried + first to marry your brother—and then—” But now she faltered, + and it was only after a convulsive effort that she was able to go on. “And + then—that I tried to marry—you! You 'heard her say' that—and + you believe that I don't care for you and that 'no girl' could care for + you—but you think I am in such an 'extremity,' as Sibyl was—that + you— And so, not wanting me, and believing that I could not want you—except + for my 'extremity'—you took your father's offer and then came to ask + me—to marry you! What had I shown you of myself that could make you—” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly she sank down, kneeling, with her face buried in her arms upon + the lap of a chair, tears overwhelming her. + </p> + <p> + “Mary, Mary!” he cried, helplessly. “Oh NO—you—you don't + understand.” + </p> + <p> + “I do, though!” she sobbed. “I do!” + </p> + <p> + He came and stood beside her. “You kill me!” he said. “I can't make it + plain. From the first of your loveliness to me, I was all self. It was + always you that gave and I that took. I was the dependent—I did + nothing but lean on you. We always talked of me, not of you. It was all + about my idiotic distresses and troubles. I thought of you as a kind of + wonderful being that had no mortal or human suffering except by sympathy. + You seemed to lean down—out of a rosy cloud—to be kind to me. + I never dreamed I could do anything for YOU! I never dreamed you could + need anything to be done for you by anybody. And to-day I heard that—that + you—” + </p> + <p> + “You heard that I needed to marry—some one—anybody—with + money,” she sobbed. “And you thought we were so—so desperate—you + believed that I had—” + </p> + <p> + “No!” he said, quickly. “I didn't believe you'd done one kind thing for me—for + that. No, no, no! I knew you'd NEVER thought of me except generously—to + give. I said I couldn't make it plain!” he cried, despairingly. + </p> + <p> + “Wait!” She lifted her head and extended her hands to him unconsciously, + like a child. “Help me up, Bibbs.” Then, when she was once more upon her + feet, she wiped her eyes and smiled upon him ruefully and faintly, but + reassuringly, as if to tell him, in that way, that she knew he had not + meant to hurt her. And that smile of hers, so lamentable, but so + faithfully friendly, misted his own eyes, for his shamefacedness lowered + them no more. + </p> + <p> + “Let me tell you what you want to tell me,” she said. “You can't, because + you can't put it into words—they are too humiliating for me and + you're too gentle to say them. Tell me, though, isn't it true? You didn't + believe that I'd tried to make you fall in love with me—” + </p> + <p> + “Never! Never for an instant!” + </p> + <p> + “You didn't believe I'd tried to make you want to marry me—” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, no!” + </p> + <p> + “I believe it, Bibbs. You thought that I was fond of you; you knew I cared + for you—but you didn't think I might be—in love with you. But + you thought that I might marry you without being in love with you because + you did believe I had tried to marry your brother, and—” + </p> + <p> + “Mary, I only knew—for the first time—that you—that you + were—” + </p> + <p> + “Were desperately poor,” she said. “You can't even say that! Bibbs, it was + true: I did try to make Jim want to marry me. I did!” And she sank down + into the chair, weeping bitterly again. Bibbs was agonized. + </p> + <p> + “Mary,” he groaned, “I didn't know you COULD cry!” + </p> + <p> + “Listen,” she said. “Listen till I get through—I want you to + understand. We were poor, and we weren't fitted to be. We never had been, + and we didn't know what to do. We'd been almost rich; there was plenty, + but my father wanted to take advantage of the growth of the town; he + wanted to be richer, but instead—well, just about the time your + father finished building next door we found we hadn't anything. People say + that, sometimes, meaning that they haven't anything in comparison with + other people of their own kind, but we really hadn't anything—we + hadn't anything at all, Bibbs! And we couldn't DO anything. You might + wonder why I didn't 'try to be a stenographer'—and I wonder myself + why, when a family loses its money, people always say the daughters 'ought + to go and be stenographers.' It's curious!—as if a wave of the hand + made you into a stenographer. No, I'd been raised to be either married + comfortably or a well-to-do old maid, if I chose not to marry. The poverty + came on slowly, Bibbs, but at last it was all there—and I didn't + know how to be a stenographer. I didn't know how to be anything except a + well-to-do old maid or somebody's wife—and I couldn't be a + well-to-do old maid. Then, Bibbs, I did what I'd been raised to know how + to do. I went out to be fascinating and be married. I did it openly, at + least, and with a kind of decent honesty. I told your brother I had meant + to fascinate him and that I was not in love with him, but I let him think + that perhaps I meant to marry him. I think I did mean to marry him. I had + never cared for anybody, and I thought it might be there really WASN'T + anything more than a kind of excited fondness. I can't be sure, but I + think that though I did mean to marry him I never should have done it, + because that sort of a marriage is—it's sacrilege—something + would have stopped me. Something did stop me; it was your sister-in-law, + Sibyl. She meant no harm—but she was horrible, and she put what I + was doing into such horrible words—and they were the truth—oh! + I SAW myself! She was proposing a miserable compact with me—and I + couldn't breathe the air of the same room with her, though I'd so + cheapened myself she had a right to assume that I WOULD. But I couldn't! I + left her, and I wrote to your brother—just a quick scrawl. I told + him just what I'd done; I asked his pardon, and I said I would not marry + him. I posted the letter, but he never got it. That was the afternoon he + was killed. That's all, Bibbs. Now you know what I did—and you know—ME!” + She pressed her clenched hands tightly against her eyes, leaning far + forward, her head bowed before him. + </p> + <p> + Bibbs had forgotten himself long ago; his heart broke for her. “Couldn't + you—Isn't there—Won't you—” he stammered. “Mary, I'm + going with father. Isn't there some way you could use the money without—without—” + </p> + <p> + She gave a choked little laugh. + </p> + <p> + “You gave me something to live for,” he said. “You kept me alive, I think—and + I've hurt you like this!” + </p> + <p> + “Not you—oh no!” + </p> + <p> + “You could forgive me, Mary?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, a thousand times!” Her right hand went out in a faltering gesture, + and just touched his own for an instant. “But there's nothing to forgive.” + </p> + <p> + “And you can't—you can't—” + </p> + <p> + “Can't what, Bibbs?” + </p> + <p> + “You couldn't—” + </p> + <p> + “Marry you?” she said for him. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, no!” She sprang up, facing him, and, without knowing what she + did, she set her hands upon his breast, pushing him back from her a + little. “I can't, I can't! Don't you SEE?” + </p> + <p> + “Mary—” + </p> + <p> + “No, no! And you must go now, Bibbs; I can't bear any more—please—” + </p> + <p> + “MARY—” + </p> + <p> + “Never, never, never!” she cried, in a passion of tears. “You mustn't come + any more. I can't see you, dear! Never, never, never!” + </p> + <p> + Somehow, in helpless, stumbling obedience to her beseeching gesture, he + got himself to the door and out of the house. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0030" id="link2HCH0030"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXX + </h2> + <p> + Sibyl and Roscoe were upon the point of leaving when Bibbs returned to the + New House. He went straight to Sibyl and spoke to her quietly, but so that + the others might hear. + </p> + <p> + “When you said that if I'd stop to think, I'd realize that no one would be + apt to care enough about me to marry me, you were right,” he said. “I + thought perhaps you weren't, and so I asked Miss Vertrees to marry me. It + proved what you said of me, and disproved what you said of her. She + refused.” + </p> + <p> + And, having thus spoken, he quitted the room as straightforwardly as he + had entered it. + </p> + <p> + “He's SO queer!” Mrs. Sheridan gasped. “Who on earth would thought of his + doin' THAT?” + </p> + <p> + “I told you,” said her husband, grimly. + </p> + <p> + “You didn't tell us he'd go over there and—” + </p> + <p> + “I told you she wouldn't have him. I told you she wouldn't have JIM, + didn't I?” + </p> + <p> + Sibyl was altogether taken aback. “Do you supose it's true? Do you suppose + she WOULDN'T?” + </p> + <p> + “He didn't look exactly like a young man that had just got things fixed up + fine with his girl,” said Sheridan. “Not to me, he didn't!” + </p> + <p> + “But why would—” + </p> + <p> + “I told you,” he interrupted, angrily, “she ain't that kind of a girl! If + you got to have proof, well, I'll tell you and get it over with, though + I'd pretty near just as soon not have to talk a whole lot about my dead + boy's private affairs. She wrote to Jim she couldn't take him, and it was + a good, straight letter, too. It came to Jim's office; he never saw it. + She wrote it the afternoon he was hurt.” + </p> + <p> + “I remember I saw her put a letter in the mail-box that afternoon,” said + Roscoe. “Don't you remember, Sibyl? I told you about it—I was + waiting for you while you were in there so long talking to her mother. It + was just before we saw that something was wrong over here, and Edith came + and called me.” + </p> + <p> + Sibyl shook her head, but she remembered. And she was not cast down, for, + although some remnants of perplexity were left in her eyes, they were + dimmed by an increasing glow of triumph; and she departed—after some + further fragmentary discourse—visibly elated. After all, the guilty + had not been exalted; and she perceived vaguely, but none the less surely, + that her injury had been copiously avenged. She bestowed a contented + glance upon the old house with the cupola, as she and Roscoe crossed the + street. + </p> + <p> + When they had gone, Mrs. Sheridan indulged in reverie, but after a while + she said, uneasily, “Papa, you think it would be any use to tell Bibbs + about that letter?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know,” he answered, walking moodily to the window. “I been + thinkin' about it.” He came to a decision. “I reckon I will.” And he went + up to Bibbs's room. + </p> + <p> + “Well, you goin' back on what you said?” he inquired, brusquely, as he + opened the door. “You goin' to take it back and lay down on me again?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Bibbs. + </p> + <p> + “Well, perhaps I didn't have any call to accuse you of that. I don't know + as you ever did go back on anything you said, exactly, though the Lord + knows you've laid down on me enough. You certainly have!” Sheridan was + baffled. This was not what he wished to say, but his words were + unmanageable; he found himself unable to control them, and his querulous + abuse went on in spite of him. “I can't say I expect much of you—not + from the way you always been, up to now—unless you turn over a new + leaf, and I don't see any encouragement to think you're goin' to do THAT! + If you go down there and show a spark o' real GIT-up, I reckon the whole + office'll fall in a faint. But if you're ever goin' to show any, you + better begin right at the beginning and begin to show it to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—I'll try.” + </p> + <p> + “You better, if it's in you!” Sheridan was sheerly nonplussed. He had + always been able to say whatever he wished to say, but his tongue seemed + bewitched. He had come to tell Bibbs about Mary's letter, and to his own + angry astonishment he found it impossible to do anything except to scold + like a drudge-driver. “You better come down there with your mind made up + to hustle harder than the hardest workin'-man that's under you, or you'll + not get on very good with me, I tell you! The way to get ahead—and + you better set it down in your books—the way to get ahead is to do + ten times the work of the hardest worker that works FOR you. But you don't + know what work is, yet. All you've ever done was just stand around and + feed a machine a child could handle, and then come home and take a bath + and go callin'. I tell you you're up against a mighty different + proposition now, and if you're worth your salt—and you never showed + any signs of it yet—not any signs that stuck out enough to bang + somebody on the head and make 'em sit up and take notice—well, I + want to say, right here and now—and you better listen, because I + want to say just what I DO say. I say—” + </p> + <p> + He meandered to a full stop. His mouth hung open, and his mind was a + hopeless blank. + </p> + <p> + Bibbs looked up patiently—an old, old look. “Yes, father; I'm + listening.” + </p> + <p> + “That's all,” said Sheridan, frowning heavily. “That's all I came to say, + and you better see't you remember it!” + </p> + <p> + He shook his head warningly, and went out, closing the door behind him + with a crash. However, no sound of footsteps indicated his departure. He + stopped just outside the door, and stood there a minute or more. Then + abruptly he turned the knob and exhibited to his son a forehead liberally + covered with perspiration. + </p> + <p> + “Look here,” he said, crossly. “That girl over yonder wrote Jim a letter—” + </p> + <p> + “I know,” said Bibbs. “She told me.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I thought you needn't feel so much upset about it—” The door + closed on his voice as he withdrew, but the conclusion of the sentence was + nevertheless audible—“if you knew she wouldn't have Jim, either.” + </p> + <p> + And he stamped his way down-stairs to tell his wife to quit her frettin' + and not bother him with any more fool's errands. She was about to inquire + what Bibbs “said,” but after a second thought she decided not to speak at + all. She merely murmured a wordless assent, and verbal communication was + given over between them for the rest of that afternoon. + </p> + <p> + Bibbs and his father were gone when Mrs. Sheridan woke, the next morning, + and she had a dreary day. She missed Edith woefully, and she worried about + what might be taking place in the Sheridan Building. She felt that + everything depended on how Bibbs “took hold,” and upon her husband's + return in the evening she seized upon the first opportunity to ask him how + things had gone. He was non-committal. What could anybody tell by the + first day? He'd seen plenty go at things well enough right at the start + and then blow up. Pretty near anybody could show up fair the first day or + so. There was a big job ahead. This material, such as it was—Bibbs, + in fact—had to be broken in to handling the work Roscoe had done; + and then, at least as an overseer, he must take Jim's position in the + Realty Company as well. He told her to ask him again in a month. + </p> + <p> + But during the course of dinner she gathered from some disjointed remarks + of his that he and Bibbs had lunched together at the small restaurant + where it had been Sheridan's custom to lunch with Jim, and she took this + to be an encouraging sign. Bibbs went to his room as soon as they left the + table, and her husband was not communicative after reading his paper. + </p> + <p> + She became an anxious spectator of Bibbs's progress as a man of business, + although it was a progress she could glimpse but dimly and only in the + evening, through his remarks and his father's at dinner. Usually Bibbs was + silent, except when directly addressed, but on the first evening of the + third week of his new career he offered an opinion which had apparently + been the subject of previous argument. + </p> + <p> + “I'd like you to understand just what I meant about those storage-rooms, + father,” he said, as Jackson placed his coffee before him. “Abercrombie + agreed with me, but you wouldn't listen to him.” + </p> + <p> + “You can talk, if you want to, and I'll listen,” Sheridan returned, “but + you can't show me that Jim ever took up with a bad thing. The roof fell + because it hadn't had time to settle and on account of weather conditions. + I want that building put just the way Jim planned it.” + </p> + <p> + “You can't have it,” said Bibbs. “You can't, because Jim planned for the + building to stand up, and it won't do it. The other one—the one that + didn't fall—is so shot with cracks we haven't dared use it for + storage. It won't stand weight. There's only one thing to do: get both + buildings down as quickly as we can, and build over. Brick's the best and + cheapest in the long run for that type.” + </p> + <p> + Sheridan looked sarcastic. “Fine! What we goin' to do for storage-rooms + while we're waitin' for those few bricks to be laid?” + </p> + <p> + “Rent,” Bibbs returned, promptly. “We'll lose money if we don't rent, + anyhow—they were waiting so long for you to give the warehouse + matter your attention after the roof fell. You don't know what an amount + of stuff they've got piled up on us over there. We'd have to rent until we + could patch up those process perils—and the Krivitch Manufacturing + Company's plant is empty, right across the street. I took an option on it + for us this morning.” + </p> + <p> + Sheridan's expression was queer. “Look here!” he said, sharply. “Did you + go and do that without consulting me?” + </p> + <p> + “It didn't cost anything,” said Bibbs. “It's only until to-morrow + afternoon at two o'clock. I undertook to convince you before then.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you did?” Sheridan's tone was sardonic. “Well, just suppose you + couldn't convince me.” + </p> + <p> + “I can, though—and I intend to,” said Bibbs, quietly. “I don't think + you understand the condition of those buildings you want patched up.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, see here,” said Sheridan, with slow emphasis; “suppose I had my mind + set about this. JIM thought they'd stand, and suppose it was—well, + kind of a matter of sentiment with me to prove he was right.” + </p> + <p> + Bibbs looked at him compassionately. “I'm sorry if you have a sentiment + about it, father,” he said. “But whether you have or not can't make a + difference. You'll get other people hurt if you trust that process, and + that won't do. And if you want a monument to Jim, at least you want one + that will stand. Besides, I don't think you can reasonably defend + sentiment in this particular kind of affair.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you don't?” + </p> + <p> + “No, but I'm sorry you didn't tell me you felt it.” + </p> + <p> + Sheridan was puzzled by his son's tone. “Why are you 'sorry'?” he asked, + curiously. + </p> + <p> + “Because I had the building inspector up there, this noon,” said Bibbs, + “and I had him condemn both those buildings.” + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + “He'd been afraid to do it before, until he heard from us—afraid + you'd see he lost his job. But he can't un-condemn them—they've got + to come down now.” + </p> + <p> + Sheridan gave him a long and piercing stare from beneath lowered brows. + Finally he said, “How long did they give you on that option to convince + me?” + </p> + <p> + “Until two o'clock to-morrow afternoon.” + </p> + <p> + “All right,” said Sheridan, not relaxing. “I'm convinced.” + </p> + <p> + Bibbs jumped up. “I thought you would be. I'll telephone the Krivitch + agent. He gave me the option until to-morrow, but I told him I'd settle it + this evening.” + </p> + <p> + Sheridan gazed after him as he left the room, and then, though his + expression did not alter in the slightest, a sound came from him that + startled his wife. It had been a long time since she had heard anything + resembling a chuckle from him, and this sound—although it was grim + and dry—bore that resemblance. + </p> + <p> + She brightened eagerly. “Looks like he was startin' right well don't it, + papa?” + </p> + <p> + “Startin'? Lord! He got me on the hip! Why, HE knew what I wanted—that's + why he had the inspector up there, so't he'd have me beat before we even + started to talk about it. And did you hear him? 'Can't reasonably defend + SENTIMENT!' And the way he says 'Us': 'Took an option for Us'! 'Stuff + piled up on Us'!” + </p> + <p> + There was always an alloy for Mrs. Sheridan. “I don't just like the way he + looks, though, papa.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, there's got to be something! Only one chick left at home, so you + start to frettin' about IT!” + </p> + <p> + “No. He's changed. There's kind of a settish look to his face, and—” + </p> + <p> + “I guess that's the common sense comin' out on him, then,” said Sheridan. + “You'll see symptoms like that in a good many business men, I expect.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, and he don't have as good color as he was gettin' before. And he'd + begun to fill out some, but—” + </p> + <p> + Sheridan gave forth another dry chuckle, and, going round the table to + her, patted her upon the shoulder with his left hand, his right being + still heavily bandaged, though he no longer wore a sling. “That's the way + it is with you, mamma—got to take your frettin' out one way if you + don't another!” + </p> + <p> + “No. He don't look well. It ain't exactly the way he looked when he begun + to get sick that time, but he kind o' seems to be losin', some way.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he may 'a' lost something,” said Sheridan. “I expect he's lost a + whole lot o' foolishness besides his God-forsaken notions about writin' + poetry and—” + </p> + <p> + “No,” his wife persisted. “I mean he looks right peakid. And yesterday, + when he was settin' with us, he kept lookin' out the window. He wasn't + readin'.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, why shouldn't he look out the window?” + </p> + <p> + “He was lookin' over there. He never read a word all afternoon, I don't + believe.” + </p> + <p> + “Look, here!” said Sheridan. “Bibbs might 'a' kept goin' on over there the + rest of his life, moonin' on and on, but what he heard Sibyl say did one + big thing, anyway. It woke him up out of his trance. Well, he had to go + and bust clean out with a bang; and that stopped his goin' over there, and + it stopped his poetry, but I reckon he's begun to get pretty fair pay for + what he lost. I guess a good many young men have had to get over worries + like his; they got to lose SOMETHING if they're goin' to keep ahead o' the + procession nowadays—and it kind o' looks to me, mamma, like Bibbs + might keep quite a considerable long way ahead. Why, a year from now I'll + bet you he won't know there ever WAS such a thing as poetry! And ain't he + funny? He wanted to stick to the shop so's he could 'think'! What he meant + was, think about something useless. Well, I guess he's keepin' his mind + pretty occupied the other way these days. Yes, sir, it took a pretty + fair-sized shock to get him out of his trance, but it certainly did the + business.” He patted his wife's shoulder again, and then, without any + prefatory symptoms, broke into a boisterous laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Honest, mamma, he works like a gorilla!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0031" id="link2HCH0031"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXI + </h2> + <p> + And so Bibbs sat in the porch of the temple with the money-changers. But + no one came to scourge him forth, for this was the temple of Bigness, and + the changing of money was holy worship and true religion. The priests wore + that “settish” look Bibbs's mother had seen beginning to develop about his + mouth and eyes—a wary look which she could not define, but it comes + with service at the temple; and it was the more marked upon Bibbs for his + sharp awakening to the necessities of that service. + </p> + <p> + He did as little “useless” thinking as possible, giving himself no time + for it. He worked continuously, keeping his thoughts still on his work + when he came home at night; and he talked of nothing whatever except his + work. But he did not sing at it. He was often in the streets, and people + were not allowed to sing in the streets. They might make any manner of + hideous uproar—they could shake buildings; they could out-thunder + the thunder, deafen the deaf, and kill the sick with noise; or they could + walk the streets or drive through them bawling, squawking, or screeching, + as they chose, if the noise was traceably connected with business; though + street musicians were not tolerated, being considered a nuisance and an + interference. A man or woman who went singing for pleasure through the + streets—like a crazy Neopolitan—would have been stopped, and + belike locked up; for Freedom does not mean that a citizen is allowed to + do every outrageous thing that comes into his head. The streets were + dangerous enough, in all conscience, without any singing! and the Motor + Federation issued public warnings declaring that the pedestrian's life was + in his own hands, and giving directions how to proceed with the least + peril. However, Bibbs Sheridan had no desire to sing in the streets, or + anywhere. He had gone to his work with an energy that, for the start, at + least, was bitter, and there was no song left in him. + </p> + <p> + He began to know his active fellow-citizens. Here and there among them he + found a leisurely, kind soul, a relic of the old period of neighborliness, + “pioneer stock,” usually; and there were men—particularly among the + merchants and manufacturers—“so honest they leaned backward”; + reputations sometimes attested by stories of heroic sacrifices to honor; + nor were there lacking some instances of generosity even nobler. Here and + there, too, were book-men, in their little leisure; and, among the + Germans, music-men. And these, with the others, worshiped Bigness and the + growth, each man serving for his own sake and for what he could get out of + it, but all united in their faith in the beneficence and glory of their + god. + </p> + <p> + To almost all alike that service stood as the most important thing in + life, except on occasion of some such vital, brief interregnum as the + dangerous illness of a wife or child. In the way of “relaxation” some of + the servers took golf; some took fishing; some took “shows”—a + mixture of infantile and negroid humor, stockings, and tin music; some + took an occasional debauch; some took trips; some took cards; and some + took nothing. The high priests were vigilant to watch that no “relaxation” + should affect the service. When a man attended to anything outside his + business, eyes were upon him; his credit was in danger—that is, his + life was in danger. And the old priests were as ardent as the young ones; + the million was as eager to be bigger as the thousand; seventy was as busy + as seventeen. They strove mightily against one another, and the old + priests were the most wary, the most plausible, and the most dangerous. + Bibbs learned he must walk charily among these—he must wear a + thousand eyes and beware of spiders indeed! + </p> + <p> + And outside the temple itself were the pretenders, the swarming thieves + and sharpers and fleecers, the sly rascals and the open rascals; but these + were feeble folk, not dangerous once he knew them, and he had a good guide + to point them out to him. They were useful sometimes, he learned, and many + of them served as go-betweens in matters where business must touch + politics. He learned also how breweries and “traction” companies and banks + and other institutions fought one another for the political control of the + city. The newspapers, he discovered, had lost their ancient political + influence, especially with the knowing, who looked upon them with a + skeptical humor, believing the journals either to be retained partisans, + like lawyers, or else striving to forward the personal ambitions of their + owners. The control of the city lay not with them, but was usually + obtained by giving the hordes of negroes gin-money, and by other + largesses. The revenues of the people were then distributed as fairly as + possible among a great number of men who had assisted the winning side. + Names and titles of offices went with many of the prizes, and most of + these title-holders were expected to present a busy appearance at times; + and, indeed, some among them did work honestly and faithfully. + </p> + <p> + Bibbs had been very ignorant. All these simple things, so well known and + customary, astonished him at first, and once—in a brief moment of + forgetting that he was done with writing—he thought that if he had + known them and written of them, how like a satire the plainest relation of + them must have seemed! Strangest of all to him was the vehement and + sincere patriotism. On every side he heard it—it was a permeation; + the newest school-child caught it, though just from Hungary and learning + to stammer a few words of the local language. Everywhere the people + shouted of the power, the size, the riches, and the growth of their city. + Not only that, they said that the people of their city were the greatest, + the “finest,” the strongest, the Biggest people on earth. They cited no + authorities, and felt the need of none, being themselves the people thus + celebrated. And if the thing was questioned, or if it was hinted that + there might be one small virtue in which they were not perfect and + supreme, they wasted no time examining themselves to see if what the + critic said was true, but fell upon him and hooted him and cursed him, for + they were sensitive. So Bibbs, learning their ways and walking with them, + harkened to the voice of the people and served Bigness with them. For the + voice of the people is the voice of their god. + </p> + <p> + Sheridan had made the room next to his own into an office for Bibbs, and + the door between the two rooms usually stood open—the father had + established that intimacy. One morning in February, when Bibbs was alone, + Sheridan came in, some sheets of typewritten memoranda in his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Bibbs,” he said, “I don't like to butt in very often this way, and when I + do I usually wish I hadn't—but for Heaven's sake what have you been + buying that ole busted inter-traction stock for?” + </p> + <p> + Bibbs leaned back from his desk. “For eleven hundred and fifty-five + dollars. That's all it cost.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it ain't worth eleven hundred and fifty-five cents. You ought to + know that. I don't get your idea. That stuff's deader'n Adam's cat!” + </p> + <p> + “It might be worth something—some day.” + </p> + <p> + “How?” + </p> + <p> + “It mightn't be so dead—not if we went into it,” said Bibbs, coolly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” Sheridan considered this musingly; then he said, “Who'd you buy it + from?” + </p> + <p> + “A broker—Fansmith.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, he must 'a' got it from one o' the crowd o' poor ninnies that was + soaked with it. Don't you know who owned it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I do.” + </p> + <p> + “Ain't sayin', though? That it? What's the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “It belonged to Mr. Vertrees,” said Bibbs, shortly, applying himself to + his desk. + </p> + <p> + “So!” Sheridan gazed down at his son's thin face. “Excuse me,” he said. + “Your business.” And he went back to his own room. But presently he looked + in again. + </p> + <p> + “I reckon you won't mind lunchin' alone to-day”—he was shuffling + himself into his overcoat—“because I just thought I'd go up to the + house and get THIS over with mamma.” He glanced apologetically toward his + right hand as it emerged from the sleeve of the overcoat. The bandages had + been removed, finally, that morning, revealing but three fingers—the + forefinger and the finger next to it had been amputated. “She's bound to + make an awful fuss, and better to spoil her lunch than her dinner. I'll be + back about two.” + </p> + <p> + But he calculated the time of his arrival at the New House so accurately + that Mrs. Sheridan's lunch was not disturbed, and she was rising from the + lonely table when he came into the dining-room. He had left his overcoat + in the hall, but he kept his hands in his trousers pockets. + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter, papa?” she asked, quickly. “Has anything gone wrong? + You ain't sick?” + </p> + <p> + “Me!” He laughed loudly. “Me SICK?” + </p> + <p> + “You had lunch?” + </p> + <p> + “Didn't want any to-day. You can give me a cup o' coffee, though.” + </p> + <p> + She rang, and told George to have coffee made, and when he had withdrawn + she said querulously, “I just know there's something wrong.” + </p> + <p> + “Nothin' in the world,” he responded, heartily, taking a seat at the head + of the table. “I thought I'd talk over a notion o' mine with you, that's + all. It's more women-folks' business than what it is man's, anyhow.” + </p> + <p> + “What about?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, ole Doc Gurney was up at the office this morning awhile—” + </p> + <p> + “To look at your hand? How's he say it's doin'?” + </p> + <p> + “Fine! Well, he went in and sat around with Bibbs awhile—” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Sheridan nodded pessimistically. “I guess it's time you had him, too. + I KNEW Bibbs—” + </p> + <p> + “Now, mamma, hold your horses! I wanted him to look Bibbs over BEFORE + anything's the matter. You don't suppose I'm goin' to take any chances + with BIBBS, do you? Well, afterwards, I shut the door, and I an' ole + Gurney had a talk. He's a mighty disagreeable man; he rubbed it in on me + what he said about Bibbs havin' brains if he ever woke up. Then I thought + he must want to get something out o' me, he got so flattering—for a + minute! 'Bibbs couldn't help havin' business brains,' he says, 'bein' YOUR + son. Don't be surprised,' he says—'don't be surprised at his makin' + a success,' he says. 'He couldn't get over his heredity; he couldn't HELP + bein' a business success—once you got him into it. It's in his + blood. Yes, sir' he says, 'it doesn't need MUCH brains,' he says, 'an only + third-rate brains, at that,' he says, 'but it does need a special KIND o' + brains,' he says, 'to be a millionaire. I mean,' he says, 'when a man's + given a start. If nobody gives him a start, why, course he's got to have + luck AND the right kind o' brains. The only miracle about Bibbs,' he says, + 'is where he got the OTHER kind o' brains—the brains you made him + quit usin' and throw away.'” + </p> + <p> + “But what'd he say about his health?” Mrs. Sheridan demanded, impatiently, + as George placed a cup of coffee before her husband. Sheridan helped + himself to cream and sugar, and began to sip the coffee. + </p> + <p> + “I'm comin' to that,” he returned, placidly. “See how easy I manage this + cup with my left hand, mamma?” + </p> + <p> + “You been doin' that all winter. What did—” + </p> + <p> + “It's wonderful,” he interrupted, admiringly, “what a fellow can do with + his left hand. I can sign my name with mine now, well's I ever could with + my right. It came a little hard at first, but now, honest, I believe I + RATHER sign with my left. That's all I ever have to write, anyway—just + the signature. Rest's all dictatin'.” He blew across the top of the cup + unctuously. “Good coffee, mamma! Well, about Bibbs. Ole Gurney says he + believes if Bibbs could somehow get back to the state o' mind he was in + about the machine-shop—that is, if he could some way get to feelin' + about business the way he felt about the shop—not the poetry and + writin' part, but—” He paused, supplementing his remarks with a + motion of his head toward the old house next door. “He says Bibbs is older + and harder'n what he was when he broke down that time, and besides, he + ain't the kind o' dreamy way he was then—and I should say he AIN'T! + I'd like 'em to show ME anybody his age that's any wider awake! But he + says Bibbs's health never need bother us again if—” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Sheridan shook her head. “I don't see any help THAT way. You know + yourself she wouldn't have Jim.” + </p> + <p> + “Who's talkin' about her havin' anybody? But, my Lord! she might let him + LOOK at her! She needn't 'a' got so mad, just because he asked her, that + she won't let him come in the house any more. He's a mighty funny boy, and + some ways I reckon he's pretty near as hard to understand as the Bible, + but Gurney kind o' got me in the way o' thinkin' that if she'd let him + come back and set around with her an evening or two sometimes—not + reg'lar, I don't mean—why—Well, I just thought I'd see what + YOU'D think of it. There ain't any way to talk about it to Bibbs himself—I + don't suppose he'd let you, anyhow—but I thought maybe you could + kind o' slip over there some day, and sort o' fix up to have a little talk + with her, and kind o' hint around till you see how the land lays, and ask + her—” + </p> + <p> + “ME!” Mrs. Sheridan looked both helpless and frightened. “No.” She shook + her head decidedly. “It wouldn't do any good.” + </p> + <p> + “You won't try it?” + </p> + <p> + “I won't risk her turnin' me out o' the house. Some way, that's what I + believe she did to Sibyl, from what Roscoe said once. No, I CAN'T—and, + what's more, it'd only make things worse. If people find out you're + runnin' after 'em they think you're cheap, and then they won't do as much + for you as if you let 'em alone. I don't believe it's any use, and I + couldn't do it if it was.” + </p> + <p> + He sighed with resignation. “All right, mamma. That's all.” Then, in a + livelier tone, he said: “Ole Gurney took the bandages off my hand this + morning. All healed up. Says I don't need 'em any more.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, that's splendid, papa!” she cried, beaming. “I was afraid—Let's + see.” + </p> + <p> + She came toward him, but he rose, still keeping his hand in his pocket. + “Wait a minute,” he said, smiling. “Now it may give you just a teeny bit + of a shock, but the fact is—well, you remember that Sunday when + Sibyl came over here and made all that fuss about nothin'—it was the + day after I got tired o' that statue when Edith's telegram came—” + </p> + <p> + “Let me see your hand!” she cried. + </p> + <p> + “Now wait!” he said, laughing and pushing her away with his left hand. + “The truth is, mamma, that I kind o' slipped out on you that morning, when + you wasn't lookin', and went down to ole Gurney's office—he'd told + me to, you see—and, well, it doesn't AMOUNT to anything.” And he + held out, for her inspection, the mutilated hand. “You see, these days + when it's all dictatin', anyhow, nobody'd mind just a couple o'—” + </p> + <p> + He had to jump for her—she went over backward. For the second time + in her life Mrs. Sheridan fainted. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0032" id="link2HCH0032"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXII + </h2> + <p> + It was a full hour later when he left her lying upon a couch in her own + room, still lamenting intermittently, though he assured her with heat that + the “fuss” she was making irked him far more than his physical loss. He + permitted her to think that he meant to return directly to his office, but + when he came out to the open air he told the chauffeur in attendance to + await him in front of Mr. Vertrees's house, whither he himself proceeded + on foot. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Vertrees had taken the sale of half of his worthless stock as manna in + the wilderness; it came from heaven—by what agency he did not + particularly question. The broker informed him that “parties were + interested in getting hold of the stock,” and that later there might be a + possible increase in the value of the large amount retained by his client. + It might go “quite a ways up” within a year or so, he said, and he advised + “sitting tight” with it. Mr. Vertrees went home and prayed. + </p> + <p> + He rose from his knees feeling that he was surely coming into his own + again. It was more than a mere gasp of temporary relief with him, and his + wife shared his optimism; but Mary would not let him buy back her piano, + and as for furs—spring was on the way, she said. But they paid the + butcher, the baker, and the candlestick-maker, and hired a cook once more. + It was this servitress who opened the door for Sheridan and presently + assured him that Miss Vertrees would “be down.” + </p> + <p> + He was not the man to conceal admiration when he felt it, and he flushed + and beamed as Mary made her appearance, almost upon the heels of the cook. + She had a look of apprehension for the first fraction of a second, but it + vanished at the sight of him, and its place was taken in her eyes by a + soft brilliance, while color rushed in her cheeks. + </p> + <p> + “Don't be surprised,” he said. “Truth is, in a way it's sort of on + business I looked in here. It'll only take a minute, I expect.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm sorry,” said Mary. “I hoped you'd come because we're neighbors.” + </p> + <p> + He chuckled. “Neighbors! Sometimes people don't see so much o' their + neighbors as they used to. That is, I hear so—lately.” + </p> + <p> + “You'll stay long enough to sit down, won't you?” + </p> + <p> + “I guess I could manage that much.” And they sat down, facing each other + and not far apart. + </p> + <p> + “Of course, it couldn't be called business, exactly,” he said, more + gravely. “Not at all, I expect. But there's something o' yours it seemed + to me I ought to give you, and I just thought it was better to bring it + myself and explain how I happened to have it. It's this—this letter + you wrote my boy.” He extended the letter to her solemnly, in his left + hand, and she took it gently from him. “It was in his mail, after he was + hurt. You knew he never got it, I expect.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she said, in a low voice. + </p> + <p> + He sighed. “I'm glad he didn't. Not,” he added, quickly—“not but + what you did just right to send it. You did. You couldn't acted any other + way when it came right down TO it. There ain't any blame comin' to you—you + were above-board all through.” + </p> + <p> + Mary said, “Thank you,” almost in a whisper, and with her head bowed low. + </p> + <p> + “You'll have to excuse me for readin' it. I had to take charge of all his + mail and everything; I didn't know the handwritin', and I read it all—once + I got started.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm glad you did.” + </p> + <p> + “Well”—he leaned forward as if to rise—“I guess that's about + all. I just thought you ought to have it.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you for bringing it.” + </p> + <p> + He looked at her hopefully, as if he thought and wished that she might + have something more to say. But she seemed not to be aware of this glance, + and sat with her eyes fixed sorrowfully upon the floor. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I expect I better be gettin' back to the office,” he said, rising + desperately. “I told—I told my partner I'd be back at two o'clock, + and I guess he'll think I'm a poor business man if he catches me behind + time. I got to walk the chalk a mighty straight line these days—with + THAT fellow keepin' tabs on me!” + </p> + <p> + Mary rose with him. “I've always heard YOU were the hard driver.” + </p> + <p> + He guffawed derisively. “Me? I'm nothin' to that partner o' mine. You + couldn't guess to save your life how he keeps after me to hold up my end + o' the job. I shouldn't be surprised he'd give me the grand bounce some + day, and run the whole circus by himself. You know how he is—once he + goes AT a thing!” + </p> + <p> + “No,” she smiled. “I didn't know you had a partner. I'd always heard—” + </p> + <p> + He laughed, looking away from her. “It's just my way o' speakin' o' that + boy o' mine, Bibbs.” + </p> + <p> + He stood then, expectant, staring out into the hall with an air of + careless geniality. He felt that she certainly must at least say, “How IS + Bibbs?” but she said nothing at all, though he waited until the silence + became embarrassing. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I guess I better be gettin' down there,” he said, at last. “He + might worry.” + </p> + <p> + “Good-by—and thank you,” said Mary. + </p> + <p> + “For what?” + </p> + <p> + “For the letter.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” he said, blankly. “You're welcome. Good-by.” + </p> + <p> + Mary put out her hand. “Good-by.” + </p> + <p> + “You'll have to excuse my left hand,” he said. “I had a little accident to + the other one.” + </p> + <p> + She gave a pitying cry as she saw. “Oh, poor Mr. Sheridan!” + </p> + <p> + “Nothin' at all! Dictate everything nowadays, anyhow.” He laughed + jovially. “Did anybody tell you how it happened?” + </p> + <p> + “I heard you hurt your hand, but no—not just how.” + </p> + <p> + “It was this way,” he began, and both, as if unconsciously, sat down + again. “You may not know it, but I used to worry a good deal about the + youngest o' my boys—the one that used to come to see you sometimes, + after Jim—that is, I mean Bibbs. He's the one I spoke of as my + partner; and the truth is that's what it's just about goin' to amount to, + one o' these days—if his health holds out. Well, you remember, I + expect, I had him on a machine over at a plant o' mine; and sometimes I'd + kind o' sneak in there and see how he was gettin' along. Take a doctor + with me sometimes, because Bibbs never WAS so robust, you might say. Ole + Doc Gurney—I guess maybe you know him? Tall, thin man; acts sleepy—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, one day I an' ole Doc Gurney, we were in there, and I undertook to + show Bibbs how to run his machine. He told me to look out, but I wouldn't + listen, and I didn't look out—and that's how I got my hand hurt, + tryin' to show Bibbs how to do something he knew how to do and I didn't. + Made me so mad I just wouldn't even admit to myself it WAS hurt—and + so, by and by, ole Doc Gurney had to take kind o' radical measures with + me. He's a right good doctor, too. Don't you think so, Miss Vertrees?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he is so!” Sheridan now had the air of a rambling talker and gossip + with all day on his hands. “Take him on Bibbs's case. I was talkin' about + Bibbs's case with him this morning. Well, you'd laugh to hear the way ole + Gurney talks about THAT! 'Course he IS just as much a friend as he is + doctor—and he takes as much interest in Bibbs as if he was in the + family. He says Bibbs isn't anyways bad off YET; and he thinks he could + stand the pace and get fat on it if—well, this is what'd made YOU + laugh if you'd been there, Miss Vertrees—honest it would!” He paused + to chuckle, and stole a glance at her. She was gazing straight before her + at the wall; her lips were parted, and—visibly—she was + breathing heavily and quickly. He feared that she was growing furiously + angry; but he had led to what he wanted to say, and he went on, determined + now to say it all. He leaned forward and altered his voice to one of + confidential friendliness, though in it he still maintained a tone which + indicated that ole Doc Gurney's opinion was only a joke he shared with + her. “Yes, sir, you certainly would 'a' laughed! Why, that ole man thinks + YOU got something to do with it. You'll have to blame it on him, young + lady, if it makes you feel like startin' out to whip somebody! He's + actually got THIS theory: he says Bibbs got to gettin' better while he + worked over there at the shop because you kept him cheered up and feelin' + good. And he says if you could manage to just stand him hangin' around a + little—maybe not much, but just SOMEtimes—again, he believed + it'd do Bibbs a mighty lot o' good. 'Course, that's only what the doctor + said. Me, I don't know anything about that; but I can say this much—I + never saw any such a MENTAL improvement in anybody in my life as I have + lately in Bibbs. I expect you'd find him a good deal more entertaining + than what he used to be—and I know it's a kind of embarrassing thing + to suggest after the way he piled in over here that day to ask you to + stand up before the preacher with him, but accordin' to ole Doc GURNEY, + he's got you on his brain so bad—” + </p> + <p> + Mary jumped. “Mr. Sheridan!” she exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + He sighed profoundly. “There! I noticed you were gettin' mad. I didn't—” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, no!” she cried. “But I don't understand—and I think you + don't. What is it you want me to do?” + </p> + <p> + He sighed again, but this time with relief. “Well, well!” he said. “You're + right. It'll be easier to talk plain. I ought to known I could with you, + all the time. I just hoped you'd let that boy come and see you sometimes, + once more. Could you?” + </p> + <p> + “You don't understand.” She clasped her hands together in a sorrowful + gesture. “Yes, we must talk plain. Bibbs heard that I'd tried to make your + oldest son care for me because I was poor, and so Bibbs came and asked me + to marry him—because he was sorry for me. And I CAN'T see him any + more,” she cried in distress. “I CAN'T!” + </p> + <p> + Sheridan cleared his throat uncomfortably. “You mean because he thought + that about you?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no! What he thought was TRUE!” + </p> + <p> + “Well—you mean he was so much in—you mean he thought so much + of you—” The words were inconceivably awkward upon Sheridan's + tongue; he seemed to be in doubt even about pronouncing them, but after a + ghastly pause he bravely repeated them. “You mean he thought so much of + you that you just couldn't stand him around?” + </p> + <p> + “NO! He was sorry for me. He cared for me; he was fond of me; and he'd + respected me—too much! In the finest way he loved me, if you like, + and he'd have done anything on earth for me, as I would for him, and as he + knew I would. It was beautiful, Mr. Sheridan,” she said. “But the cheap, + bad things one has done seem always to come back—they wait, and pull + you down when you're happiest. Bibbs found me out, you see; and he wasn't + 'in love' with me at all.” + </p> + <p> + “He wasn't? Well, it seems to me he gave up everything he wanted to do—it + was fool stuff, but he certainly wanted it mighty bad—he just threw + it away and walked right up and took the job he swore he never would—just + for you. And it looks to me as if a man that'd do that must think quite a + heap o' the girl he does it for! You say it was only because he was sorry, + but let me tell you there's only ONE girl he could feel THAT sorry for! + Yes, sir!” + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” she said. “Bibbs isn't like other men—he would do anything + for anybody.” + </p> + <p> + Sheridan grinned. “Perhaps not so much as you think, nowadays,” he said. + “For instance, I got kind of a suspicion he doesn't believe in 'sentiment + in business.' But that's neither here nor there. What he wanted was, just + plain and simple, for you to marry him. Well, I was afraid his thinkin' so + much OF you had kind o' sickened you of him—the way it does + sometimes. But from the way you talk, I understand that ain't the + trouble.” He coughed, and his voice trembled a little. “Now here, Miss + Vertrees, I don't have to tell you—because you see things easy—I + know I got no business comin' to you like this, but I had to make Bibbs go + my way instead of his own—I had to do it for the sake o' my business + and on his own account, too—and I expect you got some idea how it + hurt him to give up. Well, he's made good. He didn't come in half-hearted + or mean; he came in—all the way! But there isn't anything in it to + him; you can see he's just shut his teeth on it and goin' ahead with dust + in his mouth. You see, one way of lookin' at it, he's got nothin' to work + FOR. And it seems to me like it cost him your friendship, and I believe—honest—that's + what hurt him the worst. Now you said we'd talk plain. Why can't you let + him come back?” + </p> + <p> + She covered her face desperately with her hands. “I can't!” + </p> + <p> + He rose, defeated, and looking it. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I mustn't press you,” he said, gently. + </p> + <p> + At that she cried out, and dropped her hands and let him see her face. + “Ah! He was only sorry for me!” + </p> + <p> + He gazed at her intently. Mary was proud, but she had a fatal honesty, and + it confessed the truth of her now; she was helpless. It was so clear that + even Sheridan, marveling and amazed, was able to see it. Then a change + came over him; gloom fell from him, and he grew radiant. + </p> + <p> + “Don't! Don't” she cried. “You mustn't—” + </p> + <p> + “I won't tell him,” said Sheridan, from the doorway. “I won't tell anybody + anything!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0033" id="link2HCH0033"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXIII + </h2> + <p> + There was a heavy town-fog that afternoon, a smoke-mist, densest in the + sanctuary of the temple. The people went about in it, busy and dirty, + thickening their outside and inside linings of coal-tar, asphalt, + sulphurous acid, oil of vitriol, and the other familiar things the men + liked to breathe and to have upon their skins and garments and upon their + wives and babies and sweethearts. The growth of the city was visible in + the smoke and the noise and the rush. There was more smoke than there had + been this day of February a year earlier; there was more noise; and the + crowds were thicker—yet quicker in spite of that. The traffic + policeman had a hard time, for the people were independent—they + retained some habits of the old market-town period, and would cross the + street anywhere and anyhow, which not only got them killed more frequently + than if they clung to the legal crossings, but kept the motormen, the + chauffeurs, and the truck-drivers in a stew of profane nervousness. So the + traffic policemen led harried lives; they themselves were killed, of + course, with a certain periodicity, but their main trouble was that they + could not make the citizens realize that it was actually and mortally + perilous to go about their city. It was strange, for there were probably + no citizens of any length of residence who had not personally known either + some one who had been killed or injured in an accident, or some one who + had accidentally killed or injured others. And yet, perhaps it was not + strange, seeing the sharp preoccupation of the faces—the people had + something on their minds; they could not stop to bother about dirt and + danger. + </p> + <p> + Mary Vertrees was not often down-town; she had never seen an accident + until this afternoon. She had come upon errands for her mother connected + with a timorous refurbishment; and as she did these, in and out of the + department stores, she had an insistent consciousness of the Sheridan + Building. From the street, anywhere, it was almost always in sight, like + some monstrous geometrical shadow, murk-colored and rising limitlessly + into the swimming heights of the smoke-mist. It was gaunt and grimy and + repellent; it had nothing but strength and size—but in that + consciousness of Mary's the great structure may have partaken of beauty. + Sheridan had made some of the things he said emphatic enough to remain + with her. She went over and over them—and they began to seem true: + “Only ONE girl he could feel THAT sorry for!” “Gurney says he's got you on + his brain so bad—” The man's clumsy talk began to sing in her heart. + The song was begun there when she saw the accident. + </p> + <p> + She was directly opposite the Sheridan Building then, waiting for the + traffic to thin before she crossed, though other people were risking the + passage, darting and halting and dodging parlously. Two men came from the + crowd behind her, talking earnestly, and started across. Both wore black; + one was tall and broad and thick, and the other was taller, but noticeably + slender. And Mary caught her breath, for they were Bibbs and his father. + They did not see her, and she caught a phrase in Bibbs's mellow voice, + which had taken a crisper ring: “Sixty-eight thousand dollars? Not + sixty-eight thousand buttons!” It startled her queerly, and as there was a + glimpse of his profile she saw for the first time a resemblance to his + father. + </p> + <p> + She watched them. In the middle of the street Bibbs had to step ahead of + his father, and the two were separated. But the reckless passing of a + truck, beyond the second line of rails, frightened a group of country + women who were in course of passage; they were just in front of Bibbs, and + shoved backward upon him violently. To extricate himself from them he + stepped back, directly in front of a moving trolley-car—no place for + absent-mindedness, but Bibbs was still absorbed in thoughts concerned with + what he had been saying to his father. There were shrieks and yells; Bibbs + looked the wrong way—and then Mary saw the heavy figure of Sheridan + plunge straight forward in front of the car. With absolute disregard of + his own life, he hurled himself at Bibbs like a football-player shunting + off an opponent, and to Mary it seemed that they both went down together. + But that was all she could see—automobiles, trucks, and wagons + closed in between. She made out that the trolley-car stopped jerkily, and + she saw a policeman breaking his way through the instantly condensing + crowd, while the traffic came to a standstill, and people stood up in + automobiles or climbed upon the hubs and tires of wheels, not to miss a + chance of seeing anything horrible. + </p> + <p> + Mary tried to get through; it was impossible. Other policemen came to help + the first, and in a minute or two the traffic was in motion again. The + crowd became pliant, dispersing—there was no figure upon the ground, + and no ambulance came. But one of the policemen was detained by the + clinging and beseeching of a gloved hand. + </p> + <p> + “What IS the matter, lady?” + </p> + <p> + “Where are they?” Mary cried. + </p> + <p> + “Who? Ole man Sheridan? I reckon HE wasn't much hurt!” + </p> + <p> + “His SON—” + </p> + <p> + “Was that who the other one was? I seen him knock him—oh, he's not + bad off, I guess, lady. The ole man got him out of the way all right. The + fender shoved the ole man around some, but I reckon he only got shook up. + They both went on in the Sheridan Building without any help. Excuse me, + lady.” + </p> + <p> + Sheridan and Bibbs, in fact, were at that moment in the elevator, + ascending. “Whisk-broom up in the office,” Sheridan was saying. “You got + to look out on those corners nowadays, I tell you. I don't know I got any + call to blow, though—because I tried to cross after you did. That's + how I happened to run into you. Well, you want to remember to look out + after this. We were talkin' about Murtrie's askin' sixty-eight thousand + flat for that ninety-nine-year lease. It's his lookout if he'd rather take + it that way, and I don't know but—” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Bibbs, emphatically, as the elevator stopped; “he won't get it. + Not from us, he won't, and I'll show you why. I can convince you in five + minutes.” He followed his father into the office anteroom—and + convinced him. Then, having been diligently brushed by a youth of color, + Bibbs went into his own room and closed the door. + </p> + <p> + He was more shaken than he had allowed his father to perceive, and his + side was sore where Sheridan had struck him. He desired to be alone; he + wanted to rub himself and, for once, to do some useless thinking again. He + knew that his father had not “happened” to run into him; he knew that + Sheridan had instantly—and instinctively—proved that he held + his own life of no account whatever compared to that of his son and heir. + Bibbs had been unable to speak of that, or to seem to know it; for + Sheridan, just as instinctively, had swept the matter aside—as of no + importance, since all was well—reverting immediately to business. + </p> + <p> + Bibbs began to think intently of his father. He perceived, as he had never + perceived before, the shadowing of something enormous and indomitable—and + lawless; not to be daunted by the will of nature's very self; laughing at + the lightning and at wounds and mutilation; conquering, irresistible—and + blindly noble. For the first time in his life Bibbs began to understand + the meaning of being truly this man's son. + </p> + <p> + He would be the more truly his son henceforth, though, as Sheridan said, + Bibbs had not come down-town with him meanly or half-heartedly. He had + given his word because he had wanted the money, simply, for Mary Vertrees + in her need. And he shivered with horror of himself, thinking how he had + gone to her to offer it, asking her to marry him—with his head on + his breast in shameful fear that she would accept him! He had not known + her; the knowing had lost her to him, and this had been his real + awakening; for he knew now how deep had been that slumber wherein he + dreamily celebrated the superiority of “friendship”! The sleep-walker had + wakened to bitter knowledge of love and life, finding himself a failure in + both. He had made a burnt offering of his dreams, and the sacrifice had + been an unforgivable hurt to Mary. All that was left for him was the work + he had not chosen, but at least he would not fail in that, though it was + indeed no more than “dust in his mouth.” If there had been anything “to + work for—” + </p> + <p> + He went to the window, raised it, and let in the uproar of the streets + below. He looked down at the blurred, hurrying swarms and he looked + across, over the roofs with their panting jets of vapor, into the vast, + foggy heart of the smoke. Dizzy traceries of steel were rising dimly + against it, chattering with steel on steel, and screeching in steam, while + tiny figures of men walked on threads in the dull sky. Buildings would + overtop the Sheridan. Bigness was being served. + </p> + <p> + But what for? The old question came to Bibbs with a new despair. Here, + where his eyes fell, had once been green fields and running brooks, and + how had the kind earth been despoiled and disfigured! The pioneers had + begun the work, but in their old age their orators had said for them that + they had toiled and risked and sacrificed that their posterity might live + in peace and wisdom, enjoying the fruits of the earth. Well, their + posterity was here—and there was only turmoil. Where was the + promised land? It had been promised by the soldiers of all the wars; it + had been promised to this generation by the pioneers; but here was the + very posterity to whom it had been promised, toiling and risking and + sacrificing in turn—for what? + </p> + <p> + The harsh roar of the city came in through the open window, continuously + beating upon Bibbs's ear until he began to distinguish a pulsation in it—a + broken and irregular cadence. It seemed to him that it was like a titanic + voice, discordant, hoarse, rustily metallic—the voice of the god, + Bigness. And the voice summoned Bibbs as it summoned all its servants. + </p> + <p> + “Come and work!” it seemed to yell. “Come and work for Me, all men! By + your youth and your hope I summon you! By your age and your despair I + summon you to work for Me yet a little, with what strength you have. By + your love of home I summon you! By your love of woman I summon you! By + your hope of children I summon you! + </p> + <p> + “You shall be blind slaves of Mine, blind to everything but Me, your + Master and Driver! For your reward you shall gaze only upon my ugliness. + You shall give your toil and your lives, you shall go mad for love and + worship of my ugliness! You shall perish still worshipping Me, and your + children shall perish knowing no other god!” + </p> + <p> + And then, as Bibbs closed the window down tight, he heard his father's + voice booming in the next room; he could not distinguish the words but the + tone was exultant—and there came the THUMP! THUMP! of the maimed + hand. Bibbs guessed that Sheridan was bragging of the city and of Bigness + to some visitor from out-of-town. + </p> + <p> + And he thought how truly Sheridan was the high priest of Bigness. But with + the old, old thought again, “What for?” Bibbs caught a glimmer of far, + faint light. He saw that Sheridan had all his life struggled and + conquered, and must all his life go on struggling and inevitably + conquering, as part of a vast impulse not his own. Sheridan served blindly—but + was the impulse blind? Bibbs asked himself if it was not he who had been + in the greater hurry, after all. The kiln must be fired before the vase is + glazed, and the Acropolis was not crowned with marble in a day. + </p> + <p> + Then the voice came to him again, but there was a strain in it as of some + high music struggling to be born of the turmoil. “Ugly I am,” it seemed to + say to him, “but never forget that I AM a god!” And the voice grew in + sonorousness and in dignity. “The highest should serve, but so long as you + worship me for my own sake I will not serve you. It is man who makes me + ugly, by his worship of me. If man would let me serve him, I should be + beautiful!” + </p> + <p> + Looking once more from the window, Bibbs sculptured for himself—in + the vague contortions of the smoke and fog above the roofs—a + gigantic figure with feet pedestaled upon the great buildings and + shoulders disappearing in the clouds, a colossus of steel and wholly + blackened with soot. But Bibbs carried his fancy further—for there + was still a little poet lingering in the back of his head—and he + thought that up over the clouds, unseen from below, the giant labored with + his hands in the clean sunshine; and Bibbs had a glimpse of what he made + there—perhaps for a fellowship of the children of the children that + were children now—a noble and joyous city, unbelievably white— + </p> + <p> + It was the telephone that called him from his vision. It rang fiercely. + </p> + <p> + He lifted the thing from his desk and answered—and as the small + voice inside it spoke he dropped the receiver with a crash. He trembled + violently as he picked it up, but he told himself he was wrong—he + had been mistaken—yet it was a startlingly beautiful voice; + startlingly kind, too, and ineffably like the one he hungered most to + hear. + </p> + <p> + “Who?” he said, his own voice shaking—like his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Mary.” + </p> + <p> + He responded with two hushed and incredulous words: “IS IT?” + </p> + <p> + There was a little thrill of pathetic half-laughter in the instrument. + “Bibbs—I wanted to—just to see if you—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—Mary?” + </p> + <p> + “I was looking when you were so nearly run over. I saw it, Bibbs. They + said you hadn't been hurt, they thought, but I wanted to know for myself.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, I wasn't hurt at all—Mary. It was father who came nearer + it. He saved me.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I saw; but you had fallen. I couldn't get through the crowd until + you had gone. And I wanted to KNOW.” + </p> + <p> + “Mary—would you—have minded?” he said. + </p> + <p> + There was a long interval before she answered. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Then why—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Bibbs?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know what to say,” he cried. “It's so wonderful to hear your + voice again—I'm shaking, Mary—I—I don't know—I + don't know anything except that I AM talking to you! It IS you—Mary?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Bibbs!” + </p> + <p> + “Mary—I've seen you from my window at home—only five times + since I—since then. You looked—oh, how can I tell you? It was + like a man chained in a cave catching a glimpse of the blue sky, Mary. + Mary, won't you—let me see you again—near? I think I could + make you really forgive me—you'd have to—” + </p> + <p> + “I DID—then.” + </p> + <p> + “No—not really—or you wouldn't have said you couldn't see me + any more.” + </p> + <p> + “That wasn't the reason.” The voice was very low. + </p> + <p> + “Mary,” he said, even more tremulously than before, “I can't—you + COULDN'T mean it was because—you can't mean it was because you—care?” + </p> + <p> + There was no answer. + </p> + <p> + “Mary?” he called, huskily. “If you mean THAT—you'd let me see you—wouldn't + you?” + </p> + <p> + And now the voice was so low he could not be sure it spoke at all, but if + it did, the words were, “Yes, Bibbs—dear.” + </p> + <p> + But the voice was not in the instrument—it was so gentle and so + light, so almost nothing, it seemed to be made of air—and it came + from the air. + </p> + <p> + Slowly and incredulously he turned—and glory fell upon his shining + eyes. The door of his father's room had opened. + </p> + <p> + Mary stood upon the threshold. + </p> + <p> + THE END <br /><br /> + </p> + <div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1098 ***</div> +</body> +</html> |