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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: His Family + +Author: Ernest Poole + +Release Date: December 20, 2004 [EBook #14396] +[Date last updated: April 8, 2005] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HIS FAMILY *** + + + + +Produced by Rick Niles, Melissa Er-Raqabi and the PG Online +Distributed Proofreading Team + + + + + + +</pre> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h1>HIS FAMILY</h1> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<!-- Autogenerated TOC. Modify or delete as required. --> +<p><a href="#CHAPTER_I"><b>CHAPTER I</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_II"><b>CHAPTER II</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_III"><b>CHAPTER III</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_IV"><b>CHAPTER IV</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_V"><b>CHAPTER V</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VI"><b>CHAPTER VI</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VII"><b>CHAPTER VII</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VIII"><b>CHAPTER VIII</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_IX"><b>CHAPTER IX</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_X"><b>CHAPTER X</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XI"><b>CHAPTER XI</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XII"><b>CHAPTER XII</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIII"><b>CHAPTER XIII</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIV"><b>CHAPTER XIV</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XV"><b>CHAPTER XV</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVI"><b>CHAPTER XVI</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVII"><b>CHAPTER XVII</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII"><b>CHAPTER XVIII</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIX"><b>CHAPTER XIX</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XX"><b>CHAPTER XX</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXI"><b>CHAPTER XXI</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXII"><b>CHAPTER XXII</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII"><b>CHAPTER XXIII</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV"><b>CHAPTER XXIV</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXV"><b>CHAPTER XXV</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI"><b>CHAPTER XXVI</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII"><b>CHAPTER XXVII</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIII"><b>CHAPTER XXVIII</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIX"><b>CHAPTER XXIX</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXX"><b>CHAPTER XXX</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXI"><b>CHAPTER XXXI</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXII"><b>CHAPTER XXXII</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIII"><b>CHAPTER XXXIII</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIV"><b>CHAPTER XXXIV</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXV"><b>CHAPTER XXXV</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVI"><b>CHAPTER XXXVI</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVII"><b>CHAPTER XXXVII</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVIII"><b>CHAPTER XXXVIII</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIX"><b>CHAPTER XXXIX</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XL"><b>CHAPTER XL</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XLI"><b>CHAPTER XLI</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XLII"><b>CHAPTER XLII</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XLIII"><b>CHAPTER XLIII</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XLIV"><b>CHAPTER XLIV</b></a></p> +<!-- End Autogenerated TOC. --> +<h5>THE MACMILLAN COMPANY</h5> +<h5>NEW YORK BOSTON CHICAGO DALLAS</h5> +<h5>ATLANTA SAN FRANCISCO</h5> +<h5>MACMILLAN & CO., LIMITED</h5> +<h5>LONDON BOMBAY CALCUTTA</h5> +<h5>MELBOURNE</h5> +<h5>THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, LTD. TORONTO</h5> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h1>HIS FAMILY</h1> +<h3>BY</h3> +<h2>ERNEST POOLE</h2> +<h3>AUTHOR OF "THE HARBOR"</h3> +<h5>New York THE MACMILLAN COMPANY. 1917</h5> +<h5><i>All rights reserved</i></h5> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h5>COPYRIGHT, 1916 AND 1917</h5> +<h5>BY THE RIDGWAY COMPANY</h5> +<h5>COPYRIGHT, 1917 BY THE MACMILLAN COMPANY</h5> +<h5>Set up and electrotyped. Published May, 1917.</h5> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="TO_MA" id="TO_MA"></a>TO M.A.</h2> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h1>HIS FAMILY</h1> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a><span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1"></a>[1]</span>CHAPTER I</h2> +<p>He was thinking of the town he had known. Not of <i>old</i> New +York—he had heard of that from old, old men when he himself +had still been young and had smiled at their garrulity. He was +thinking of a <i>young</i> New York, the mighty throbbing city to +which he had come long ago as a lad from the New Hampshire +mountains. A place of turbulent thoroughfares, of shouting drivers, +hurrying crowds, the crack of whips and the clatter of wheels; an +uproarious, thrilling town of enterprise, adventure, youth; a city +of pulsing energies, the center of a boundless land; a port of +commerce with all the world, of stately ships with snowy sails; a +fascinating pleasure town, with throngs of eager travellers +hurrying from the ferry boats and rolling off in hansom cabs to the +huge hotels on Madison Square. A city where American faces were +still to be seen upon all its streets, a cleaner and a kindlier +town, with more courtesy in its life, less of the vulgar scramble. +A city of houses, separate homes, of quiet streets with rustling +trees, with people on the doorsteps upon warm summer evenings and +groups of youngsters singing as they came trooping by in the dark. +A place of music and romance. At the old opera house downtown, on +those dazzling evenings when as a boy he had ushered there for the +sake of hearing the music, how the rich joy of being alive, of +being young, of being loved, had shone out of women's eyes. +Shimmering satins, dainty gloves and little jewelled slippers, +shapely arms and shoulders, vivacious movements, nods and smiles, +swift glances, ripples, bursts <span class="pagenum"><a name= +"Page_2" id="Page_2"></a>[2]</span>of laughter, an exciting hum of +voices. Then silence, sudden darkness—and music, and the +curtain. The great wide curtain slowly rising....</p> +<p>But all that had passed away.</p> +<p>Roger Gale was a rugged heavy man not quite sixty years of age. +His broad, massive features were already deeply furrowed, and there +were two big flecks of white in his close-curling, grayish hair. He +lived in a narrow red brick house down on the lower west side of +the town, in a neighborhood swiftly changing. His wife was dead. He +had no sons, but three grown daughters, of whom the oldest, Edith, +had been married many years. Laura and Deborah lived at home, but +they were both out this evening. It was Friday, Edith's evening, +and as was her habit she had come from her apartment uptown to dine +with her father and play chess. In the living room, a cheerful +place, with its lamp light and its shadows, its old-fashioned +high-back chairs, its sofa, its book cases, its low marble mantel +with the gilt mirror overhead, they sat at a small oval table in +front of a quiet fire of coals. And through the smoke of his cigar +Roger watched his daughter.</p> +<p>Edith had four children, and was soon to have another. A small +demure woman of thirty-five, with light soft hair and clear blue +eyes and limbs softly rounded, the contour of her features was full +with approaching maternity, but there was a decided firmness in the +lines about her little mouth. As he watched her now, her father's +eyes, deep set and gray and with signs of long years of suffering +in them, displayed a grave whimsical wistfulness. For by the way +she was playing the game he saw how old she thought him. Her play +was slow and absent-minded, and there came long periods when she +did not make a move. Then she would recall herself and look up with +a little affectionate smile that showed she looked upon him as too +heavy with his age to have noticed her small lapses.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id= +"Page_3"></a>[3]</span>He was grimly amused at her attitude, for he +did not feel old at all. With that whimsical hint of a smile which +had grown to be a part of him, he tried various moves on the board +to see how far he could go without interrupting her reveries. He +checkmated her, re-lit his cigar and waited until she should notice +it. And when she did not notice, gravely he moved back his queen +and let the game continue. How many hundreds of games, he thought, +Edith must have played with him in the long years when his spirit +was dead, for her now to take such chances. Nearly every Friday +evening for nearly sixteen years.</p> +<p>Before that, Judith his wife had been here. It was then that the +city had been young, for to Roger it had always seemed as though he +were just beginning life. Into its joys and sorrows too he had +groped his way as most of us do, and had never penetrated deep. But +he had meant to, later on. When in his busy city days distractions +had arisen, always he had promised himself that sooner or later he +would return to this interest or passion, for the world still lay +before him with its enthralling interests, its beauties and its +pleasures, its tasks and all its puzzles, intricate and baffling, +all some day to be explored.</p> +<p>This deep zest in Roger Gale had been bred in his boyhood on a +farm up in the New Hampshire mountains. There his family had lived +for many generations. And from the old house, the huge shadowy barn +and the crude little sawmill down the road; from animals, grown +people and still more from other boys, from the meadows and the +mountain above with its cliffs and caves and forests of pine, young +Roger had discovered, even in those early years, that life was +fresh, abundant, new, with countless glad beginnings.</p> +<p>At seventeen he had come to New York. There had followed hard +struggles in lean years, but his rugged health had buoyed him up. +And there had been genial friendships and dreams and explorations, +a search for romance, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id= +"Page_4"></a>[4]</span>the strange glory of love, a few furtive +ventures that left him dismayed. But though love had seemed sordid +at such times it had brought him crude exultations. And if his +existence had grown more obscure, it had been somber only in +patches, the main picture dazzling still. And still he had been +just making starts.</p> +<p>He had ventured into the business world, clerking now at this, +now at that, and always looking about him for some big opportunity. +It had come and he had seized it, despite the warnings of his +friends. What a wild adventure it had been a bureau of news +clippings, a business new and unheard of but he had been sure that +here was growth, he had worked at it day and night, and the +business widening fast had revealed long ramifications which went +winding and stretching away into every phase of American life. And +this life was like a forest, boundless and impenetrable, +up-springing, intertwining. How much could <i>he</i> ever know of +it all?</p> +<p>Then had come his marriage. Judith's family had lived long in +New York, but some had died and others had scattered until only she +was left. This house had been hers, but she had been poor, so she +had leased it to some friends. It was through them he had met her +here, and within a few weeks he had fallen in love. He had felt +profound disgust for the few wild oats he had sown, and in his +swift reaction he had overworshipped the girl, her beauty and her +purity, until in a delicate way of her own she had hinted that he +was going too far, that she, too, was human and a passionate lover +of living, in spite of her low quiet voice and her demure and sober +eyes.</p> +<p>And what beginnings for Roger now, what a piling up of intimate +joys, surprises, shocks of happiness. There had come +disappointments, too, sudden severe little checks from his wife +which had brought him occasional questionings. This love had not +been quite <i>all</i> he had dreamed, this woman not so ardent. He +had glimpsed couples here and <span class="pagenum"><a name= +"Page_5" id="Page_5"></a>[5]</span>there that set him to imagining +more consuming passions. Here again he had not explored very deep. +But he had dismissed regrets like these with only a slight +reluctance. For if they had settled down a bit with the coming of +their children, their love had grown rich in sympathies and silent +understandings, in humorous enjoyment of their funny little +daughters' chattering like magpies in the genial old house. And +they had looked happily far ahead. What a woman she had been for +plans. It had not been all smooth sailing. There had come reverses +in business, and at home one baby, a boy, had died. But on they had +gone and the years had swept by until he had reached his forties. +Absorbed in his growing business and in his thriving family, it had +seemed to Roger still as though he were just starting out.</p> +<p>But one day, quite suddenly, the house had become a strange +place to him with a strange remote figure in it, his wife. For he +had learned that she must die. There had followed terrible weeks. +Then Judith had faced their disaster. Little by little she had won +back the old intimacy with her husband; and through the slow but +inexorable progress of her ailment, again they had come together in +long talks and plans for their children. At this same chessboard, +in this room, repeatedly she would stop the game and smiling she +would look into the future. At one such time she had said to +him,</p> +<p>"I wonder if it won't be the same with the children as it has +been with us. No matter how long each one of them lives, won't +their lives feel to them unfinished like ours, only just beginning? +I wonder how far they will go. And then their children will grow up +and it will be the same with them. Unfinished lives. Oh, dearie, +what children all of us are."</p> +<p>He had put his arm around her then and had held her very tight. +And feeling the violent trembling of her husband's fierce revolt, +slowly bending back her <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id= +"Page_6"></a>[6]</span>head and looking up into his eyes she had +continued steadily:</p> +<p>"And when you come after me, my dear, oh, how hungry I shall be +for all you will tell me. For you will live on in our children's +lives."</p> +<p>And she had asked him to promise her that.</p> +<p>But he had not kept his promise. For after Judith's dying he had +felt himself terribly alone, with eternity around him, his wife +slipping far away. And the universe had grown stark and hard, +impersonal, relentless, cold. A storm of doubts had attacked his +faith. And though he had resisted long, for his faith in God had +been rooted deep in the mountains of New England, in the end it had +been wrenched away, and with it he had lost all hope that either +for Judith or himself was there any existence beyond the grave. So +death had come to Roger's soul. He had been deaf and blind to his +children. Nights by the thousand spent alone. Like a gray level +road in his memory now was the story of his family.</p> +<p>When had his spirit begun to awaken? He could not tell, it had +been so slow. His second daughter, Deborah, who had stayed at home +with her father when Laura had gone away to school, had done little +things continually to rouse his interest in life. Edith's winsome +babies had attracted him when they came to the house. Laura had +returned from school, a joyous creature, tall and slender, with +snapping black eyes, and had soon made her presence felt. One day +in the early afternoon, as he entered the house there had burst on +his ears a perfect gale of laughter; and peering through the +portières he had seen the dining-room full of young girls, a +crew as wild as Laura herself. Hastily he had retreated upstairs. +But he had enjoyed such glimpses. He had liked to see her fresh +pretty gowns and to have her come in and kiss him good-night.</p> +<p>Then had come a sharp heavy jolt. His business had suffered from +long neglect, and suddenly for two anxious <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7"></a>[7]</span>weeks he had +found himself facing bankruptcy. Edith's husband, a lawyer, had +come to his aid and together they had pulled out of the hole. But +he had been forced to mortgage the house. And this had brought to a +climax all the feelings of guiltiness which had so long been +stirring within him over his failure to live up to the promise he +had made his wife.</p> +<p>And so Roger had looked at his children.</p> +<p>And at first to his profound surprise he had had it forced upon +him that these were three grown women, each equipped with her own +peculiar feminine traits and desires, the swift accumulations of +lives which had expanded in a city that had reared to the skies in +the many years of his long sleep. But very slowly, month by month, +he had gained a second impression which seemed to him deeper and +more real. To the eye they were grown women all, but inwardly they +were children still, each groping for her happiness and each held +back as he had been, either by checks within herself or by the gay +distractions of the absorbing city. He saw each of his daughters, +parts of himself. And he remembered what Judith had said: "You will +live on in our children's lives." And he began to get glimmerings +of a new immortality, made up of generations, an endless succession +of other lives extending into the future.</p> +<p>Some of all this he remembered now, in scattered fragments here +and there. Then from somewhere far away a great bell began booming +the hour, and it roused him from his revery. He had often heard the +bell of late. A calm deep-toned intruder, it had first struck in +upon his attention something over two years ago. Vaguely he had +wondered about it. Soon he had found it was on the top of a tower a +little to the north, one of the highest pinnacles of this +tumultuous modern town. But the bell was not tumultuous. And as he +listened it seemed to say, "There is still time, but you have not +long."</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id= +"Page_8"></a>[8]</span>Edith, sitting opposite him, looked up at +the sound with a stir of relief. Ten o'clock. It was time to go +home.</p> +<p>"I wonder what's keeping Bruce," she said. Bruce was still in +his office downtown. As a rule on Friday evenings he came with his +wife to supper here, but this week he had some new business on +hand. Edith was vague about it. As she tried to explain she knitted +her brows and said that Bruce was working too hard. And her father +grunted assent.</p> +<p>"Bruce ought to knock off every summer," he said, "for a good +solid month, or better two. Can't you bring him up to the mountains +this year?" He referred to the old New Hampshire home which he had +kept as a summer place. But Edith smiled at the idea.</p> +<p>"Yes, I could bring him," she replied, "and in a week he'd be +perfectly crazy to get back to his office again." She compressed +her lips. "I know what he needs—and we'll do it some day, in +spite of him."</p> +<p>"A suburb, eh," her father said, and his face took on a look of +dislike. They had often talked of suburbs.</p> +<p>"Yes," his daughter answered, "I've picked out the very house." +He threw at her a glance of impatience. He knew what had started +her on this line. Edith's friend, Madge Deering, was living out in +Morristown. All very well, he reflected, but her case was not at +all the same. He had known Madge pretty well. Although the death of +her husband had left her a widow at twenty-nine, with four small +daughters to bring up, she had gone on determinedly. Naturally +smart and able, Madge was always running to town, keeping up with +all her friends and with every new fad and movement there, although +she made fun of most of them. Twice she had taken her girls abroad. +But Edith was quite different. In a suburb she would draw into her +house and never grow another inch. And Bruce, poor devil, would +commute and take work home from the office. But Roger couldn't tell +her that.</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id= +"Page_9"></a>[9]</span>I'd be sorry to see you do it," he said. +"I'd miss you up in the mountains."</p> +<p>"Oh, we'd come up in the summer," she answered. "I wouldn't miss +the mountains for worlds!"</p> +<p>Then they talked of summer plans. And soon again Edith's smooth +pretty brows were wrinkling absorbedly. It was hard in her planning +not to be sure whether her new baby would come in May or early +June. It was only the first of April now. While she talked her +father watched her. He liked her quiet fearlessness in facing the +ordeal ahead. Into the bewildering city he felt her searching +anxiously to find good things for her small brood, to make every +dollar count, to keep their little bodies strong, to guard their +hungry little souls from many things she thought were bad. Of all +his daughters, he told himself, she was the one most like his +wife.</p> +<p>While she was talking Bruce came in. Of medium height and a wiry +build, his quick kindly smile of greeting did not conceal the fine +tight lines about his mouth and between his eyes. His small trim +moustache was black, but his hair already showed streaks of gray +although he was not quite thirty-eight, and as he lit a cigarette +his right hand twitched perceptibly.</p> +<p>Bruce Cunningham had married just after he left law school. He +had worked in a law office which took receiverships by the score, +and through managing bankrupt concerns by slow degrees he had made +himself a financial surgeon. He had set up an office of his own and +was doing splendidly. But he worked under fearful tension. Bruce +had to deal with bankrupts who had barely closed their eyes for +weeks, men half out of their minds from the strain, the struggle to +keep up their heads in those angry waters of finance which Roger +vaguely pictured as a giant whirlpool. Though honest enough in his +own affairs, Bruce showed a genial relish for all the tricks of the +savage world which was as the breath to his nostrils. And at +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id= +"Page_10"></a>[10]</span>times he appeared so wise and keen he made +Roger feel like a child. But again it was Bruce who seemed the +child. He seemed to be so naïve at times, and Edith had him so +under her thumb. Roger liked to hear Bruce's stories of business, +when Edith would let her husband talk. But this she would not often +do, for she said Bruce needed rest at night. She reproved him now +for staying so late, she wrung from him the fact that he'd had no +supper.</p> +<p>"Well, Bruce," she exclaimed impatiently, "now isn't that just +like you? You're going straight home—that's where you're +going—"</p> +<p>"To be fed up and put to bed," her husband grumbled +good-naturedly. And while she made ready to bundle him off he +turned to his father-in-law.</p> +<p>"What do you think's my latest?" he asked, and he gave a low +chuckle which Roger liked. "Last week I was a brewer, to-day I'm an +engineer," he said. "Can you beat it? A building contractor. Me." +And as he smoked his cigarette, in laconic phrases he explained how +a huge steel construction concern had gone to the wall, through +building skyscrapers "on spec" and outstripping even the growth of +New York. "They got into court last week," he said, "and the judge +handed me the receivership. The judge and I have been chums for +years. He has hay fever—so do I."</p> +<p>"Come, Bruce, I'm ready," said his wife.</p> +<p>"I've been in their office all day," he went on. "Their general +manager was stark mad. He hadn't been out of the office since last +Sunday night, he said. You had to ask him a question and +wait—while he looked at you and held onto his chair. He broke +down and blubbered—the poor damn fool—he'll be in +Matteawan in a week—"</p> +<p>"You'll be there yourself if you don't come home," broke in +Edith's voice impatiently.</p> +<p>"And out of that poor devil, and out of the mess his books are +in, I've been learning engineering!"</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id= +"Page_11"></a>[11]</span>He had followed his wife out on the steps. +He turned back with a quick appealing smile:</p> +<p>"Well, good-night—see you soon—"</p> +<p>"Good-night, my boy," said Roger. "Good luck to the +engineering."</p> +<p>"Oh, father dear," cried Edith, from the taxi down below. +"Remember supper Sunday night—"</p> +<p>"I won't forget," said Roger.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>He watched them start off up the street. The night was soft, +refreshing, and the place was quiet and personal. The house was one +of a dozen others, some of red brick and some of brown stone, that +stood in an uneven row on a street but a few rods in length, one +side of a little triangular park enclosed by a low iron fence, +inside of which were a few gnarled trees and three or four park +benches. On one of these benches his eye was caught by the figure +of an old woman there, and he stood a moment watching her, some +memory stirring in his mind.</p> +<p>Occasionally somebody passed. Otherwise it was silent here. But +even in the silence could be felt the throes of change; the very +atmosphere seemed charged with drastic things impending. Already +the opposite house line had been broken near the center by a high +apartment building, and another still higher rose like a cliff just +back of the house in which Roger lived. Still others, and many +factory lofts, reared shadowy bulks on every hand. From the top of +one an enormous sign, a corset pictured forth in lights, flashed +out at regular intervals; and from farther off, high up in the +misty haze of the night, could be seen the gleaming pinnacle where +hour by hour that great bell slowly boomed the time away. Yes, here +the old was passing. Already the tiny parklet was like the dark +bottom of a pit, with the hard sparkling modern town towering on +every side, slowly pressing, pressing in and glaring down with +yellow eyes.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id= +"Page_12"></a>[12]</span>But Roger noticed none of these things. He +watched the old woman on the bench and groped for the memory she +had stirred. Ah, now at last he had it. An April night long, long +ago, when he had sat where she was now, while here in the house his +wife's first baby, Edith, had begun her life....</p> +<p>Slowly he turned and went inside.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a><span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13"></a>[13]</span>CHAPTER +II</h2> +<p>Roger's hearing was extremely acute. Though the room where he +was sitting, his study, was at the back of the house, he heard +Deborah's key at the street door and he heard the door softly open +and close.</p> +<p>"Are you there, dearie?" Her voice from the hallway was low; and +his answer, "Yes, child," was in the same tone, as though she were +with him in the room. This keen sense of hearing had long been a +peculiar bond between them. To her father, Deborah's voice was the +most distinctive part of her, for often as he listened the memory +came of her voice as a girl, unpleasant, hurried and stammering. +But she had overcome all that. "No grown woman," she had declared, +when she was eighteen, "has any excuse for a voice like mine." That +was eleven years ago; and the voice she had acquired since, with +its sweet magnetic quality, its clear and easy articulation, was to +him an expression of Deborah's growth. As she took off her coat and +hat in the hall she said, in the same low tone as before,</p> +<p>"Edith has been here, I suppose—"</p> +<p>"Yes—"</p> +<p>"I'm so sorry I missed her. I tried to get home early, but it +has been a busy night."</p> +<p>Her voice sounded tired, comfortably so, and she looked that way +as she came in. Though only a little taller than Edith, she was of +a sturdier build and more decided features. Her mouth was large +with a humorous droop and her face rather broad with high +cheekbones. As she put her soft black hair up over her high +forehead, her father noticed her birthmark, a faint curving line of +red <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id= +"Page_14"></a>[14]</span>running up from between her eyes. +Imperceptible as a rule, it showed when she was tired. In the big +school in the tenements where she had taught for many years, she +gave herself hard without stint to her work, but she had such a +good time through it all. She had a way, too, he reflected, of +always putting things in their place. As now she came in and kissed +him and sank back on his leather lounge with a tranquil breath of +relief, she seemed to be dropping school out of her life.</p> +<p>Roger picked up his paper and continued his reading. Presently +they would have a talk, but first he knew that she wanted to lie +quite still for a little while. Vaguely he pictured her work that +night, her class-room packed to bursting with small Jews and +Italians, and Deborah at the blackboard with a long pointer in her +hand. The fact that for the last two years she had been the +principal of her school had made little impression upon him.</p> +<p>And meanwhile, as she lay back with eyes closed, her mind still +taut from the evening called up no simple class-room but far +different places—a mass meeting in Carnegie Hall where she +had just been speaking, some schools which she had visited out in +Indiana, a block of tenements far downtown and the private office +of the mayor. For her school had long curious arms these days.</p> +<p>"Was Bruce here too this evening?" she asked her father +presently. Roger finished what he was reading, then looked over to +the lounge, which was in a shadowy corner.</p> +<p>"Yes, he came in late." And he went on to tell her of Bruce's +"engineering." At once she was interested. Rising on one elbow she +questioned him good-humoredly, for Deborah was fond of Bruce.</p> +<p>"Has he bought that automobile he wanted?"</p> +<p>"No," replied her father. "Edith said they couldn't afford +it."</p> +<p>"Why not?"</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id= +"Page_15"></a>[15]</span>This time it's the dentist's bills. Young +Betsy's teeth aren't straightened yet—and as soon as she's +been beautified they're going to put the clamps on George."</p> +<p>"Poor Georgie," Deborah murmured. At the look of pain and +disapproval on her father's heavy face, she smiled quietly to +herself. George, who was Edith's oldest and the worry of her days, +was Roger's favorite grandson. "Has he been bringing home any more +sick dogs?"</p> +<p>"No, this time it was a rat—a white one," Roger answered. +A glint of dry relish appeared in his eyes. "George brought it home +the other night. He had on a pair of ragged old pants."</p> +<p>"What on earth—"</p> +<p>"He had traded his own breeches for the rat," said Roger +placidly.</p> +<p>"No! Oh, father! Really!" And she sank back laughing on the +lounge.</p> +<p>"His school report," said Roger, "was quite as bad as ever."</p> +<p>"Of course it was," said Deborah. And she spoke so sharply that +her father glanced at her in surprise. She was up again on one +elbow, and there was an eager expression on her bright attractive +face. "Do you know what we're going to do some day? We're going to +put the rat in the school," Deborah said impatiently. "We're going +to take a boy like George and study him till we think we know just +what interests him most. And if in his case it's animals, we'll +have a regular zoo in school. And for other boys we'll have other +things they really want to know about. And we'll keep them until +five o'clock—when their mothers will have to drag them away." +Her father looked bewildered.</p> +<p>"But arithmetic, my dear."</p> +<p>"You'll find they'll have learned their arithmetic without +knowing it," Deborah answered.</p> +<p>"Sounds a bit wild," murmured Roger. Again to his <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16"></a>[16]</span>mind came +the picture of hordes of little Italians and Jews. "My dear, if I +had <i>your children</i> to teach, I don't think I'd add a zoo," he +said. And with a breath of discomfort he turned back to his +reading. He knew that he ought to question her, to show an interest +in her work. But he had a deep aversion for those millions of +foreign tenement people, always shoving, shoving upward through the +filth of their surroundings. They had already spoiled his +neighborhood, they had flowed up like an ocean tide. And so he read +his paper, frowning guiltily down at the page. He glanced up in a +little while and saw Deborah smiling across at him, reading his +dislike of such talk. The smile which he sent back at her was half +apologetic, half an appeal for mercy. And Deborah seemed to +understand. She went into the living room, and there at the piano +she was soon playing softly. Listening from his study, again the +feeling came to him of her fresh and abundant vitality. He mused a +little enviously on how it must feel to be strong like that, never +really tired.</p> +<p>And while her father thought in this wise, Deborah at the piano, +leaning back with eyes half closed, could feel her tortured nerves +relax, could feel her pulse stop throbbing so and the dull aching +at her temples little by little pass away. She played like this so +many nights. Soon she would be ready for sleep.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>After she had gone to bed, Roger rose heavily from his chair. By +long habit he went about the house trying the windows and turning +out lights. Last he came to the front door. There were double outer +doors with a ponderous system of locks and bolts and a heavy chain. +Mechanically he fastened them all; and putting out the light in the +hall, in the darkness he went up the stairs. He could so easily +feel his way. He put his hand lightly, first on the foot of the +banister, then on a curve in it halfway up, again on the sharper +curve at the top and last on the <span class="pagenum"><a name= +"Page_17" id="Page_17"></a>[17]</span>knob of his bedroom door. And +it was as though these guiding objects came out to meet him like +old friends.</p> +<p>In his bedroom, while he slowly undressed, his glance was caught +by the picture upon the wall opposite his bed, a little landscape +poster done in restful tones of blue, of two herdsmen and their +cattle far up on a mountainside in the hour just before the dawn, +tiny clear-cut silhouettes against the awakening eastern sky. So +immense and still, this birth of the day—the picture always +gave him the feeling of life everlasting. Judith his wife had +placed it there.</p> +<p>From his bed through the window close beside him he looked up at +the cliff-like wall of the new apartment building, with tier upon +tier of windows from which murmurous voices dropped out of the +dark: now soft, now suddenly angry, loud; now droning, sullen, +bitter, hard; now gay with little screams of mirth; now low and +amorous, drowsy sounds. Tier upon tier of modern homes, all +overhanging Roger's house as though presently to crush it down.</p> +<p>But Roger was not thinking of that. He was thinking of his +children—of Edith's approaching confinement and all her +anxious hunting about to find what was best for her family, of +Bruce and the way he was driving himself in the unnatural world +downtown where men were at each other's throats, of Deborah and +that school of hers in the heart of a vast foul region of tenement +buildings swarming with strange, dirty little urchins. And last he +thought of Laura, his youngest daughter, wild as a hawk, gadding +about the Lord knew where. She even danced in restaurants! Through +his children he felt flowing into his house the seething life of +this new town. And drowsily he told himself he must make a real +effort, and make it soon, to know his family better. For in spite +of the storm of long ago which had swept away his faith in God, the +feeling had come to him of late that somewhere, in some manner, he +was to meet his wife again. He rarely tried to think <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18"></a>[18]</span>this out, +for as soon as he did it became a mere wish, a hungry longing, +nothing more. So he had learned to let it lie, deep down inside of +him. Sometimes he vividly saw her face. After all, who could tell? +And she would want to hear of her children. Yes, he must know them +better. Some day soon he must begin.</p> +<p>Suddenly he remembered that Laura had not yet come home. With a +sigh of discomfort he got out of bed and went downstairs, re-lit +the gas in the hallway, unfastened the locks and the chain at the +door. He came back and was soon asleep. He must have dozed for an +hour or two. He was roused by hearing the front door close and a +big motor thundering. And then like a flash of light in the dark +came Laura's rippling laughter.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a><span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19"></a>[19]</span>CHAPTER +III</h2> +<p>On the next evening, Saturday, while Roger ate his dinner, Laura +came to sit with him. She herself was dining out. That she should +have dressed so early in order to keep him company had caused her +father some surprise, and a faint suspicion entered his mind that +she had overdrawn at the bank, as she had the last time she sat +with him like this. Her manner certainly was a bit strange.</p> +<p>But Roger put the thought aside. Whatever she wanted, Laura was +worth it. In a tingling fashion he felt what a glorious time she +was having, what a gorgeous town she knew. It was difficult to +realize she was his own daughter, this dashing stranger sitting +here, playing idly with a knife and caressing him with her voice +and her eyes. The blue evening gown she was wearing to-night +(doubtless not yet paid for) made her figure even more supple and +lithe, set off her splendid bosom, her slender neck, her creamy +skin. Her hair, worn low over her temples, was brown with just a +tinge of red. Her eyes were black, with gleaming lights; her lips +were warm and rich, alive. He did not approve of her lips. Once +when she had kissed him Roger had started slightly back. For his +daughter's lips were rouged, and they had reminded him of his +youth. He had asked her sister to speak to her. But Deborah had +told him she did not care to speak to people in that +way—"especially women—especially sisters," she had +said, with a quiet smile. All very well, he reflected, but somebody +ought to take Laura in hand.</p> +<p>She had been his favorite as a child, his pet, his tiny +daughter. He remembered her on his lap like a kitten. How she had +liked to cuddle there. And she had liked to <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20"></a>[20]</span>bite his +hand, a curious habit in a child. "I hurt daddy!" He could still +recollect the gay little laugh with which she said that, looking up +brightly into his face.</p> +<p>And here she was already grown, and like a light in the sober +old house, fascinating while she disturbed him. He liked to hear +her high pitched voice, gossiping in Deborah's room or in her own +dainty chamber chatting with the adoring maid who was dressing her +to go out. He loved her joyous thrilling laugh. And he would have +missed her from the house as he would have missed Fifth Avenue if +it had been dropped from the city. For the picture Roger had formed +of this daughter was more of a symbol than of a girl, a symbol of +the ardent town, spending, wasting, dancing mad. It was Laura who +had kept him living right up to his income.</p> +<p>"Where are you dining to-night?" he asked.</p> +<p>"With the Raymonds." He wondered who they were. "Oh, Sarah," she +added to the maid. "Call up Mrs. Raymond's apartment and ask what +time is dinner to-night."</p> +<p>"Are you going to dance later on?" he inquired.</p> +<p>"Oh, I guess so," she replied. "On the Astor Roof, I think they +said—"</p> +<p>Her father went on with his dinner. These hotel dances, he had +heard, ran well into Sunday morning. How Judith would have +disapproved. He hesitated uneasily.</p> +<p>"I don't especially care for this dancing into Sunday," he said. +For a moment he did not look up from his plate. When he did he saw +Laura regarding him.</p> +<p>"Oh, do you mind? I'm sorry. I won't, after this," she answered. +And Roger colored angrily, for the glint of amusement in Laura's +mischievous black eyes revealed quite unmistakably that she +regarded both her father and his feeling for the Sabbath as very +dear and quaint and old. Old? Of course he seemed old to +<i>her</i>, Roger thought indignantly. For what was Laura but a +child? Did she ever think of anything except having a good time? +Had <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id= +"Page_21"></a>[21]</span>she ever stopped to think out her own +morals, let alone anyone else's? Was she any judge of what was +old—or of <i>who</i> was old? And he determined then and +there to show her he was in his prime. Impatiently he strove to +remember the names of her friends and ask her about them, to show a +keen lively interest in this giddy gaddy life she led. And when +that was rather a failure he tried his daughter next on books, +books of the most modern kind. Stoutly he lied and said he was +reading a certain Russian novel of which he had heard Deborah +speak. But this valiant falsehood made no impression whatever, for +Laura had never heard of the book.</p> +<p>"I get so little time for reading," she murmured. And meanwhile +she was thinking, "As soon as he finishes talking, poor dear, I'll +break the news."</p> +<p>Then Roger had an audacious thought. He would take her to a +play, by George! Mustering his courage he led up to it by speaking +of a play Deborah had seen, a full-fledged modern drama all +centered upon the right of a woman "to lead her own life." And as +he outlined the story, he saw he had caught his daughter's +attention. With her pretty chin resting on one hand, watching him +and listening, she appeared much older, and she seemed suddenly +close to him.</p> +<p>"How would you like to go with me and see it some evening?" he +inquired.</p> +<p>"See what, my love?" she asked him, her thoughts plainly far +away; and he looked at her in astonishment:</p> +<p>"That play I've just been speaking of!"</p> +<p>"Why, daddy, I'd love to!" she exclaimed.</p> +<p>"When?" he asked. And he fixed a night. He was proud of himself. +Eagerly he began to talk of opening nights at Wallack's. Roger and +Judith, when they were young, had been great first nighters there. +And now it was Laura who drew him out, and as he talked on she +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id= +"Page_22"></a>[22]</span>seemed to him to be smilingly trying to +picture it all.... "Now I'd better tell him," she thought.</p> +<p>"Do you remember Harold Sloane?" she asked a little +strangely.</p> +<p>"No," replied her father, a bit annoyed at the interruption.</p> +<p>"Why—you've met him two or three times—"</p> +<p>"Have I?" The queer note in her voice made him look up. Laura +had risen from her chair.</p> +<p>"I want you to know him—very soon." There was a moment's +silence. "I'm going to marry him, dad," she said. And Roger looked +at her blankly. He felt his limbs beginning to tremble. "I've been +waiting to tell you when we were alone," she added in an awkward +tone. And still staring up at her he felt a rush of tenderness and +a pang of deep remorse. Laura in love and settled for life! And +what did he know of the affair? What had he ever done for her? Too +late! He had begun too late! And this rush of emotion was so +overpowering that while he still looked at her blindly she was the +first to recover her poise. She came around the table and kissed +him softly on the cheek. And now more than ever Roger felt how old +his daughter thought him.</p> +<p>"Who is he?" he asked hoarsely. And she answered smiling,</p> +<p>"A perfectly nice young man named Sloane."</p> +<p>"Don't, Laura—tell me! What does he do?"</p> +<p>"He's in a broker's office—junior member of the firm, Oh, +you needn't worry, dear, he can even afford to marry +<i>me</i>."</p> +<p>They heard a ring at the front door.</p> +<p>"There he is now, I think," she said. "Will you see him? Would +you mind?"</p> +<p>"See him? No!" her father cried.</p> +<p>"But just to shake hands," she insisted. "You needn't talk or +say a word. We've only a moment, anyway." And she went swiftly out +of the room.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id= +"Page_23"></a>[23]</span>Roger rose in a panic and strode up and +down. Before he could recover himself she was back with her man, or +rather her boy—for the fellow, to her father's eyes, looked +ridiculously young. Straight as an arrow, slender, his dress suit +irreproachable, the chap nevertheless was more than a dandy. He +looked hard, as though he trained, and his smooth and ruddy face +had a look of shrewd self-reliance. So much of him Roger fathomed +in the indignant cornered glance with which he welcomed him into +the room.</p> +<p>"Why, good evening, Mr. Gale—glad to see you again, sir!" +Young Sloane nervously held out his hand. Roger took it and +muttered something. For several moments, his mind in a whirl, he +heard their talk and laughter and his own voice joining in. Laura +seemed enjoying herself, her eyes brimming with amusement over both +her victims. But at last she had compassion, kissed her father +gaily and took her suitor out of the room.</p> +<p>Soon Roger heard them leave the house. He went into his study, +savagely bit off a cigar and gripped his evening paper as though he +meant to choke it. The maid came in with coffee. "Coffee? No!" he +snapped at her. A few moments later he came to his senses and found +himself smoking fast and hard. He heartily damned this fellow +Sloane for breaking into the family and asking poor Laura to risk +her whole life—just for his own selfish pleasure, his whim! +Yes, "whim" was the very word for it! Laura's attitude, too! Did +she look at it seriously? Not at all! Quite plainly she saw her +career as one long Highland fling and dance, with this Harry boy as +her partner! Who had he danced with in his past? The fellow's past +must be gone into, and at once, without delay!</p> +<p>Here indeed was a jolt for Roger Gale, a pretty shabby trick of +fate. This was not what he had planned, this was a little way life +had of jabbing a man with surprises. For months he had been slowly +and comfortably feeling <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id= +"Page_24"></a>[24]</span>his way into the lives of his children, +patiently, conscientiously. But now without a word of warning in +popped this young whipper-snapper, turning the whole house upside +down! Another young person to be known, another life to be dug +into, and with pick and shovel too! The job was far from pleasant. +Would Deborah help him? Not at all. She believed in letting people +alone—a devilish easy philosophy! Still, he wanted to tell +her at once, if only to stir her up a bit. He did not propose to +bear this alone! But Deborah was out to-night. Why must she always +be out, he asked, in that infernal zoo school? But no, it was not +school to-night. She was dining out in some café with a tall +lank doctor friend of hers. Probably she was to marry him!</p> +<p>"I'll have that news for breakfast!" Roger smote his paper +savagely. Why couldn't Laura have waited a little? Restlessly he +walked the room. Then he went into the hall, took his hat and a +heavy stick which he used for his night rambles, and walked off +through the neighborhood. It was the first Saturday evening of +Spring, and on those quiet downtown streets he met couples +strolling by. A tall thin lad and a buxom girl went into a cheap +apartment building laughing gaily to themselves, and Roger thought +of Laura. A group of young Italians passed, humming "Trovatore," +and it put him in mind of the time when he had ushered at the +opera. Would Laura's young man be willing to usher? More like him +to <i>tango</i> down the aisle!</p> +<p>He reached Washington Square feeling tired but even more +restless than before. He climbed to the top of a motor 'bus, and on +the lurching ride uptown he darkly reflected that times had +changed. He thought of the Avenue he had known, with its long lines +of hansom cabs, its dashing broughams and coupés with +jingling harness, livened footmen, everything sprucely up-to-date. +How the horses had added to the town. But they were gone, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id= +"Page_25"></a>[25]</span>and in their place were these great cats, +these purring motors, sliding softly by the 'bus. Roger had swift +glimpses down into lighted limousines. In one a big rich looking +chap with a beard had a dressy young woman in his arms. Lord, how +he was hugging her! Laura would have a motor like that, kisses like +that, a life like that! She was the kind to go it hard! Ahead as +far as he could see was a dark rolling torrent of cars, lights +gleaming by the thousand. A hubbub of gay voices, cries and little +shrieks of laughter mingled with the blare of horns. He looked at +huge shop windows softly lighted with displays of bedrooms richly +furnished, of gorgeous women's apparel, silks and lacy filmy +stuffs. And to Roger, in his mood of anxious premonition, these +bedroom scenes said plainly,</p> +<p>"O come, all ye faithful wives! Come let us adore him, and deck +ourselves to please his eye, to catch his eye, to hold his eye! For +marriage is a game these days!"</p> +<p>Yes, Laura would be a spender, a spender and a speeder too! How +much money had he, that chap? And damn him, what had he in his +past? How Roger hated the very thought of poking into another man's +life! Poking where nobody wanted him! He felt desperately alone. +To-night they were dancing, he recalled, not at a party in +somebody's home, but in some flashy public place where girls of her +kind and fancy women gaily mixed together! How mixed the whole city +was getting, he thought, how mad and strange, gone out of its mind, +this city of his children's lives crowding in upon him!</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a><span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26"></a>[26]</span>CHAPTER +IV</h2> +<p>He breakfasted with Deborah late on Sunday morning. He had come +down at the usual hour despite his long tramp of the previous +night, for he wanted to tell her the news and talk it all out +before Laura came down—because Deborah, he hadn't a doubt, +with her woman's curiosity had probed deep into Laura's affairs in +the many long talks they had had in her room. He had often heard +them there. And so, as he waited and waited and still his daughter +did not come, Roger grew distinctly annoyed; and when at last she +did appear, his greeting was perfunctory:</p> +<p>"What kept you out so late last night?"</p> +<p>"Oh, I was having a very good time," said Deborah contentedly. +She poured herself some coffee. "I've always wanted," she went on, +"to see Laura really puzzled—downright flabbergasted. And I +saw her just like that last night."</p> +<p>Roger looked up with a jerk of his head:</p> +<p>"You and Laura—together last night?"</p> +<p>"Exactly—on the Astor Roof." At her father's glare of +astonishment a look of quiet relish came over her mobile features. +Her wide lips twitched a little. "Well, why not?" she asked him. +"I'm quite a dancer down at school. And last night with Allan +Baird—we were dining together, you know—he proposed we +go somewhere and dance. He's a perfectly awful dancer, and so I +held out as long as I could. But he insisted and I gave in, though +I much prefer the theater."</p> +<p>"Well!" breathed Roger softly. "So you hoof it with the rest!" +His expression was startled and intent. Would <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27"></a>[27]</span>he ever get +to know these girls? "Well," he added with a sigh, "I suppose you +know what you're about."</p> +<p>"Oh no, I don't," she answered. "I never know what I'm about. If +you always do, you miss so much—you get into a solemn habit +of trying nothing till you're sure. But to return to Laura. As we +came gaily down the room we ran right into her, you see. That's how +Allan dances. And when we collided, I smiled at her sweetly and +said, 'Why, hello, dearie—you here too?" And Deborah sipped +her coffee. "I have never believed that the lower jaw of a +well-bred girl could actually drop open. But Laura's did. With a +good strong light, Allan told me, he could have examined her +tonsils for her. Rather a disgusting thought. You see until she saw +me there, poor Laura had me so thoroughly placed—my +school-marm job, my tastes and habits, everything, all cut and +dried. She has never once come to my school, and in every talk +we've ever had there has always been some perfectly good and +absorbing reason why we should talk about Laura alone."</p> +<p>"There is now," said her father. He was in no mood for +tomfoolery. His daughter saw it and smiled a little.</p> +<p>"What is it?" she inquired. And then he let her have it!</p> +<p>"Laura wants to get married," he snapped.</p> +<p>Deborah caught her breath at that, and an eager excited +expression swept over her attractive face. She had leaned forward +suddenly.</p> +<p>"Father! No! Which one?" she asked. "Tell me! Is it Harold +Sloane?"</p> +<p>"It is."</p> +<p>"Oh, dad." She sank back in her chair. "Oh, dad," she +repeated.</p> +<p>"What's the matter with Sloane?" he demanded.</p> +<p>"Oh, nothing, nothing—it's all right—"</p> +<p>"It is, eh? How do you know it is?" His anxious eyes were still +upon hers, and he saw she was thinking fast and <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28"></a>[28]</span>hard and +shutting him completely out. And it irritated him. "What do you +know of this fellow Sloane?"</p> +<p>"Oh, nothing—nothing—"</p> +<p>"Nothing! Humph! Then why do you sit here and say it's all +right? Don't talk like a fool!" he exclaimed. He waited, but she +said no more, and Roger's exasperation increased. "He has money +enough apparently—and they'll spend it like March hares!"</p> +<p>Deborah looked up at him:</p> +<p>"What did Laura tell you, dear?"</p> +<p>"Not very much. I'm only her father. She had a dinner and dance +on her mind."</p> +<p>But Deborah pressed her questions and he gave her brief +replies.</p> +<p>"Well, what shall we do about it?" he asked.</p> +<p>"Nothing—until we know something more." Roger regarded her +fiercely.</p> +<p>"Why don't you go up and talk to her, then?"</p> +<p>"She's asleep yet—"</p> +<p>"Never mind if she is! If she's going to marry a chap like that +and ruin her life it's high time she was up for her breakfast!"</p> +<p>While he scanned his Sunday paper he heard Deborah in the +pantry. She emerged with a breakfast tray and he saw her start up +to Laura's room. She was there for over an hour. And when she +returned to his study, he saw her eyes were shining. How women's +eyes will shine at such times, he told himself in annoyance.</p> +<p>"Well?" he demanded.</p> +<p>"Better leave her alone to-day," she advised. "Harold is coming +some night soon."</p> +<p>"What for?"</p> +<p>"To have a talk with you."</p> +<p>Her father smote his paper. "What did she tell you about him?" +he asked.</p> +<p>"Not much more than she told you. His parents are <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id= +"Page_29"></a>[29]</span>dead—but he has a rich widowed aunt +in Bridgeport who adores him. They mean to be married the end of +May. She wants a church wedding, bridesmaids, ushers—the +wedding reception here, of course—"</p> +<p>"Oh, Lord," breathed Roger dismally.</p> +<p>"We won't bother you much, father dear—"</p> +<p>"You <i>will</i> bother me much," he retorted. "I propose to be +bothered—bothered a lot! I'm going to look up this fellow +Sloane—"</p> +<p>"But let's leave him alone for to-day." She bent over her father +compassionately. "What a night you must have had, poor dear." Roger +looked up in grim reproach.</p> +<p>"You like all this," he grunted. "You, a grown woman, a teacher +too."</p> +<p>"I wonder if I do," she said. "I guess I'm a queer person, dad, +a curious family mixture—of Laura and Edith and mother and +you, with a good deal of myself thrown in. But it feels rather good +to be mixed, don't you think? Let's stay mixed as long as we +can—and keep together the family."</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>That afternoon, to distract him, Deborah took her father to a +concert in Carnegie Hall. She had often urged him to go of late, +but despite his liking for music Roger had refused before, simply +because it was a change. But why balk at going anywhere now, when +Laura was up to such antics at home?</p> +<p>"Do you mind climbing up to the gallery?" Deborah asked as they +entered the hall.</p> +<p>"Not at all," he curtly answered. He did mind it very much!</p> +<p>"Then we'll go to the very top," she said. "It's a long climb +but I want you to see it. It's so different up there."</p> +<p>"I don't doubt it," he replied. And as they made the slow +ascent, pettishly he wondered why Deborah must <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30"></a>[30]</span>always be +so eager for queer places. Galleries, zoo schools, tenement +slums—why not take a two dollar seat in life?</p> +<p>Deborah seated him far down in the front of the great gallery, +over at the extreme right, and from here they could look back and +up at a huge dim arena of faces.</p> +<p>"Now watch them close," she whispered. "See what the music does +to them."</p> +<p>As the symphony began below the faces all grew motionless. And +as the music cast its spell, the anxious ruffled feelings which had +been with Roger all that day little by little were dispelled, and +soon his imagination began to work upon this scene. He saw many +familiar American types. He felt he knew what they had been doing +on Sundays only a few years before. After church they had eaten +large Sunday dinners. Then some had napped and some had walked and +some had gone to Sunday school. At night they had had cold suppers, +and afterwards some had gone back to church; while others, as in +Roger's house in the days when Judith was alive, had gathered +around the piano for hymns. Young men callers, friends of their +daughters, had joined in the family singing. Yes, some of these +people had been like that. To them, a few short years ago, a +concert on the Sabbath would have seemed a sacrilege. He could +almost hear from somewhere the echo of "Abide With Me."</p> +<p>But over this memory of a song rose now the surging music of +Tschaikovsky's "Pathetique." And the yearnings and fierce hungers +in this tumultuous music swept all the hymns from Roger's mind. +Once more he watched the gallery, and this time he became aware +that more than half were foreigners. Out of the mass from every +side individual faces emerged, swarthy, weird, and staring hungrily +into space. And to Roger the whole shadowy place, the very air, +grew pregnant, charged with all these inner lives bound together in +this mood, this mystery that had swept over them all, immense and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id= +"Page_31"></a>[31]</span>formless, baffling, this furious demanding +and this blind wistful groping which he himself had known so well, +ever since his wife had died and he had lost his faith in God. What +was the meaning of it all if life were nothing but a start, and +there were nothing but the grave?</p> +<p>"You will live on in our children's lives."</p> +<p>He glanced around at Deborah. Was <i>she</i> so certain, so +serene? "What do I know of her?" he asked. "Little or nothing," he +sadly replied. And he tried to piece together from things she had +told him her life as it had passed him by. Had there been no +questionings, no sharp disillusionments? There must have been. He +recalled irritabilities, small acts and exclamations of impatience, +boredom, "blues." And as he watched her he grew sure that his +daughter's existence had been like his own. Despite its different +setting, its other aims and visions, it had been a mere beginning, +a feeling for a foothold, a search for light and happiness. And +Deborah seemed to him still a child. "How far will <i>you</i> go?" +he wondered.</p> +<p>Although he was still watching her even after the music had +ceased, she did not notice him for a time. Then she turned to him +slowly with a smile.</p> +<p>"Well? What did you see?" she asked.</p> +<p>"I wasn't looking," he replied.</p> +<p>"Why, dearie," she retorted. "Where's that imagination of +yours?"</p> +<p>"It was with you," he answered. "Tell me what you were +thinking."</p> +<p>And still under the spell of the music, Deborah said to her +father,</p> +<p>"I was thinking of hungry people—millions of them, now, +this minute—not only here but in so many +places—concerts, movies, libraries. Hungry, oh, for +everything—life, its beauty, all it means. And I was thinking +this is youth—no matter how old they happen to be—and +that to feed it we have schools. I was thinking how <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32"></a>[32]</span>little +we've done as yet, and of all that we're so sure to do in the many, +many years ahead. Do you see what I mean?" she squeezed his +hand.</p> +<p>"Welcome back to school," she said, "back into the hungry army +of youth!... Sh-h-h!"</p> +<p>Again the music had begun. And sitting by her side he wondered +whether it was because she knew that Laura's affair had made him +feel old that Deborah had brought him here.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>They went to Edith's for supper.</p> +<p>The Cunninghams' apartment was on the west side, well uptown. It +was not the neighborhood which Edith would have chosen, for nearly +all the nice people she knew lived east of the park. But rents were +somewhat lower here and there was at least an abundance of fresh +air for her family. Edith had found that her days were full of +these perplexing decisions. It was all very simple to resolve that +her children be old-fashioned, normal, wholesome, nice. But then +she looked into the city—into schools and kindergartens, +clothes and friends and children's parties, books and plays. And +through them all to her dismay she felt conflicting currents, +clashes between old and new. She felt New York. And anxiously she +asked herself, "What is old-fashioned? What is normal? What is +wholesome? What is nice?" Cautiously she made her way, testing and +comparing, trying small experiments. Often sharply she would draw +in her horns. She had struck something "common!" And she knew all +this was nothing compared to the puzzles that lay ahead. For from +her friend, Madge Deering, whose girls were well along in their +'teens, she heard of deeper problems. The girls were so +inquisitive. Dauntlessly Madge was facing each month the most +disturbing questions. Thank Heaven, Edith had only one daughter. +Sons were not quite so baffling.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id= +"Page_33"></a>[33]</span>So she had groped her way along.</p> +<p>When her father and Deborah arrived, placidly she asked them +what they had been doing. And when she heard that they had been at +a concert on the Sabbath, though this was far from old-fashioned +and something she would not have done herself, it did not bother +her half so much as the fact that Hannah, the Irish nurse, had +slapped little Tad that afternoon. She had never known Hannah to do +it before. Could it be that the girl was tired or sick? Perhaps she +needed a few days off. "I must have a talk with her," Edith +thought, "as soon as father and Deborah go."</p> +<p>Roger always liked to come here. Say what you would about +Edith's habit of keeping too closely to her home, the children to +whom she had devoted herself were a fine, clean, happy lot. Here +were new lives in his family, glorious fresh beginnings. He sat on +the floor with her three boys, watching the patient efforts of +George to harness his perturbed white rat to Tad's small fire +engine. George was a lank sprawling lad of fourteen, all legs and +arms and elbows, with rumpled hair and freckled face, a quick +bright smile and nice brown eyes—frank, simple, +understandable eyes. All but one of Edith's children were boys, and +boys were a blessed relief to a man who had three grown-up +daughters.</p> +<p>And while Roger watched them, with a gentle glow of anticipation +he waited for what should follow, when as had been already arranged +Deborah should break to her sister the news of Laura's engagement. +And he was not disappointed. The change in Edith was something +tremendous. Until now so quietly self-absorbed, at the news that +Laura was to be married instantly she was all alert. Sitting there +in the midst of her children and facing a time of agony only a few +weeks ahead which would add one more to her family, Edith's pretty +florid face grew flushed and radiant as she exclaimed,</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id= +"Page_34"></a>[34]</span>What a perfectly wonderful thing for +Laura! Now if only she can have a child!"</p> +<p>Her questions followed thick and fast, and with them her +thoughts of what should be done. Bruce must look up this suitor at +once. Bruce demurred stoutly but without avail. She eagerly +questioned her sister as to Laura's plans for the wedding, but +plainly she considered that Deborah was no woman to give her the +full information she wanted. She must see Laura herself at once. +For though she had thoroughly disapproved of the gay helter-skelter +existence of her youngest sister, still Laura was now to be +married, and this made all the difference.</p> +<p>Just before Roger and Deborah left, Edith drew her father aside, +and with a curious concern and pity in her voice, she said,</p> +<p>"I'm so sorry I shan't be able to help you with the wedding, +dear, and make it the sweet old-fashioned kind that mother would +have wanted. Of course there's Deborah, she'll be there. But her +head is so full of new ideas. I'm afraid she may find the house +rather a burden after Laura has gone away." Edith gave a worried +little sigh. "I'll be so glad," she added, "when we get that place +in Morristown. We'll want you out there often, and for good long +visits too. You may even find you'll care to try staying there with +us for a while."</p> +<p>Roger scowled and thanked her. She had given him a shock of +alarm.</p> +<p>"So she thinks that Deborah will find the housekeeping too +hard," he reflected anxiously. And as he walked home with his +daughter, he kept glancing at her face, which for all its look of +quiet had so much tensity beneath. She had packed her life so full +of school. What if she wanted to give up their home? "She'll try, +of course, she'll try her best—but she'll find it too much of +an added strain." And again he felt that sickening dread. +Deb<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id= +"Page_35"></a>[35]</span>orah said nothing. He felt as though they +had drifted apart.</p> +<p>And at night in his bed, as Roger stared up at the beetling +cliff of apartment windows just outside, drearily he asked himself +how it would feel to live like that.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a><span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36"></a>[36]</span>CHAPTER +V</h2> +<p>One afternoon a few days later Roger was riding in the park. He +rode "William," a large lazy cob who as he advanced in age had so +subtly and insidiously slackened his pace from a trot to a jog that +Roger barely noticed how slowly he was riding. As he rode along he +liked to watch the broad winding bridle path with its bobbing +procession of riders that kept appearing before him under the tall +spreading trees. Though he knew scarcely anyone by name, he was a +familiar figure here and he recognized scores of faces. To many men +he nodded at passing, and to not a few alluring young dames, ardent +creatures with bright eyes who gave him smiles of greeting, Roger +gravely raised his hat. One was "The Silver Lady" in a Broadway +musical show, but he thought she was "one of the Newport crowd." He +liked to make shrewd guesses like that. There were so many kinds of +people here. There were stout anxious ladies riding for figures and +lean morose gentlemen riding for health. There were joyous +care-free girls, chatting and laughing merrily. There were some +gallant foreigners, and there were riding masters, and Roger could +not tell them apart. There were mad boys from the Squadron who rode +at a furious canter, and there were groups of children, eager and +flushed, excited and gay, with stolid grooms behind them. The path +in several places ran close beside the main road of the park, and +with the coming of the dusk this road took on deep purple hues and +glistened with reflections from countless yellow motor eyes. And +from the polished limousines, sumptuous young women smiled out upon +the riders.</p> +<p>At least so Roger saw this life. And after those bleak +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id= +"Page_37"></a>[37]</span>lonely years confronted by eternity, it +was good to come here and forget, to feel himself for the moment a +part of the thoughtless gaiety, the ease and luxury of the town. +Here he was just on the edge of it all. Often as a couple passed he +would wonder what they were doing that night. In the riding school +where he kept his horse, it was a lazy pleasure to have the English +"valet" there pull off his boots and breeches—though if +anyone had told him so, Roger would have denied it with indignation +and surprise. For was he not an American?</p> +<p>It had been a wonderful tonic, a great idea of Laura's, this +forcing him up here to ride. In one of her affectionate moods, just +after a sick spell he had been through, his gay capricious daughter +had insisted that he have his horse brought down from the +mountains. She had promised to ride with him herself, and she had +done so—for a week. Since then he had often met her here with +one of her many smart young men. What a smile of greeting would +flash on her face—when Laura happened to notice him.</p> +<p>He was thinking of Laura now, and there was an anxious gleam in +his eyes. For young Sloane was coming to dinner to-night. What was +he going to say to the fellow? Bruce had learned that Sloane played +polo, owned and drove a racing car and was well liked in his +several clubs. But what about women and his past? Edith had urged +her father to go through the lad's life with a fine tooth comb, and +if he should find anything there to kick up no end of a row for the +honor of the family. All of which was nothing but words, reflected +Roger pettishly. It all came to this, that he had a most ticklish +evening ahead! On the path as a rider greeted him, his reply was a +dismal frown.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>Laura's suitor arrived at six o'clock. In his study Roger heard +the bell, listened a moment with beating heart, then raised himself +heavily from his chair and went into the hallway.</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id= +"Page_38"></a>[38]</span>Ah, yes! It's you!" he exclaimed, with a +nervous cordiality. "Come in, my boy, come right in! Here, let me +help you with your coat. I don't know just where Laura is. Ahem!" +He violently cleared his throat. "Suppose while we're waiting we +have a smoke." He kept it up back into his den. There the suitor +refused a cigar and carefully lit a cigarette. Roger noticed again +how young the chap was, and marriage seemed so ridiculous! All this +feverish trouble was for something so unreal!</p> +<p>"Well, sir," the candidate blurted forth, "I guess I'd better +come right to the point. Mr. Gale, I want to marry your +daughter."</p> +<p>"Laura?"</p> +<p>"Yes." Roger cursed himself. Why had he asked, "Laura?" Of +course it was Laura! Would this cub be wanting Deborah?</p> +<p>"Well, my boy," he said thickly. "I—I wish I knew you +better."</p> +<p>"So do I, sir. Suppose we begin." The youth took a quick pull at +his cigarette. He waited, stirred nervously in his seat. "You'll +have some questions to ask, I suppose—"</p> +<p>"Yes, there are questions." Roger had risen mechanically and was +slowly walking the room. He threw out short gruff phrases. "I'm not +interested in your past—I don't care about digging into a +man—I never have and I never will—except as it might +affect my daughter. That's the main question, I suppose. Can you +make her happy?"</p> +<p>"I think so," said Sloane, decidedly. Roger gave him a glance of +displeasure.</p> +<p>"That's a large order, young man," he rejoined.</p> +<p>"Then let's take it in sections," the youngster replied. +Confound his boyish assurance! "To begin with," he was saying, "I +rather think I have money enough. We'd better go into that, hadn't +we?"</p> +<p>"Yes," said Roger indifferently. "We might as well <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39"></a>[39]</span>go into +it." Of course the chap had money enough. He was a money maker. You +could hear it in his voice; you could see it in his jaw, in his +small aggressive blonde moustache. Now he was telling briefly of +his rich aunt in Bridgeport, of the generous start she had given +him, his work downtown, his income.</p> +<p>"Twenty-two thousand this year," he said. "We can live on that +all right, I guess."</p> +<p>"You won't starve," was the dry response. Roger walked for a +moment in silence, then turned abruptly on young Sloane.</p> +<p>"Look here, young man, I don't want to dig," he continued very +huskily. "But I know little or nothing of what may be behind you. I +don't care to ask you about it now—unless it can make +trouble."</p> +<p>"It can't make trouble." At this answer, low but sharp, Roger +wheeled and shot a glance into those clear and twinkling eyes. And +his own eyes gleamed with pain. Laura had been such a little thing +in the days when she had been his pet, the days when he had known +her well. What could he do about it? This was only the usual thing. +But he felt suddenly sick of life.</p> +<p>"How soon do you want to get married?" he demanded harshly.</p> +<p>"Next month, if we can."</p> +<p>"Where are you going?"</p> +<p>"Abroad," said Sloane. Roger caught at this topic as at a straw. +Soon they were talking of the trip, and the tension slackened +rapidly. He had never been abroad himself but had always dreamed of +going there. With maps and books of travel Judith and he had +planned it out. In imagination they had lived in London and Paris, +Munich and Rome, always in queer old lodgings looking on quaint +crooked streets. He had dreamed of long delicious rambles, glimpses +into queer old shops, vast, silent, dark cathedrals. For Laura how +different it would be. This <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" +id="Page_40"></a>[40]</span>boy of hers knew Europe as a group of +gorgeous new hotels.</p> +<p>The moment Laura joined them, her father's eye was caught and +held by the ring upon her finger. Roger knew rings, they were his +hobby, and this huge yellow solitaire in its new and brilliant +setting at once awakened his dislike. It just fitted the life they +were to lead! What life? As he listened to his daughter he kept +wondering if she were so sure. Had she felt no uneasiness? She must +have, he decided, for all her gay excitement. One Laura in that +smiling face; another Laura deep inside, doubting and uncertain, +reaching for her happiness, now elated, now dismayed, exclaiming, +"Now at last I'm starting!" Oh, what an ignorant child she was. He +wanted to cry out to her, "You'll <i>always</i> be just starting! +You'll never be sure, you'll never be happy, you'll always be just +beginning to be! And the happier you are, the more you will feel it +is only a start!... And then-"</p> +<p>More and more his spirit withdrew from these two heedless +children. Later on, when Deborah came, he barely noticed her +meeting with Sloane. And through dinner, while they talked of plans +for the wedding, the trip abroad, still Roger took no part at all. +He felt dull and heavy. Deborah too, he noticed, after her first +efforts to be welcoming and friendly, had gradually grown silent. +He saw her watching Laura with a mingled look of affection and of +whimsical dismay. Soon after dinner she left them, and Roger smoked +with the boy for a while and learned that he was twenty-nine. Both +had grown uneasy and rather dull with each other. It was a relief +when again Laura joined them, dressed to go out. She and her lover +left the house.</p> +<p>Roger sat motionless for some time. His cigar grew cold +unheeded. One of the sorrows of his life had been that his only son +had died. Bruce had been almost like a son. But this young man of +Laura's? No.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id= +"Page_41"></a>[41]</span>Later he went for his evening walk. And as +though drawn by invisible chains he strayed far down into the +ghetto. Soon he was elbowing his way through a maze of uproarious +tenement streets as one who had been there many times. But he +noticed little around him. He went on, as he had always gone, +seeing and hearing this seething life only as a background to his +own adventure. He reached his destination. Pushing his way through +a swarm of urchins playing in front of a pawnshop, he entered and +was a long time inside, and when he came out again at last the +whole expression of his face had undergone a striking change. As +one who had found the solace he needed for the moment, his pace +unconsciously quickened and he looked about him with brighter +eyes.</p> +<p>Around the corner from his home, he went into a small jewelry +shop, a remnant of the town of the past. There were no customers in +the place, and the old Galician jeweler sat at the back playing +solitaire. At sight of Roger he arose; and presently in a small +back room, beneath the glare of a powerful lamp, the two were +studying the ring which Roger had found in the ghetto that night. +It was plain, just a thin worn band of gold with an emerald by no +means large; but the setting was old and curious, and personal, +distinctive. Somebody over in Europe had worked on it long and +lovingly. Now as the Galician gently rubbed and polished and turned +the ring this way and that, the light revealed crude tiny figures, +a man and a woman under a tree. And was that a vine or a serpent? +They studied it long and absorbedly.</p> +<p>At home, up in his bedroom, Roger opened a safe which stood in +one corner, took out a large shallow tray and sat down with it by +his lamp. A strange array of rings was there, small and delicate, +huge, bizarre; great signet rings and poison rings, love tokens, +charms and amulets, rings which had been worn by wives, by +mistresses, by favorite slaves and by young girls in convents; +rings with the Ma<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id= +"Page_42"></a>[42]</span>donna and rings with many other saints +graven on large heavy stones; rings French and Russian, Polish, +Italian, Spanish, Syrian. Some were many centuries old. In nine +shallow metal trays they filled the safe in Roger's room. Although +its money value was small, the Gale collection was well known to a +scattered public of connoisseurs, and Roger took pride in showing +it. But what had always appealed to him most was the romance, the +mystery, stored up in these old talismans that had lived so many +ages, travelled through so many lands, decked so many fingers. +Roger had found every one of them in the pawnshops of New York. +What new recruits to America had brought them here and pawned them? +From what old cities had they come? What passions of love and +jealousy, of hatred, faith, devotion were in this glittering array? +Roger's own love affair had been deep, but quiet and even and +happy. All the wild adventures, the might-have-beens in his sex +life, were gathered in these dusky trays with their richly colored +glints of light.</p> +<p>Of his daughters, Laura had been the one most interested in his +rings, and so he thought of Laura now as he placed in the tray the +new ring he had bought, the one he would have liked for her. But a +vague uneasiness filled his mind, for he knew she had the same +craving as he for what gleamed out of these somber trays. The old +Galician jeweler had long been quite a friend of hers, she had +often dropped in at his shop to ask him curious questions about his +women patrons. And it was just this side of him that Roger did not +care for. So many of those women were from a dubious glittering +world, and the old Galician took a weird vicarious joy in many of +the gay careers into which he sent his beloved rings, his brooches, +earrings, necklaces, his clasps and diamond garters. And Laura +loved to make him talk.... Yes, she was her father's child, a part +of himself. He, too, had had his yearnings, his burning +curiosities, his youthful ventures into the town.<span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43"></a>[43]</span> "You will +live on in our children's lives." With her inheritance what would +she do? Would she stop halfway as he had done, or would she throw +all caution aside and let the flames within her rise?</p> +<p>He heard a step in the doorway, and Deborah stood there +smiling.</p> +<p>"A new one?" she inquired. He nodded, and she bent over the +tray. "Poor father," Deborah murmured. "I saw you eyeing Laura's +engagement ring at dinner to-night. It wasn't like this one, was +it?" He scowled:</p> +<p>"I don't like what I see ahead of her. Nor do you," he said. "Be +honest." She looked at him perplexedly.</p> +<p>"We can't stop it, can we? And even if we could," she said, "I'm +not quite sure I'd want to. It's her love affair, not yours or +mine—grown out of a life she made for herself—curious, +eager, thrilled by it all—and in the center of her soul the +deep glad growing certainty, 'I'm going to be a beautiful +woman—I myself, I, Laura Gale!' Oh, you don't know—nor +do I. And so she felt her way along—eagerly, hungrily, making +mistakes—and you and I left her to do it alone. I'm afraid we +both rather neglected her, dad," Deborah ended sadly. "And all we +can do now, I think, is to give her the kind of wedding she +wants."</p> +<p>Roger started to speak but hesitated.</p> +<p>"What is it?" she inquired.</p> +<p>"Queer," he answered gruffly, "how a man can neglect his +children—as I have done, as I do still—when the one +thing he wants most in life is to see each one of 'em happy."</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a><span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44"></a>[44]</span>CHAPTER +VI</h2> +<p>Roger soon grew accustomed to seeing young Sloane about the +house. They could talk together more easily, and he began to call +him Harold. Harold asked him with Laura to lunch at the Ritz to +meet the aunt from Bridgeport, a lady excessively stout and +profound. But that ended the formalities. It had all been so much +easier than Roger had expected. So, in its calm sober fashion, the +old house took into its life this new member, these new plans, and +the old seemed stronger for the new—for Laura and Edith and +Deborah drew together closer than they had been in many years. But +only because they felt themselves on the eve of a still deeper and +more lasting separation, as the family of Roger Gale divided and +went different ways. At times he noticed it sadly. Laura, who had +scarcely ever been home for dinner, now spent many evenings here. +She needed her home for her wedding, he thought. Each daughter +needed it now and then. But as the years wore slowly on, the +seasons when they needed it grew steadily wider and wider +apart....</p> +<p>Early in May, when Roger came home from his office one night he +found Edith's children in the house. From the hallway he could hear +their gay excited voices, and going into the dining room he found +them at their supper. Deborah was with them, and at once her father +noticed how much younger she appeared—as she always did with +these children who all idolized her so. She rose and followed him +into the hall, and her quiet voice had a note of compassion.</p> +<p>"Edith's baby is coming," she said.</p> +<p>"Good Lord. Is anything wrong?" he asked.</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id= +"Page_45"></a>[45]</span>No, no, it's all right—"</p> +<p>"But I thought the child wasn't due for three weeks."</p> +<p>"I know, and poor Edith is fearfully worried. It has upset all +her plans. I'd go up and see her if I were you. Your supper is +ready; and if you like you can have it with the children."</p> +<p>There followed a happy boisterous meal, with much expectant +chatter about the long summer so soon to begin at the farm up in +the mountains. George, whose hair was down over his eyes, rumpled +it back absorbedly as he told of a letter he had received from his +friend Dave Royce, Roger's farmer, with whom George corresponded. +One of the cows was to have a calf, and George was anxious to get +there in time.</p> +<p>"I've never seen a real new calf, new absolutely," he explained. +"And I want a look at this one the very minute that he's born. Gee, +I hope we can get there in time—"</p> +<p>"Gee! So do I!" cried Bobby aged nine. And then Tad, the chubby +three-year-old who had been intently watching his brothers, slowly +took the spoon from his mouth and in his grave sweet baby voice +said very softly, "Gee." At her end of the table, Elizabeth, blonde +and short and rather plump, frowned and colored slightly. For she +was eleven and she knew there was something dark and shameful about +the way calves appear in barns. And so, with a quick conscious +cough, she sweetly interrupted:</p> +<p>"Oh, Aunt Deborah! Won't you please tell us +about—about—"</p> +<p>"About—about," jeered the ironical George. "About what, +you little ninny?" Poor Elizabeth blushed desperately. She was +neither quick nor resourceful.</p> +<p>"Now, George," said his aunt warningly.</p> +<p>"Wasn't I talking?" the boy rejoined. "And didn't Betsy butt +right in—without even a thing to butt in about? +About—about," he jeered again.</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id= +"Page_46"></a>[46]</span>About Paris!" cried his sister, successful +at last in her frantic search for a proper topic of conversation. +"Aunt Deborah's trip to Paris!"</p> +<p>"How many times has she told it already?" her brother replied +with withering scorn. "And anyhow, I was talking of cows!"</p> +<p>"Very well," said his aunt, "we'll talk about cows, some cows I +saw on a lovely old farm in a little village over in France."</p> +<p>"There!" cried his young sister. "Did she ever tell of +<i>that</i> part of her trip?" And she made a little face at her +brother.</p> +<p>"I don't care," he answered doggedly. "She has told about Paris +lots of times—and that was what <i>you</i> wanted. Yes, you +did. You said, 'About Paris.' Didn't she, Bob?"</p> +<p>"You bet she did," young Bob agreed.</p> +<p>"Now, children, children, what does it matter?"</p> +<p>"All right, go ahead with your barn in France," said George with +patient tolerance. "Did they have any Holsteins?"</p> +<p>Soon the questions were popping from every side, while little +Tad beamed from one to the other. To Tad it was all so wonderful, +to be having supper away from home, to be here, to go to bed +upstairs, to take part perhaps in a pillow fight.... And glancing +at the glowing face and the parted lips of his small grandson Roger +felt a current of warm new life pour into his soul.</p> +<p>Early in the evening he went up to Edith's apartment. He found +his daughter in her room, looking flushed and very tense. He took +her arm and they walked for a time. A trained nurse was soaping the +windows. Roger asked the reason for this and was told that in case +the baby did not come till morning the doctor wanted to pull up the +shades in order to work by daylight. "And neighbors in New York are +such cats! You've no idea!" said Edith. She looked out at the +numberless windows crowding close <span class="pagenum"><a name= +"Page_47" id="Page_47"></a>[47]</span>about her home, and she +fairly bristled with scorn. "Oh, how I loathe apartments!"</p> +<p>"They seem to have come to stay, my dear. In a few years more +New York will be a city without a house," he said. "Only a palace +here and there." The thought flashed in his mind, "But I shall be +gone."</p> +<p>"Then we'll move out to the country!" she cried. Still walking +the floor with her father, she talked of the perplexities which in +her feverish state of mind had loomed suddenly enormous. She had +planned everything so nicely for the baby to come the first of +June, but now her plans were all upset. She did not want the +children here, it would make too much confusion. They had much +better go up to the mountains, even though George and Elizabeth +lost their last few weeks at school. But who could she find to take +them? Bruce was simply rushed to death with his new receivership. +Laura was getting her trousseau. Deborah, said Edith, had time for +nothing on earth but school.</p> +<p>"Suppose I take them," Roger ventured. But she only smiled at +this. "My dear," he urged, "your nurse will be with me, and when we +arrive there's the farmer's wife." But Edith impatiently shook her +head. Her warm bright eyes seemed to picture it all, hour by hour, +day and night, her children there without her.</p> +<p>"You poor dear," she told him, "you haven't the slightest idea +what it means. The summer train is not on yet, and you have to +change three times on the way—with all the +children—luggage, too. And there are their naps, and all +their meals. You don't arrive till late at night. No," she decided +firmly, "Bruce will simply have to go." She drew a breath of +discomfort. "You go and talk to him," she said.</p> +<p>"I will, my dear." Roger looked at his daughter in deep concern. +Awkwardly his heavy hand touched her small plump shoulder, and he +felt the constant quivering <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" +id="Page_48"></a>[48]</span>there. "Now, now," he muttered, +uneasily, "it's going to be all right, you know—" And at that +she gave him a rapid glance out of those warm hunted eyes, as +though to ask, "What do you know of this?" And Roger flinched and +turned to the door.</p> +<p>Bruce was working at his desk, with an old briar pipe in his +teeth. He looked up with a quick nervous smile which showed his +dread of the coming ordeal, but his voice had a carefully casual +tone.</p> +<p>"Does she want me now?" he asked.</p> +<p>"No," said Roger. And he told of her plan for the children. "I +volunteered myself," he added, "but she wouldn't hear to it."</p> +<p>"Oh, my God, man, you wouldn't do," said Bruce, in droll +disparagement. "You with forty-nine bottles of pasteurized milk? +Suppose you smashed one? Where'd you be? Moving our family isn't a +job; it's a science, and I've got my degree." He rose and his face +softened. "Poor girl, she mustn't worry like that. I'll run in and +tell her I'll do it myself—just to get it off her mind."</p> +<p>He went to his wife. And when he came back his dark features +appeared a little more drawn.</p> +<p>"Poor devil," thought Roger, "he's scared to death—just as +I used to be myself."</p> +<p>"Pretty tough on a woman, isn't it?" Bruce muttered, smiling +constrainedly.</p> +<p>"Did Baird say everything's going well?" Baird was Edith's +physician.</p> +<p>"Yes. He was here this afternoon, and he said he'd be back this +evening." Bruce stopped with a queer little scowl of suspense. "I +told her I'd see to the trip with the kiddies, and it seemed to +relieve her a lot." His eye went to a pile of documents that lay on +the desk before him. "It'll play the very devil with business, +taking three days off just now. But I guess I can manage it +somehow—"</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id= +"Page_49"></a>[49]</span>A muscle began to twitch on his face. He +re-lit his pipe with elaborate care and looked over at Roger +confidingly:</p> +<p>"Do you know what's the matter with kids these days? It's the +twentieth century," he said. "It's a disease. It starts in their +teeth. No modern girl can get married unless she has had her teeth +straightened for years. Our dentist's bill, this year alone, was +over eight hundred dollars. But that isn't all. It gets into their +young intestines, God bless 'em, and makes you pasteurize all they +eat. It gets into their nerves and tears 'em up, and your only +chance to save 'em is school—not a common school but a +'simple' school, tuition four hundred dollars a year. And you hire +a dancing teacher besides—I mean a rhythm teacher—and +let 'em shake it out of their feet. And after that you buy 'em +clothes—not fluffy clothes, but 'simple' clothes, the kind +which always cost the most. And then you build a simple home, in a +simple place like Morristown. The whole idea is simplicity. If you +can't make enough to buy it, you're lost. If you can make enough, +just barely enough, you get so excited you lose your head—and +do what I did Monday."</p> +<p>The two men smiled at each other. Roger was very fond of +Bruce.</p> +<p>"What did you do Monday?" he asked.</p> +<p>"I bought that car I told you about."</p> +<p>"Splendid! Best thing in the world for you! Tell me all about +it!"</p> +<p>And while Bruce rapidly grew engrossed in telling of the car's +fine points, Roger pictured his son-in-law upon hot summer evenings +(for Bruce spent his summers in town) forgetting his business for a +time and speeding out into the country. Then he thought of Edith +and the tyranny of her motherhood, always draining her husband's +purse and keeping Edith so wrapt up in her children and their daily +needs that she had lost all interest in anything outside her home. +What was there wrong about it? He <span class="pagenum"><a name= +"Page_50" id="Page_50"></a>[50]</span>knew that Edith prided +herself on being like her mother. But Judith had always found time +for her friends. He himself had been more as Edith was now. How +quickly after Judith died he had dropped all friends, all +interests. "That's it," he ruefully told himself, "Edith takes +after her father." And the same curious feeling which he had had +with Laura, came back to him with her sister. This daughter, too, +was a part of himself. His deep instinctive craving to keep to +himself and his family was living on in Edith, was already +dominating her home. What a queer mysterious business it was, this +tie between a man and his child.</p> +<p>He was thinking of this when Baird arrived. Allan Baird was not +only the doctor who had brought Edith's children into the world, he +was besides an intimate friend, he had been Bruce's room-mate at +college. As he came strolling into the room with his easy greeting +of "Well, folks—" his low gruff voice, his muscular frame, +over six feet two, and the kindly calm assurance in his lean strong +visage, gave to Bruce and Roger the feeling of safety they needed. +For this kind of work was his life. He had specialized on women, +and after over fifteen years of toilsome uphill labor he had become +at thirty-seven one of the big gynecologists. He was taking his +success with the quiet relish of a man who had had to work for it +hard. And yet he had not been spoiled by success. He worked even +harder than before—so hard, in fact, that Deborah, with whom +through Bruce and Edith he had long ago struck up an easy bantering +friendship, had sturdily set herself the task of prying open his +eyes a bit. She had taken him to her school at night and to queer +little foreign cafés. And Baird, with a humor of his own, +had retaliated by dragging her to the Astor Roof and to musical +plays.</p> +<p>"If my eyes are to be opened," he had doggedly declared, "I +propose to have some diamonds in the scenery, <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51"></a>[51]</span>and a +little cheery ragtime, too. You've got a good heart, Deborah Gale, +but your head is full of tenements."</p> +<p>To-night to divert Bruce's thoughts from his wife, Baird started +him talking of his work. In six weeks Bruce had crammed his mind +with the details of skyscraper building, and his talk was +bewildering now, bristling with technical terms, permeated through +and through with the feeling of strain and fierce competition. As +Roger listened he had again that sharp and oppressive sensation of +a savage modern town unrelentingly pressing, pressing in. +Restlessly he glanced at Baird who sat listening quietly. And Roger +thought of the likeness between their two professions. For Bruce, +too, was a surgeon. His patients were the husbands in their +distracting offices. Baird's were the wives and mothers in their +equally distracting homes. Which were more tense, the husbands or +wives? And, good Lord, what was it all about, this feverish strain +of getting and spending? What were they spending? Their very life's +blood. And what were they getting? Happiness? What did most of them +know of real happiness? How little they knew, how blind they were, +and yet how they laughed and chattered along, how engrossed in +their little games. What children, oh, what children!</p> +<p>"And am I any better than the rest? Do I know what I'm +after—what I'm about?"</p> +<p>He left them soon, for he felt very tired. He went to his +daughter to say good-night. And in her room the talk he had heard +became to him suddenly remote, that restless world of small +account. For in Edith, in the one brief hour since her father had +seen her last, there had come a great transformation, into her face +an eager light. She was slipping down into a weird small world +which for a brief but fearful season was to be utterly her own, +with agony and bloody sweat, and joy and a deep mystery. Clumsily +he took her hand. It was moist and he felt it clutch his own. He +heard her breathing rapidly.</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id= +"Page_52"></a>[52]</span>Good-night," he said in a husky tone. +"I'll be so glad, my dear, so glad."</p> +<p>For answer she gave him a hurried smile, a glance from her +bright restless eyes. Then he went heavily from the room.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>At home he found Deborah sitting alone, with a pile of school +papers in her lap. As he entered she slowly turned her head.</p> +<p>"How is Edith?" she asked him. Roger told of his visit uptown, +and spoke of Edith's anxiety over getting the children up to the +farm.</p> +<p>"I'll take them myself," said Deborah.</p> +<p>"But how can you get away from school?"</p> +<p>"Oh, I think I can manage it. We'll leave on Friday morning and +I can be back by Sunday night. I'll love it," Deborah answered.</p> +<p>"It'll be a great relief to her," said Roger, lighting a cigar. +Deborah resumed her work, and there was silence for a time.</p> +<p>"I let George sit up with me till an hour after his bedtime," +she told her father presently. "We started talking about white +rats—you see it's still white rats with George—and that +started us wondering about God. George wonders if God really knows +about rats. 'Has he ever stuck his face right down and had a good +close look at one? Has God ever watched a rat stand up and brush +his whiskers with both paws? Has he ever really laughed at rats? +And that's another thing, Aunt Deborah—does God ever laugh at +all? Does he know how to take a joke? If he don't, we might as well +quit right now!'"</p> +<p>Roger laughed with relish, and his daughter smiled at him:</p> +<p>"Then the talk turned from rats and God to a big dam out in the +Rockies. George has been reading about it, he's thinking of being +an engineer. And there was so much <span class="pagenum"><a name= +"Page_53" id="Page_53"></a>[53]</span>he wanted to know that he was +soon upon the verge of discovering my ignorance—when all of a +sudden a dreamy look, oh, a very dreamy look, came into his +eyes—and he asked me this." And over her bright expressive +face came a scowl of boyish intensity: "Suppose I <i>was</i> an +engineer—and I was working on a dam, or may be a bridge, in +the Rockies. And say it was pretty far down south—say around +the Grand Canyon. I should think they'd need a dam down there, or +anyhow a bridge,' said George. And he eyed me in a cautious way +which said as plain as the nose on your face, 'Good Lord, she's +only a woman, and she won't understand.' But I showed him I was +serious, and he asked me huskily, 'Suppose it was winter, Aunt +Deborah, and the Giants were in Texas. Do you think I could get a +few days off?' And then before he could tell me the Giants were a +baseball nine, I said I was sure he could manage it. You should +have seen his face light up. And he added very fervently, 'Gee, it +must be wonderful to be an engineer out there!'"</p> +<p>Roger chuckled delightedly and Deborah went on with her work. +"How good she is with young uns," he thought. "What a knack she has +of drawing 'em out. What a pity she hasn't some of her own."</p> +<p>He slept until late the next morning, and awoke to find Deborah +by his bed.</p> +<p>"It's another boy," she told him. Roger sat up excitedly. "Bruce +has just telephoned the news. The children and I have breakfasted, +and they're going out with their nurse. Suppose you and I go up and +see Bruce and settle this trip to the mountains."</p> +<p>About an hour later, arriving at Edith's apartment, they found +Bruce downstairs with Allan Baird who was just taking his +departure. Bruce's dark eyes shone with relief, but his hand was +hot and nervous. Allan, on the contrary, held out to Edith's father +a hand as steady and relaxed as was the bantering tone of his +voice.</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id= +"Page_54"></a>[54]</span>Bruce," he said, "has for once in his life +decided to do something sensible. He's going to drop his wretched +job and take a week off with his children."</p> +<p>"And worry every minute he's gone," Deborah retorted, "and come +back and work day and night to catch up. But he isn't going to do +it. I've decided to take the children myself."</p> +<p>"You have?" cried Bruce delightedly.</p> +<p>"You'll do no such thing," said Allan, indignant.</p> +<p>"Oh, you go to thunder," Bruce put in. "Haven't you any +delicacy? Can't you see this is no business of yours?"</p> +<p>"It isn't, eh," Allan sternly rejoined. And of Deborah he +demanded, "Didn't you say you'd go with me to 'Pinafore' this +Saturday night?"</p> +<p>"Ah," sneered Bruce. "So that's your game. And for one little +night of your pleasure you'd do me out of a week of my life!"</p> +<p>"Like that," said Baird, with a snap of his fingers.</p> +<p>"I'm going, though," said Deborah.</p> +<p>"Quite right, little woman," Bruce admonished her earnestly. +"Don't let him rob you of your happiness."</p> +<p>"Come here," growled Baird to Deborah. She followed him into the +living room, and Roger went upstairs with Bruce.</p> +<p>"If he ever hopes to marry that girl," said Bruce, with an +anxious backward glance, "he's got to learn to treat her with a +little consideration."</p> +<p>"Quit your quarreling," Roger said. "What's a week in the +mountains to you? Hasn't your wife just risked her life?"</p> +<p>"Sure she has," said Bruce feelingly. "And I propose to stick by +her, too."</p> +<p>"Can I see her?"</p> +<p>"No, you can't—another of Baird's fool notions."</p> +<p>"Then where's the baby?"</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id= +"Page_55"></a>[55]</span>Right in here."</p> +<p>Silently in front of the cradle Bruce and Roger stood looking +down with the content which comes to men on such occasions when +there is no woman by their side expecting them to say things.</p> +<p>"I made it a rule in my family," Roger spoke up presently, "to +have my first look at each child alone."</p> +<p>"Same here," said Bruce. And they continued their silent +communion. A few moments later, as they were leaving, Deborah came +into the room and went softly to the cradle. Downstairs they found +that Allan had gone, and when Deborah rejoined them she said she +was going to stick to her plan. It was soon arranged that she and +the youngsters should start on their journey the following day.</p> +<p>Back at home she threw herself into the packing and was busy +till late that night. At daybreak she was up again, for they were +to make an early start. Bruce came with his new automobile, the +children were all bundled in, together with Deborah and their +nurse, and a half hour later at the train Bruce and Roger left +them—Deborah flushed and happy, surrounded by luggage, wraps, +small boys, an ice box, toys and picture books. The small red hat +upon her head had already been jerked in a scrimmage, far down over +one of her ears.</p> +<p>"Don't worry about us, Bruce," she said. "We're going to have +the time of our lives!" Bruce fairly beamed his gratitude.</p> +<p>"If she don't marry," he declared, as he watched the train move +slowly out, "there'll be a great mother wasted."</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a><span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56"></a>[56]</span>CHAPTER +VII</h2> +<p>In the weeks which followed, Roger found the peace of his home +so interrupted and disturbed by wedding preparations that often +retreating into his den he earnestly told himself he was through, +that a man with three grown daughters was a fool to show any +sympathy with the utter folly of their lives. Yield an inch and +they took a mile! It began one night when Deborah said,</p> +<p>"Now, dearie, I think you had better make up your mind to give +Laura just the kind of wedding she likes."</p> +<p>And Roger weakly agreed to this, but as time wore on he +discovered that the kind of wedding Laura liked was a thing that +made his blood run cold. There seemed to be no end whatever to the +young bride's blithe demands. The trousseau part of it he didn't +mind. To the gowns and hats and gloves and shoes and trunks and +jaunty travelling bags which came pouring into the house, he made +no objection. All that, he considered, was fair play. But what got +on Roger's nerves was this frantic fuss and change! The faded hall +carpet had to come up, his favorite lounge was whisked away, the +piano was re-tuned while he was trying to take a nap, rugs were +beaten, crates and barrels filled the halls, and one whole bedroom +stripped and bare was transformed into a shop where the wedding +presents were displayed. In the shuffle his box of cigars +disappeared. In short, there was the devil to pay!</p> +<p>And Deborah, was as bad as the bride. At times it appeared to +Roger as though her fingers fairly itched to jab and tug at his +poor old house, which wore an air of <span class="pagenum"><a name= +"Page_57" id="Page_57"></a>[57]</span>mute reproach. She revealed a +part of her nature that he viewed with dark amazement. Every hour +she could spare from school, she was changing something or other at +home—with an eager glitter in her eyes. Doing it all for +Laura, she said. Fiddlesticks and rubbish! She did it because she +liked it!</p> +<p>In gloomy wrath one afternoon he went up to see Edith and quiet +down. She was well on the way to recovery, but instead of receiving +solace here he only found fresh troubles. For sitting up in her +old-fashioned bed, with an old-fashioned cap of lace upon her +shapely little head, Edith made her father feel she had washed her +hands of the whole affair.</p> +<p>"I'm sorry," she said in an injured tone, "that Laura doesn't +care enough about her oldest sister to put off the wedding two or +three weeks so I could be there. It seems rather undignified, I +think, for a girl to hurry her wedding so. I should have loved to +make it the dear simple kind of wedding which mother would have +wanted. But so long as she doesn't care for that—and in fact +has only found ten minutes—once—to run in and see the +baby—"</p> +<p>In dismay her father found himself defending the very daughter +of whom he had come to complain. It was not such a short +engagement, he said, he had learned they had been engaged some time +before they told him.</p> +<p>"Do you approve of that?" she rejoined. "When I was engaged, I +made Bruce go to you before I even let him—" here Edith broke +off primly. "Of course that was some time ago. An engagement, Laura +tells me, is 'a mere experiment' nowadays. They 'experiment' till +they feel quite sure—then notify their parents and get +married in a week."</p> +<p>"She is rushing it, I admit," Roger soothingly replied. "But she +has her mind set on Paris in June."</p> +<p>"Paris in June," said Edith, "sums up in three words<span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58"></a>[58]</span> Laura's +whole conception of marriage. You really ought to talk to her, +father. It's your duty, it seems to me."</p> +<p>"What do you mean?"</p> +<p>"I'd rather not tell you." Edith's glance went sternly to the +cradle by her bed. "Laura pities me," she said, "for having had +five children."</p> +<p>"Oh, now, my dear girl!"</p> +<p>"She does, though—she said as much. When she dropped in +the other day and I tried to be sympathetic and give her a little +sound advice, she said I had had the wedding I liked and the kind +of married life I liked, and she was going to have hers. And she +made it quite plain that her kind is to include no children. It's +to be simply an effort to find by 'experiment' whether or not she +loves Hal Sloane. If she doesn't—" Edith gave a slight but +emphatic wave of dismissal.</p> +<p>"Do you mean to say Laura told you that?" her father asked with +an angry frown.</p> +<p>"I mean she made me feel it—as plainly as I'm telling it! +What I can't understand," his daughter went on, "is Deborah's +attitude in the affair."</p> +<p>"What's the matter with Deborah?" inquired Roger dismally.</p> +<p>"Oh, nothing's the matter with Deborah. She's quite +self-sufficient. She at least can play with modern ideas and keep +her head while she's doing it. But when poor Laura—a mere +child with the mind of a chicken—catches vaguely at such +ideas, applies them to her own little self and risks her whole +future happiness, it seems to me perfectly criminal for Deborah not +to interfere! Not even a word of warning!"</p> +<p>"Deborah believes," said her father, "in everyone's leading his +own life."</p> +<p>"That's rot," was Edith's curt reply. "Do I lead my own life? +Does Bruce? Do you?"</p> +<p>"No," growled Roger feelingly.</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id= +"Page_59"></a>[59]</span>Do my children?" Edith demanded. "I know +Deborah would like them to. That's her latest and most modern fad, +to run a school where every child shall sit with a rat in its lap +or a goat, and do just what he pleases—follow his natural +bent, she says. I hope she won't come up to the mountains and +practice on my children. I should hate to break with Deborah," +Edith ended thoughtfully.</p> +<p>Roger rose and walked the room. The comforting idea entered his +mind that when the wedding was over he would take out his +collection of rings and carefully polish every one. But even this +hope did not stay with him long.</p> +<p>"With Laura at home," he heard Edith continue, "you at least had +a daughter to run your house. If Deborah tries to move you +out—"</p> +<p>"She won't!" cried Roger in alarm.</p> +<p>"If she does," persisted Edith, "or if she begins any talk of +the kind—you come to me and <i>I'll</i> talk to her!"</p> +<p>Her father walked in silence, his head down, frowning at the +floor.</p> +<p>"It seems funny," Edith continued, "that women like me who give +children their lives, and men like Bruce who are building New +York—actually doing it all the time—have so little to +say in these modern ideas. I suppose it's because we're a little +too real."</p> +<p>"To come back to the wedding," Roger suggested.</p> +<p>"To come back to the wedding, father dear," his daughter said +compassionately. "I'm afraid it's going to be a 'mere form' which +will make you rather wretched. When you get so you can't endure it, +come in and see me and the baby."</p> +<p>As he started for home, her words of warning recurred to his +mind. Yes, here was the thing that disturbed him most, the ghost +lurking under all this confusion, the part which had to do with +himself. It was bad enough to know that his daughter, his own flesh +and blood, was about to <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id= +"Page_60"></a>[60]</span>settle her fate at one throw. But to be +moved out of his house bag and baggage! Roger strode wrathfully up +the street.</p> +<p>"It's your duty to talk to her," Edith had said. And he +meditated darkly on this: "Maybe I will and maybe I won't. I know +my duties without being told. How does Edith know what her mother +liked? We had our own likings, her mother and I, and our own ideas, +long after she was tucked into bed. And yet she's always harping on +'what mother would have wanted.' What I should like to +know—right now—is what Judith would want if she were +here!"</p> +<p>With a pang of utter loneliness amid these vexing problems, +Roger felt it crowding in, this city of his children's lives. As he +strode on down Broadway, an old hag selling papers thrust one in +his face and he caught a glimpse of a headline. Some bigwig woman +re-divorced. How about Laura's "experiment"? A mob of street +urchins nearly upset him. How about Deborah? How about children? +How about schools, education, the country? How about God? Was +anyone thinking? Had anyone time? What a racket it made, +slam-banging along. The taxis and motor trucks thundered and +brayed, dark masses of people swept endlessly by, as though their +very souls depended on their dinners or their jobs, their movies, +roaring farces, thrills, their harum scarum dances, clothes. A +plump little fool of a woman, her skirt so tight she could barely +walk, tripped by on high-heeled slippers. That was it, he told +himself, the whole city was high-heeled! No solid footing anywhere! +And, good Lord, how they chattered!</p> +<p>He turned into a less noisy street. What would Judith want if +she were here? It became disturbingly clear to him that she would +undoubtedly wish him to have a talk with Laura now, find out if +she'd really made up her mind not to have any children, and if so +to tell her plainly that <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" +id="Page_61"></a>[61]</span>she was not only going against her God +but risking her own happiness. For though Judith had been liberal +about any number of smaller things, she had been decidedly clear on +this. Yes, he must talk to Laura.</p> +<p>"And she'll tell me," he reflected, "that Edith put me up to +it!"</p> +<p>If only his oldest daughter would leave the other girls alone! +Here she was planning a row with Deborah over whether poor young +George should be allowed to play with rats! It was all so silly!... +Yes, his three children were drifting apart, each one of them going +her separate way. And he rather took comfort in the thought, for at +least it would stop their wrangling. But again he pulled himself up +with a jerk. No, certainly Judith would not have liked this. If +she'd ever stood for anything, it was for keeping the family +together. It had been the heart and center of their last talks +before she died.</p> +<p>His face relaxed as he walked on, but in his eyes was a deeper +pain. If only Judith could be here. Before he reached home he had +made up his mind to talk with Laura that very night. He drew out +his latchkey, opened his door, shut it firmly and strode into his +house. In the hall they were putting down the new carpet. +Cautiously picking his way upstairs, he inquired for Laura and was +told she was dressing for dinner. He knocked at her door.</p> +<p>"Yes?" came her voice.</p> +<p>"It's I," he said, "your father."</p> +<p>"Oh, hello, dad," came the answer gaily, in that high sweet +voice of hers. "I'm frightfully rushed. It's a dinner dance +to-night for the bridesmaids and the ushers." Roger felt a glow of +relief. "Come in a moment, won't you?"</p> +<p>What a resplendent young creature she was, seated at her +dresser. Behind her the maid with needle and thread was swiftly +mending a little tear in the fluffy <span class="pagenum"><a name= +"Page_62" id="Page_62"></a>[62]</span>blue tulle she was wearing. +The shaded light just over her head brought a shimmer of red in her +sleek brown hair. What lips she had, what a bosom. She drew a deep +breath and smiled at him.</p> +<p>"What are you doing to-morrow night?" her father asked her.</p> +<p>"Oh, dad, my love, we have every evening filled and crammed +right up to the wedding," she replied. "No—the last evening +I'll be here. Hal's giving his ushers a dinner that night."</p> +<p>"Good. I want to talk to you, my dear." He felt his voice +solemn, a great mistake. He saw the quick glance from her luminous +eyes.</p> +<p>"All right, father—whenever you like."</p> +<p>Much embarrassed Roger left the room.</p> +<p>The few days which remained were a crowding confusion of +dressmakers, gowns and chattering friends and gifts arriving at all +hours. As a part of his resolve to do what he could for his +daughter, Roger stayed home from his office that week. But all he +could do was to unpack boxes, take out presents and keep the cards, +and say, "Yes, my dear, it's very nice. Where shall I put this +one?" As the array of presents grew, from time to time +unconsciously he glanced at the engagement ring upon Laura's +finger. And all the presents seemed like that. They would suit her +apartment beautifully. He'd be glad when they were out of the +house.</p> +<p>The only gift that appealed to his fancy was a brooch, neither +rich nor new, a genuine bit of old jewelry. But rather to his +annoyance he learned that it had been sent to Laura by the old +Galician Jew in the shop around the corner. It recalled to his mind +the curious friendship which had existed for so long between the +old man and his daughter. And as she turned the brooch to the light +Roger thought he saw in her eyes anticipations which made him +uneasy. Yes, she was a child of his. "June in +Paris—"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id= +"Page_63"></a>[63]</span> other Junes—"experiments"—no +children. Again he felt he must have that talk. But, good Lord, how +he dreaded it.</p> +<p>The house was almost ready now, dismantled and made new and +strange. It was the night before the wedding. Laura was taking her +supper in bed. What was he going to say to her? He ate his dinner +silently. At last he rose with grim resolution.</p> +<p>"I think I'll go up and see her," he said. Deborah quickly +glanced at him.</p> +<p>"What for?" she asked.</p> +<p>"Oh, I just want to talk to her—"</p> +<p>"Don't stay long," she admonished him. "I've a masseuse coming +at nine o'clock to get the child in condition to rest. Her nerves +are rather tense, you know."</p> +<p>"How about mine?" he said to himself as he started upstairs. +"Never mind, I've got to tackle it."</p> +<p>Laura saw what he meant to say the moment that he entered the +room, and the tightening of her features made it all the harder for +Roger to think clearly, to remember the grave, kind, fatherly +things which he had intended to tell her.</p> +<p>"I don't want to talk of the wedding, child, but of what's +coming after that—between you and this man—all your life." He +stopped short, with his heart in his mouth, for although he did not +look at her he had a quick sensation as though he had struck her in +the face.</p> +<p>"Isn't this rather late to speak about that? Just now? When I'm +nervous enough as it is?"</p> +<p>"I know, I know." He spoke hurriedly, humbly. "I should have +talked to you long ago, I should have known you better, child. I've +been slack and selfish. But it's better late than never."</p> +<p>"But you needn't!" the girl exclaimed. "You needn't tell me +anything! I know more than you think—I know enough!" Roger +looked at her, then at the wall. She <span class="pagenum"><a name= +"Page_64" id="Page_64"></a>[64]</span>went on in a voice rather +breathless: "I know what I'm doing—exactly—just what +I'm getting into. It's not as it was when you were young—it's +different—we talk of these things. Harold and I have talked +it all out." In the brief and dangerous pause which followed Roger +kept looking at the wall.</p> +<p>"Have you talked—about having children?"</p> +<p>"Yes," came the answer sharply, and then he felt the hot clutch +of her hand. "Hadn't you better go now, dad?" He hesitated.</p> +<p>"No," he said. His voice was low. "Do you mean to have children, +Laura?"</p> +<p>"I don't know."</p> +<p>"I think you do know. Do you mean to have children?" Her big +black eyes, dilating, were fixed defiantly on his own.</p> +<p>"Well then, no, I don't!" she replied. He made a desperate +effort to think what he could say to her. Good God, how he was +bungling! Where were all his arguments?</p> +<p>"How about your religion?" he blurted out.</p> +<p>"I haven't any—which makes me do that—I've a right +to be happy!"</p> +<p>"You haven't!" His voice had suddenly changed. In accent and in +quality it was like a voice from the heart of New England where he +had been born and bred. "I mean you won't be happy—not unless +you have a child! It's what you need—it'll fill your life! +It'll settle you—deepen you—tone you down!"</p> +<p>"Suppose I don't want to be toned down!" The girl was almost +hysterical. "I'm no Puritan—I want to live! I tell you we are +different now! We're not all like Edith—and we're not like +our mothers! We want to live! And we have a right to! Why don't you +go? Can't you see I'm nearly crazy? It's my last night, my very +last! I don't want to talk to you—I don't even know what I'm +saying! And you come and try to frighten me!" Her <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65"></a>[65]</span>voice +caught and broke into sobs. "You know nothing about me! You never +did! Leave me alone, can't you—leave me alone!"</p> +<p>"Father?" He heard Deborah's voice, abrupt and stern, outside +the door.</p> +<p>"I'm sorry," he said hoarsely. He went in blind fashion out of +the room and down to his study. He lit a cigar and smoked +wretchedly there. When presently Deborah appeared he saw that her +face was set and hard; but as she caught the baffled look, the +angry tortured light in his eyes, her own expression softened.</p> +<p>"Poor father," she said, in a pitying way. "If Edith had only +let you alone."</p> +<p>"I certainly didn't do much good."</p> +<p>"Of course you didn't—you did harm—oh, so much more +harm than you know." Into the quiet voice of his daughter crept a +note of keen regret. "I wanted to make her last days in this house +a time she could look back on, so that she'd want to come home for +help if ever she's in trouble. She has so little—don't you +see?—of what a woman needs these days. She has grown up so +badly. Oh, if you'd only let her alone. It was such a bad, bad time +to choose." She went to her father and kissed him. "Well, it's over +now," she said, "and we'll make the best we can of it. I'll tell +her you're sorry and quiet her down. And to-morrow we'll try to +forget it has happened."</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>For Roger the morrow went by in a whirl. The wedding, a large +church affair, was to take place at twelve o'clock. He arose early, +put on his Prince Albert, went down and ate his breakfast alone. +The waitress was flustered, the coffee was burnt. He finished and +anxiously wandered about. The maids were bustling in and out, with +Deborah giving orders pellmell. The caterers came trooping in. The +bridesmaids were arriving and hurrying up to Roger's room. That +place was soon a chaos of voices, giggles, <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66"></a>[66]</span>peals of +laughter. Laura's trunks were brought downstairs, and Roger tagged +them for the ship, one for the cabin and three for the hold, and +saw them into the wagon. Then he strode distractedly everywhere, +till at last he was hustled by Deborah into a taxi waiting +outside.</p> +<p>"It's all going so smoothly," Deborah said, and a faint sardonic +glimmer came into her father's hunted eyes. Deborah was funny!</p> +<p>Soon he found himself in the church. He heard whispers, eager +voices, heard one usher say to another, "God, what a terrible head +I've got!" And Roger glared at him for that. Plainly these +youngsters, all mere boys, had been up with the groom a good part +of the night.... But here was Laura, pale and tense. She smiled at +him and squeezed his hand. There was silence, then the organ, and +now he was taking her up the aisle. Strange faces stared. His jaw +set hard. At last they reached the altar. An usher quickly touched +his arm and he stepped back where he belonged. He listened but +understood nothing. Just words, words and motions.</p> +<p>"If any man can show just cause why they may not be lawfully +joined together, let him now speak or else hereafter forever hold +his peace."</p> +<p>"No," thought Roger, "I won't speak."</p> +<p>Just then he caught sight of Deborah's face, and at the look in +her steady gray eyes all at once he could feel the hot tears in his +own.</p> +<p>At the wedding breakfast he was gay to a boisterous degree. He +talked to strange women and brought them food, took punch with men +he had never laid eyes on, went off on a feverish hunt for cigars, +came back distractedly, joked with young girls and even started +some of them dancing. The whole affair was over in no time. The +bride and the groom came rushing downstairs; and as they escaped +from the shower of rice, Roger ran after them down the steps. He +gripped Sloane's hand.</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id= +"Page_67"></a>[67]</span>Remember, boy, it's her whole life!" +entreated Roger hoarsely.</p> +<p>"Yes, sir! I'll look out! No fear!"</p> +<p>"Good-bye, daddy!"</p> +<p>"God bless you, dear!"</p> +<p>They were speeding away. And with the best man, who looked weary +and spent, Roger went slowly back up the steps. It was an effort +now to talk. Thank Heaven these people soon were gone. Last of all +went the ponderous aunt of the groom. How the taxi groaned as he +helped her inside and started her off to Bridgeport. Back in his +study he found his cigars and smoked one dismally with Bruce. Bruce +was a decent sort of chap. He knew when to be silent.</p> +<p>"Well," he spoke finally, rising, "I guess I'll have to get back +to the office." He smiled a little and put his hand on Roger's +weary shoulder. "We're glad it's over—eh?" he asked.</p> +<p>"Bruce," said Roger heavily, "you've got a girl of your own +growing up. Don't let her grow to feel you're old. Live on with +her. She'll need you." His massive blunt face darkened. "The +world's so damnably new," he muttered, "so choked up with fool +ideas." Bruce still smiled affectionately.</p> +<p>"Go up and see Edith," he said, "and forget 'em. She never lets +one into the flat. She said you were to be sure to come and tell +her about the wedding."</p> +<p>"All right, I'll go," said Roger. He hunted about for his hat +and coat. What a devilish mess they had made of the house. A half +hour later he was with Edith; but there, despite his efforts to +answer all her questions, he grew heavier and heavier, till at last +he barely spoke. He sat watching Edith's baby.</p> +<p>"Did you talk to Laura?" he heard her ask.</p> +<p>"Yes," he replied. "It did no good." He knew that Edith was +waiting for more, but he kept doggedly silent.</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id= +"Page_68"></a>[68]</span>Well, dear," she said presently, "at least +you did what you could for her."</p> +<p>"I've never done what I could," he rejoined. "Not with any one +of you." He glanced at her with a twinge of pain. "I don't know as +it would have helped much if I had. This town is running away with +itself. I want a rest now, Edith, I want things quiet for a while." +He felt her anxious, pitying look.</p> +<p>"Where's Deborah?" she asked him. "Gone back to school +already?"</p> +<p>"I don't know where she is," he replied. And then he rose +forlornly. "I guess I'll be going back home," he said.</p> +<p>On his way, as his thoughts slowly cleared, the old uneasiness +rose in his mind. Would Deborah want to keep the house? Suppose she +suggested moving to some titty-tatty little flat. No, he would not +stand in her way. But, Lord, what an end to make of his life.</p> +<p>His home was almost dark inside, but he noticed rather to his +surprise that the rooms had already been put in order. He sank down +on the living room sofa and lay motionless for a while. How tired +he was. From time to time he drearily sighed. Yes, Deborah would +find him old and life here dull and lonely. Where was she to-night, +he wondered. Couldn't she quit her zoo school for one single +afternoon? At last, when the room had grown pitch dark, he heard +the maid lighting the gas in the hall. Roger loudly cleared his +throat, and at the sound the startled girl ejaculated, "Oh, my +Gawd!"</p> +<p>"It's I," said Roger sternly. "Did Miss Deborah say when she'd +be back?"</p> +<p>"She didn't go out, sir. She's up in her room."</p> +<p>Roger went up and found her there. All afternoon with both the +maids she had been setting the house to rights, and now she ached +in every limb. She was lying on her bed, and she looked as though +she had been crying.</p> +<p>"Where have you been?" she inquired.</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id= +"Page_69"></a>[69]</span>At Edith's," her father answered. She +reached up and took his hand, and held it slowly tighter.</p> +<p>"You aren't going to find it too lonely here, with Laura gone?" +she asked him. And the wistfulness in her deep sweet voice made +something thrill in Roger.</p> +<p>"Why should I?" he retorted. Deborah gave a queer little +laugh.</p> +<p>"Oh, I'm just silly, that's all," she said. "I've been having a +fit of blues. I've been feeling so old this afternoon—a +regular old woman. I wanted you, dearie, and I was afraid that +you—" she broke off.</p> +<p>"Look here," said Roger sharply. "Do you really want to keep +this house?"</p> +<p>"Keep this house? Why, father!"</p> +<p>"You think you can stand it here alone, just the two of us?" he +demanded.</p> +<p>"I can," cried Deborah happily. Her father walked to the window. +There as he looked blindly out, his eyes were assaulted by the +lights of all those titty-tatty flats. And a look of vicious +triumph appeared for a moment on his face.</p> +<p>"Very well," he said quietly, turning back. "Then we're both +suited." He went to the door. "I'll go and wash up for supper," he +said.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a><span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70"></a>[70]</span>CHAPTER +VIII</h2> +<p>It was a relief to him to find how smoothly he and Deborah +dropped back into their old relations. It was good to get home +those evenings; for in this new stage of its existence, with its +family of two, the house appeared to have filled itself with a deep +reposeful feeling. Laura had gone out of its life. He glanced into +her room one night, and it looked like a guest room now. The sight +of it brought him a pang of regret. But the big ship which was +bearing her swiftly away to "Paris in June" seemed bearing off +Roger's uneasiness too. He could smile at his former fears, for +Laura was safely married and wildly in love with her husband. Time, +he thought, would take care of the rest. Occasionally he missed her +here—her voice, high-pitched but musical, chatting and +laughing at the 'phone, her bustle of dressing to go out, glimpses +of her extravagances, of her smart suits and evening gowns, of all +the joyous color and dash that she had given to his home. But these +regrets soon died away. The old house shed them easily, as though +glad to enter this long rest.</p> +<p>For the story of his family, from Roger's point of view at +least, was a long uneven narrative, with prolonged periods of peace +and again with events piling one on the other. And now there came +one of those peaceful times, and Roger liked the quiet. The old +routine was re-established—his dinner, his paper, his cigar +and then his book for the evening, some good old-fashioned novel or +some pleasant book of travel which he and Judith had read aloud +when they were planning out their lives. They had meant to go +abroad so often when the children had grown up. And <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71"></a>[71]</span>he liked to +read about it still. Life was so quiet over the sea, things were so +old and mellow there. He resumed, too, his horseback rides, and on +the way home he would stop in for a visit with Edith and her baby. +The wee boy grew funnier every day, with his sudden kicks and +sneezes, his waving fists and mighty yawns. And Roger felt drawn to +his daughter here, for in these grateful seasons of rest that +followed the birth of each of her children, Edith loved to lie very +still and make new plans for her small brood.</p> +<p>Only once she spoke of Laura, and then it was to suggest to him +that he gather together all the bills his daughter had doubtless +left behind.</p> +<p>"If you don't settle them," Edith said, "they'll go to her +husband. And you wouldn't like that, would you?"</p> +<p>Roger said he would see to it, and one evening after dinner he +started in on Laura's bills. It was rather an appalling time. He +looked into his bank account and found that Laura's wedding would +take about all his surplus. But this did not dismay him much, for +money matters never did. It simply meant more work in the +office.</p> +<p>The next day he rose early and was in his office by nine +o'clock. He had not been so prompt in months, and many of his +employees came in late that morning. But nobody seemed very much +perturbed, for Roger was an easy employer. Still, he sternly told +himself, he had been letting things get altogether too slack. He +had been neglecting his business again. The work had become so cut +and dried, there was nothing creative left to do. It had not been +so in years gone by. Those years had fairly bristled with ideas and +hopes and schemes. But even those old memories were no longer here +to hearten him. They had all been swept away when Bruce had made +him move out of his office in a dark creaky edifice down close +under Brooklyn Bridge, and come up to this new building, this +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id= +"Page_72"></a>[72]</span>steel-ribbed caravansary for all kinds of +business ventures, this place of varnished woodwork, floods of +daylight, concrete floors, this building fireproof throughout. That +expressed it exactly, Roger thought. Nothing could take fire here, +not even a man's imagination, even though he did not feel old. Now +and then in the elevator, as some youngster with eager eyes pushed +nervously against him, Roger would frown and wonder, "What are you +so excited about?"</p> +<p>But again the business was running down, and this time he must +jerk it back before it got beyond him. He set himself doggedly to +the task, calling in his assistants one by one, going through the +work in those outer rooms, where at tables long rows of busy young +girls, with colored pencils, scissors and paste, were demolishing +enormous piles of newspapers and magazines. And vaguely, little by +little, he came to a realization of how while he had slumbered the +life of the country had swept on. For as he studied the lists and +the letters of his patrons, Roger felt confusedly that a new +America was here.</p> +<p>Clippings, clippings, clippings. Business men and business +firms, gigantic corporations, kept sending here for clippings, news +of themselves or their rivals, keeping keen watch on each other's +affairs for signs of strength or weakness. How savage was the fight +these days. Here was news of mines and mills and factories all over +the land, clippings sent each morning by special messengers +downtown to reach the brokers' offices before the market opened. +One broker wrote, "Please quote your terms for the following. From +nine to two o'clock each day our messenger will call at your office +every hour for clippings giving information of the companies named +below."</p> +<p>The long list appended carried Roger's fancy out all over the +continent. And then came this injunction: "Remember that our +messenger must leave your office every hour. In information of this +kind every minute counts."</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id= +"Page_73"></a>[73]</span>Clippings, clippings, clippings. As Roger +turned over his morning mail, in spite of himself he grew absorbed. +What a change in the world of literature. What a host of names of +scribblers, not authors but just writers, not only men but women +too, novelists and dramatists, poets and muckrakers all jumbled in +together, each one of them straining for a place. And the actors +and the actresses, the musicians and the lecturers, each with his +press agent and avid for publicity, "fame!" And here were society +women, from New York and other cities, all eager for press notices +of social affairs they had given or managed, charity work they had +conducted, suffrage speeches they had made. Half the women in the +land were fairly talking their heads off, it seemed. Some had been +on his lists for years. They married and wanted to hear what was +said in the papers about their weddings, they quarreled and got +divorces and still sent here for clippings, they died and still +their relatives wrote in for the funeral notices. And even death +was commercialized. A maker of monuments wanted news "of all people +of large means, dead or dangerously ill, in the State of +Pennsylvania." Here were demands from charity bodies, hospitals and +colleges, from clergymen with an anxious eye on the Monday morning +papers. And here was an anarchist millionaire! And here was an +insane asylum wanting to see itself in print!</p> +<p>With a grim smile on his heavy visage, Roger stared out of his +window. Slowly the smile faded, a wistful look came on his +face.</p> +<p>"Who'll take my business when I'm gone?"</p> +<p>If his small son had only lived, with what new zest and vigor it +might have been made to grow and expand. If only his son had been +here by his side....</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a><span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74"></a>[74]</span>CHAPTER +IX</h2> +<p>DEBORAH needed rest, he thought, for the bright attractive face +of his daughter was looking rather pale of late, and the birthmark +on her forehead showed a faint thin line of red. One night at +dinner, watching her, he wondered what was on her mind. She had +come in late, and though several times she had made an effort to +keep up the conversation, her cheeks were almost colorless and more +than once in her deepset eyes came a flash of pain that startled +him.</p> +<p>"Look here. What's the matter with you?" he asked. Deborah +looked up quickly.</p> +<p>"I'd rather not talk about it, dad—"</p> +<p>"Very well," he answered. And with a slight hesitation, "But I +think I know the trouble," he said. "And perhaps some other +time—when you do feel like talking—" He stopped, for on +her wide sensitive lips he saw a twitch of amusement.</p> +<p>"What do you think is the trouble?" she asked. And Roger looked +at her squarely.</p> +<p>"Loneliness," he answered.</p> +<p>"Why?" she asked him.</p> +<p>"Well, there's Edith's baby—and Laura getting +married—"</p> +<p>"I see—and so I'm lonely for a family of my own. But +you're forgetting my school," she said.</p> +<p>"Yes, yes, I know," he retorted. "But that's not at all the +same. Interesting work, no doubt, but—well, it isn't +personal."</p> +<p>"Oh, isn't it?" she answered, and she drew a quivering breath. +Rising from the table she went into the living <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75"></a>[75]</span>room, and +there a few moments later he found her walking up and down. "I +think I will tell you now," she said. "I'm afraid of being alone +to-night, of keeping this matter to myself." He looked at her +apprehensively.</p> +<p>"Very well, my dear," he said.</p> +<p>"This is the trouble," she began. "Down in my school we've a +family of about three thousand children. A few I get to know so +well I try to follow them when they leave. And one of these, an +Italian boy—his name is Joe Bolini—was one of the best +I ever had, and one of the most appealing. But Joe took to drinking +and got in with a gang of boys who blackmailed small shopkeepers. +He used to come to me at times in occasional moods of repentance. +He was a splendid physical type and he'd been a leader in our +athletics, so I took him back into the school to manage our teams +in basket-ball. He left the gang and stopped drinking, and we had +long talks together about his great ambition. He wanted to enter +the Fire Department as soon as he was twenty-one. And I promised to +use my influence." She stopped, still frowning slightly.</p> +<p>"What happened?" Roger asked her.</p> +<p>"His girl took up with another man, and Joe has hot Italian +blood. He got drunk one night and—shot them both." There was +another silence. "I did what I could," she said harshly, "but he +had a bad record behind him, and the young assistant district +attorney had his own record to think of, too. So Joe got a death +sentence. We appealed the case but it did no good. He was sent up +the river and is in the death house now—and he sent for me to +come to-day. His letter hinted he was scared, he wrote that his +priest was no good to him. So I went up this afternoon. Joe goes to +the chair to-morrow at six."</p> +<p>Deborah went to the sofa and sat down inertly. Roger remained +motionless, and a dull chill crept over him.</p> +<p>"So you see my work is personal," he heard her mutter +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id= +"Page_76"></a>[76]</span>presently. All at once she seemed so far +away, such a stranger to him in this life of hers.</p> +<p>"By George, it's horrible!" he said. "I'm sorry you went to see +the boy!"</p> +<p>"I'm glad," was his daughter's quick retort. "I've been getting +much too sure of myself—of my school, I mean, and what it can +do. I needed this to bring me back to the kind of world we live +in!"</p> +<p>"What do you mean?" he roughly asked.</p> +<p>"I mean there are schools and prisons! And gallows and electric +chairs! And I'm for schools! They've tried their jails and gallows +for whole black hideous centuries! What good have they done? If +they'd given Joe back to the school and me, I'd have had him a +fireman in a year! I know, because I studied him hard! He'd have +<i>grown</i> fighting fires, he would have <i>saved</i> lives!"</p> +<p>Again she stopped, with a catch of her breath. In suspense he +watched her angry struggle to regain control of herself. She sat +bolt upright, rigid; her birthmark showed a fiery red. In a few +moments he saw her relax.</p> +<p>"But of course," she added wearily, "it's much more complex than +that. A school is nothing nowadays—just by itself alone, I +mean—it's only a part of a city's life—which for most +tenement children is either very dull and hard, or cheap and false +and overexciting. And behind all that lie the reasons for that. And +there are so many reasons." She stared straight past her father as +though at something far away. Then she seemed to recall herself: +"But I'm talking too much of my family."</p> +<p>Roger carefully lit a cigar:</p> +<p>"I don't think you are, my dear. I'd like to hear more about +it." She smiled:</p> +<p>"To keep my mind off Joe, you mean."</p> +<p>"And mine, too," he answered.</p> +<p>They had a long talk that evening about her hope of making her +school what Roger visaged confusedly as a <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77"></a>[77]</span>kind of +mammoth home, the center of a neighborhood, of one prodigious +family. At times when the clock on the mantle struck the hour loud +and clear, there would fall a sudden silence, as both thought of +what was to happen at dawn. But quickly Roger would question again +and Deborah would talk steadily on. It was after midnight when she +stopped.</p> +<p>"You've been good to me to-night, dearie," she said. "Let's go +to bed now, shall we?"</p> +<p>"Very well," he answered. He looked at his daughter anxiously. +She no longer seemed to him mature. He could feel what heavy +discouragements, what problems she was facing in the dark +mysterious tenement world which she had chosen to make her own. And +compared to these she seemed a mere girl, a child groping its way, +just making a start. And so he added wistfully, "I wish I could be +of more help to you." She looked up at him for a moment.</p> +<p>"Do you know why you are such a help?" she said. "It's because +you have never grown old—because you've never allowed +yourself to grow absolutely certain about anything in life." A +smile half sad and half perplexed came on her father's heavy +face.</p> +<p>"You consider that a strong point?" he asked.</p> +<p>"I do," she replied, "compared to being a bundle of creeds and +prejudices."</p> +<p>"Oh, I've got prejudices enough."</p> +<p>"Yes," she said. "And so have I. But we're not even sure of +<i>them</i>, these days."</p> +<p>"The world has a habit of crowding in," her father muttered +vaguely.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>Roger did not sleep that night. He could not keep his thoughts +away from what was going to happen at dawn. Yes, the city was +crowding in upon this quiet house of his. Dimly he could recollect, +in the genial years of long ago, <span class="pagenum"><a name= +"Page_78" id="Page_78"></a>[78]</span>just glancing casually now +and then at some small and unobtrusive notice in his evening paper: +"Execution at Sing Sing." It had been so remote to him. But here it +was smashing into his house, through the life his own daughter was +leading day and night among the poor! Each time he thought of that +lad in a cell, again a chill crept over him! But savagely he shook +it off, and by a strong effort of his will he turned his thoughts +to the things she had told him about her school. Yes, in her main +idea she was right. He had no use for wild reforms, but here was +something solid, a good education for every child. More than once, +while she had talked, something very deep in Roger had leaped up in +swift response.</p> +<p>For Deborah, too, was a part of himself. He, too, had had his +feeling for humanity in the large. For years he had run a boys' +club at a little mission school in which his wife had been +interested, and on Christmas Eve he had formed the habit of +gathering up a dozen small urchins right off the street and taking +them 'round and fitting them out with good warm winter clothing, +after which he had gone home to help Judith trim the Christmas tree +and fill their children's stockings. And later, when she had gone +to bed, invariably he had taken "The Christmas Carol" from its +shelf and had settled down with a glow of almost luxurious +brotherhood. There was sentiment in Roger Gale, and as he read of +"Tiny Tim" his deepset eyes would glisten with tears.</p> +<p>And now here was Deborah fulfilling a part of him in herself. +"You will live on in our children's lives." But this was going much +too far! She was letting herself be swallowed up completely by this +work of hers! It was all very well for the past ten years, but she +was getting on in age! High time to marry and settle down!</p> +<p>Again angrily he shook off the thought of that boy Joe alone in +a cell, eyes fixed in animal terror upon the steel door which would +open so soon.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id= +"Page_79"></a>[79]</span>The day was slowly breaking. It was the +early part of June. How fresh and lovely it must be up there in the +big mountains with Edith's happy little lads. Here it was raw and +garish, weird. Some sparrows began quarreling just outside his +window. Roger rose and walked the room. Restlessly he went into the +hall. The old house appeared so strange in this light—as +though stripped bare—there was something gone. Softly he came +to Deborah's door. It was open wide, for the night had been warm, +and she lay awake upon her bed with her gaze fixed on the ceiling. +She turned her head and saw him there. He came in and sat down by +her window. For a long time neither made a sound. Then the great +clock on the distant tower, which had been silent through the +night, resumed its deep and measured boom. It struck six times. +There was silence again. More and more taut grew his muscles, and +suddenly it felt to him as though Deborah's fierce agony were +pounding into his very soul. The slow, slow minutes throbbed away. +At last he rose and left her. There was a cold sweat on his +brow.</p> +<p>"I'll go down and make her some coffee," he thought.</p> +<p>Down in the kitchen it was a relief to bang about hunting for +the utensils. On picnics up in the mountains his coffee had been +famous. He made some now and boiled some eggs, and they breakfasted +in Deborah's room. She seemed almost herself again. Later, while he +was dressing, he saw her in the doorway. She was looking at her +father with bright and grateful, affectionate eyes.</p> +<p>"Will you come to school with me to-day? I'd like you to see +it," Deborah said.</p> +<p>"Very well," he answered gruffly.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a><span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80"></a>[80]</span>CHAPTER +X</h2> +<p>Out of the subway they emerged into a noisy tenement street. +Roger had known such streets as this, but only in the night-time, +as picturesque and adventurous ways in an underground world he had +explored in search of strange old glittering rings. It was +different now. Gone were the Rembrandt shadows, the leaping flare +of torches, the dark surging masses of weird uncouth humanity. Here +in garish daylight were poverty and ugliness, here were heaps of +refuse and heavy smells and clamor. It disgusted and repelled him, +and he was tempted to turn back. But glancing at Deborah by his +side he thought of the night she had been through. No, he decided, +he would go on and see what she was up to here.</p> +<p>They turned into a narrower street between tall dirty tenements, +and in a twinkling all was changed. For the street, as far as he +could see, was gay with flaunting colors, torrents of bobbing hats +and ribbons, frocks and blouses, shirts and breeches, vivid reds +and yellows and blues. It was deafening with joyous cries, a shrill +incessant chatter, chatter, piercing yells and shrieks of laughter. +Children, swarms of children, children of all sizes passed him, +clean and dirty, smiling, scowling, hurrying, running, pummeling, +grabbing, whirling each other 'round and 'round—till the very +air seemed quivering with wild spirits and new life!</p> +<p>He heard Deborah laughing. Five hilarious small boys had hold of +her hands and were marching in triumph waving their caps. "Heigh +there—heigh there! Heigh—heigh—heigh!"</p> +<p>The school was close in front of them. An enormous <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81"></a>[81]</span>building of +brick and tile wedged into a disordered mass of tenements, shops +and factories, it had been built around a court shut out from the +street by a high steel fence. They squeezed into the gateway, +through which a shouting punching mob of urchins were now pushing +in; and soon from a balcony above Roger looked down into the court, +where out of a wild chaos order was appearing. Boys to the right +and girls to the left were forming in long sinuous lines, and three +thousand faces were turned toward the building. In front appeared +the Stars and Stripes. Then suddenly he heard a crash from +underneath the balcony, and looking down he saw a band made up of +some thirty or forty boys. Their leader, a dark Italian lad, made a +flourish, a pass with his baton, and the band broke into a blaring +storm, an uproarious, booming march. The mob below fell into step, +and line after line in single file the children marched into their +school.</p> +<p>"Look up! Look all around you!" He heard Deborah's eager voice +in his ear. And as he looked up from the court below he gave a low +cry of amazement. In hundreds of windows all around, of sweatshops, +tenements, factories, on tier upon tier of fire escapes and even +upon the roofs above, silent watchers had appeared. For this one +moment in the day the whole congested neighborhood had stopped its +feverish labor and become an amphitheater with all eyes upon the +school. And the thought flashed into Roger's mind: "Deborah's big +family!"</p> +<p>He had a strange confusing time. In her office, in a daze, he +sat and heard his daughter with her two assistant principals, her +clerk and her stenographer, plunge into the routine work of the +day. What kind of school teacher was this? She seemed more like the +manager of some buzzing factory. Messages kept coming constantly +from class-rooms, children came for punishment, and on each small +human problem she was passing judgment quickly. Meanwhile a score +of mothers, most of them Italians with <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82"></a>[82]</span>colored +shawls upon their heads, had straggled in and taken seats, and one +by one they came to her desk. For these women who had been children +in peasant huts in Italy now had children of their own in the great +city of New York, and they found it very baffling. How to keep them +in at night? How to make them go to the priest? How to feed and +clothe them? How to live in these tenement homes, in this wild din +and chaos? They wanted help and they wanted advice. Deborah spoke +in Italian, but turning to her father she would translate from time +to time.</p> +<p>A tired scowling woman said, "My boy won't obey me. His father +is dead. When I slap him he only jumps away. I lock him in and he +steals the key, he keeps it in his pocket. He steals the money that +I earn. He says I'm from the country." And a flabby anxious woman +said, "My girl runs out to dance halls. Sometimes she comes back at +two in the morning. She is fifteen and she ought to get married. +But what can I do? A nice steady man who never dances comes +sometimes to see her—but she makes faces and calls him a +fatty, she dances before him and pushes him out and slams the door. +What can I do?"</p> +<p>"Please come and see our janitor and make him fix our kitchen +sink!" an angry little woman cried. "When I try to wash the dishes +the water spouts all over me!" And then a plump rosy mother said in +a soft coaxing voice, "I have eight little children, all nice and +clean. When you tell them to do anything they always do it quickly. +They smile at you, they are like saints. So could the kind +beautiful teacher fix it up with a newspaper to send them to the +country—this summer when it is so hot? The newspaper could +send a man and he could take our pictures."</p> +<p>"Most of us girls used to be in this school," said a bright +looking Jewess of eighteen. "And you taught us how we should live +nice. But how can we live nice when our shop <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83"></a>[83]</span>is so +rotten? Our boss is trying to kiss the girls, he is trying to hug +them on the stairs. And what he pays us is a joke, and we must work +till nine o'clock. So will you help us, teacher, and give us a room +for our meetings here? We want to have a union."</p> +<p>A truant officer brought in two ragged, frightened little chaps. +Found on the street during school hours, they had to give an +account of themselves. Sullenly one of them gave an address far up +in the Bronx, ten miles away. They had not been home for a week, he +said. Was he lying? What was to be done? Somewhere in the city +their homes must be discovered. And the talk of the truant officer +made Roger feel ramifications here which wound out through the +police and the courts to reformatories, distant cells. He thought +of that electric chair, and suddenly he felt oppressed by the heavy +complexity of it all.</p> +<p>And this was part and parcel of his daughter's daily work in +school! Still dazed, disturbed but curious, he sat and watched and +listened, while the bewildering demands of Deborah's big family +kept crowding in upon her. He went to a few of the class-rooms and +found that reading and writing, arithmetic and spelling were being +taught in ways which he had never dreamed of. He found a +kindergarten class, a carpenter shop and a printing shop, a sewing +class and a cooking class in a large model kitchen. He watched the +nurse in her hospital room, he went into the dental clinic where a +squad of fifty urchins were having their teeth examined, and out +upon a small side roof he found a score of small invalids in +steamer chairs, all fast asleep. It was a strange astounding +school! He heard Deborah speak of a mothers' club and a +neighborhood association; and he learned of other ventures here, +the school doctor, the nurse and the visitor endlessly making +experiments, delving into the neighborhood for ways to meet its +problems. And by the way Deborah talked <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84"></a>[84]</span>to them he +felt she had gone before, that years ago by day and night she had +been over the ground alone. And she'd done all this while she lived +in his house!</p> +<p>Scattered memories out of the past, mere fragments she had told +him, here flashed back into his mind: humorous little incidents of +daily battles she had waged in rotten old tenement buildings with +rags and filth and garbage, with vermin, darkness and disease. +Mingled with these had been accounts of dances, weddings and +christenings and of curious funeral rites. And struggling with such +dim memories of Deborah in her twenties, called forth in his mind +by the picture of the woman of thirty here, Roger grew still more +confused. What was to be the end of it? She was still but a pioneer +in a jungle, endlessly groping and trying new things.</p> +<p>"How many children are there in the public schools?" he +asked.</p> +<p>"About eight hundred thousand," Deborah said.</p> +<p>"Good Lord!" he groaned, and he felt within him a glow of +indignation rise against these immigrant women for breeding so +inconsiderately. With the mad city growing so fast, and the people +of the tenements breeding, breeding, breeding, and packing the +schools to bursting, what could any teacher be but a mere cog in a +machine, ponderous, impersonal, blind, grinding out future New +Yorkers?</p> +<p>He reached home limp and battered from the storm of new +impressions coming on top of his sleepless night. He had thought of +a school as a simple place, filled with little children, +mischievous at times perhaps and some with dirty faces, but still +with minds and spirits clean, unsoiled as yet by contact with the +grim spirit of the town. He had thought of childhood as something +intimate and pure, inside his home, his family. Instead of that, in +Deborah's school he had been disturbed and thrilled by the presence +all around him of something <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" +id="Page_85"></a>[85]</span>wild, barbaric, dark, compounded of the +city streets, of surging crowds, of rushing feet, of turmoil, +filth, disease and death, of poverty and vice and crime. But Roger +could still hear that band. And behind its blaring crash and din he +had felt the vital throbbing of a tremendous joyousness, of gaiety, +fresh hopes and dreams, of leaping young emotions like deep buried +bubbling springs bursting up resistlessly to renew the fevered life +of the town! Deborah's big family! Everybody's children!</p> +<p>"You will live on in our children's lives." The vision hidden in +those words now opened wide before his eyes.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a><span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86"></a>[86]</span>CHAPTER +XI</h2> +<p>She told him the next morning her night school closed for the +summer that week.</p> +<p>"I think I should like to see it," her father said determinedly. +She gave him an affectionate smile:</p> +<p>"Oh, dearie. Haven't you had enough?"</p> +<p>"I guess I can stand it if you can," was his gruff rejoinder, +"though if I ran a school like yours I think by night I'd have +schooled enough. Do most principals run night schools too?"</p> +<p>"A good many of them do."</p> +<p>"Isn't it taxing your strength?" he asked.</p> +<p>"Don't you have to tax your strength," his daughter replied good +humoredly, "to really accomplish anything? Don't you have to risk +yourself in order to really live these days? Suppose you come down +to-morrow night. We won't go to the school, for I doubt if the +clubs and classes would interest you very much. I'll take you +through the neighborhood."</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>They went down the following evening. The night was warm and +humid, and through the narrow tenement streets there poured a +teeming mass of life. People by the thousands passed, bareheaded, +men in shirt sleeves, their faces glistening with sweat. Animal +odors filled the air. The torches on the pushcarts threw flaring +lights and shadows, the peddlers shouted hoarsely, the tradesmen in +the booths and stalls joined in with cries, shrill peals of mirth. +The mass swept onward, talking, talking, and its voice was a +guttural roar. Small boys and girls with piercing yells kept +darting under elbows, old women dozed on door<span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87"></a>[87]</span>steps, +babies screamed on every side. Mothers leaned out of windows, and +by their faces you could see that they were screaming angrily for +children to come up to bed. But you could not hear their cries. +Here around a hurdy gurdy gravely danced some little girls. A tense +young Jew, dark faced and thin, was shouting from a wagon that all +men and women must be free and own the factories and mills. A mob +of small boys, clustered 'round a "camp fire" they had made on the +street, were leaping wildly through the flames. It was a mammoth +cauldron here, seething, bubbling over with a million foreign +lives. Deborah's big family.</p> +<p>She turned into a doorway, went down a long dark passage and +came into a court-yard enclosed by greasy tenement walls that +reared to a spot of dark blue sky where a few quiet stars were +twinkling down. With a feeling of repugnance Roger followed his +daughter into a tall rear building and up a rickety flight of +stairs. On the fourth landing she knocked at a door, and presently +it was opened by a stout young Irish woman with flushed haggard +features and disheveled hair.</p> +<p>"Oh. Good evening, Mrs. Berry."</p> +<p>"Good evening. Come in," was the curt reply. They entered a +small stifling room where were a stove, two kitchen chairs and +three frowzled beds in corners. On one of the beds lay a baby +asleep, on another two small restless boys sat up and watched the +visitors. A sick man lay upon the third. And a cripple boy, a +boarder here, stood on his crutches watching them. Roger was struck +at once by his face. Over the broad cheek bones the sallow skin was +tightly drawn, but there was a determined set to the jaws that +matched the boy's shrewd grayish eyes, and his face lit up in a +wonderful smile.</p> +<p>"Hello, Miss Deborah," he said. His voice had a cheery +quality.</p> +<p>"Hello, Johnny. How are you?"</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id= +"Page_88"></a>[88]</span>Fine, thank you."</p> +<p>"That's good. I've brought my father with me."</p> +<p>"Howdado, sir, glad to meet you."</p> +<p>"It's some time since you've been to see me, John," Deborah +continued.</p> +<p>"I know it is," he answered. And then with a quick jerk of his +head, "He's been pretty bad," he said. Roger looked at the man on +the bed. With his thin waxen features drawn, the man was gasping +for each breath.</p> +<p>"What's the matter?" Roger whispered.</p> +<p>"Lungs," said the young woman harshly. "You needn't bother to +speak so low. He can't hear you anyhow. He's dying. He's been dying +weeks."</p> +<p>"Why didn't you let me know of this?" Deborah asked gently.</p> +<p>"Because I knew what you'd want to do—take him off to a +hospital! And I ain't going to have it! I promised him he could die +at home!"</p> +<p>"I'm sorry," Deborah answered. There was a moment's silence, and +the baby whimpered in its sleep. One child had gone to his father's +bed and was frowning at his agony as though it were a tiresome +sight.</p> +<p>"Are any of them coughing?" Deborah inquired.</p> +<p>"No," said the woman sharply.</p> +<p>"Yes, they are, two of 'em," John cheerfully corrected her.</p> +<p>"You shut up!" she said to him, and she turned back to Deborah. +"It's my home, I guess, and my family, too. So what do you think +that <i>you</i> can do?" Deborah looked at her steadily.</p> +<p>"Yes, it's your family," she agreed. "And it's none of my +business, I know—except that John is one of my boys—and +if things are to go on like this I can't let him board here any +more. If he had let me know before I'd have taken him from you +sooner. You'll miss the four dollars a week he pays."</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id= +"Page_89"></a>[89]</span>The woman swallowed fiercely. The flush on +her face had deepened. She scowled to keep back the tears.</p> +<p>"We can all die for all I care! I've about got to the end of my +rope!"</p> +<p>"I see you have." Deborah's voice was low. "You've made a hard +plucky fight, Mrs. Berry. Are there any empty rooms left in this +building?"</p> +<p>"Yes, two upstairs. What do you want to know for?"</p> +<p>"I'm going to rent them for you. I'll arrange it to-night with +the janitor, on condition that you promise to move your children +to-morrow upstairs and keep them there until this is over. Will +you?"</p> +<p>"Yes."</p> +<p>"That's sensible. And I'll have one of the visiting nurses here +within an hour."</p> +<p>"Thanks."</p> +<p>"And later on we'll have a talk."</p> +<p>"All right—"</p> +<p>"Good-night, Mrs. Berry."</p> +<p>"Good-night, Miss Gale, I'm much obliged.... Say, wait a minute! +Will you?" The wife had followed them out on the landing and she +was clutching Deborah's arm. "Why can't the nurse give him +something," she whispered, "to put him to sleep for good and all? +It ain't right to let a man suffer like that! I can't stand it! +I'm—I'm—" she broke off with a sob. Deborah put one arm +around her and held her steadily for a moment.</p> +<p>"The nurse will see that he sleeps," she said. "Now, John," she +added, presently, when the woman had gone into the room, "I want +you to get your things together. I'll have the janitor move them +upstairs. You sleep there to-night, and to-morrow morning come to +see me at the school."</p> +<p>"All right, Miss Deborah, much obliged. I'll be all right. +Good-night, sir—"</p> +<p>"Good-night, my boy," said Roger, and suddenly he <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90"></a>[90]</span>cleared his +throat. He followed his daughter down the stairs. A few minutes she +talked with the janitor, then joined her father in the court.</p> +<p>"I'm sorry I took you up there," she said. "I didn't know the +man was sick."</p> +<p>"Who are they?" he asked.</p> +<p>"Poor people," she said. And Roger flinched.</p> +<p>"Who is this boy?"</p> +<p>"A neighbor of theirs. His mother, who was a widow, died about +two years ago. He was left alone and scared to death lest he should +be 'put away' in some big institution. He got Mrs. Berry to take +him in, and to earn his board he began selling papers instead of +coming to our school. So our school visitor looked him up. Since +then I have been paying his board from a fund I have from friends +uptown, and so he has finished his schooling. He's to graduate next +week. He means to be a stenographer."</p> +<p>"How old is he?"</p> +<p>"Seventeen," she replied.</p> +<p>"How was he crippled? Born that way?"</p> +<p>"No. When he was a baby his mother dropped him one Saturday +night when she was drunk. He has never been able to sit down. He +can lie down or he can stand. He's always in pain, it never stops. +I learned that from the doctor I took him to see. But whenever you +ask him how he feels you get the same answer always: 'Fine, thank +you.' He's a fighter, is John."</p> +<p>"He looks it. I'd like to help that boy—"</p> +<p>"All right—you can help him," Deborah said. "You'll find +him quite a tonic."</p> +<p>"A what?"</p> +<p>"A tonic," she repeated. And with a sudden tightening of her +wide and sensitive mouth, Deborah added slowly, "Because, though +I've known many hungry boys, Johnny Geer is the hungriest of them +all—hungry to get on in life, to grow and learn and get good +things, get friends, love, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" +id="Page_91"></a>[91]</span>happiness, everything!" As she spoke of +this child in her family, over her strong quiet face there swept a +fierce, intent expression which struck Roger rather cold. What a +fight she was making, this daughter of his, against what +overwhelming odds. But all he said to her was this:</p> +<p>"Now let's look at something more cheerful, my dear."</p> +<p>"Very well," she answered with a smile. "We'll go and see +Isadore Freedom."</p> +<p>"Who's he?"</p> +<p>"Isadore Freedom," said Deborah, "is the beginning of something +tremendous. He came from Russian Poland—and the first +American word he learned over there was 'freedom.' So in New York +he changed his name to that—very solemnly, by due process of +law. It cost him seven dollars. He had nine dollars at the time. +Isadore is a flame, a kind of a torch in the wilderness."</p> +<p>"How does the flame earn his living?"</p> +<p>"At first in a sweatshop," she replied. "But he came to my +school five nights a week, and at ten o'clock when school was out +he went to a little basement café, where he sat at a corner +table, drank one glass of Russian tea and studied till they closed +at one. Then he went to his room, he told me, and used to read +himself to sleep. He slept as a rule four hours. He said he felt he +needed it. Now he's a librarian earning fifteen dollars a week, and +having all the money he needs he has put the thought of it out of +his life and is living for education—education in freedom. +For Isadore has studied his name until he thinks he knows what it +means."</p> +<p>They found him in a small public library on an ill-smelling +ghetto street. The place had been packed with people, but the clock +had just struck ten and the readers were leaving reluctantly, many +with books under their arms. At sight of Deborah and her father, +Isadore leaped up from his desk and came quickly to meet them with +outstretched hands.</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id= +"Page_92"></a>[92]</span>Oh, this is splendid! Good evening!" he +cried. Hardly more than a boy, perhaps twenty-one, he was short of +frame but large of limb. He had wide stooping shoulders and reddish +hollows in his dark cheeks. Yet there was a springiness in his +step, vigor and warmth in the grip of his hand, in the very curl of +his thick black hair, in his voice, in his enormous smile.</p> +<p>"Come," he said to Roger, when the greetings were over. "You +shall see my library, sir. But I want that you shall not see it +alone. While you look you must close for me your eyes and see other +libraries, many, many, all over the world. You must see them in big +cities and in very little towns to-night. You must see people, +millions there, hungry, hungry people. Now I shall show you their +food and their drink." As he spoke he was leading them proudly +around. In the stacks along the walls he pointed out fiction, +poetry, history, books of all the sciences.</p> +<p>"They read all, all!" cried Isadore. "Look at this Darwin on my +desk. In a year so many have read this book it is a case for the +board of health. And look at this shelf of economics. I place it +next to astronomy. And I say to these people, 'Yes, read about jobs +and your hours and wages. Yes, you must strike, you must have +better lives. But you must read also about the stars—and +about the big spaces—silent—not one single little sound +for many, many million years. To be free you must grow as big as +that—inside of your head, inside of your soul. It is not +enough to be free of a czar, a kaiser or a sweatshop boss. What +will you do when they are gone? My fine people, how will you run +the world? You are deaf and blind, you must be free to open your +own ears and eyes, to look into the books and see what is +there—great thoughts and feelings, great ideas! And when you +have seen, then you must think—you must think it all out +every time! That is freedom!'" He stopped abruptly. Again on his +dark features came a huge and winning <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93"></a>[93]</span>smile, and +with an apologetic shrug, "But I talk too much of my books," he +said. "Come. Shall we go to my café?"</p> +<p>On a neighboring street, a few minutes later, down a flight of +steep wooden stairs they descended into a little café, +shaped like a tunnel, the ceiling low, the bare walls soiled by +rubbing elbows, dirty hands, the air blue and hot with smoke. Young +men and girls packed in at small tables bent over tall glasses of +Russian tea, and gesturing with their cigarettes declaimed and +argued excitedly. Quick joyous cries of greeting met Isadore from +every side.</p> +<p>"You see?" he said gaily. "This is my club. Here we are like a +family." He ordered tea of a waiter who seemed more like a bosom +friend. And leaning eagerly forward, he began to speak in glowing +terms of the men and girls from sweatshops who spent their nights +in these feasts of the soul, talking, listening, grappling, "for +the power to think with minds as clear as the sun when it rises," +he ardently cried. "There is not a night in this city, not one, +when hundreds do not talk like this until the breaking of the day! +And then they sleep! A little joke! For at six o'clock they must +rise to their work! And that is a force," he added, "not only for +those people but a force for you and me. Do you see? When you feel +tired, when all your hopes are sinking low, you think of those +people and you say, 'I will go to their places.' And you go. You +listen and you watch their faces, and such fire makes you burn! You +go home, you are happy, you have a new life!</p> +<p>"And perhaps at last you will have a religion," he continued, in +fervent tones. "You see, with us Jews—and with Christians, +too—the old religion, it is gone. And in its place there is +nothing strong. And so the young people go all to pieces. They +dance and they drink. If you go to those dance halls you say, 'They +are crazy!' For dancing alone is not enough. And you say, 'These +people must have a religion.' You ask, 'Where can I find a +new<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id= +"Page_94"></a>[94]</span> God?' And you reply, 'There is no God.' +And then you must be very sad. You know how it is? You feel too +free. And you feel scared and lonely. You look up at the stars. +There are millions. You are only a speck of dust—on one.</p> +<p>"But then you come to my library. And you see those hungry +people—more hungry than men have ever been. And you see those +books upon the shelves. And you know when they come together at +last, when that power to think as clear as the sun comes into the +souls of those people so hungry, then we shall have a new god for +the world. For there is no end to what they shall do," Isadore +ended huskily.</p> +<p>Roger felt a lump in his throat. He glanced into his daughter's +eyes and saw a suspicious brightness there. Isadore looked at her +happily.</p> +<p>"You see?" he said to Roger. "When she came here to-night she +was tired, half sick. But now she is all filled with life!"</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>Later, on the street outside when Isadore had left them, Deborah +turned to her father:</p> +<p>"Before we go home, there's one place more."</p> +<p>And they went to a building not far away, a new structure twelve +floors high which rose out of the neighboring tenements. It had +been built, she told him, by a socialist daily paper. A dull night +watchman half asleep took them in the elevator up to the top floor +of the building, where in a bustling, clanking loft the paper was +just going to press. Deborah seemed to know one of the foremen. He +smiled and nodded and led the way through the noise and bustle to a +large glass door at one end. This she opened and stepped out upon a +fire escape so broad it was more like a balcony. And with the noise +of the presses subdued, from their high perch they looked silently +down.</p> +<p>All around them for miles, it seemed, stretched dark +un<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id= +"Page_95"></a>[95]</span>even fields of roofs, with the narrow East +River winding its way through the midst of them to the harbor +below, silvery, dim and cool and serene, opening to the distant +sea. From the bridges rearing high over the river, lights by +thousands sparkled down. But directly below the spot where they +stood was only a dull hazy glow, rising out of dark tenement +streets where dimly they could just make out numberless moving +shadowy forms, restless crowds too hot to sleep. The roofs were +covered everywhere with men and women and children—families, +families, families, all merged together in the dark. And from them +rose into the night a ceaseless murmur of voices, laughing and +joking, quarreling, loving and hating, demanding, complaining, and +fighting and slaving and scheming for bread and the means of stark +existence. But among these struggling multitudes confusedly did +Roger feel the brighter presence here and there of more aspiring +figures, small groups in glaring, stilling rooms down there beneath +the murky dark, young people fiercely arguing, groping blindly for +new gods. And all these voices, to his ears, merged into one deep +thrilling hum, these lights into one quivering glow, that went up +toward the silent stars.</p> +<p>And there came to him a feeling which he had often had before in +many different places—that he himself was a part of all this, +the great, blind, wistful soul of mankind, which had been here +before he was born and would be here when he was dead—still +groping, yearning, struggling upward, on and on—to something +distant as the sun. And still would he be a part of it all, through +the eager lives of his children. He turned and looked at Deborah +and caught the light that was in her eyes.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a><span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96"></a>[96]</span>CHAPTER +XII</h2> +<p>Roger awoke the next morning feeling sore and weary, and later +in his office it was hard to keep his mind on his work. He thought +of young Isadore Freedom. He was glad he had met that boy, and so +he felt toward Deborah's whole terrific family. Confused and +deafening as it was, there was something inspiring in it all. But +God save him from many such evenings! For half his life Roger had +been a collector, not only of rings but of people, too, of curious +personalities. These human bits, these memories, he had picked up +as he lived along and had taken them with him and made them his +own, had trimmed and polished every one until its rough unpleasant +edges were all nicely smoothed away and it glittered and shone like +the gem that it was. For Roger was an idealist. And so he would +have liked to do here. What a gem could be made of Isadore with a +little careful polishing.</p> +<p>But Deborah's way was different. She stayed in life, lived in it +close, with its sharp edges bristling. In this there was something +splendid, but there was something tragic, too. It was all very well +for that young Jew to burn himself up with his talk about freedom, +his feverish searching for new gods. "In five years," Roger told +himself, "Mr. Isadore Freedom will either tone down or go stark +mad."</p> +<p>But quite probably he would tone down, for he was only a +youngster, these were Isadore's wild oats. But this was no longer +Deborah's youth, she had been at this job ten years. And she hadn't +gone mad, she had kept herself sane, she had many sides her father +knew. He knew her in the mountains, or bustling about at home +getting <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id= +"Page_97"></a>[97]</span>ready for Laura's wedding, or packing +Edith's children off for their summer up at the farm. But did that +make it any easier? No. To let yourself go was easy, but to keep +hold of yourself was hard. It meant wear and tear on a woman, this +constant straining effort to keep her balance and see life +whole.</p> +<p>"Well, it will break her down, that's all, and I don't propose +to allow it," he thought. "She's got to rest this summer and go +easier next fall."</p> +<p>But how could he accomplish it? As he thought about her school, +with its long and generous arms reaching upon every side out into +the tenements, the prospect was bewildering. He searched for +something definite. What could he do to prove to his daughter his +real interest in her work? Presently he remembered Johnny Geer, the +cripple boy whom he had liked, and at once he began to feel himself +back again upon known ground. Instead of millions here was one, one +plucky lad who needed help. All right, by George, he should have +it! And Roger told his daughter he would be glad to pay the expense +of sending John away for the summer, and that in the autumn perhaps +he would take the lad into his office.</p> +<p>"That's good of you, dearie," Deborah said. It was her only +comment, but from the look she gave him Roger felt he was getting +on.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>One evening not long afterwards, as they sat together at dinner, +she rose unsteadily to her feet and said in a breathless voice,</p> +<p>"It's rather close in here, isn't it? I think I'll go outside +for a while." Roger jumped up.</p> +<p>"Look here, my child, you're faint!" he cried.</p> +<p>"No, no, it's nothing! Just the heat!" She swayed and reeled, +pitched suddenly forward. "Father! Quick!" And Roger caught her in +his arms. He called to the maid, and with her help he carried +Deborah up to her bed. There <span class="pagenum"><a name= +"Page_98" id="Page_98"></a>[98]</span>she shuddered violently and +beads of sweat broke out on her brow. Her breath came hard through +chattering teeth.</p> +<p>"It's so silly!" she said fiercely.</p> +<p>But as moments passed the chill grew worse. Her whole body +seemed to be shaking, and as Roger was rubbing one of her arms she +said something to him sharply, in a voice so thick he could not +understand.</p> +<p>"What is it?" he asked.</p> +<p>"I can't feel anything."</p> +<p>"What do you mean?"</p> +<p>"In my arm where you're rubbing—I can't feel your +hand."</p> +<p>"You'd better have a doctor!"</p> +<p>"Telephone Allan—Allan Baird. He knows about this," she +muttered. And Roger ran down to the telephone. He was thoroughly +frightened.</p> +<p>"All right, Mr. Gale," came Baird's gruff bass, steady and slow, +"I think I know what the trouble is—and I wouldn't worry if I +were you. I'll be there in about ten minutes." And it was hardly +more than that when he came into Deborah's room. A moment he looked +down at her.</p> +<p>"Again?" he said. She glanced up at him and nodded, and smiled +quickly through set teeth. Baird carefully examined her and then +turned to Roger: "Now I guess you'd better go out. You stay," he +added to Sarah, the maid. "I may need you here awhile."</p> +<p>About an hour later he came down to Roger's study.</p> +<p>"She's safe enough now, I guess," he said. "I've telephoned for +a nurse for her, and she'll have to stay in bed a few days."</p> +<p>"What's the trouble?"</p> +<p>"Acute indigestion."</p> +<p>"You don't say!" exclaimed Roger brightly, with a <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99"></a>[99]</span>rush of +deep relief. Baird gave him a dry quizzical smile.</p> +<p>"People have died of that," he remarked, "in less than an hour. +We caught your daughter just in time. May I stay a few +moments?"</p> +<p>"Glad to have you! Smoke a cigar!"</p> +<p>"Thanks—I will." As Baird reached out for the proffered +cigar, Roger suddenly noticed his hand. Long and muscular, finely +shaped, it seemed to speak of strength and skill and an immense +vitality. Baird settled himself in his chair. "I want to talk about +her," he said. "This little attack is only a symptom—it comes +from nerves. She's just about ready for a smash. She's had slighter +attacks of this kind before."</p> +<p>"I never knew it," Roger said.</p> +<p>"No—I don't suppose you did. Your daughter has a habit of +keeping things like this to herself. She came to me and I warned +her, but she wanted to finish out her year. Do you know anything +about her school work?"</p> +<p>"Yes, I was with her there this week."</p> +<p>"What did she show you?" Baird inquired. Roger tried to tell +him. "No, that's not what I'm after," he said. "That's just one of +her usual evenings." For a moment he smoked in silence. "I'm +hunting now for something else, for some unusual nervous shock +which she appears to me to have had."</p> +<p>"She has!" And Roger told him of her visit up to Sing Sing. +Baird's lean muscular right hand slowly tightened on his chair.</p> +<p>"That's a tough family of hers," he remarked.</p> +<p>"Yes," said Roger determinedly, "and she's got to give it +up."</p> +<p>"You mean she ought to. But she won't."</p> +<p>"She's got to be made to," Roger growled. "This summer at +least." Baird shook his head.</p> +<p>"You forget her fresh air work," he replied. "She has +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id= +"Page_100"></a>[100]</span>three thousand children on her mind. The +city will be like a furnace, of course, and the children must be +sent to camps. If you don't see the necessity, go and talk to her, +and then you will."</p> +<p>"But you can forbid it, can't you?"</p> +<p>"No. Can you?"</p> +<p>"I can try," snapped Roger.</p> +<p>"Let's try what's possible," said Baird. "Let's try to keep her +in bed three days."</p> +<p>"Sounds modest," Roger grunted. And a glimmer of amusement came +into Baird's impassive eyes.</p> +<p>"Try it," he drawled. "By to-morrow night she'll ask for her +stenographer. She'll make you think she is out of the woods. But +she won't be, please remember that. A few years more," he added, +"and she'll have used up her vitality. She'll be an old woman at +thirty-five."</p> +<p>"It's got to be stopped!" cried Roger.</p> +<p>"But how?" came the low sharp retort. "You've got to know her +trouble first. And her trouble is deep, it's motherhood—on a +scale which has never been tried before—for thousands of +children, all of whom are living in a kind of hell. I know your +daughter pretty well. Don't make the mistake of mixing her up with +the old-fashioned teacher. It isn't what those children learn, it's +how they live that interests her, and how they are all growing up. +I say she's a mother—in spirit—but her body has never +borne a child. And that makes it worse—because it makes her +more intense. It isn't natural, you see."</p> +<p>A little later he rose to go.</p> +<p>"By the way," he said, at the door, "there's something I meant +to tell her upstairs—about a poor devil she has on her mind. +A chap named Berry—dying—lungs. She asked me to go and +see him."</p> +<p>"Yes?"</p> +<p>"I found it was only a matter of days." The tragic pity in +Baird's quiet voice was so deep as barely to be heard.</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id= +"Page_101"></a>[101]</span>So I shot him full of morphine. He won't +wake up. Please tell her that."</p> +<p>Tall, ungainly, motionless, he loomed there in the doorway. With +a little shrug and a smile he turned and went slowly out of the +house.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a><span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102"></a>[102]</span>CHAPTER +XIII</h2> +<p>Deborah's recovery was rapid and determined. The next night she +was sitting up and making light of her illness. On the third day +she dismissed her nurse, and when her father came home from his +office he found gathered about her bed not only her stenographer +but both her assistant principals. He frowned severely and went to +his room, and a few minutes later he heard them leave. Presently +she called to him, and he came to her bedside. She was lying back +on the pillow with rather a guilty expression.</p> +<p>"Up to your old antics, eh?" he remarked.</p> +<p>"Exactly. It couldn't be helped, you see. It's the last week of +our school year, and there are so many little things that have to +be attended to. It's simply now or never."</p> +<p>"Humph!" was Roger's comment. "It's now or never with you," he +thought. He went down to his dinner, and when he came back he found +her exhausted. In the dim soft light of her room her face looked +flushed and feverish, and vaguely he felt she was in a mood where +she might listen to reason. He felt her hot dry hand on his. Her +eyes were closed, she was smiling.</p> +<p>"Tell me the news from the mountains," she said. And he gave her +the gossip of the farm in a letter he had had from George. It told +of a picnic supper, the first one of the season. They had had it in +the usual place, down by the dam on the river, "with a +bonfire—a perfect peach—down by the big yellow +rock—the one you call the Elephant." As Roger read the letter +he could feel his <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id= +"Page_103"></a>[103]</span>daughter listening, vividly picturing to +herself the great dark boulders by the creek, the shadowy firs, the +stars above and the cool fresh tang of the mountain night.</p> +<p>"After this little sickness of yours—and that harum scarum +wedding," he said, "I feel we're both entitled to a good long rest +in mountain air."</p> +<p>"We'll have it, too," she murmured.</p> +<p>"With Edith's little youngsters. They're all the medicine you +need." He paused for a moment, hesitating. But it was now or never. +"The only trouble with you," he said, "is that you've let yourself +be caught by the same disease which has its grip upon this whole +infernal town. You're like everyone else, you're tackling about +forty times what you can do. You're actually trying not only to +teach but to bring 'em all up as your own, three thousand tenement +children. And this is where it gets you."</p> +<p>Again he halted, frowning. What next?</p> +<p>"Go on, dear, please," said Deborah, in demure and even tones. +"This is very interesting."</p> +<p>"Now then," he continued, "in this matter of your school. I +wouldn't ask you to give it up, I've already seen too much of it. +But so long as you've got it nicely started, why not give somebody +else a chance? One of those assistants of yours, for +example—capable young women, both. You could stand right +behind 'em with help and advice—"</p> +<p>"Not yet," was Deborah's soft reply. She had turned her head on +her pillow and was looking at him affectionately. "Why not?" he +demanded.</p> +<p>"Because it's not nicely started at all. There's nothing +brilliant about me, dear—I'm a plodder, feeling my way along. +And what I have done in the last ten years is just coming to a +stage at last where I can really see a chance to make it count for +something. When I feel I've done that, say in five years +more—"</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id= +"Page_104"></a>[104]</span>Those five years," said her father, "may +cost you a very heavy price." As Deborah faced his troubled regard, +her own grew quickly serious.</p> +<p>"I'd be willing to pay the price," she replied.</p> +<p>"But why?" he asked with impatience. "Why pay when you don't +have to? Why not by taking one year off get strength for twenty +years' work later on? You'd be a different woman!"</p> +<p>"Yes, I think I should be. I'd never be the same again. You +don't quite understand, you see. This work of mine with +children—well, it's like Edith's having a baby. You have to +do it while you're young."</p> +<p>"That works both ways," her father growled.</p> +<p>"What do you mean?" He hesitated:</p> +<p>"Don't you want any children of your own?"</p> +<p>Again she turned her eyes toward his, then closed them and lay +perfectly still. "Now I've done it," he thought anxiously. She +reached over and took his hand.</p> +<p>"Let's talk of our summer's vacation," she said.</p> +<p>A little while later she fell asleep.</p> +<p>Downstairs he soon grew restless and after a time he went out +for a walk. But he felt tired and oppressed, and as he had often +done of late he entered a little "movie" nearby, where gradually +the pictures, continually flashing out of the dark, drove the +worries from his mind. For a half an hour they held his gaze. Then +he fell into a doze. He was roused by a roar of laughter, and +straightening up in his seat with a jerk he looked angrily around. +Something broadly comic had been flashed upon the screen; and men +and women and children, Italians, Jews and Irish, jammed in close +about him, a dirty and perspiring mass, had burst into a terrific +guffaw. Now they were suddenly tense again and watching the screen +in absorbed suspense, while the crude passions within themselves +were played upon in the glamorous dark. And Roger scanned their +faces—one moment smiling, all together, as though +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id= +"Page_105"></a>[105]</span>some god had pulled a string; then +mawkish, sentimental, soft; then suddenly scowling, twitching, with +long rows of animal eyes. But eager—eager all the time! +Hungry people—yes, indeed! Hungry for all the good things in +the town, and for as many bad things, too! On one who tried to feed +this mob there was no end to their demands! What was one woman's +life to them? Deborah's big family!</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>Edith came to the house one afternoon, and she was in Deborah's +room when her father returned from his office. Her convalescence +over at last, she was leaving for the mountains.</p> +<p>"Do learn your lesson, Deborah dear," she urged upon her sister. +"Let Sarah pack your trunk at once and come up with me on Saturday +night."</p> +<p>"I can't get off for two weeks yet."</p> +<p>"Why can't you?" Edith demanded. And when Deborah spoke of fresh +air camps and baby farms and other work, Edith's impatience only +grew. "You'll have to leave it to somebody else! You're simply in +no condition!" she cried.</p> +<p>"Impossible," said Deborah. Edith gave a quick sigh of +exasperation.</p> +<p>"Isn't it enough," she asked, "to have worked your nerves to a +frazzle already? Why can't you be sensible? You've got to think of +yourself a little!"</p> +<p>"You'd like me to marry, wouldn't you, dear?" her sister put in +wearily.</p> +<p>"Yes, I should, while there is still time! Just now you look far +from it! It's exactly as Allan was saying! If you keep on as you're +going you'll be an old woman at thirty-five!"</p> +<p>"Thank you!" said Deborah sharply. Two spots of color leaped in +her checks. "You'd better leave me, Edith! I'll come up to the +mountains as soon as I can!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" +id="Page_106"></a>[106]</span> And I'll try not to look any more +like a hag than I have to! Good-night!"</p> +<p>Roger followed Edith out of the room.</p> +<p>"That last shot of mine struck home," she declared to him in +triumph.</p> +<p>"I wouldn't have done it," her father said. "I gave you that +remark of Baird's in strict confidence, Edith—"</p> +<p>"Now father," was her good-humored retort, "suppose you leave +this matter to me. I know just what I'm doing."</p> +<p>"Well," he reflected uneasily, after she had left him, "here's +more trouble in the family. If Edith isn't careful she'll make a +fine mess of this whole affair."</p> +<p>After dinner he went up to Deborah's room, but through the open +doorway he caught a glimpse of his daughter which made him +instinctively draw back. Sitting bolt upright in her bed, sternly +she was eyeing herself in a small mirror in her hand. Her father +chuckled noiselessly. A moment later, when he went in, the glass +had disappeared from view. Soon afterwards Baird himself arrived, +and as they heard him coming upstairs Roger saw his daughter frown, +but she continued talking.</p> +<p>"Hello, Allan," she said with indifference. "I'm feeling much +better this evening."</p> +<p>"Are you? Good," he answered, and he started to pull up an easy +chair. "I was hoping I could stay awhile—I've been having one +of those long mean days—"</p> +<p>"I'd a little rather you wouldn't," Deborah put in softly. Allan +turned to her in surprise. "I didn't sleep last night," she +murmured, "and I feel so drowsy." There was a little silence. "And +I really don't think there's any need of your dropping in +to-morrow," she added. "I'm so much better—honestly."</p> +<p>Baird looked at her a moment.</p> +<p>"Right—O," he answered slowly. "I'll call up to-morrow +night."</p> +<p>Roger followed him downstairs.</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id= +"Page_107"></a>[107]</span>Come into my den and smoke a cigar!" he +proposed in hearty ringing tones. Allan thanked him and came in, +but the puzzled expression was still on his face, and through the +first moments of their talk he was very absent-minded. Roger's +feeling of guilt increased, and he cursed himself for a meddlesome +fool.</p> +<p>"Look here, Baird," he blurted out, "there's something I think +you ought to know." Allan slightly turned his head, and Roger +reddened a little. "The worst thing about living in a house chock +full of meddling women is that you get to be one yourself," he +growled. "And the fact is—" he cleared his throat—"I've +put my foot in it, Baird," he said. "I was fool enough the other +day to quote you to Edith."</p> +<p>"To what effect?"</p> +<p>"That if Deborah keeps on like this she'll be an old woman at +thirty-five."</p> +<p>Allan sat up in his chair:</p> +<p>"Was Edith here this afternoon?"</p> +<p>"She was," said Roger.</p> +<p>"Say no more."</p> +<p>Baird had a wide, likable, generous mouth which wrinkled easily +into a smile. He leaned back now and enjoyed himself. He puffed a +little cloud of smoke, looked over at Roger and chuckled aloud. And +Roger chuckled with relief. "What a decent chap he is," he +thought.</p> +<p>"I'm sorry, of course," he said to Baird. "I thought of trying +to explain—"</p> +<p>"Don't," said Allan. "Leave it alone. It won't do Deborah any +harm—may even do her a little good. After all, I'm her +physician—"</p> +<p>"Are you?" Roger asked with a twinkle. "I thought upstairs you +were dismissed."</p> +<p>"Oh no, I'm not," was the calm reply. And the two men went on +smoking. Roger's liking for Baird was growing fast. They had had +several little talks during Deb<span class="pagenum"><a name= +"Page_108" id="Page_108"></a>[108]</span>orah's illness, and Roger +was learning more of the man. Raised on a big cattle ranch that his +father had owned in New Mexico, riding broncos on the plains had +given him his abounding health of body, nerve and spirit, his +steadiness and sanity in all this feverish city life.</p> +<p>"Are you riding these days?" he inquired.</p> +<p>"No," said Roger, "the park is too hot—and they don't +sprinkle the path as they should. I've had my cob sent up to the +mountains. By the way," he added cordially, "you must come up there +and ride with me."</p> +<p>"Thanks, I'd like to," Allan said, and with a little inner smile +he added dryly to himself, "He's getting ready to meddle again." +But whatever amusement Baird had in this thought was concealed +behind his sober gray eyes. Soon after that he took his leave.</p> +<p>"Now then," Roger reflected, with a little glow of expectancy, +"if Edith will only leave me alone, she may find I'm smarter then +she thinks!"</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>One evening in the following week, after Edith had left town, +Roger had Bruce to dine at his club, a pleasant old building on +Madison Square, where comfortably all by themselves they could +discuss Baird's chances.</p> +<p>"A. Baird and I have been chums," said Bruce, "ever since we +were in college. Take it from me I know his brand. And he isn't the +kind to be pushed."</p> +<p>"Who wants to push him?" Roger demanded, with a sudden guilty +twinge.</p> +<p>"Edith does," Bruce answered. "And I tell you that won't do with +A. Baird. He has his mind set on Deborah sure. He's been setting it +harder and harder for months—and he knows it—and so +does she. But they're both the kind of people who don't like +interference, they've got to get to it by themselves. Edith must +keep out of the way. She mustn't take it on herself to ask him up +to the moun<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id= +"Page_109"></a>[109]</span>tains." Roger gave a little start. "If +she does, there'll be trouble with Deborah."</p> +<p>Roger smoked for a moment in silence and then sagely nodded his +head.</p> +<p>"That's so," he murmured thoughtfully. "Yes, my boy, I guess +you're right."</p> +<p>Bruce lifted his mint julep:</p> +<p>"God, but it's hot in here to-night. How about taking a spin up +the river?"</p> +<p>"Delighted," replied his father-in-law.</p> +<p>And a half hour later in Bruce's new car, which was the pride +and joy of his life, they were far up the river. On a long level +stretch of road Bruce "let her out to show what she could do." And +Roger with his heart in his mouth and his eye upon the speedometer, +saw it creep to sixty-three.</p> +<p>"Almost as good as a horse," remarked Bruce, when the car had +slowed a little.</p> +<p>"Almost," said Roger, "but not quite. It's—well, it's +dissipation."</p> +<p>"And a horse?"</p> +<p>"Is life," was the grave reply. "You'll have a crash some day, +my boy, if you go on at your present speed. It gets me worried +sometimes. You see you're a family man."</p> +<p>"I am and I'm glad of it. Edith and the kiddies suit me right +down to the ground. I'm crazy about 'em—you know that. But a +chap with a job like mine," Bruce continued pleadingly, as he drove +his car rushing around a curve, "needs a little dissipation, too. I +can't tell you what it means to me, when I'm kept late at the +office, to have this car for the run up home. Lower Broadway's +empty then, and I know the cops. I swing around through Washington +Square, and the Avenue looks clear for miles, nothing but two long +rows of lights to the big hump at Murray Hill. It's the time +between crowds—say about ten. And I know the cops."</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id= +"Page_110"></a>[110]</span>That's all right," said Roger. "No one +was more delighted than I when you got this car. You deserve it. +It's the <i>work</i> that I was speaking of. You've got it going at +such a speed—"</p> +<p>"Only way on earth to get on—to get what I want for my +family—"</p> +<p>"Yes, yes, I know," muttered Roger vaguely. Bruce began talking +of his work for the steel construction concern downtown.</p> +<p>"Take it from me," he declared at the end, "this town has only +just begun!"</p> +<p>"Has, eh," Roger grunted. "Aren't the buildings high +enough?"</p> +<p>"My God, I wish they were twenty times higher," Bruce rejoined +good-humoredly. "But they won't be—we've stopped going up. +We've done pretty well in the air, and now we're going underground. +And when we get through, this old rock of Manhattan will be such a +network of tunnels there'll be a hole waiting at every corner to +take you wherever you want to go. Speed? We don't even know what it +means!"</p> +<p>And again Bruce "let her out" a bit. It was <i>quite</i> a bit. +Roger grabbed his hat with one hand and the side of the car with +the other.</p> +<p>"They'll look back on a mile a minute," said Bruce, "as we look +back on stage coach days! And in the rush hour there'll be a rush +that'll make you think of pneumatic tubes! Not a sound nor a +quiver—<i>just pure speed!</i> Shooting people home at night +at a couple of hundred miles an hour! The city will be as big as +that! And there won't be any accidents and there won't be any +smoke. Instead of coal they'll use the sun! And, my God, man, the +boulevards—and parks and places for the kids! The way they'll +use the River—and the ocean and the Sound! The Catskills will +be Central Park! Sounds funny, don't it—but it's true. I've +studied it out from A to Z. This town is <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111"></a>[111]</span>choking +itself to death simply because we're so damn slow! We don't know +how to spread ourselves! All this city needs is speed!"</p> +<p>"Bruce," said Roger anxiously, "just go a bit easy on that gas. +The fact is, it was a great mistake for me to eat those crabs +to-night."</p> +<p>Bruce slowed down compassionately, and soon they turned and +started home. And as they drew near the glow of the town, other +streets and boulevards poured more motors into the line, until at +last they were rushing along amid a perfect bedlam made up of honks +and shrieks of horns. The air grew hot and acrid, and looking back +through the bluish haze of smoke and dust behind him Roger could +see hundreds of huge angry motor eyes. Crowding and jamming closer, +pell mell, at a pace which barely slackened, they sped on, a wild +uproarious crew, and swept into the city.</p> +<p>Roger barely slept that night. He felt the city clamoring down +into his very soul. "Speed!" he muttered viciously. +"Speed—speed! We need more speed!" The words beat in like a +savage refrain. At last with a sigh of impatience he got up in his +nightshirt and walked about. It was good to feel his way in the +dark in this cool silent house which he knew so well. Soon his +nerves felt quieter. He went back to his bed and lay there inert. +How good it would be to get up to the farm.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>The next Saturday evening, with Deborah, he started for the +mountains. And Bruce came down to see them off.</p> +<p>"Remember, son," said Roger, as the two walked on the platform. +"Come up this year for a month, my boy. You need it." The train was +about to start.</p> +<p>"Oh, I'll be all right," was the answer. "My friend the Judge, +who has hay fever, tells me he has found a cure."</p> +<p>"Damn his cure! You come to us!"</p> +<p>"Hold on a minute, live and learn. The Judge is quite +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id= +"Page_112"></a>[112]</span>excited about it. You drink little bugs, +he says, a billion after every meal. They come in tall blue +bottles. We're going to dine together next week and drink 'em till +we're all lit up. Oh, we're going to have a hell of a time. +<i>His</i> wife left town on Tuesday."</p> +<p>"Bruce," said Roger sternly, as the train began to move, "leave +bugs alone and come up and breathe! And quit smoking so many +cigarettes!" He stepped on the car.</p> +<p>"Remember, son, a solid month!" Bruce nodded as the train moved +out.</p> +<p>"Good luck—good-bye—fine summer—my love to the +wife and the kiddies—" and Bruce's dark, tense, smiling face +was left behind. Roger went back into the smoker.</p> +<p>"Now for the mountains," he thought. "Thank God!"</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a><span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113"></a>[113]</span>CHAPTER +XIV</h2> +<p>A few hours later Roger awakened. His lower berth was still +pitch dark. The train had stopped, and he had been roused by a +voice outside his window. Rough and slow and nasal, the leisurely +drawl of a mountaineer, it came like balm to Roger's ears. He +raised the curtain and looked out. A train hand with a lantern was +listening to a dairy man, a tall young giant in top boots. High +overhead loomed a shadowy mountain and over its rim came the glow +of the dawn. With a violent lurch the train moved on. And Roger, +lying back on his pillow, looked up at the misty mountain sides all +mottled in the strange blue light with patches of firs and birches +and pines. In the narrow valley up which the train was thundering, +were small herds of grazing cattle, a lonely farmhouse here and +there. From one a light was twinkling. And the city with its heat +and noise, its nervous throb, its bedlam nights, all dropped like a +fever from his soul.</p> +<p>Now, close by the railroad track, through a shallow rocky gorge +a small river roared and foamed. Its cool breath came up to his +nostrils and gratefully he breathed it in. For this was the Gale +River, named after one of his forefathers, and in his mind's eye he +followed the stream back up its course to the little station where +he and Deborah were to get off. There the narrowing river bed +turned and wound up through a cleft in the hills to the homestead +several miles away. On the dark forest road beside it he pictured +George, his grandson, at this moment driving down to meet them in a +mountain wagon with one of the two hired men, a lantern swinging +under the wheels. What an adventure for young George.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id= +"Page_114"></a>[114]</span>Presently he heard Deborah stirring in +the berth next to his own.</p> +<p>At the station George was there, and from a thermos bottle which +Edith had filled the night before he poured coffee piping hot, +which steamed in the keen, frosty air.</p> +<p>"Oh, how good!" cried Deborah. "How thoughtful of your mother, +George. How is she, dear?"</p> +<p>"Oh, she's all right, Aunt Deborah." His blunt freckled features +flushed from his drive, George stood beaming on them both. He +appeared, if anything, tougher and scrawnier than before. +"Everything's all right," he said. "There ain't a sick animal on +the whole farm."</p> +<p>As Roger sipped his coffee he was having a look at the horses. +One of them was William, his cob.</p> +<p>"Do you see it?" inquired his grandson.</p> +<p>"What?"</p> +<p>"The boil," George answered proudly, "on William's rump. There +it is—on the nigh side. Gee, but you ought to have seen it +last week. It was a whale of a boil," said George, "but we +poulticed him, me and Dave did—and now the swelling's nearly +gone. You can ride him to-morrow if you like."</p> +<p>Luxuriously Roger lit a cigar and climbed to the front seat with +George. Up the steep and crooked road the stout horses tugged their +way, and the wagon creaked, and the Gale River, here only a brook, +came gurgling, dashing to meet them—down from the mountains, +from the farm, from Roger's youth to welcome him home. And the sun +was flashing through the pines. As they drew near the farmhouse +through a grove of sugar maples, he heard shrill cries of, "There +they come!" And he glimpsed the flying figures of George's +brothers, Bob and Tad. George whipped up the horses, the wagon +gained upon the boys and reached the house but a few rods behind +the little runners. Edith was waiting by the door, fresh and +smiling, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id= +"Page_115"></a>[115]</span>blooming with health. How well this +suited her, Roger thought. Amid a gay chorus of greetings he +climbed down heavily out of the wagon, looked about him and drew a +deep breath. The long lazy days on the farm had begun.</p> +<p>From the mountain side the farm looked down on a wide sweeping +valley of woods and fields. The old house straggled along the road, +with addition after addition built on through generations by many +men and women. Here lay the history, unread, of the family of Roger +Gale. Inside there were steps up and down from one part to another, +queer crooks in narrow passageways. The lower end was attached to +the woodshed, and the woodshed to the barn. Above the house a +pasture dotted with gray boulders extended up to a wood of firs, +and out of this wood the small river which bore the name of the +family came rushing down the field in a gully, went under the road, +swept around to the right and along the edge of a birch copse just +below the house. The little stream grew quieter there and widened +into a mill pond. At the lower end was a broken dam and beside it a +dismantled mill. Here was peace for Roger's soul. The next day at +dawn he awakened, and through the window close by his bed he saw no +tall confining walls; his eye was carried as on wings out over a +billowy blanket of mist, soft and white and cool and still, +reaching over the valley. From underneath to his sensitive ears +came the numberless voices of the awakening sleepers there, cheeps +and tremulous warbles from the birch copse just below, cocks +crowing in the valley, and ducks and geese, dogs, sheep and cattle +faintly heard from distant farms. Just so it had been when he was a +boy. How unchanged and yet how new were these fresh hungry cries of +life. From the other end of the house he heard Edith's tiny son +lustily demanding his breakfast, as other wee boys before him had +done for over a hundred years, as other babies still unborn would +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id= +"Page_116"></a>[116]</span>do in the many years to come. Soon the +cry of the child was hushed. Quiet fell upon the house. And Roger +sank again into deep happy slumber.</p> +<p>Here was nothing new and disturbing. Edith's children? Yes, they +were new, but they were not disturbing. Their growth each summer +was a joy, a renewal of life in the battered old house. Here was no +huge tenement family crowding in with dirty faces, clamorous +demands for aid, but only five delightful youngsters, clean and +fresh, of his own blood. He loved the small excitements, the plans +and plots and discoveries, the many adventures that filled their +days. He spent hours with their mother, listening while she talked +of them. Edith did so love this place and she ran the house so +beautifully. It was so cool and fragrant, so clean and so +old-fashioned.</p> +<p>Deborah, too, came under the spell. She grew as lazy as a cat +and day by day renewed her strength from the hills and from Edith's +little brood. Roger had feared trouble there, for he knew how Edith +disapproved of her sister's new ideas. But although much with the +children, Deborah apparently had no new ideas at all. She seemed to +be only listening. One balmy day at sunset, Roger saw her lying on +the grass with George sprawled by her side. Her head upon one arm, +she appeared to be watching the cattle in the sloping pasture +above. Slowly, as though each one of them was drawn by mysterious +unseen chains, they were drifting down toward the barn where it was +almost milking time. George was talking earnestly. She threw a +glance at him from time to time, and Roger could see how intent +were her eyes. Yes, Deborah knew how to study a boy.</p> +<p>Only once during the summer did she talk about her work. On a +walk with her father one day she took him into a small forlorn +building, a mere cabin of one room. The white paint had long been +worn away, the windows were all broken, half the old shingles had +dropped from <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id= +"Page_117"></a>[117]</span>the roof and on the flagpole was no +flag. It was the district schoolhouse where for nearly half his +life Deborah's grandfather had taught a score of pupils. Inside +were a blackboard, a rusty stove, a teacher's desk and a dozen +forms, grown mouldy and worm-eaten now. A torn and faded picture of +Lincoln was upon one wall, half hidden by a spider's web and by a +few old dangling rags which once had been red, white and blue. +Below, still clinging to the wall, was an old scrap of paper, on +which in a large rugged hand there had been written long ago a +speech, but it had been worn away until but three words were +legible—"conceived and dedicated—"</p> +<p>"Tell me about your school," she said. "All you can remember." +Seated at her grandfather's desk she asked Roger many questions. +And his recollections, at first dim and hazy, began to clear a +little.</p> +<p>"By George!" he exclaimed. "Here are my initials!"</p> +<p>He stooped over one of the benches.</p> +<p>"Oh, dearie! Where?" He pointed them out, and then while he sat +on the rude old bench for some time more she questioned him.</p> +<p>"But your school was not all here," she said musingly at last, +"it was up on the farm, besides, where you learned to plough and +sow and reap and take care of the animals in the barn, and mend +things that were broken, and—oh, turn your hand to anything. +But millions of children nowadays are growing up in cities, you +see."</p> +<p>Half frowning and half smiling she began to talk of her work in +town. "What is there about her," Roger asked, "that reminds me so +of my mother?" His mind strayed back into the past while the low +quiet voice of his daughter went on, and a wistful expression crept +over his face. What would she do with the family name? What life +would she lead in those many years?... "What a mother she would +make." The words rose from within him, but in a voice which was not +his own. It was Deb<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id= +"Page_118"></a>[118]</span>orah's grandmother speaking, so clearly +and distinctly that he gave a start almost of alarm.</p> +<p>"And if you don't believe they'll do it," Deborah was saying, +"you don't know what's in children. Only we've got to help bring it +out." What had she been talking about? He remembered the words "a +new nation"—no more. "We've got to grope around in the dark +and hunt for new ways and learn as we go. And when you've once got +into the work and really felt the thrill of it all—well, then +it seems rather foolish and small to bother about your own little +life."</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>Roger spent much of his time alone. He took long rides on +William along crooked, hilly roads. As the afternoon drew to its +end, the shadows would creep up the mountain sides to their summits +where glowed the last rays of the sun, painting the slate and +granite crags in lovely pink and purple hues. And sometimes mighty +banks of clouds would rear themselves high overhead, gigantic +mountains of the air with billowy, misty caverns, cliffs and jagged +peaks, all shifting there before his eyes. And he would think of +Judith his wife. And the old haunting certainty, that her soul had +died with her body, was gone. There came to him the feeling that he +and his wife would meet again. Why did this hope come back to him? +Was it all from the glory of the sun? Or was it from the presence, +silent and invisible, of those many other mortals, folk of his own +flesh and blood, who at their deaths had gone to their graves to +put on immortality? Or was this deepening faith in Roger simply a +sign of his growing old age?</p> +<p>He frowned at the thought and shook it off, and again stared up +at the light on the hills. "You will live on in our children's +lives." Was there no other immortality?</p> +<p>He often thought of his boyhood here. On a ride one day he +stopped for a drink at a spring in a grove of maples surrounding a +desolate farmhouse not more than a mile <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119"></a>[119]</span>away +from his own. And through the trees as he turned to go he saw the +stark figure of a woman, poorly clad and gaunt and gray. She stood +motionless watching him with a look of sullen bitterness. She was +the last of "the Elkinses," a mountain family run to seed. As he +rode away he saw in the field a boy with a pitchfork in his hands, +a meager ragged little chap. He was staring into the valley at a +wriggling, blue smoke serpent made by the night express to New +York. And something leaped in Roger, for he had once felt just like +that! But the woman's harsh voice cut in on his dream, as she +shouted to her son below, "Hey! Why the hell you standin' thar?" +And the boy with a jump of alarm turned back quickly to his work. +At home a few days later, George with a mysterious air took his +grandfather into the barn, and after a pledge of secrecy he said in +swift and thrilling tones, "You know young Bill Elkins? Yes, you +do—the boy up on the Elkins place who lives alone with his +mother. Well, look here!" George swallowed hard. "Bill has cleared +out—he's run away! I was up at five this morning and he came +hiking down the road! He had a bundle on his back and he told me he +was off for good! And was he scared? You bet he was scared! And I +told him so and it made him mad! 'Aw, you're scared!' I said. 'I +ain't neither!' he said. He could barely talk, but the kid had his +nerve! 'Where you going?' I asked. 'To New York,' he said. 'Aw, +what do you know of New York?' I said. And then, by golly, he +busted right down. 'Gee!' he said, 'Gee! Can't you lemme alone?' +And then he beat it down the road! You could hear the kid breathe, +he was hustling so! He's way off now, he's caught the train! He +wants to be a cabin boy on a big ocean liner!" For a moment there +was silence. "Well?" the boy demanded, "What do you think of his +chances?"</p> +<p>"I don't know," said Roger huskily. He felt a tightening at his +throat. Abruptly he turned to his grandson.</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id= +"Page_120"></a>[120]</span>George," he asked, "what do <i>you</i> +want to be?" The boy flushed under his freckles.</p> +<p>"I don't know as I know. I'm thinking," he answered very +slowly.</p> +<p>"Talk it over with your mother, son."</p> +<p>"Yes, sir," came the prompt reply. "But he won't," reflected +Roger.</p> +<p>"Or if you ever feel you want to, have a good long talk with +me."</p> +<p>"Yes, sir," was the answer. Roger stood there waiting, then +turned and walked slowly out of the barn. How these children grew +up inside of themselves. Had boys always grown like that? Well, +perhaps, but how strange it was. Always new lives, lives of their +own, the old families scattering over the land. So the great life +of the nation swept on. He kept noticing here deserted farms, and +one afternoon in the deepening dusk he rode by a graveyard high up +on a bare hillside. A horse and buggy were outside, and within he +spied a lean young woman neatly dressed in a plain dark suit. With +a lawn mower brought from home she was cutting the grass on her +family lot. And she seemed to fit into the landscape. New England +had grown very old.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>Late one night toward the end of July, there came a loud honk +from down the hill, then another and another. And as George in his +pajamas came rushing from his bedroom shouting radiantly, "Gee! +It's dad!"—they heard the car thundering outside. Bruce had +left New York at dawn and had made the run in a single day, three +hundred and eleven miles. He was gray with dust all over and he was +worn and hollow eyed, but his dark visage wore a look of solid +satisfaction.</p> +<p>"I needed the trip to shake me down," he pleaded, when Edith +scolded him well for this terrific manner of starting his vacation. +"I had to have it to cut me off <span class="pagenum"><a name= +"Page_121" id="Page_121"></a>[121]</span>from the job I left behind +me. Now watch me settle down on this farm."</p> +<p>But it appeared he could not settle down. For the first few +days, in his motor, he was busy exploring the mountains. "We'll +make 'em look foolish. Eh, son?" he said. And with George, who +mutely adored him, he ran all about them in a day. Genially he gave +everyone rides. When he'd finished with the family, he took Dave +Royce the farmer and his wife and children, and even both the hired +men, for Bruce was an hospitable soul. But more than anyone else he +took George. They spent hours working on the car, and at times when +they came into the house begreased and blackened from their work, +Edith reproved them like bad boys—but Deborah smiled +contentedly.</p> +<p>But at the end of another week Bruce grew plainly restless, and +despite his wife's remonstrances made ready to return to town. When +she spoke of his hay fever he bragged to her complacently of his +newly discovered cure.</p> +<p>"Oh, bother your little blue bugs!" she cried.</p> +<p>"The bugs aren't blue," he explained to her, in a mild and +patient voice that drove Edith nearly wild. "They're so little they +have no color at all. Poor friendly little devils—"</p> +<p>"Bruce!" his wife exploded.</p> +<p>"They've been almighty good to me. You ought to have heard my +friend the Judge, the last night I was with him. He patted his +bottle and said to me, 'Bruce, my boy, with all these simple +animals right here as our companions why be a damn fool and run off +to the cows?' And there's a good deal in what he says. You ought to +be mighty thankful, too, that my summer pleasures are so mild. If +you could see what some chaps do—"</p> +<p>And Bruce started back for the city. George rode with him the +first few miles, then left him and came trudging home. His spirits +were exceedingly low.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id= +"Page_122"></a>[122]</span>As August drew toward a close, Deborah, +too, showed signs of unrest. With ever growing frequency Roger felt +her eagerness to return to her work in New York.</p> +<p>"You're as bad as Bruce," he growled at her. "You don't have to +be back," he argued. "School doesn't begin for nearly three +weeks."</p> +<p>"There's the suffrage campaign," she answered. He gave her a +look of exasperation.</p> +<p>"Now what the devil has suffrage to do with your schools?" he +demanded.</p> +<p>"When the women get the vote, we'll spend more money on the +children."</p> +<p>"Suppose the money isn't there," was Roger's grim rejoinder.</p> +<p>"Then we'll act like old-fashioned wives, I suppose," his +daughter answered cheerfully, "and keep nagging till it is there. +We'll keep up such a nagging," she added, in sweet even tones, +"that you'll get the money by hook or crook, to save yourselves +from going insane."</p> +<p>After this he caught her reading in the New York papers the list +of campaign meetings each night, meetings in hot stifling halls or +out upon deafening corners. And as she read there came over her +face a look like that of a man who has given up tobacco and +suddenly sniffs it among his friends. She went down the last night +of August.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>Roger stayed on for another two weeks, on into the best time of +the year. For now came the nights of the first snapping frosts when +the dome of the heavens was steely blue, and clear sparkling +mornings, the woods aflame with scarlet and gold. And across the +small field below the house, at sunset Roger would go down to the +copse of birches there and find it filled with glints of light that +took his glance far in among the slender, creamy stems of the +trees, all slowly swaying to and fro, the leafage rich with +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id= +"Page_123"></a>[123]</span>autumn hues, warm orange, yellow and +pale green. Lovely and silent and serene. So it had been when he +was a boy and so it would be when he was dead. Countless trees had +been cut down but others had risen in their stead. Now and then he +could hear a bird warbling.</p> +<p>Long ago this spot had been his mother's favorite refuge from +her busy day in the house. She had almost always come alone, but +sometimes Roger stealing down would watch her sitting motionless +and staring in among the trees. Years later in his reading he had +come upon the phrase, "sacred grove," and at once he had thought of +the birches. And sitting here where she had been, he felt again +that boundless faith in life resplendent, conquering death, and +serenely sweeping him on—into what he did not fear. For this +had been his mother's faith. Sometimes in the deepening dusk he +could almost see her sitting here.</p> +<p>"This faith in you has come from me. This is my memory living on +in you, my son, though you do not know. How many times have I held +you back, how many times have I urged you on, roused you up or +soothed you, made you hope or fear or dream, through memories of +long ago. For you were once a part of me. I moulded you, my little +son. And as I have been to you, so you will be to your children. In +their lives, too, we shall be there—silent and invisible, the +dim strong figures of the past. For this is the power of families, +this is the mystery of birth."</p> +<p>Suddenly he started. What was it that had thrilled him so? Only +a tall dark fir in the birches. But looming in there like a shadowy +phantom it had recalled a memory of a dusk far back in his boyhood, +when seeing a shadow just like this he had thought it a ghost in +very truth and had run for the house like a rabbit! How terribly +real that fright had been! The recollection suddenly became so +vivid in his mind, that as though a veil had been lifted he +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id= +"Page_124"></a>[124]</span>felt the living presence here, close by +his side, of a small barefoot mountain lad, clothed in sober +homespun gray, but filled with warm desires, dreams and +curiosities, exploring upon every hand, now marching boldly +forward, now stealing up so cautiously, now galloping away like +mad! "I was once a child." To most of us these are mere words. To +few is it ever given to attain so much as even a glimpse into the +warm and quivering soul of that little stranger of long ago. We do +not know how we were made.</p> +<p>"I moulded you, my little son. And as I have been to you, so you +will be to your children. In their lives, too, we shall be +there."</p> +<p>Darker, darker grew the copse and the chill of the night +descended. But to Roger's eyes there was no gloom. For he had seen +a vision.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a><span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125"></a>[125]</span>CHAPTER +XV</h2> +<p>On his return to the city, Roger found that Deborah's school had +apparently swept all other interests out of her mind. Baird hardly +ever came to the house, and she herself was seldom there except for +a hasty dinner at night. The house had to run itself more or less; +and though Annie the cook was doing her best, things did not run so +smoothly. Roger missed little comforts, attentions, and he missed +Deborah most of all. When he came down to his breakfast she had +already left the house, and often she did not return until long +after he was in bed. She felt the difference herself, and though +she did not put it in words her manner at times seemed to beg his +forbearance. But there were many evenings when her father found it +difficult to hold to the resolve he had made, to go slowly with his +daughter until he could be more sure of his ground. She was growing +so intense again. From the school authorities she had secured a +still wider range and freedom for her new experiment, and she was +working day and night to put her ideas into effect.</p> +<p>"It's only too easy," she remarked, "to launch an idea in this +town. The town will put it in headlines at once, and with it a +picture of yourself in your best bib and tucker, looking as though +you loved the whole world. And you can make a wonderful splurge, +until they go on to the next new thing. The real trouble comes in +working it out."</p> +<p>And this she had set out to do. Many nights in the autumn Roger +went down to the school, to try to get some clear idea of this +vision of hers for children, which in a <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126"></a>[126]</span>vague +way he could feel was so much larger than his own, for he had seen +its driving force in the grip it had upon her life. At first he +could make nothing of it at all; everywhere chaos met his eyes. But +he found something formless, huge, that made to him a strong +appeal.</p> +<p>The big building fairly hummed at night with numberless +activities. Fathers, mothers and children came pouring in together +and went skurrying off to their places. They learned to speak +English, to read and write; grown men and women scowled and toiled +over their arithmetic. They worked at trades in the various shops; +they hammered and sawed and set up type; they cooked and sewed and +gossiped. "The Young Galician Socialist Girls" debated on the +question: "Resolved that woman suffrage has worked in Colorado." +"The Caruso Pleasure Club" gave a dance to "The Garibaldi +Whirlwinds." An orchestra rehearsed like mad. They searched their +memories for the songs and all the folk tales they had heard in +peasant huts in Italy, in hamlets along rocky coasts, in the dark +old ghettos of crowded towns in Poland and in Russia. And some of +these songs were sung in school, and some of these tales were +dramatized here. Children and parents all took part. And speakers +emerged from the neighborhood. It was at times appalling, the +number of young Italians and Jews who had ideas to give forth to +their friends on socialism, poverty, marriage and religion, and all +the other questions that rose among these immigrants jammed into +this tenement hive. But when there were too many of these +self-appointed guides, the neighborhood shut down on them.</p> +<p>"We don't want," declared one indignant old woman, "that every +young loafer should shout in our face!"</p> +<p>Roger was slowly attracted into this enormous family life, and +yielding to an impulse he took charge of a boys' club which met on +Thursday evenings there. He knew well this job of fathering a small +jovial group of lads; he <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" +id="Page_127"></a>[127]</span>had done it before, many years ago, +in the mission school, to please his wife; he felt himself back on +familiar ground. And from this point of vantage, with something +definite he could do, he watched with an interest more clear the +school form steadily closer ties with the tenements that hedged it +'round, gathering its big family. And this family by slow degrees +began to make itself a part of the daily life of Roger's house. +Committees held their meetings here, teachers dropped in +frequently, and Roger invited the boys in his club to come up and +see him whenever they liked.</p> +<p>His most frequent visitor was Johnny Geer, the cripple. He was +working in Roger's office now and the two had soon become close +friends. John kept himself so neat and clean, he displayed such a +keen interest in all the details of office work, and he showed such +a beaming appreciation of anything that was done for him.</p> +<p>"That boy is getting a hold on me lately almost like a boy of my +own," Roger said one evening when Allan Baird was at the house. +"He's the pluckiest young un I ever met. I've put him to work in my +private office, where he can use the sofa to rest, and I've made +him my own stenographer—partly because he's so quick at +dictation and partly to try to make him slow down. He has the mind +of a race horse. He runs at night to libraries until I should think +he'd go insane. And his body can't stand it, he's breaking +down—though whenever I ask him how he feels, he always says, +'Fine, thank you.'" Here Roger turned to Allan. "I wish you'd take +the boy," he said, "to the finest specialist in town, and see what +can be done for his spine. I'll pay any price."</p> +<p>"There won't be any price," said Allan, "but I'll see to it at +once."</p> +<p>He had John examined the same week.</p> +<p>"Well?" asked Roger when next they met.</p> +<p>"Well," said Baird, "it isn't good news."</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id= +"Page_128"></a>[128]</span>You mean he's hopeless?" Allan +nodded:</p> +<p>"It's Pott's disease, and it's gone too far. John is eighteen. +He may live to be thirty."</p> +<p>"But I tell you, Baird, I'll do anything!"</p> +<p>"There's almost nothing you can do. If he had been taken when he +was a baby, he might have been cured and given a chance. But the +same mother who dropped him then, when she was full of liquor, just +went to the druggist on her block, and after listening to his +advice she bought some patent medicine, a steel jacket and some +crutches, and thought she'd done her duty."</p> +<p>"But there must be something we can do!" retorted Roger +angrily.</p> +<p>"Yes," said Baird, "we can make him a little more comfortable. +And meanwhile we can help Deborah here to get hold of other boys +like John and give 'em a chance before it's too late—keep +them from being crippled for life because their mothers were too +blind and ignorant to act in time." Baird's voice had a ring of +bitterness.</p> +<p>"Most of 'em love their children," Roger said uneasily. Baird +turned on him a steady look.</p> +<p>"Love isn't enough," he retorted. "The time is coming very soon +when we'll have the right to guard the child not only when it's a +baby but even before it has been born."</p> +<p>Roger drew closer to John after this. Often behind the beaming +smile he would feel the pain and loneliness, and the angry grit +which was fighting it down. And so he would ask John home to supper +on nights when nobody else was there. One day late in the afternoon +they were walking home together along the west side of Madison +Square. The big open space was studded with lights sparkling up at +the frosty stars, in a city, a world, a universe that seemed filled +with the zest and the vigor of life. Out of these lights a mighty +tower loomed high up into the sky. And stopping on his crutches, a +grim small crooked figure in all this rushing turmoil, John set his +jaws, and with <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id= +"Page_129"></a>[129]</span>his shrewd and twinkling eyes fixed on +the top of the tower, he said,</p> +<p>"I meant to tell you, Mr. Gale. You was asking me once what I +wanted to be. And I want to be an architect."</p> +<p>"Do, eh," grunted Roger. He, too, looked up at that thing in the +stars, and there was a tightening at his throat. "All right," he +added, presently, "why not start in and be one?"</p> +<p>"How?" asked John alertly.</p> +<p>"Well, my boy," said Roger, "I'd hate to lose you in the +office—"</p> +<p>"Yes, sir, and I'd hate to go." Just then the big clock in the +tower began to boom the hour, and a chill struck into Roger.</p> +<p>"You'd have to," he said gruffly. "You haven't any time to lose! +I mean," he hastily added, "that for a job as big as that you'd +need a lot of training. But if it's what you want to be, go right +ahead. I'll back you. My son-in-law is a builder at present. I'll +talk to him and get his advice. We may be able to arrange to have +you go right into his office, begin at the bottom and work straight +up." In silence for a moment John hobbled on by Roger's side.</p> +<p>"I'd hate to leave your place," he said.</p> +<p>"I know," was Roger's brusque reply, "and I'd hate to lose you. +We'll have to think it over."</p> +<p>A few days later he talked with Bruce, who said he'd be glad to +take the boy. And at dinner that night with Deborah, Roger asked +abruptly,</p> +<p>"Why not let Johnny come here for a while and use one of our +empty bedrooms?"</p> +<p>With a quick flush of pleased surprise, Deborah gave her father +a look that embarrassed him tremendously.</p> +<p>"Well, why not?" he snapped at her. "Sensible, isn't it?"</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id= +"Page_130"></a>[130]</span>Perfectly."</p> +<p>And sensible it turned out to be. When John first heard about +it, he was apparently quite overcome, and there followed a brief +awkward pause while he rapidly blinked the joy from his eyes. But +then he said, "Fine, thank you. That's mighty good of you, Mr. +Gale," in as matter of fact a tone as you please. And he entered +the household in much the same way, for John had a sense of the +fitness of things. He had always kept himself neat and clean, but +he became immaculate now. He dined with Roger the first night, but +early the next morning he went down to the kitchen and breakfasted +there; and from this time on, unless he were especially urged to +come up to the dining room, John took all his meals downstairs. The +maids were Irish—so was John. They were good +Catholics—so was John. They loved the movies—so did +John. In short, it worked out wonderfully. In less than a month +John had made himself an unobtrusive and natural part of the life +of Roger's sober old house. It had had to stretch just a little, no +more.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a><span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131"></a>[131]</span>CHAPTER +XVI</h2> +<p>But that winter there was more in the house than Deborah's big +family. Though at times Roger felt it surging in with its crude, +immense vitality, there were other times when it was not so, and +the lives of his other two daughters attracted his attention, for +both were back again in town.</p> +<p>Laura and her husband had returned from abroad in October, and +in a small but expensive apartment in a huge new building facing on +Park Avenue they had gaily started the career of their own little +family, or "ménage," as Laura called it. This word had stuck +in Roger's mind, for he had a suspicion that a "ménage" was +no place for babies. Grimly, when he went there first to be shown +the new home by its mistress, he looked about him for a room which +might be made a nursery. But no such room was in evidence. "We +decided to have no guest room," he heard Laura say to Deborah. And +glancing at his daughter then, sleek and smiling and demure, in her +tea-gown fresh from Paris, Roger darkly told himself that a child +would be an unwelcome guest. The whole place was as compact and +sparkling as a jewel box. The bed chamber was luxurious, with a +gorgeous bath adjoining and a dressing-room for Harold.</p> +<p>"And look at this love of a closet!" said Laura to Deborah +eagerly. "Isn't it simply enormous?" As Deborah looked, her father +did, too, and his eye was met by an array of shimmering apparel +which made him draw back almost with a start.</p> +<p>They found Harold in the pantry. Their Jap, it appeared, was a +marvellous cook and did the catering as <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132"></a>[132]</span>well, so +that Laura rarely troubled herself to order so much as a single +meal. But her husband had for many years been famous for his +cocktails, and although the Jap did everything else Hal had kept +this in his own hands.</p> +<p>"I thought this much of the house-keeping ought to remain in the +family," he said.</p> +<p>Roger did not like this joke. But later, when he had imbibed the +delicious concoction Harold had made, and had eaten the dinner +created by that Japanese artist of theirs, his irritation +subsided.</p> +<p>"They barely know we're here," he thought. "They're both in love +up to their ears."</p> +<p>Despite their genial attempts to be hospitable and friendly, +time and again he saw their glances meet in an intimate gleaming +manner which made him rather uncomfortable. But where was the harm, +he asked himself. They were married all right, weren't they? Still +somehow—somehow—no, by George, he didn't like it, he +didn't approve! The whole affair was decidedly mixing. Roger went +away vaguely uneasy, and he felt that Deborah was even more +disturbed than himself.</p> +<p>"Those two," she remarked to her father, "are so fearfully wrapt +up in each other it makes me afraid. Oh, it's all right, I suppose, +and I wouldn't for worlds try to interfere. But I can't help +feeling somehow that no two people with such an abundance of youth +and money and happiness have the right to be so +amazingly—selfish!"</p> +<p>"They ought to have children," Roger said.</p> +<p>"But look at Edith," his daughter rejoined. "She hasn't a single +interest that I can find outside her home. It seems to have +swallowed her, body and soul." A frowning look of perplexity swept +over Deborah's mobile face, and with a whimsical sigh she +exclaimed, "Oh, this queer business of families!"</p> +<p>In December there came a little crash. Late one evening Laura +came bursting in upon them in a perfect tantrum, <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133"></a>[133]</span>every +nerve in her lithe body tense, her full lips visibly quivering, her +voice unsteady, and her big black eyes aflame with rage. She was +jealous of her husband and "that nasty little cat!" Roger learned +no more about it, for Deborah motioned him out of the room. He +heard their two voices talk on and on, until Laura's slowly quieted +down. Soon afterwards she left the house, and Deborah came in to +him.</p> +<p>"She's gone home, eh?" asked Roger.</p> +<p>"Yes, she has, poor silly child—she said at first she had +come here to stay."</p> +<p>"By George," he said. "As bad as that?"</p> +<p>"Of course it isn't as bad as that!" Deborah cried impatiently. +"She just built and built on silly suspicions and let herself get +all worked up! I don't see what they're coming to!" For a few +moments nothing was said. "It's so unnatural!" she exclaimed. "Men +and women weren't <i>made</i> to live like that!" Roger scowled +into his paper.</p> +<p>"Better leave 'em alone," he admonished her. "You can't +help—they're not your kind. Don't you mix into this +affair."</p> +<p>But Deborah did. She remembered that her sister had once shown +quite a talent for amateur theatricals; and to give Laura something +to do, Deborah persuaded her to take a dramatic club in her school. +And Laura, rather to Roger's surprise, became an enthusiast down +there. She worked like a slave at rehearsals, and upon the costumes +she spent money with a lavish hand. Moreover, instead of being +annoyed, as Edith was, at Deborah's prominence in the press, Laura +gloried in it, as though this "radical" sister of hers were a +distinct social asset among her giddy friends uptown. For even +Laura's friends, her father learned with astonishment, had acquired +quite an appetite for men and women with ideas—the more +"radical," the better. But the way Laura used this word at times +made Roger's blood run cold. She was vivid in her approval of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id= +"Page_134"></a>[134]</span>her sister's whole idea, as a scheme of +wholesale motherhood which would give "a perfectly glorious jolt" +to the old-fashioned home with its overworked mothers who let their +children absorb their days.</p> +<p>"As though having children and bringing them up," she +disdainfully declared, "were something every woman must do, whether +she happens to like it or not, at the cost of any real growth of +her own!"</p> +<p>And smilingly she hinted at impending radical changes in the +whole relation of marriage, of which she was hearing in detail at a +series of lectures to young wives, delivered on Thursday mornings +in a hotel ball-room.</p> +<p>What the devil was getting into the town? Roger frowned his deep +dislike. Here was Laura with her chicken's mind blithely taking her +sister's thoughts and turning them topsy-turvy, to make for herself +a view of life which fitted like a white kid glove her small and +elegant "ménage." And although her father had only inklings +of it all, he had quite enough to make him irate at this uncanny +interplay of influences in his family. Why couldn't the girls leave +each other alone?</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>Early in the winter, Edith, too, had entered in. It had taken +Edith just one glance into the bride's apartment to grasp Laura's +whole scheme of existence.</p> +<p>"Selfish, indulgent and abnormal," was the way she described it. +She and Bruce were dining with Roger that night. "I wash my hands +of the whole affair," continued Edith curtly. "So long as she +doesn't want my help, as she has plainly made me feel, I certainly +shan't stand in her way."</p> +<p>"You're absolutely right," said her father.</p> +<p>"Stick to it," said Bruce approvingly.</p> +<p>But Edith did not stick to it. In her case too, as the weeks +wore on, those subtle family ties took hold and made her feel the +least she could do was "to keep up <span class="pagenum"><a name= +"Page_135" id="Page_135"></a>[135]</span>appearances." So she and +Bruce dined with the bride and groom, and in turn had them to +dinner. And these dinners, as Bruce confided to Roger, were +occasions no man could forget.</p> +<p>"They come only about once a month," he said in a tone of +pathos, "but it seems as though barely a week had gone by when +Edith says to me again, 'We're dining with Laura and Hal to-night.' +Well, and we dine. Young Sloane is not a bad sort of a +chap—works hard downtown and worships his wife. The way he +lives—well, it isn't mine—and mine isn't his—and +we both let it go at that. But the women can't, they haven't it in +'em. Each sits with her way of life in her lap. You can't see it +over the tablecloth, but, my God, how you feel it! The worst of it +is," he ended, "that after one of these terrible meals each woman +is more set than before in her own way of living. Not that I don't +like Edith's way," her husband added hastily.</p> +<p>Edith also disapproved of the fast increasing publicity which +Deborah was getting.</p> +<p>"I may be very old-fashioned," she remarked to her father, "but +I can't get used to this idea that a woman's place is in headlines. +And I think it's rather hard on you—the use she's making of +your house."</p> +<p>One Friday night when she came to play chess, she found her +father in the midst of a boisterous special meeting of his club of +Italian boys. It had been postponed from the evening before. And +though Roger, overcome with dismay at having forgotten Edith's +night, apologized profusely, the time-honored weekly game took +place no more from that day on.</p> +<p>"Edith's pretty sore," said Bruce, who dropped in soon +afterwards. "She says Deborah has made your house into an annex to +her school."</p> +<p>Roger smoked in silence. His whole family was about his +ears.</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id= +"Page_136"></a>[136]</span>My boy," he muttered earnestly, "you and +I must stick together."</p> +<p>"We sure must," agreed his son-in-law. "And what's more, if +we're to keep the peace, we've got to try to put some punch into +Deborah's so-called love affair. She ought to get married and +settle down."</p> +<p>"Yes," said Roger, dubiously. "Only let's keep it to +ourselves."</p> +<p>"No chance of that," was the cheerful reply. "You can't keep +Edith out of it. It would only make trouble in <i>my</i> family." +Roger gave him a pitying look and said,</p> +<p>"Then, for the Lord's sake, let her in!"</p> +<p>So they took Edith into their councils, and she gave them an +indulgent smile.</p> +<p>"Suppose you leave this to me," she commanded. "Don't you think +I've been using my eyes? There's no earthly use in stepping in now, +for Deborah has lost her head. She sees herself a great new woman +with a career. But wait till the present flare-up subsides, till +the newspapers all drop her and she is thoroughly tired out. Until +then, remember, we keep our hands off."</p> +<p>"Do you think you can?" asked Roger, with a little glimmer of +hope.</p> +<p>"I?" she retorted. "Most certainly! I mean to leave her alone +absolutely—until she comes to me herself. When she does, +we'll know it's time to begin."</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>"I'm afraid Edith is hurt about something," said Deborah to her +father, about a month after this little talk. "She hasn't been near +us for over three weeks."</p> +<p>"Let her be!" said Roger, in alarm. "I mean," he hastily added, +"why can't you let Edith come when she likes? There's nothing the +matter. It's simply her children—they take up her time."</p> +<p>"No," said Deborah calmly, "it's I. She as good as told me so +last month. She thinks I've become a perfect <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id= +"Page_137"></a>[137]</span>fanatic—without a spare moment or +thought for my family."</p> +<p>"Oh, my family!" Roger groaned. "I tell you, Deborah, you're +wrong! Edith's children are probably sick in bed!"</p> +<p>"Then I'll go and see," she answered.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>"Something has happened to Deborah," Edith informed him +blithely, over the telephone the next night.</p> +<p>"Has, eh," grunted Roger.</p> +<p>"Yes, she was here to see me to-day. And something has +happened—she's changing fast. I felt it in all kinds of ways. +She was just as dear as she could be—and lonely, as though +she were feeling her age. I really think we can do something +now."</p> +<p>"All right, let's do something," Roger growled.</p> +<p>And Edith began to do something. Her hostility to her sister had +completely disappeared. In its place was a friendly affection, an +evident desire to please. She even drew Laura into the secret, and +there was a gathering of the clan. There were consultations in +Roger's den. "Deborah is to get married." The feeling of it crept +through the house. Nothing was said to her, of course, but Deborah +was made to feel that her two sisters had drawn close. And their +influence upon her choice was more deep and subtle than she knew. +For although Roger's family had split so wide apart, between his +three daughters there were still mysterious bonds reaching far back +into nursery days. And Deborah in deciding whether to marry Allan +Baird was affected more than she was aware by the married lives of +her sisters. All she had seen in Laura's ménage, all that +she had ever observed in Edith's growing family, kept rising from +time to time in her thoughts, as she vaguely tried to picture +herself a wife and the mother of children.</p> +<p>So the family, with those subtle bonds from the past, began to +press steadily closer and closer around this one unmarried +daughter, and help her to make up her mind.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a><span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138"></a>[138]</span>CHAPTER +XVII</h2> +<p>But she did not appear to care to be helped. Nor did +Allan—he rarely came to the house, and he went to Edith's not +at all. He was even absent from her Christmas tree for the +children, a jolly little festivity which neither he nor Deborah had +missed in years.</p> +<p>"What has got into him?" Roger asked. And shortly after +Christmas he called the fellow up on the 'phone. "Drop in for +dinner to-night," he urged. And he added distinctly, "I'm +alone."</p> +<p>"Are you? I'll be glad to."</p> +<p>"Thank you, Baird, I want your advice." And as he hung up the +receiver he said, "Now then!" to himself, in a tone of firm +decision. But later, as the day wore on, he cursed himself for what +he had done. "Don't it beat the devil," he thought, "how I'm always +putting my foot in it?" And when Baird came into the room that +night he loomed, to Roger's anxious eye, if anything taller than +before. But his manner was so easy, his gruff voice so natural, and +he seemed to take this little party of two so quietly as a matter +of course, that Roger was soon reassured, and at table he and Allan +got on even better than before. Baird talked of his life as a +student, in Vienna, Bonn and Edinburgh, and of his first struggles +in New York. His talk was full of human bits, some tragic, more +amusing. And Roger's liking for the man increased with every story +told.</p> +<p>"I asked you here," he bluntly began, when they had gone to the +study to smoke, "to talk to you about Deborah." Baird gave him a +friendly look.</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id= +"Page_139"></a>[139]</span>All right. Let's talk about her."</p> +<p>"It strikes me you were right last year," said Roger, speaking +slowly. "She's already showing the strain of her work. She don't +look to me as strong as she was."</p> +<p>"She looks to me stronger," Allan replied. "You know, people +fool doctors now and then—and she seems to have taken a fresh +start. I feel she may go on for years." Roger was silent a moment, +chagrined and disappointed.</p> +<p>"Have you had a good chance to watch her?" he asked.</p> +<p>"Yes, and I'm watching her still," said Baird. "I see her down +there at the school. She tells me you've been there yourself."</p> +<p>"Yes," said Roger, determinedly, "and I mean to keep on going. +I'm trying not to lose hold of her," he added with harsh emphasis. +Baird turned and frankly smiled at him.</p> +<p>"Then you have probably seen," he replied, "that to keep any +hold at all on her, you must make up your mind as I have done that, +strength or no strength, this job of hers is going to be a life +career. When a woman who has held a job without a break for eleven +years can feel such a flame of enthusiasm, you can be pretty sure, +I think, it is the deepest part of her. At least I feel that way," +he said. "And I believe the only way to keep near her—for the +present, anyhow—is to help her in her work."</p> +<p>When Baird had gone, Roger found himself angry.</p> +<p>"I'm not in the habit, young man," he thought, "of throwing my +daughter at gentlemen's heads. If you feel as calm and contented as +that you can go to the devil! Far be it from me to lift a hand! In +fact, as I come to think of it, you would probably make her a +mighty poor husband!" He worked himself into quite a rage. But an +hour later, when he had subsided, "Hold on," he thought. "Am I +right about this? Is the man as contented as he talks? No, sir, not +for a minute he isn't! But what can he do? If he tried making love +to Deborah he'd simply be <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" +id="Page_140"></a>[140]</span>killing his chances. Not the +slightest doubt in the world. She can't think of anything but her +career. Yes, sir, when all's said and done, to marry a modern woman +is no child's play, it means thought and care. And A. Baird has +made up his mind to it. He has made up his mind to marry her by +playing a long waiting game. He's just slowly and quietly nosing +his way into her school, because it's her life. And a mighty shrewd +way of going about it. You don't need any help from me, my friend; +all you need is to be let alone."</p> +<p>In talks at home with Deborah, and in what he himself observed +at school, Roger began to get inklings of "A. Baird's long waiting +game." He found that several months before Allan had offered to +start a free clinic for mothers and children in connection with the +school, and that he alone had put it through, with only the most +reluctant aid and gratitude from Deborah—as though she +dreaded something. Baird took countless hours from his busy uptown +practice; he hurt himself more than once, in fact, by neglecting +rich patients to do this work. Where a sick or pregnant mother was +too poor to carry out his advice, he followed her into her tenement +home, sent one of his nurses to visit her, and even gave money when +it was needed to ease the strain of her poverty until she should be +well and strong. Soon scores of the mothers of Deborah's children +were singing the praises of Doctor Baird.</p> +<p>Then he began coming to the house.</p> +<p>"I was right," thought Roger complacently.</p> +<p>He laid in a stock of fine cigars and some good port and claret, +too; and on evenings when Baird came to dine, Roger by a genial +glow and occasional jocular ironies would endeavor to drag the talk +away from clinics, adenoids, children's teeth, epidemics and the +new education. But no joke was so good that Deborah could not +promptly match it with some amusing little thing which one of her +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id= +"Page_141"></a>[141]</span>children had said or done. For she had a +mother's instinct for bragging fondly of her brood. It was deep, it +was uncanny, this queer community motherhood.</p> +<p>"This poor devil," Roger thought, with a pitying glance at +Baird, "might just as well be marrying a widow with three thousand +brats."</p> +<p>But Baird did not seem in the least dismayed. On the contrary, +his assurance appeared to be deepening every week, and with it +Deborah's air of alarm. For his clinic, as it swiftly grew, he +secured financial backing from his rich women patients uptown, many +of them childless and only too ready to respond to the appeals he +made to them. And one Saturday evening at the house, while dining +with Roger and Deborah, he told of an offer he had had from a +wealthy banker's widow to build a maternity hospital. He talked +hungrily of all it could do in co-operation with the school. He +said nothing of the obvious fact that it would require his whole +time, but Roger thought of that at once, and by the expression on +Deborah's face he saw she was thinking, too.</p> +<p>He felt they wanted to be alone, so presently he left them. From +his study he could hear their voices growing steadily more intense. +Was it all about work? He could not tell. "They've got working and +living so mixed up, a man can't possibly tell 'em apart."</p> +<p>Then his daughter was called to the telephone, and Allan came in +to bid Roger good-night. And his eyes showed an impatience he did +not seem to care to hide.</p> +<p>"Well?" inquired Roger. "Did you get Deborah's consent?"</p> +<p>"To what?" asked Allan sharply.</p> +<p>"To your acceptance," Roger answered, "of the widow's mite." +Baird grinned.</p> +<p>"She couldn't help herself," he said.</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id= +"Page_142"></a>[142]</span>But she didn't seem to like it, +eh—"</p> +<p>"No," said Baird, "she didn't." Roger had a dark suspicion.</p> +<p>"By the way," he asked in a casual tone, "what's this +philanthropic widow like?"</p> +<p>"She's sixty-nine," Baird answered.</p> +<p>"Oh," said Roger. He smoked for a time, and sagely added, "My +daughter's a queer woman, Baird—she's modern, very modern. +But she's still a woman, you understand—and so she's +jealous—of her job." But A. Baird was in no joking mood.</p> +<p>"She's narrow," he said sternly. "That's what's the matter with +Deborah. She's so centered on her job she can't see anyone else's. +She thinks I'm doing all this work solely in order to help her +school—when if she'd use some imagination and try to put +herself in my shoes, she'd see the chance it's giving +<i>me</i>!"</p> +<p>"How do you mean?" asked Roger, looking a bit bewildered.</p> +<p>"Why," said Baird with an impatient fling of his hand, "there +are men in my line all over the country who'd leave home, wives and +children for the chance I've blundered onto here! A hospital fully +equipped for research, a free hand, an opportunity which comes to +one man in a million! But can she see it? Not at all! It's only an +annex to her school!"</p> +<p>"Yes," said Roger gravely, "she's in a pretty unnatural state. I +think she ought to get married, Baird—" To his friendly and +disarming twinkle Baird replied with a rueful smile.</p> +<p>"You do, eh," he growled. "Then tell her to plan her wedding to +come before her funeral." As he rose to go, Roger took his +hand.</p> +<p>"I'll tell her," he said. "It's sound advice. Good-night, my +boy, I wish you luck."</p> +<p>A few moments later he heard in the hall their brief +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id= +"Page_143"></a>[143]</span>good-nights to each other, and presently +Deborah came in. She was not looking quite herself.</p> +<p>"Why are you eyeing me like that?" his daughter asked +abruptly.</p> +<p>"Aren't you letting him do a good deal for you?"</p> +<p>Deborah flushed a little:</p> +<p>"Yes, I am. I can't make him stop."</p> +<p>Her father hesitated.</p> +<p>"You could," he said, "if you wanted to. If you were sure," he +added slowly, "that you didn't love him—and told him so." He +felt a little panic, for he thought he had gone too far. But his +daughter only turned away and restlessly moved about the room. At +last she came to her father's chair:</p> +<p>"Hadn't you better leave this to me?"</p> +<p>"I had, my dear, I most certainly had. I was all wrong to +mention it," he answered very humbly.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>From this night on, Baird changed his tack. Although soon busy +with the plans for the hospital, to be built at once, he said +little about it to Deborah. Instead, he insisted on taking her off +on little evening sprees uptown.</p> +<p>"Do you know what's the matter with both of us?" he said to her +one evening. "We've been getting too durned devoted to our jobs and +our ideals. You're becoming a regular school marm and I'm getting +to be a regular slave to every wretched little babe who takes it +into his head to be born. We haven't one redeeming vice."</p> +<p>And again he took up dancing. The first effort which he made, +down at Deborah's school one evening, was a failure quite as dismal +as his attempts of the previous year. But he did not appear in the +least discouraged. He came to the house one Friday night.</p> +<p>"I knew I could learn to dance," he said, "in spite of all your +taunts and jibes. That little fiasco last Saturday +night—"</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id= +"Page_144"></a>[144]</span>Was perfectly awful," Deborah said.</p> +<p>"Did not discourage me in the least," he continued severely. "I +decided the only trouble with me was that I'm tall and I've got to +bend—to learn to bend."</p> +<p>"Tremendously!"</p> +<p>"So I went to a lady professor, and she saw the point at once. +Since then I've had five lessons, and I can fox-trot in my sleep. +To-morrow is Saturday. Where shall we go?"</p> +<p>"To the theater."</p> +<p>"Good. We'll start with that. But the minute the play is over +we'll gallop off to the Plaza Grill—just as the music is in +full swing—"</p> +<p>"And we'll dance," she groaned, "for hours. And when I get home, +I'll creep into bed so tired and sore in every limb—"</p> +<p>"That you'll sleep late Sunday morning. And a mighty good thing +for you, too—if you ask my advice—"</p> +<p>"I don't ask your advice!"</p> +<p>"You're getting it, though," he said doggedly. "If you're still +to be a friend of mine we'll dance at the Plaza to-morrow +night—and well into the Sabbath."</p> +<p>"The principal of a public school—dancing on the Sabbath. +Suppose one of my friends should see us there."</p> +<p>"Your friends," he replied with a fine contempt, "do not dance +in the Plaza Grill. I'm the only roisterer you know."</p> +<p>"All right," she conceded grudgingly, "I'll roister. Come and +get me. But I'd much prefer when the play is done to come home and +have milk and crackers here."</p> +<p>"Deborah," he said cheerfully, "for a radical school reformer +you're the most conservative woman I know."</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a><span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145"></a>[145]</span>CHAPTER +XVIII</h2> +<p>In Deborah's school, in the meantime, affairs had drawn to a +climax. The moment had come for the city to say whether her new +experiment should be dropped the following year or allowed to go on +and develop. There came a day of sharp suspense when Deborah's +friends and enemies on the Board of Education sat down to discuss +and settle her fate. They were at it for several hours, but late in +the afternoon they decided not only to let her go on the next year +but to try her idea in four other schools and place her in charge +with ample funds. The long strain came to an end at last in a +triumph beyond her wildest hopes; when the news arrived she +relaxed, grew limp, and laughed and cried a little. And her father +felt her tremble as he held her a moment in his arms.</p> +<p>"Now, Baird," he thought, "your chance has come. For God's sake, +take it while it's here!"</p> +<p>But in place of Baird that afternoon came men and women from the +press, and friends and fellow workers. The door-bell and the +telephone kept ringing almost incessantly. Why couldn't they leave +her a moment's peace? Roger buried himself in his study. Later, +when he was called to dinner, he found that Allan was there, too, +but at first the conversation was all upon Deborah's victory. +Flushed with success, for the moment engrossed in the wider field +she saw ahead, she had not a thought for anything else. But after +dinner the atmosphere changed.</p> +<p>"To hear me talk," she told them, "you'd think the whole world +depended on me, and on my school and my <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146"></a>[146]</span>ideas. +Me, me, me! And it has been me all winter long! What a time I've +given both of you!"</p> +<p>She grew repentant and grateful, first to her father and then to +Allan, and then more and more to Allan, with her happy eyes on his. +And with a keen worried look at them both, Roger rose and left the +room.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>Baird was leaning forward. He had both her hands in his own.</p> +<p>"Well?" he asked. "Will you marry me now?"</p> +<p>Her eyes were looking straight into his. They kept moving +slightly, searching his. Her wide, sensitive lips were tightly +compressed, but did not quite hide their quivering. When she spoke +her voice was low and a little queer and breathless:</p> +<p>"Do you want any children, Allan?"</p> +<p>"Yes."</p> +<p>"So do I. And with children, what of my work?"</p> +<p>"I don't want to stop your work. If you marry me we'll go right +on. You see I know you, Deborah, I know you've always grown like +that—by risking what you've got to-day for something more +to-morrow."</p> +<p>"I've never taken a risk like this!"</p> +<p>"I tell you this time it's no risk! Because you're a grown +woman—formed! I'm not making a saint of you. You're no angel +down among the poor because you feel it's your duty in +life—it's your happiness, your passion! You couldn't neglect +them if you tried!"</p> +<p>"But the time," she asked him quickly. "Where shall I find the +time for it all?"</p> +<p>"A man finds time enough," he answered, "even when he's +married."</p> +<p>"But I'm not a man, I'm a woman," she said. And in a low voice +which thrilled him, "A woman who wants a child of her own!" His +lean muscular right hand contracted sharply upon hers. She winced, +drew back a little.</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id= +"Page_147"></a>[147]</span>Oh—I'm sorry!" he whispered. Then +he asked her again,</p> +<p>"Will you marry me now?" She looked suddenly up:</p> +<p>"Let's wait awhile, please! It won't be long—I'm in love +with you, Allan, I'm sure of that now! And I'm not drawing back, +I'm not afraid! Oh, I want you to feel I'm not running away! What I +want to do is to face this square! It may be silly and foolish +but—you see, I'm made like that. I want a little +longer—I want to think it out by myself."</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>When Allan had gone she came in to her father. And her radiant +expression made him bounce up from his chair.</p> +<p>"By George," he cried, "he asked you!"</p> +<p>"Yes!"</p> +<p>"And you've taken him!"</p> +<p>"No!"</p> +<p>Roger gasped.</p> +<p>"Look here!" he demanded, angrily. "What's the matter? Are you +mad?" She threw back her head and laughed at him.</p> +<p>"No, I'm not—I'm happy!"</p> +<p>"What the devil about?" he snapped.</p> +<p>"We're going to wait a bit, that's all, till we're sure of +everything!" she cried.</p> +<p>"Then," said Roger disgustedly, "you're smarter than your father +is. I'm sure of nothing—nothing! I have never been sure in +all my days! If I'd waited, you'd never have been born!"</p> +<p>"Oh, dearie," she begged him smilingly. "Please don't be so +unhappy just now—"</p> +<p>"I've a right to be!" said Roger. "I see my house agog with +this—in a turmoil—in a turmoil!"</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>But again he was mistaken. It was in fact astonishing how the +old house quieted down. There came again one <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148"></a>[148]</span>of those +peaceful times, when his home to Roger's senses seemed to settle +deep, grow still, and gather itself together. Day by day he felt +more sure that Deborah was succeeding in making her work fit into +her swiftly deepening passion for a full happy woman's life. And +why shouldn't they live here, Allan and she? The thought of this +dispelled the cloud which hung over the years he saw ahead. How +smoothly things were working out. The monstrous new buildings +around his house seemed to him to draw back as though balked of +their prey.</p> +<p>On the mantle in Roger's study, for many years a bronze figure +there, "The Thinker," huge and naked, forbidding in its crouching +pose, the heavy chin on one clenched fist, had brooded down upon +him. And in the years that had been so dark, it had been a figure +of despair. Often he had looked up from his chair and grimly met +its frowning gaze. But Roger seldom looked at it now, and even when +it caught his eye it had little effect upon him. It appeared to +brood less darkly. For though he did not think it out, there was +this feeling in his mind:</p> +<p>"There is to be nothing startling in this quiet home of mine, no +crashing deep calamity here."</p> +<p>Only the steadily deepening love between a grown man and a woman +mature, both sensible, strong people with a firm control of their +destinies. He felt so sure of this affair. For now, her tension +once relaxed with the success which had come to her after so many +long hard years, a new Deborah was revealed, more human in her +yieldings. She let Allan take her off on the wildest little sprees +uptown and out into the country. To Roger she seemed younger, more +warm and joyous and more free. He loved to hear her laugh these +nights, to catch the glad new tones in her voice.</p> +<p>"There is to be no tragedy here."</p> +<p>So, certain of this union and wistful for all he felt it would +bring, Roger watched its swift approach. And <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149"></a>[149]</span>when the +news came, he was sure he'd been right. Because it came so +quietly.</p> +<p>"It's settled, dear, at last it's sure. Allan and I are to be +married." She was standing by his chair. Roger reached up and took +her hand:</p> +<p>"I'm glad. You'll be very happy, my child."</p> +<p>She bent over and kissed him, and putting his arm around her he +drew her down on the side of his chair.</p> +<p>"Now tell me all your plans," he said. And her answer brought +him a deep peace.</p> +<p>"We're going abroad for the summer—and then if you'll have +us we want to come here." Roger abruptly shut his eyes.</p> +<p>"By George, Deborah," he said, "you do have a way of getting +right into the heart of things!" His arm closed about her with new +strength and he felt all his troubles flying away.</p> +<p>"What a time we'll have, what a rich new life." Her deep sweet +voice was a little unsteady. "Listen, dearie, how quiet it is." And +for some moments nothing was heard but the sober tick-tick of the +clock on the mantle. "I wonder what we're going to hear."</p> +<p>And they thought of new voices in the house.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a><span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150"></a>[150]</span>CHAPTER +XIX</h2> +<p>Edith was radiant at the news.</p> +<p>"I do hope they're not going to grudge themselves a good long +wedding trip!" she exclaimed.</p> +<p>"They're going abroad," said Roger.</p> +<p>"Oh, splendid! And the wedding! Church or home?"</p> +<p>"Home," said Roger blissfully, "and short and simple, not a +frill. Just the family."</p> +<p>"Oh, that's so nice," sighed Edith. "I was afraid she'd want to +drag in her school."</p> +<p>"School will be out by then," he said.</p> +<p>"Well, I hope it stays out—for the remainder of her days. +She can't do both, and she'll soon see. Wait till she has a child +of her own."</p> +<p>"Well, she wants one bad enough."</p> +<p>"Yes, but can she?" Edith asked, with the engrossed expression +which came on her pretty florid face whenever she neared such a +topic. She spoke with evident awkwardness. "That's the trouble. Is +it too late? Deborah's thirty-one, you know, and she has lived her +life so hard. The sooner she gives up her school the better for her +chances."</p> +<p>The face of her father clouded.</p> +<p>"Look here," he said uneasily, "I wouldn't go talking to +her—quite along those lines, my dear."</p> +<p>"I'm not such an idiot," she replied. "She thinks me homely +enough as it is. And she's not altogether wrong. Bruce and I were +talking it over last night. We want to be closer, after this, to +Deborah and Allan. Bruce says it will do us <i>all</i> good, and +for once I think he's right. I <i>have</i> given too much time to +my children, and Bruce to his <span class="pagenum"><a name= +"Page_151" id="Page_151"></a>[151]</span>office—I see it now. +Not that I regret it, but—well, we're going to blossom +out."</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>She struck the same note with Deborah. And so did Bruce.</p> +<p>"Oh, Deborah dear," he said smiling, when he found a chance to +see her alone, "if you knew how long I've waited for this big fine +thing to happen. A. Baird is my best chum in the world. Don't yank +him gently away from us now. We'll keep close—eh?—all +four of us."</p> +<p>"Very," said Deborah softly.</p> +<p>"And you mustn't get too solemn, you know. You won't pull too +much of the highbrow stuff."</p> +<p>"Heaven forbid!"</p> +<p>"That's the right idea. We'll have some fine little parties +together. You and A. Baird will give us a hand and get us out in +the evenings. We need it, God knows, we've been getting old." +Deborah threw him a glance of affection.</p> +<p>"Why, Brucie," she said, in admiring tones, "I knew you had it +in you."</p> +<p>"So has Edith," he sturdily declared. "She only needs a little +shove. We'll show you two that we're regular fellows. Don't you be +all school and we won't be all home. We'll jump out of our skins +and be young again."</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>In pursuance of this gay resolve, Bruce planned frequent parties +to theaters and musical shows, and to Edith's consternation he even +began to look about for a teacher from whom he could learn to +dance. "A. Baird," he told her firmly, "isn't going to be the only +soubrette in this family."</p> +<p>One of the most hilarious of these small celebrations came early +in June, when they dined all four together and went to the summer's +opening of "The Follies of 1914." The show rather dragged a bit at +first, but when Bert<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id= +"Page_152"></a>[152]</span> Williams took the stage Bruce's laugh +became so contagious that people in seats on every hand turned to +look at him and join in his glee. Only one thing happened to mar +the evening's pleasure. When they came outside the theater Bruce +found in his car something wrong with the engine. He tinkered but +it would not go. Allan hailed a taxi.</p> +<p>"Why not come with us?" asked Deborah.</p> +<p>"No, thanks," said Bruce. "I've got this car to look after."</p> +<p>"Oh, let it wait," urged Allan.</p> +<p>"It does look a little like rain," put in Edith. Bruce glanced +up at the cloudy sky and hesitated a moment.</p> +<p>"Rain, piffle," he said good-humoredly. "Come on, wifey, stick +by me. I won't be long." And he and Edith went back to his car.</p> +<p>"What a dear he is," said Deborah. Allan put his arm around her, +and they looked at each other and smiled. It was only nine days to +the wedding.</p> +<p>Out of the street's commotion came a sharp cry of warning. It +was followed by a shriek and a crash. Allan looked out of the +window, and then with a low exclamation he jumped from the taxi and +slammed the door.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a><span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153"></a>[153]</span>CHAPTER +XX</h2> +<p>Roger had been spending a long quiet evening at home. He had +asked John to dine with him and they had chatted for a time. Then +John had started up to his room. And listening to the slow +shuffling step of the cripple going upstairs, Roger had thought of +the quick eager feet and the sudden scampers that would be heard as +the silent old house renewed its life. Later he had gone to +bed.</p> +<p>He awakened with a start. The telephone bell was ringing.</p> +<p>"Nice time to be calling folks out of bed," he grumbled, as he +went into the hall. The next moment he heard Deborah's voice. It +was clear and sharp with a note of alarm.</p> +<p>"Father—it's I! You must come to Edith's apartment at +once! Bruce is hurt badly! Come at once!"</p> +<p>When Roger reached the apartment, it was Deborah who opened the +door. Her face had changed, it was drawn and gray. She took him +into the living room.</p> +<p>"Tell me," he said harshly.</p> +<p>"It was just outside the theater. Bruce and Edith were out in +the street and got caught by some idiot of a chauffeur. Bruce threw +Edith out of the way, but just as he did it he himself got struck +in the back and went under a wheel. Allan brought him here at once, +while I telephoned for a friend of his—a surgeon. They're +with Bruce now."</p> +<p>"Where's Edith?"</p> +<p>"She's trying to quiet the children. They all woke up—" +Deborah frowned—"when he was brought in," she added.</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id= +"Page_154"></a>[154]</span>Well!" breathed Roger. "I declare!" +Dazed and stunned, he sank into a chair. Soon the door opened and +Allan came in.</p> +<p>"He's gone," he said. And Deborah jumped. "No, no, I meant the +doctor."</p> +<p>"What does he say?"</p> +<p>"Bruce can't live," said Allan gently. In the tense silence +there came a chill. "And he knows it," Allan added. "He made me +tell him—he said he must know—for business reasons. He +wants to see you both at once, before Edith gets that child +asleep."</p> +<p>As they entered the room they saw Bruce on his bed. He was +breathing quickly through his narrow tight-set jaws and staring up +at the ceiling with a straining fixed intensity. As they entered he +turned his head. His eyes met theirs and lighted up in a hard and +terrible manner.</p> +<p>"I'm not leaving them a dollar!" he cried.</p> +<p>"We'll see to them, boy," said Roger, hoarsely, but Bruce had +already turned to Baird.</p> +<p>"I make you my executor, Allan—don't need it in +writing—there isn't time." He drew a sudden quivering breath. +"I have no will," he muttered on. "Never made one—never +thought of this. Business life just +starting—booming!—and I put in every cent!" There broke +from him a low, bitter groan. "Made my money settling other men's +muddles! Never thought of making this mess of my own! But even in +mine—I could save something still—if I could be +there—if I could be there—"</p> +<p>The sweat broke out on his temples, and Deborah laid her hand on +his head. "Sh-h-h," she breathed. He shut his eyes.</p> +<p>"Hard to think of anything any more. I can't keep clear." He +shuddered with pain. "Fix me for <i>them</i>," he muttered to +Baird. "George and his mother. Fix me up—give me a couple of +minutes clear. And Deborah—when<span class="pagenum"><a name= +"Page_155" id="Page_155"></a>[155]</span> you bring 'em +in—don't let 'em know. You understand? No infernal last +good-byes!" Deborah sharply set her teeth.</p> +<p>"No, dear, no," she whispered. She followed her father out of +the room, leaving Allan bending over the bed with a hypodermic in +his hand. And when, a few moments later, George came in with his +mother, they found Bruce soothed and quieted. He even smiled as he +reached up his hand.</p> +<p>"They say I've got to sleep, old girl—just sleep and +sleep—it'll do me good. So you mustn't stay in the room +to-night. Stay with the kiddies and get 'em to sleep." He was still +smiling up at her. "They say it'll be a long time, little +wife—and I'm so sorry—I was to blame. If I'd done as +you wanted and gone in their taxi. Remember? You said it might +rain." He turned to George: "Look here, my boy, I'm counting on +you. I'll be sick, you know—no good at all. You must stand by +your mother."</p> +<p>George gulped awkwardly:</p> +<p>"Sure I will, dad." His father sharply pressed his hand:</p> +<p>"That's right, old fellow, I know what you are. Now good-night, +son. Good-night, Edith dear." He looked at her steadily just for a +moment, then closed his eyes. "Oh, but I'm sleepy," he murmured. +"Good-night."</p> +<p>And they left him. Alone with Allan, Bruce looked up with a +savage glare.</p> +<p>"Look here!" he snarled, between his teeth. "If you think I'm +going to lie here and die you're mistaken! I won't! I won't let go! +I'll show you chaps you can be wrong! Been wrong before, haven't +you, thousands of times! Why be so damnably sure about <i>me</i>?" +He fell back suddenly, limp and weak. "So damnably sure," he +panted.</p> +<p>"We're never sure, my dear old boy," said Allan very +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id= +"Page_156"></a>[156]</span>tenderly. Again he was bending close +over the bed. "We're not sure yet—by any means. You're so +strong, old chap, so amazingly strong. You've given me +hope—"</p> +<p>"What are you sticking into my arm?" But Allan kept talking +steadily on:</p> +<p>"You've given me hope you'll pull through still. But not like +this. You've got to rest. Let go, and try to go to sleep."</p> +<p>"I'm afraid to," came the whisper. But soon, as again the drug +took hold, he mumbled in a drowsy tone, "Afraid to go to sleep in +the dark.... Say, Allan—get Deborah in here, will +you—just for a minute. One thing more."</p> +<p>When she came, he did not open his eyes.</p> +<p>"That you, Deborah? Where's your hand?... Oh—there it is. +Just one more point. You—you—" Again his mind wandered, +but with an effort he brought it back. "You and Edith," he said in +a whisper. "So—so—so different. Not—not like each +other at all. But you'll stick together—eh? +Always—always. Don't let go—I mean of my hand."</p> +<p>"No, dear, no."</p> +<p>And with her hand holding his, she sat for a long time perfectly +still. Then the baby was heard crying, and Deborah went to the +nursery.</p> +<p>"Now, Edith, I'll see to the children," she said. "Allan says +you can go to Bruce if you like."</p> +<p>Edith looked up at Deborah quickly, and as quickly turned away. +She went in to her husband. And there, hour by hour through the +night, while he lay inert with his hand in hers, little by little +she understood. But she asked no question of anyone.</p> +<p>At last Bruce stirred a little and began breathing deep and +fast.</p> +<p>And so death came into the family.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a><span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157"></a>[157]</span>CHAPTER +XXI</h2> +<p>Roger went through the next two days in a kind of a stupor. He +remembered holding Edith and feeling her shudder as though from a +chill. He remembered being stopped in the hall by George who had +dressed himself with care in his first suit with long trousers. "I +just wanted you to remember," the boy whispered solemnly, "that I'm +nearly sixteen and I'll be here. He said to stand by her and I +will." The rest of that ghastly time was a blank, punctuated by +small quiet orders which Roger obeyed. Thank God, Deborah was +there, and she was attending to everything.</p> +<p>But when at last it was over, and Roger had spent the next day +in his office, had found it impossible to work and so had gone home +early, Deborah came to him in his room.</p> +<p>"Now we must have a talk," she said. "Allan has gone through +Bruce's affairs, and there are still debts to be settled, it +seems."</p> +<p>"How much do they come to, Deborah?"</p> +<p>"About five thousand dollars," she said. And for a moment +neither spoke. "I wish I could help you out," she went on, "but I +have nothing saved and neither has Allan. We've both kept using our +money downtown—except just enough for the trip +abroad—and we'll need almost all of that to settle for the +funeral."</p> +<p>"I can manage," Roger said, and again there was a silence.</p> +<p>"Edith will have to come here to live," Deborah said presently. +Her father's heavy face grew stern.</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id= +"Page_158"></a>[158]</span>I'd thought of that," he answered. "But +it will be hard on her, Deborah—"</p> +<p>"I know it will—but I don't see anything else to be done." +The deep quiet voice of his daughter grew sweet with pity as she +spoke. "At least we can try to make it a little easier for her. You +can take her up to the mountains and I can close her apartment. But +of course she won't agree to it unless she knows how matters +stand." Deborah waited a little. "Don't you think you're the best +one to tell her?"</p> +<p>"Yes," said Roger, after a pause.</p> +<p>"Then suppose we go to her. I'm sleeping up there for the next +few nights."</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>They found Edith in her living room. She had sent the nurse out, +put the children to bed, and left alone with nothing to do she had +sat facing her first night. Her light soft hair was disheveled, her +pretty features pale and set. But the moment Roger entered he saw +that she had herself in hand.</p> +<p>"Well, father," she said steadily. "You'd better tell me about +our affairs. <i>My</i> affairs," she corrected herself. When he had +explained, she was silent a moment, and then in a voice harsh, +bitter, abrupt, "That will be hard on the children," she said. On +an impulse he started to take her hand, but she drew a little away +from him.</p> +<p>"The children, my dear," he said huskily, "will be taken care of +always."</p> +<p>"Yes." And again she was silent. "I've been thinking I'd like to +go up to the mountains—right away," she continued.</p> +<p>"Just our idea," he told her. "Deborah will arrange it at +once."</p> +<p>"That's good of Deborah," she replied. And after another pause: +"But take her home with you—will you? I'd rather not have her +here to-night."</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id= +"Page_159"></a>[159]</span>I think she'd better stay, my dear."</p> +<p>"All right." In a tone of weariness. "Madge Deering called me up +to-night. She's coming in town to-morrow, and she means to stay +till I go."</p> +<p>"I'm glad," he said approvingly. Madge had been a widow for +years. Living out in Morristown with four daughters to bring up, +she had determinedly fought her way and had not only regained her +hold but had even grown in strength and breadth since the death of +her husband long ago. "I'm glad," he said. "You and Madge—" +he paused.</p> +<p>"Yes, we'll have a good deal in common," Edith finished out his +thought. "You look tired, dad. Hadn't you better go home now?" she +suggested after a moment.</p> +<p>"Yes," said Roger, rising. "Good-night, my child. Remember."</p> +<p>In the outer hallway he found Deborah with Laura. Laura had been +here several times. She was getting Edith's mourning.</p> +<p>"There's a love of a hat at Thurn's," she was saying softly, "if +only we can get her to wear it. It's just her type." And Laura drew +an anxious breath. "Anything," she added, "to escape that hideous +heavy crepe."</p> +<p>Roger slightly raised his brows. He noticed a faint delicious +perfume that irritated him suddenly. But glancing again at his +daughter, trim, fresh and so immaculate, the joy of life barely +concealed in her eyes, he stopped and talked and smiled at her, as +Deborah was doing, enjoying her beauty and her youth, her love and +all her happiness. And though they spoke of her sister, she knew +they were thinking of herself, and that it was quite right they +should, for it gave them a little relief from their gloom. She was +honestly sorry for Edith, but she was sorrier still for Bruce, who +she knew had always liked her more than he would have cared to say. +She was sorrier for Bruce because, while Edith had lost only her +husband, Bruce had lost <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" +id="Page_160"></a>[160]</span>his very life. And life meant so much +to Laura, these days, the glowing, coursing, vibrant life of her +warm beautiful body. She was thinking of that as she stood in the +hall.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>In the evening, at home in his study, Roger heard a slight knock +at the door. He looked up and saw John.</p> +<p>"May I come in, Mr. Gale, for a minute?"</p> +<p>"Yes, my boy." John hobbled in.</p> +<p>"Only a minute." His voice was embarrassed. "Just two or three +things I thought of," he said. "The first was about your +son-in-law. You see, I was his stenographer—and while I was +in his office—this morning helping Doctor Baird—I found +a good deal I can do there still—about things no one +remembers but me. So I'll stay there awhile, if it's all right. +Only—" he paused—"without any pay. See what I +mean?"</p> +<p>"Yes, I see," said Roger. "And you'd better stay—in that +way if you like."</p> +<p>"Thanks," said John. "Then about his wife and family. You're to +take them up to the mountains, I hear—and—well, before +this happened you asked <i>me</i> up this summer. But I guess I'd +better not."</p> +<p>"I don't think you'd be in the way, my boy."</p> +<p>"I'd rather stay here, if you don't mind. When I'm through in +your son-in-law's office I thought I might go back to yours. I +could send you your mail every two or three days."</p> +<p>"I'd like that, John—it will be a great help."</p> +<p>"All right, Mr. Gale." John stopped at the door. "And Miss +Deborah," he ventured. "Is she to get married just the same?"</p> +<p>"Oh, yes, I think so—later on."</p> +<p>"Good-night, sir."</p> +<p>And John went out of the room.</p> +<p>When <i>would</i> Deborah be married? It came over Roger, when +he was alone, how his family had shifted its center.<span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161"></a>[161]</span> Deborah +would have come here to live, to love and be happy, a mother +perhaps, but now she must find a home of her own. In her place +would come Edith with her children. All would center on her in her +grief.</p> +<p>And for no cause! Just a trick of chance, a street accident! And +Roger grew bitter and rebelled. Bruce was not the one of the family +to die. Bruce, so shrewd and vigorous, so vital, the practical man +of affairs. Bruce had been going the pace that kills—yes, +Roger had often thought of it. But that had nothing to do with +this! If Bruce had died at fifty, say, as a result of the life he +had chosen, the fierce exhausting city which he had loved as a man +will love drink, then at least there would have been some sense of +fairness in it all! If the town had let him alone till his time! +But to be knocked down by an automobile! The devilish irony of it! +No reason—nothing! Just hideous luck!</p> +<p>Well, life was like that. As for Edith and her children, he +would be glad to have them here. Only, it would be different, the +house would have to change again. He was sorry, too, for Deborah. +No wedding trip as she had planned, no home awaiting her +return.</p> +<p>So his mind went over his family.</p> +<p>But suddenly such thoughts fell away as trivial and of small +account. For these people would still be alive. And Bruce was dead, +and Roger was old. So he thought about Bruce and about himself, and +all his children grew remote. "You will live on in our children's +lives." Was there no other immortality? The clock ticked on the +mantle and beside it "The Thinker" brooded down. And Roger looked +up unafraid, but grim and gravely wondering.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a><span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162"></a>[162]</span>CHAPTER +XXII</h2> +<p>But there was a rugged practical side to the character of Roger +Gale, and the next morning he was ashamed of the brooding thoughts +which had come in the night. He shook them off as morbid, and +resolutely set himself to what lay close before him. There was work +to be done on Bruce's affairs, and the work was a decided relief. +Madge Deering, in the meantime, had offered to go with Edith and +the children to the mountains and see them all well settled there. +And a little talk he had with Madge relieved his mind still +further. What a recovery <i>she</i> had made from the tragedy of +years ago. How alert and wide-awake she seemed. If Edith could only +grow like that.</p> +<p>Soon after their departure, one night when he was dining alone, +he had a curious consciousness of the mingled presence of Edith and +of Judith his wife. And this feeling grew so strong that several +times he looked about in a startled, questioning manner. All at +once his eye was caught by an old mahogany sideboard. It was +Edith's. It had been her mother's. Edith, when she married, had +wanted something from her old home. Well, now it was back in the +family.</p> +<p>The rest of Edith's furniture, he learned from Deborah that +night, had been stored in the top of the house.</p> +<p>"Most of it," she told him, "Edith will probably want to use in +fitting up the children's rooms." With a twinge of foreboding, +Roger felt the approaching change in his home.</p> +<p>"When do you plan to be married?" he asked.</p> +<p>"About the end of August. We couldn't very well <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163"></a>[163]</span>till +then, without hurting poor Edith a little, you see. You know how +she feels about such things—"</p> +<p>"Yes, I guess you're right," he agreed.</p> +<p>How everything centered 'round Edith, he thought. To pay the +debts which Bruce had left would take all Roger had on hand; and +from this time on his expenses, with five growing children here, +would be a fast increasing drain. He would have to be careful and +husband his strength, a thing he had always hated to do.</p> +<p>In the next few weeks, he worked hard in his office. He cut down +his smoking, stayed home every evening and went to bed at ten +o'clock. He tried to shut Deborah out of his mind. As for Laura, he +barely gave her a thought. She dropped in one evening to bid him +good-bye, for this summer again she was going abroad. She and her +husband, she told him, were to motor through the Balkans and down +into Italy. Her father gruffly answered that he hoped she would +enjoy herself. It seemed infernally unfair that it should not be +Deborah who was sailing the next morning. But when he felt himself +growing annoyed, abruptly he put a check on himself. It was Edith +he must think of now.</p> +<p>But curiously it happened, in this narrowing of his attention, +that while he shut out two of his daughters, a mere outsider edged +closer in.</p> +<p>Johnny Geer was a great help. He was back in Roger's office, and +with the sharp wits he had gained in his eighteen years of fighting +for a chance to stay alive, now at Roger's elbow John was watching +like a hawk for all the little ways and means of pushing up the +business. What a will the lad had to down bodily ills, what vim in +the way he tackled each job. His shrewd and cheery companionship +was a distraction and relief. John was so funny sometimes.</p> +<p>"Good-morning, Mr. Gale," he said, as Roger came into the office +one day.</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id= +"Page_164"></a>[164]</span>Hello, Johnny. How are you?" Roger +replied.</p> +<p>"Fine, thank you." And John went on with his work of opening the +morning's mail. But a few minutes later he gave a cackling little +laugh.</p> +<p>"What's so funny?" Roger asked.</p> +<p>"Fellers," was the answer. "Fellers. Human nature. Here's a +letter from Shifty Sam."</p> +<p>"Who the devil is he? A friend of yours?"</p> +<p>"No," said John, "he's a 'con man.' He works about as mean a +graft as any you ever heard of. He reads the 'ads' in the +papers—see?—of servant girls who're looking for work. +He makes a specialty of cooks. Then he goes to where they live and +talks of some nice family that wants a servant right away. He +claims to be the butler, and he's dressed to look the part. 'There +ain't a minute to lose,' he says. 'If you want a chawnce, my girl, +come quick.' He says 'chawnce' like a butler—see? 'Pack your +things,' he tells her, 'and come right along with me.' So she packs +and hustles off with him—Sam carrying her suit case. He puts +her on a trolley and says, 'I guess I'll stay on the platform. I've +got a bit of a headache and the air will do me good.' So he stays +out there with her suit case—and as soon as the car gets into +a crowd, Sam jumps and beats it with her clothes."</p> +<p>"I see," said Roger dryly. "But what's he writing <i>you</i> +about?"</p> +<p>"Oh, it ain't me he's writing to—it's you," was John's +serene reply. Roger started.</p> +<p>"What?" he asked.</p> +<p>"Well," said the boy in a cautious tone, vigilantly eyeing his +chief, "you see, a lot of these fellers like Sam have been in the +papers lately. They're being called a crime wave."</p> +<p>"Well?"</p> +<p>"Sam is up for trial this week—and half the Irish cooks in +town are waiting 'round to testify. And Shifty seems <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165"></a>[165]</span>to enjoy +himself. His picture's in the papers—see? And he wants all +the clippings. So he encloses a five dollar bill."</p> +<p>"He does, eh—well, you write to Sam and send his money +back to him!" There was a little silence.</p> +<p>"But look here," said John with keen regret. "We've had quite a +lot of these letters this week."</p> +<p>Roger wheeled and looked at him.</p> +<p>"John," he demanded severely, "what game have you been up to +here?"</p> +<p>"No game at all," was the prompt retort. "Just getting a little +business."</p> +<p>"How?"</p> +<p>"Well, there's a club downtown," said John, "where a lot of +these petty crooks hang out. I used to deliver papers there. And I +went around one night this month—"</p> +<p>"<i>To drum up business?</i>"</p> +<p>"Yes, sir." Roger looked at him aghast.</p> +<p>"John," he asked, in deep reproach, "do you expect this office +to feed the vanity of thieves?"</p> +<p>"Where's the vanity," John rejoined, "in being called a crime +wave?" And seeing the sudden tremor of mirth which had appeared on +Roger's face, "Look here, Mr. Gale," he went eagerly on. "When +every paper in the town is telling these fellers where they +belong—calling 'em crooks, degenerates, and preaching regular +sermons right into their faces—why shouldn't we help 'em to +read the stuff? How do we know it won't do 'em good? It's church to +'em, that's what it is—and business for this office. Nine of +these guys have sent in their money just in the last week or +so—"</p> +<p>"Look out, my boy," said Roger, with slow and solemn emphasis. +"If you aren't extremely careful you'll find yourself a +millionaire."</p> +<p>"But wait a minute, Mr. Gale—"</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id= +"Page_166"></a>[166]</span>Not in this office," Roger said. "Send +'em back, every one of 'em! Understand?"</p> +<p>"Yes, sir," was the meek reply. And with a little sigh of regret +John turned his wits to other kinds and conditions of New Yorkers +who might care to see themselves in print.</p> +<p>As they worked together day by day, Roger had occasional qualms +over leaving John here in the hot town while he himself went up to +the mountains. He even thought of writing to Edith that he was +planning to bring John, too. But no, she wouldn't like it. So he +did something else instead.</p> +<p>"John," he said, one morning, "I'm going to raise your salary to +a hundred dollars a month." Instantly from the lad's bright eyes +there shot a look of triumph.</p> +<p>"Thanks, Mr. Gale," was his hearty response.</p> +<p>"And in the meantime, Johnny, I want you to take a good solid +month off."</p> +<p>"All right, sir, thank you," John replied. "But I guess it won't +be quite a month. I don't feel as if I needed it."</p> +<p>The next day at the office he appeared resplendent in a +brand-new suit of clothes, a summer homespun of light gray set off +by a tie of flaming red. There was nothing soft about that boy. No, +Johnny knew how to look out for himself.</p> +<p>And Roger went up to the farm.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a><span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167"></a>[167]</span>CHAPTER +XXIII</h2> +<p>George met him at the station, as he had done a year before. But +at once Roger noticed a difference. In the short time since his +father's death certain lines had come in the boy's freckled face, +and they gave him a thoughtful, resolute look. George's voice was +changing. One moment it was high and boyish, again a deep and manly +bass. As he kept his eyes on the horses and talked about his +mother, his grandfather from time to time threw curious side +glances.</p> +<p>"Oh, yes," George was saying, "mother's all right, she's doing +fine. It was pretty bad at first, though. She wouldn't let me sit +up with her any—she treated me like a regular kid. But any +fellow with any sense could see how she was feeling. She'd get +thinking of the accident." George stopped short and clamped his +jaws. "You know, my dad did a wonderful thing," he continued +presently. "Even when he was dying, and mother and I were there by +his bed, he remembered how she'd get thinking alone—all about +the accident. You see he knew mother pretty darned well. So he told +her to remember that he was the one to blame for it. If it hadn't +been for him, he said, they would have gone home in the taxi. +That's a pretty good point to keep in her mind. Don't you think +so?" he inquired. And Roger glanced affectionately into the anxious +face by his side.</p> +<p>"Yes," he said, "it's a mighty good point. Did you think of +it?"</p> +<p>"Yes, sir," George replied. "I've told it to her a good many +times—that and two other points I thought of."</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id= +"Page_168"></a>[168]</span>What are they, son?" asked Roger.</p> +<p>"First," the boy said awkwardly, "about how good she was to him. +And second, that she let him buy the new car before he died. He had +such a lot of fun out of that car—"</p> +<p>On the last words the lad's changing voice went from an +impressive bass to a most undignified treble. He savagely +scowled.</p> +<p>"Those three points," he continued, in more careful measured +tones, "were about all I could think of. I had to use 'em over and +over—on mother when things got bad, I mean." A flush of +embarrassment came on his face. "And hold her and kiss her," he +muttered. Then he whipped his horses. "We've had some pretty bad +times this month," he continued, loud and manfully. "You see, +mother isn't so young as she was. She's well on in her thirties." A +glimmer of amusement appeared in Roger's heavy eyes. "But she don't +cry often any more, and with you here we'll pull her through." He +shot a quick look at his grandfather. "Gee, but I'm glad you're +here!" he said.</p> +<p>"So am I," said Roger. And with a little pressure of his hand on +George's shoulder, "I guess you've had about your share. Now tell +me the news. How are things on the farm?"</p> +<p>With a breath of evident relief, the lad launched into the +animal world. And soon he was talking eagerly.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>In the next few days with his daughter Roger found that George +was right. She had been through the worst of it. But she still had +her reactions, her spells of emptiness, bleak despair, her moods of +fierce rebellion or of sudden self-reproach for not having given +Bruce more while he lived. And in such hours her father tried to +comfort her with poor success.</p> +<p>"Remember, child, I'm with you, and I know how it <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169"></a>[169]</span>feels," +he said. "I went through it all myself: When your mother +died—"</p> +<p>"But mother was so much older!" He looked at his daughter +compassionately.</p> +<p>"How old are you?" he inquired.</p> +<p>"Thirty-six."</p> +<p>"Your mother was thirty-nine," he replied. And at that Edith +turned and stared at him, bewildered, shocked, brought face to face +with a new and momentous fact in her life.</p> +<p>"Mother only my age when she died?"</p> +<p>"Yes," said Roger gently, "only three years older." With a +twinge of pain he noticed two quite visible streaks of gray in his +daughter's soft blonde hair. "And she felt as you do now—as +though she were just starting out. And I felt the same way, my +dear. If I'm not mistaken, everyone does. You still feel +young—but the new generation is already growing up—and +you can feel yourself being pushed on. And it is hard—it is +very hard." Clumsily he took her hand. "Don't let yourself drop +out," he said. "Be as your mother would have been if she had been +left instead of me. Go straight on with your children."</p> +<p>To this note he could feel her respond. And at first, as he felt +what a fight she was making, Roger glorified her pluck. As he +watched her with her children at table, smiling at their talk with +an evident effort to enter in, and again with her baby snug in her +lap while she read bedtime stories to Bob and little Tad at her +side, he kept noticing the resemblance between his daughter and his +wife. How close were these two members of his family drawing +together now, one of them living, the other dead.</p> +<p>But later, as the weeks wore on, she began to plan for her +children. She planned precisely how to fit them all into the house +in town, she planned the hours for their meals, for their going +alone or with the nurse or a maid <span class="pagenum"><a name= +"Page_170" id="Page_170"></a>[170]</span>to their different private +schools, to music lessons, to dancing school and uptown to the park +to play. She planned their fall clothes and she planned their +friends. And there came to her father occasional moods of anxiety. +He remembered Bruce's grim remarks about those "simple" schools and +clothes, the kind that always cost the most. And he began to +realize what Bruce's existence must have been. For scarcely ever in +their talks did Edith speak of anything outside of her family. +Night after night, with a tensity born of her struggle with her +grief, she talked about her children. And Roger was in Bruce's +place, he was the one she planned with. At moments with a vague +dismay he glimpsed the life ahead in his home.</p> +<p>George was hard at work each day down by the broken dam at the +mill. He had an idea he could patch it up, put the old water-wheel +back into place and make it run a dynamo, by which he could light +the house and barn and run the machines in the dairy. In his new +rôle as the man of his family, George was planning out his +career. He was wrestling with a book entitled "Our New Mother +Earth" and a journal called "The Modern Farm." And to Roger he +confided that he meant to be a farmer. He wanted to go in the +autumn to the State Agricultural College. But when one day, very +cautiously, Roger spoke to Edith of this, with a hard and jealous +smile which quite transformed her features, she said,</p> +<p>"Oh, I know all about that, father dear. It's just a stage he's +going through. And it's the same way with Elizabeth, too, and her +crazy idea of becoming a doctor. She took that from Allan Baird, +and George took his from Deborah! They'll get over it soon +enough—"</p> +<p>"They won't get over it!" Roger cried. "Their dreams are parts +of something new! Something I'm quite vague about—but some of +it has come to stay! You're <span class="pagenum"><a name= +"Page_171" id="Page_171"></a>[171]</span>losing all your +chances—just as I did years ago! You'll never know your +children!"</p> +<p>But he uttered this cry to himself alone. Outwardly he only +frowned. And Edith had gone on to say,</p> +<p>"I do hope that Deborah won't come up this summer. She's been +very good and kind, of course, and if she comes she'll be doing it +entirely on my account. But I don't want her here—I want her +to marry, the sooner the better, and come to her senses—be +happy, I mean. And I wish you would tell her so."</p> +<p>Within a few days after this Deborah wrote to her father that +she was coming the next week. He said nothing to Edith about it at +first, he had William saddled and went for a ride to try to +determine what he should do. But it was a ticklish business. For +women were queer and touchy, and once more he felt the working of +those uncanny family ties.</p> +<p>"Deborah," he reflected, "is coming up here because she feels +it's selfish of her to stay away. If she marries at once, as she +told me herself, she thinks Edith will be hurt. Edith won't be +hurt—and if Deborah comes, there'll be trouble every minute +she stays. But can I tell her so? Not at all. I can't say, 'You're +not wanted here.' If I do, <i>she'll</i> be hurt. Oh Lord, these +girls! And Deborah knows very well that if she does get married +this month, with Laura abroad and Edith up here and only me at the +wedding, Edith will smile to herself and say, 'Now isn't that just +like Deborah?'"</p> +<p>As Roger slowly rode along a steep and winding mountain road, +gloomily he reflected to what petty little troubles a family of +women could descend, so soon after death itself. And he lifted his +eyes up to the hills and decided to leave this matter alone. If +women would be women, let them settle their own affairs. Deborah +was due to arrive on the following Friday evening. All right, let +her come, he thought. She would soon see she was in the way, and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id= +"Page_172"></a>[172]</span>then in a little affectionate talk he +would suggest that she marry right off and have a decent honeymoon +before the school year opened.</p> +<p>So he dismissed it from his mind. And as he listened in the dusk +to the numberless murmuring voices of living creatures large and +small which rose out of the valley, and as from high above him the +serenity of the mountains there towering over thousands of years +stole into his spirit, Roger had a large quieting sense of +something high and powerful looking down upon the earth, a sense of +all humanity honeycombed with millions upon millions of small +sorrows, absorbing joys and hopes and fears, and in spite of them +all the Great Life sweeping on, with no Great Death to check its +course, no immense catastrophe, all these little troubles like mere +tiny specks of foam upon the surface of the tide.</p> +<p>Deborah's visit, the following week, was as he had expected. +Within an hour after her coming he could feel the tension grow. +Deborah herself was tense, both from the work she had left in New +York where she was soon to have five schools, and from the thought +of her marriage, only a few weeks ahead. She said nothing about it, +however, until as a sisterly duty Edith tried to draw her out by +showing an interest in her plans. But the cloud of Bruce's death +was there, and Deborah shunned the topic. She tried to talk of the +children instead. But Edith at once was on the defensive, vigilant +for trouble, and as she unfolded her winter plans she grew +distinctly brief and curt.</p> +<p>"If Deborah doesn't see it now, she's a fool," her father told +himself. "I'll just wait a few days more, and then we'll have that +little talk."</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a><span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173"></a>[173]</span>CHAPTER +XXIV</h2> +<p>It had rained so hard for the past two days that no one had gone +to the village, which was nearly three miles from the farm. But +when the storm was over at last, George and Elizabeth tramped down +and came back at dusk with a bag full of mail. Their clothes were +mud-bespattered and they hurried upstairs to change before supper, +while Roger settled back in his chair and spread open his New York +paper. It was July 30, 1914.</p> +<p>From a habit grown out of thirty odd years of business life, +Roger read his paper in a fashion of his own. By instinct his eye +swept the page for news dealing with individual men, for it was +upon people's names in print that he had made his living. And so +when he looked at this strange front page it gave him a swift +twinge of alarm. For the news was not of men but of nations. +Austria was massing her troops along the Serbian frontier, and +Germany, Italy, Russia, France and even England, all were in a +turmoil, with panics in their capitals, money markets going +wild.</p> +<p>Edith came down, in her neat black dress with its narrow white +collar, ready for supper. She glanced at her father.</p> +<p>"Why, what's the matter?"</p> +<p>"Look at this." And he tossed her a paper.</p> +<p>"Oh-h-h," she murmured softly. "Oh, how frightful that would +be." And she read on with lips compressed. But soon there came from +a room upstairs the sudden cry of one of her children, followed by +a shrill wail of distress. And dropping the paper, she hurried +away.</p> +<p>Roger continued his reading.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id= +"Page_174"></a>[174]</span>Deborah came. She saw the paper Edith +had dropped, picked it up and sat down to read, and there were a +few moments of absolute silence. Then Roger heard a quivering +breath, and glancing up he saw Deborah's eyes, intent and startled, +moving down the columns of print in a swift, uncomprehending +way.</p> +<p>"Pretty serious business," he growled.</p> +<p>"It can't happen!" she exclaimed.</p> +<p>And they resumed their reading.</p> +<p>In the next three days, as they read the news, they felt war +like a whirlpool sucking in all their powers to think or feel, felt +their own small personal plans whirled about like leaves in a +storm. And while their minds—at first dazed and stunned by +the thought of such appalling armies, battles, death and +desolation—slowly cleared and they strove to think, and Roger +thought of business shivered to atoms in every land, and Deborah +thought of schools by thousands all over Europe closing down, in +cities and in villages, in valleys and on mountain sides, of homes +in panic everywhere, of all ideals of brotherhood shaken, bending, +tottering—war broke out in Europe.</p> +<p>"What is this going to mean to me?"</p> +<p>Millions of people were asking that. And so did Roger and +Deborah. The same night they left for New York, while Edith with a +sigh of relief settled back into her family.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>The next morning at his office Roger found John waiting with +misery stamped on his face. John had paid small heed to war. Barely +stopping for sleep in the last two days he had gone through scores +and hundreds of papers, angrily skipping all those names of kings +and emperors and czars, and searching instead for American names, +names of patrons—business! Gone! Each hour he had been +opening mail and piling up letters cancelling contracts, ordering +service discontinued.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id= +"Page_175"></a>[175]</span>Roger sat down at his desk. As he worked +and figured and dictated letters, glancing into the outer rooms he +saw the long rows of girls at tables obviously trying to pretend +that there was work for them to do. He felt them anxiously watching +him—as in other offices everywhere millions of other +employees kept furtively glancing at their chiefs.</p> +<p>"War," he thought. "Shall I close <i>down?</i>" He shrank from +what it would mean to those girls. "Business will pick up again +soon. A few days—weeks—that's all I need."</p> +<p>And he went to his bank. No credit there. He tried other +sources, all he could think of, racking his brains as he went about +town, but still he could not raise a loan. Finally he went to the +firm which had once held a mortgage on his house. The chief partner +had been close to Bruce, an old college friend. And when even this +friend refused him aid, "It's a question of Bruce's children," +Roger muttered, reddening. He felt like a beggar, but he was +getting desperate. The younger man had looked away and was +nervously tapping his desk with his pen.</p> +<p>"Bad as that, eh," he answered. "Then I guess it's got to be +done." He looked anxiously up at Roger, who just at that moment +appeared very old. "Don't worry, Mr. Gale," he said. "Somehow or +other we'll carry you through."</p> +<p>"Thank you, sir." Roger rose heavily, feeling weak, and took his +departure. "This is war," he told himself, "and I've got to look +after my own."</p> +<p>But he had a sensation almost of guilt, as upon his return to +his office he saw those suddenly watchful faces. He walked past +them and went into his room, and again he searched for ways and +means. He tried to see his business as it would be that autumn, to +see the city, the nation, the world as it would be in the months +ahead.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id= +"Page_176"></a>[176]</span> Repeatedly he fought off his fears. But +slowly and inexorably the sense of his helplessness grew clear.</p> +<p>"No, I must shut down," he thought.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>On his way home that evening, in a crush at a turbulent corner +he saw a big truck jam into a taxi, and with a throb of rebellion +he thought of his son-in-law who was dead. Just the turn of a hair +and Bruce might have lived and been here to look after the +children! At the prospect of the crisis, the strain he saw before +him, Roger again felt weak and old. He shook off his dread and +strode angrily on.</p> +<p>In his house, the rooms downstairs were still dismantled for the +summer. There was emptiness and silence but no serenity in them +now, only the quiet before the storm which he could feel from far +and near was gathering about his home. He heard Deborah on the +floor above, and went up and found her making his bed, for the +chambermaid had not yet come. Her voice was a little unnatural.</p> +<p>"It has been a hard day, hasn't it. I've got your bath-room +ready," she said. "Don't you want a nice cool bath? Supper will be +ready soon."</p> +<p>When, a half hour later, somewhat refreshed, Roger came down to +the table, he noticed it was set for two.</p> +<p>"Isn't Allan coming?" he asked. Her mobile features +tightened.</p> +<p>"Not till later," she replied.</p> +<p>They talked little and the meal was short. But afterwards, on +the wooden porch, Deborah turned to her father,</p> +<p>"Now tell me about your office," she said.</p> +<p>"There's not enough business to pay the rent."</p> +<p>"That won't last—"</p> +<p>"I'm not so sure."</p> +<p>"I am," she said determinedly. Her father slowly turned his +head.</p> +<p>"Are you, with this war?" he asked. Her eyes met his +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id= +"Page_177"></a>[177]</span>and moved away in a baffled, searching +manner. "She has troubles of her own," he thought.</p> +<p>"How much can we run the house on, Deborah?" he asked her. At +first she did not answer. "What was it—about six thousand +last year?"</p> +<p>"I think so," she said restlessly. "We can cut down on that, of +course—"</p> +<p>"With Edith and the children here?"</p> +<p>"Edith will have to manage it! There are others to be thought +of!"</p> +<p>"The children in your schools, you mean."</p> +<p>"Yes," she answered with a frown. "It will be a bad year for the +tenements. But please go on and tell me. What have you thought of +doing?"</p> +<p>"Mortgage the house again," he replied. "It hasn't been easy, +for money is tight, but I think I'll be able to get enough to just +about carry us through the year. At home, I mean," he added.</p> +<p>"And the office?"</p> +<p>"Shut down," he said. She turned on him fiercely.</p> +<p>"You won't do that!"</p> +<p>"What else can I do?"</p> +<p>"Turn all those girls away?" she cried. At her tone his look +grew troubled.</p> +<p>"How can I help myself, Deborah? If I kept open it would cost me +over five hundred a week to run. Have I five hundred dollars a week +to lose?"</p> +<p>"But I tell you it won't last!" she cried, and again the +baffled, driven expression swept over her expressive face. "Can't +you see this is only a panic—and keep going somehow? Can't +you see what it means to the tenements? Hundreds of thousands are +out of work! They're being turned off every day, every +hour—employers all over are losing their heads! And City Hall +is as mad as the rest! They've decided already down there to +retrench!"</p> +<p>He turned with a quick jerk of his head:</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id= +"Page_178"></a>[178]</span>Are they cutting you down?" She set her +teeth:</p> +<p>"Yes, they are. But the work in my schools is going +on—every bit of it is—for every child! I'm going to +find a way," she said. And he felt a thrill of compassion.</p> +<p>"I'm sorry to hear it," he muttered.</p> +<p>"You needn't be." She paused a moment, smiled and went on in a +quieter voice: "Don't think I'm blind—I'm sensible—I +see you can't lose five hundred a week. But why not try what other +employers, quite a few, have decided to do? Call your people +together, explain how it is, and ask them to choose a committee to +help you find which ones need jobs the most. Keep all you +can—on part time, of course—but at least pay them +something, carry them through. You'll lose money by it, I haven't a +doubt. But you've already found you can mortgage the house, and +remember besides that I shall be here. I'm not going to marry +now"—her father looked at her quickly—"and of course +I'll expect to do my share toward meeting the expenses. Moreover, I +know we can cut down."</p> +<p>"Retrench," said Roger grimly. "Turn off the servants instead of +the clerks."</p> +<p>"No, only one of them, Martha upstairs—and she is to be +married. We'll keep the cook and the waitress. Edith will have to +give up her nurse—and it will be hard on her, of +course—but she'll have to realize this is war," Deborah said +sharply. "Besides," she urged, "it's not going to last. Business +everywhere will pick up—in a few weeks or months at most. The +war <i>can't</i> go on—it's too horribly big!" She broke off +and anxiously looked at him. Her father was still frowning.</p> +<p>"I'm asking you to risk a good deal," she continued, her voice +intense and low. "But somehow, dearie, I always feel that this old +house of ours is strong. It can <i>stand</i> a good deal. We can +all of us stand so much, as soon as we know we have to." The lines +of her wide sensitive mouth tightened firmly once again. "It's all +so vague and un<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id= +"Page_179"></a>[179]</span>certain, I know. But one thing at least +is sure. This is no time for people with money—no matter how +little—to shut themselves up in their own little houses and +let the rest starve or beg or steal. This is the time to do our +share."</p> +<p>And she waited. But he made no reply.</p> +<p>"Every nation at war is doing it, dad—become like one big +family—with everyone helping, doing his share. Must a nation +be at war to do that? Can't we be brothers without the guns? Can't +you see that we're all of us stunned, and trying to see what war +will mean to all the children in the world? And while we're +groping, groping, can't we give each other a hand?"</p> +<p>Still he sat motionless there in the dark. At last he stirred +heavily in his chair.</p> +<p>"I guess you're right," he told her. "At least I'll think it +over—and try to work out something along the lines you spoke +of."</p> +<p>Again there was a silence. Then his daughter turned to him with +a little deprecating smile.</p> +<p>"You'll forgive my—preaching to you, dad?"</p> +<p>"No preaching," he said gruffly. "Just ordinary common +sense."</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>A little later Allan came in, and Roger soon left them and went +to bed. Alone with Baird she was silent a moment.</p> +<p>"Well? Have you thought it over?" she asked. "Wasn't I right in +what I said?" At the anxious ring in her low clear voice, leaning +over he took her hand; and he felt it hot and trembling as it +quickly closed on his. He stroked it slowly, soothingly. In the +semi-darkness he seemed doubly tall and powerful.</p> +<p>"Yes, I'm sure you were right," he said.</p> +<p>"Spring at the latest—I'll marry you then—"</p> +<p>Her eyes were intently fixed on his.</p> +<p>"Come here!" she whispered sharply, and Baird bent <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180"></a>[180]</span>over and +held her tight. "Tighter!" she whispered. "Tighter!... There!... I +said, spring at the latest! I can't lose you, +Allan—now—"</p> +<p>She suddenly quivered as though from fatigue.</p> +<p>"I'm going to watch you close down there," he said in a moment, +huskily.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXV" id="CHAPTER_XXV"></a><span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181"></a>[181]</span>CHAPTER +XXV</h2> +<p>Roger saw little of Deborah in the weeks that followed. She was +gathering her forces for the long struggle she saw ahead. And his +own worries filled his mind. On his house he succeeded in borrowing +five thousand dollars at ten per cent, and in his office he worked +out a scheme along the lines of Deborah's plan. At first it was +only a struggle to save the remnants of what was left. Later the +tide began to turn, new business came into the office again. But +only a little, and then it stopped. Hard times were here for the +winter.</p> +<p>Soon Edith would come with the children. He wondered how +sensible she would be. It was going to mean a daily fight to make +ends meet, he told himself, and guiltily he decided not to let his +daughter know how matters stood in his office. Take care of your +own flesh and blood, and then be generous as you please—that +had always been his way. And now Deborah had upset it by her +emotional appeal. "How dramatic she is at times!" he reflected in +annoyance. "Just lets herself out and enjoys herself!" He grew +angry at her interference, and more than once he resolved to shut +down. But back in the office, before those watchful faces, still +again he would put it off.</p> +<p>"Wait a little. We'll see," he thought.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>In the meantime, in this interplay, these shifting lights and +shadows which played upon the history of the life of Roger's home, +there came to him a diversion from an unexpected source. Laura and +Harold returned from abroad. Soon after landing they came to the +house, and talking fast and eagerly they told how they had eluded +the war.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id= +"Page_182"></a>[182]</span>For them it had been a glorious game. In +Venice in early August, Harold had seen a chance for a big stroke +of business. He had a friend who lived in Rome, an Italian close to +his government. At once they had joined forces, worked day and +night, pulled wires, used money judiciously here and there, and so +had secured large orders for munitions from the U.S.A. Then to get +back to God's country! There came the hitch, they were too late. +Naples, Genoa, and Milan, all were filled with tourist mobs. They +took a train for Paris, and reaching the city just a week before +the end of the German drive they found it worse than Italy. But +there Hal had a special pull—and by the use of those wits of +his, not to be downed by refusals, he got passage at last for +Laura, himself and his new Italian partner. At midnight, making +their way across the panic-stricken city, and at the station +struggling through a wild and half crazed multitude of men and +women and children, they boarded a train and went rushing westward +right along the edge of the storm. To the north the Germans were so +close that Laura was sure she could hear the big guns. The train +kept stopping to take on troops. At dawn some twenty wounded men +came crowding into their very car, bloody and dirty, pale and worn, +but gaily smiling at the pain, and saying, "Ça n'fait rien, +madame." Later Harold opened his flask for some splendid Breton +soldier boys just going into action. And they stood up with +flashing eyes and shouted out the Marseillaise, while Laura +shivered and thrilled with delight.</p> +<p>"I nearly kissed them all!" she cried.</p> +<p>Roger greatly enjoyed the evening. He had heard so much of the +horrors of war. Here was something different, something bright and +vibrant with youth and adventure! Here at last was the thrill of +war, the part he had always read about!</p> +<p>He glanced now and then at Deborah and was annoyed by what he +saw. For although she said nothing and forced <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183"></a>[183]</span>a smile, +he could easily tell by the set of her lips that Deborah thoroughly +disapproved. All right, that was her way, he thought. But this was +Laura's way, shedding the gloom and the tragic side as a duck will +shed water off its back, a duck with bright new plumage fresh from +the shops of the Rue de la Paix and taking some pleasure out of +life! What an ardent gleaming beauty she was, he thought as he +watched this daughter of his. And underneath his enjoyment, too, +though Roger would not have admitted it, was a sense of relief in +the news that at least one man in the family was growing rich +instead of poor. Already Hal and his partner—a fascinating +creature according to Laura's description—were fast equipping +shrapnel mills. Plainly they expected a tremendous rush of +business. And no matter how you felt about war, the word "profits" +at least had a pleasant sound.</p> +<p>"How has the war hit you, sir?" Harold asked his +father-in-law.</p> +<p>"Oh, so-so, I'll get on, my boy," was Roger's quiet answer. For +Harold was not quite the kind he would ever like to ask for aid. +Still, if the worst came to the worst, he would have someone to +turn to.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>Long after they had left the house, he kept thinking over all +they had said. What an amazing time they had had, the two young +scalawags.</p> +<p>Deborah was still in the room. As she sat working at her desk, +her back was turned and she did not speak. But little by little her +father's mood changed. Of course she was right, he admitted. For +now they were gone, the spell they had cast was losing a part of +its glamor. Yes, their talk had been pretty raw. Sheer unthinking +selfishness, a bold rush for plunder and a dash to get away, +trampling over people half crazed, women and children in panicky +crowds, and leaving behind them, so to speak, Laura's joyous +rippling laugh over their own success <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184"></a>[184]</span>in the +game. Yes, there was no denying the fact that Hal was rushing +headlong into a savage dangerous game, a scramble and a gamble, +with adventurers from all over Europe gathering here and making a +little world of their own. He would work and live at a feverish +pitch, and Laura would go it as hard as he. Roger thought he could +see their winter ahead. How they would pile up money and spend!</p> +<p>All at once, as though some figure silent and invisible were +standing close beside him, from far back in his childhood a memory +flashed into his mind of a keen and clear October night, when +Roger, a little shaver of nine, had stood with his mother in front +of the farmhouse and listened to the faint sharp roll of a single +drum far down in the valley. And his mother's grip had hurt his +hand, and a lump had risen in his throat—as Dan, his oldest +brother, had marched away with his company of New Hampshire +mountain boys. "We are coming, Father Abraham, three hundred +thousand more." Dan had been killed at Shiloh.</p> +<p>And it must be like that now in France. No, he did not like the +look which he had seen on Laura's face as she had talked about the +war and the fat profits to be made. Was this all we Yankees had to +say to the people over in Europe?</p> +<p>Frowning and glancing at Deborah's back, he saw that she was +tired. It was nearly midnight, but still she kept working doggedly +on, moving her shoulder muscles at times as though to shake off +aches and pains, then bending again to her labor, her fight against +such heavy odds in the winter just beginning for those children in +the tenements. He recalled a fragment of the appeal she had made to +him only the month before:</p> +<p>"Can't you see that we're all of us stunned, and trying to see +what war will mean to all the children in the world? And while +we're groping, groping, can't we give each other a hand?"</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id= +"Page_185"></a>[185]</span>And as he looked at his daughter, she +made him think of her grandmother, as she had so often done before. +For Deborah, too, was a pioneer. She, too, had lived in the +wilderness. Clearing roads through jungles? Yes. And freeing slaves +of ignorance and building a nation of new men. And now she was +doggedly fighting to save what she had builded—not from the +raids of the Indians but from the ravages of this war which was +sweeping civilization aside. With her school behind her, so to +speak, she stood facing this great enemy with stern and angry, +steady eyes. Her pioneer grandmother come to life.</p> +<p>So, with the deep craving which was a part of his inmost self, +Roger tried to bind together what was old and what was new. But his +thoughts grew vague and drifting. He realized how weary he was, and +said good-night and went to bed. There, just before he fell asleep, +again he had a feeling of relief at the knowledge that one at least +in the family was to be rich this year. With a guilty sensation he +shook off the thought, and within a few moments after that his +harsh regular breathing was heard in the room.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXVI"></a><span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186"></a>[186]</span>CHAPTER +XXVI</h2> +<p>It was only a few days later that Edith arrived with her +children.</p> +<p>Roger met her at the train at eight o'clock in the evening. The +fast mountain express of the summer had been taken off some time +before, so Edith had had to be up at dawn and to change cars +several times on the trip. "She'll be worn out," he thought as he +waited. The train was late. As he walked about the new station, +that monstrous sparkling hive of travel with its huge halls and +passageways, its little village of shops underground and its +bewildering levels for trains, he remembered the interest Bruce had +shown in watching this immense puzzle worked out, the day and night +labor year after year without the stopping of a train, this mighty +symbol of the times, of all the glorious power and speed in an age +that had been as the breath to his nostrils. How Bruce had loved +the city! As Roger paced slowly back and forth with his hands +clasped behind his back, there came over his heavy visage a look of +affection and regret which made even New Yorkers glance at him as +they went nervously bustling by. From time to time he smiled to +himself. "The Catskills will be Central Park! All this city needs +is speed!"</p> +<p>But suddenly he remembered that Bruce had always been here +before to meet his wife and children, and that Edith on her +approaching train must be dreading her arrival. And when at last +the train rolled in, and he spied her shapely little head in the +on-coming throng of travellers, Roger saw by her set steady smile +and the strained expression on her face that he had guessed right. +With a <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id= +"Page_187"></a>[187]</span>quick surge of compassion he pressed +forward, kissed her awkwardly, squeezed her arm, then hastily +greeted the children and hurried away to see to the trunks. That +much of it was over. And to his relief, when they reached the +house, Edith busied herself at once in helping the nurse put the +children to bed. Later he came up and told her that he had had a +light supper prepared.</p> +<p>"Thank you, dear," she answered, "it was so thoughtful in you. +But I'm too tired to eat anything." And then with a little assuring +smile, "I'll be all right—I'm going to bed."</p> +<p>"Good-night, child, get a fine long sleep."</p> +<p>And Roger went down to his study, feeling they had made a good +start.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>"What has become of Martha?" Edith asked her father at breakfast +the next morning.</p> +<p>"She left last month to be married," he said.</p> +<p>"And Deborah hasn't replaced her yet?" In her voice was such a +readiness for hostility toward her sister, that Roger shot an +uneasy glance from under his thick grayish brows.</p> +<p>"Has Deborah left the house?" he asked, to gain time for his +answer. Edith's small lip slightly curled.</p> +<p>"Oh, yes, long ago," she replied. "She had just a moment to see +the children and then she had to be off to school—to her +office, I mean. With so many schools on her hands these days, I +don't wonder she hasn't had time for the servants."</p> +<p>"No, no, you're mistaken," he said. "That isn't the trouble, +it's not her fault. In fact it was all my idea."</p> +<p>"<i>Your</i> idea," she retorted, in an amused affectionate +tone. And Roger grimly gathered himself. It would he extremely +difficult breaking his unpleasant news.</p> +<p>"Yes," he answered. "You see this damnable war abroad has hit me +in my business."</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id= +"Page_188"></a>[188]</span>Oh, father! How?" she asked him. In an +instant she was all alert. "You don't mean seriously?" she +said.</p> +<p>"Yes, I do," he answered, and he began to tell her why. But she +soon grew impatient. Business details meant nothing to Edith. "I +see," she kept saying, "yes, yes, I see." She wanted him to come to +the point.</p> +<p>"So I've had to mortgage the house," he concluded. "And for very +little money, my dear. And a good deal of that—" he cleared +his throat—"had to go back into the business."</p> +<p>"I see," said Edith mechanically. Her mind was already far away, +roving over her plans for the children. For in Roger's look of +suspense she plainly read that other plans had been made for them +in her absence. "Deborah's in this!" flashed through her mind. +"Tell me what it will mean," she said.</p> +<p>"I'm afraid you'll have to try to do without your nurse for a +while."</p> +<p>"Let Hannah go? Oh, father!" And Edith flushed with quick +dismay. "How can I, dad? Five children—five! And two of them +so little they can't even dress themselves alone! And there are all +their meals—their baths—and the older ones going uptown +to school! I can't let them go way uptown on the 'bus or the +trolley without a maid—"</p> +<p>"But, Edith!" he interrupted, his face contracting with +distress. "Don't you see that they can't go to school?" She turned +on him. "Uptown, I mean, to those expensive private schools."</p> +<p>"Father!" she demanded. "Do you mean you want my children to go +to common public schools?" There was rage and amazement upon her +pretty countenance, and with it an instant certainty too. Yes, this +was Deborah's planning! But Roger thought that Edith's look was all +directed at himself. And for the first time in his life he felt the +shame and humility of the male provider <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189"></a>[189]</span>no +longer able to provide. He reddened and looked down at his +plate.</p> +<p>"You don't understand," he said. "I'm strapped, my child—I +can't help it—I'm poor."</p> +<p>"Oh. Oh, dad. I'm sorry." He glanced up at his daughter and saw +tears welling in her eyes. How utterly miserable both of them +were.</p> +<p>"It's the war," he said harshly and proudly. This made a +difference to his pride, but not to his daughter's anxiety. She was +not interested in the war, or in any other cause of the abyss she +was facing. She strove to think clearly what to do. But no, she +must do her thinking alone. With a sudden quiet she rose from the +table, went around to her father's chair and kissed him very +gently.</p> +<p>"All right, dear—I see it all now—and I promise I'll +try my best," she said.</p> +<p>"You're a brave little woman," he replied.</p> +<p>But after she had gone, he reflected. Why had he called her a +brave little woman? Why had it all been so intense, the talk upon +so heroic a plane? It would be hard on Edith, of course; but others +were doing it, weren't they? Think of the women in Europe these +days! After all, she'd be very comfortable here, and perhaps by +Christmas times would change.</p> +<p>He shook off these petty troubles and went to his office for the +day.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>As she busied herself unpacking the trunks, Edith strove to +readjust her plans. By noon her head was throbbing, but she took +little notice of that. She had a talk with Hannah, the devoted +Irish girl who had been with her ever since George was born. It was +difficult, it was brutal. It was almost as though in Edith's family +there had been two mothers, and one was sending the other away.</p> +<p>"There, there, poor child," Edith comforted her, "I'll find you +another nice family soon where you can stay till<span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190"></a>[190]</span> I take +you back. Don't you see it will not be for long?" And Hannah +brightened a little.</p> +<p>"But how in the wide wurrld," she asked, "will you ever do for +the children, me gone?"</p> +<p>"Oh, I'll manage," said Edith cheerfully. And that afternoon she +began at once to rearrange her whole intricate schedule, with +Hannah and school both omitted, to fit her children into the house. +But instead of this, as the days wore on, nerve-racking days of +worry and toil, sternly and quite unconsciously she fitted the +house to her children. And nobody made her aware of the fact. All +summer long in the mountains, everyone by tacit consent had made +way for her, had deferred to her grief in the little things that +make up the everyday life in a home. And to this precedent once +established Edith now clung unawares.</p> +<p>Her new day gave her small time to think. It began at five in +the morning, when Roger was awakened by the gleeful cries of the +two wee boys who slept with their mother in the next room, the room +which had been Deborah's. And Edith was busy from that time on. +First came the washing and dressing and breakfast, which was a +merry, boisterous meal. Then the baby was taken out to his carriage +on the porch at the back of the house. And after that, in her +father's study from which he had fled with his morning cigar, for +two hours Edith held school for her children, trying her best to be +patient and clear, with text-books she had purchased from their +former schools uptown. For two severe hours, shutting the world all +out of her head, she tried to teach them about it. At eleven, their +nerves on edge like her own, she sent them outdoors "to play," +intrusting the small ones to Betsy and George, who took them to +Washington Square nearby with strict injunctions to keep them away +from all other children. No doubt there were "nice" children there, +but she herself could not be along to distinguish <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191"></a>[191]</span>the +"nice" from the "common"—for until one o'clock she was busy +at home, bathing the baby and making the beds, and then hurrying to +the kitchen to pasteurize the baby's milk and keep a vigilant +oversight on the cooking of the midday meal. And the old cook's +growing resentment made it far from easy.</p> +<p>After luncheon, thank heaven, came their naps. And all +afternoon, while again they went out, Edith would look over their +wardrobes, mend and alter and patch and contrive how to make last +winter's clothes look new. At times she would drop her work in her +lap and stare wretchedly before her. This was what she had never +known; this was what made life around her grim and hard, +relentless, frightening; this was what it was to be poor. How it +changed the whole city of New York. Behind it, the sinister cause +of it all, she thought confusedly now and then of the Great Death +across the sea, of the armies, smoking battle-fields, the shrieks +of the dying, the villages blazing, the women and children flying +away. But never for more than a moment. The war was so remote and +dim. And soon she would turn back again to her own beloved +children, whose lives, so full of happiness, so rich in promise +hitherto, were now so cramped and thwarted. Each day was harder +than the last. It was becoming unbearable!</p> +<p>No, they must go back to school. But how to manage it? How? How? +It would cost eight hundred dollars, and this would take nearly all +the money she would be able to secure by the sale of her few +possessions. And then what? What of sickness, and the other +contingencies which still lay ahead of her? How old her father +seemed, these days! In his heavy shock of hair the flecks of white +had doubled in size, were merging one into the other, and his tall, +stooping, massive frame had lost its look of ruggedness. Suppose, +suppose.... Her breath came fast. Was his life insured, she +wondered.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id= +"Page_192"></a>[192]</span>On such afternoons, in the upstairs room +as the dusk crept in and deepened, she would bend close to her +sewing—planning, planning, planning. At last she would hear +the children trooping merrily into the house. And making a very +real effort, which at times was in truth heroic, to smile, she +would rise and light the gas, would welcome them gaily and join in +their chatter and bustle about on the countless tasks of washing +them, getting their suppers, undressing the small ones and hearing +their prayers. With smiling good-night kisses she would tuck her +two babies into their cribs. Afterward, just for a moment or two, +she would linger under the gas jet, her face still smiling, for a +last look. A last good-night. Then darkness.</p> +<p>Darkness settling over her spirit, together with loneliness and +fatigue. She would go into Betsy's room and throw herself dressed +on her daughter's bed, and a dull complete indifference to +everything under the moon and the stars would creep from her body +up into her mind. At times she would try to fight it off. To-night +at dinner she must not be what she knew she had been the night +before, a wet blanket upon all the talk. But if they only knew how +hard it was—what a perfect—hell it was! Her breath +coming faster, she would dig her nails into the palms of her hands. +One night she noticed and looked at her hand, and saw the skin was +actually cut and a little blood was appearing. She had read of +women doing this, but she had never done it before—not even +when her babies were born. She had gripped Bruce's hand +instead.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXVII"></a><span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193"></a>[193]</span>CHAPTER +XXVII</h2> +<p>Roger found her like that one evening. He heard what he thought +was a sob from the room, for she had forgotten to close the door. +He came into the doorway but drew back, and closed the door with +barely a sound. Frowning and irresolute, he stood for a moment in +the hall, then turned and went into his room. Soon he heard Deborah +enter the house and come slowly up the stairs. She too had had a +hard day, he recalled, a day all filled with turbulence, with +problems and with vexing toil, in her enormous family. And he felt +he could not blame her for not being of more help at home. Still, +he had been disappointed of late in her manner toward her sister. +He had hoped she would draw closer to Edith, now that again they +were living together in their old home where they had been born. +But no, it had worked just the opposite way. They were getting upon +each other's nerves. Why couldn't she make overtures, small kindly +proffers of help and advice and sympathy, the womanly things?</p> +<p>From his room he heard her knock softly at the same door he had +closed. And he heard her low clear voice:</p> +<p>"Are you there, Edith dear?" He listened a moment intently, but +he could not hear the reply. Then Deborah said, "Oh, you poor +thing. I'm awfully sorry. Edith—don't bother to come +downstairs—let me bring you up your supper." A pause. "I wish +you would. I'd love to."</p> +<p>He heard Deborah come by his door and go up the second flight of +stairs to the room she had taken on the third floor.</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id= +"Page_194"></a>[194]</span>I was wrong," he reflected, "she has +been trying—but it doesn't do any good. Women simply haven't +it in 'em to see each other's point of view. Deborah doesn't admire +Edith—she can't, she only pities her and puts her down as out +of date. And Edith feels that, and it gets her riled, and she sets +herself like an angry old hen against all Deborah's new ideas. Why +the devil can't they live and let live?"</p> +<p>And he hesitated savagely between a pearl gray <i>and</i> a +black cravat. Then he heard another step on the stairs. It was much +slower than Deborah's, and cautious and dogged, one foot lifted +carefully after the other. It was John, who had finished his +kitchen supper and was silently making his way up through the house +to his room at the top, there to keep out of sight for the evening. +And it came into Roger's mind that John had been acting in just +this fashion ever since Edith had been in the house.</p> +<p>"We'll have trouble there, too!" he told himself, as he jerked +the black satin cravat into place, a tie he thoroughly disliked. +Yes, black, by George, he felt like it to-night! These women! These +evenings! This worry! This war! This world gone raving, driveling +mad!</p> +<p>And frowning with annoyance, Roger went down to his dinner.</p> +<p>As he waited he grew impatient. He had eaten no lunch, he was +hungry; and he was very tired, too, for he had had his own hard +day. Pshaw! He got up angrily. <i>Somebody</i> must be genial here. +He went into the dining room and poured himself a good stiff drink. +Roger had never been much of a drinker. Ever since his marriage, +cigars had been his only vice. But of late he had been having +curious little sinking spells. They worried him, and he told +himself he could not afford to get either too tired or too +faint.</p> +<p>Nevertheless, he reflected, it was setting a bad example for +George. But glancing into his study he saw that the lad was +completely absorbed. With knees drawn up, <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195"></a>[195]</span>his long +lank form all hunched and huddled on the lounge, hair rumpled, +George was reading a book which had a cover of tough gray cloth. At +the sight of it his grandfather smiled, for he had seen it once +before. Where George had obtained it, the Lord only knew. Its title +was "Bulls and Breeding." A thoroughly practical little book, but +nothing for George's mother to see. As his grandfather entered +behind him, the boy looked up with a guilty start, and resumed with +a short breath of relief.</p> +<p>Young Elizabeth, too, had a furtive air, for instead of +preparing her history lesson she was deep in the evening paper +reading about the war abroad. Stout and florid, rather plain, but +with a frank, attractive face and honest, clear, appealing eyes, +this curious creature of thirteen was sitting firmly in her chair +with her feet planted wide apart, eagerly scanning an account of +the work of American surgeons in France. And again Roger smiled to +himself. (He was feeling so much better now.) So Betsy was still +thinking of becoming a surgeon. He wondered what she would take up +next. In the past two years in swift succession she had made up her +mind to be a novelist, an actress and a women's college president. +And Roger liked this tremendously.</p> +<p>He loved to watch these two in the house. Here again his family +was widening out before him, with new figures arising to draw his +attention this way and that. But these were bright distractions. He +took a deep, amused delight in watching these two youngsters caught +between two fires, on the one side their mother and upon the other +their aunt; both obviously drawn toward Deborah, a figure who stood +in their regard for all that thrilling outside world, that heaving +sparkling ocean on which they too would soon embark; both sternly +repressing their eagerness as an insult to their mother, whom they +loved and pitied so, regarding her as a brave and dear but rapidly +ageing creature "well on in her thirties," whom they must +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id= +"Page_196"></a>[196]</span>cherish and preserve. They both had such +solemn thoughts as they looked at Edith in her chair. But as Roger +watched them, with their love and their solemnity, their guilt and +their perplexity, with quiet enjoyment he would wait to see the +change he knew would come. And it always did. The sudden picking up +of a book, the vanishing of an anxious frown, and in an instant +their young minds had turned happily back into themselves, into +their own engrossing lives, their plans, their intimate dreams and +ambitions, all so curiously bound up with memories of small +happenings which had struck them as funny that day and at which +they would suddenly chuckle aloud.</p> +<p>And this was only one stage in their growth. What would be the +next, he asked, and all the others after that? What kind of world +would they live in? Please heaven, there would be no wars. Many old +things, no doubt, would be changed, by the work of Deborah and her +kind—but not too many, Roger hoped. And these young people, +meanwhile, would be bringing up children in their turn. So the +family would go on, and multiply and scatter wide, never to unite +again. And he thought he could catch glimpses, very small and far +away but bright as patches of sunlight upon distant mountain tops, +into the widening vista of those many lives ahead. A wistful look +crept over his face.</p> +<p>"In their lives too we shall be there, the dim strong figures of +the past."</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>Deborah came into the room, and at once the whole atmosphere +changed. Her niece sprang up delightedly.</p> +<p>"Why, Auntie, how lovely you look!" she exclaimed. And Roger +eyed Deborah in surprise. Though she did not believe in mourning, +she had been wearing dark gowns of late to avoid hurting Edith's +feelings. But to-night she had donned bright colors instead; her +dress was as near décolleté as anything that Deborah +wore, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id= +"Page_197"></a>[197]</span>and there was a band of dull blue velvet +bound about her hair.</p> +<p>"Thanks, dearie," she said, smiling. "Shall we go in to dinner +now?" she added to her father. "Edith said not to wait for +her—and I'll have to be off rather early this evening."</p> +<p>"What is it to-night?" he inquired.</p> +<p>"A big meeting at Cooper Union."</p> +<p>And at dinner she went on to say that in her five schools the +neighborhood clubs had combined to hold this meeting, and she +herself was to preside. At once her young niece was all +animation.</p> +<p>"Oh, I wish I could go and hear you!" she sighed.</p> +<p>"Afraid you can't, Betsy," her aunt replied. And at this, with +an instinctive glance toward the door where her mother would soon +come in to stop by her mere presence all such conversation, +Elizabeth eagerly threw out one inquiry after the other, pell +mell.</p> +<p>"How on earth do you do it?" she wanted to know. "How do you get +a speech ready, Aunt Deborah—how much of it do you write out +ahead? Aren't you just the least bit nervous—now, I +mean—this minute? And how will you feel on the platform? +<i>What on earth do you do with your feet?</i>"</p> +<p>As the girl bent forward there with her gaze fixed ardently on +her aunt, her grandfather thought in half comic dismay, "Lord, now +she'll want to be a great speaker—like her aunt. And she will +tell her mother so!"</p> +<p>"What's the meeting all about?" he inquired. And Deborah began +to explain.</p> +<p>In her five schools the poverty was rapidly becoming worse. Each +week more children stayed away or came to school ragged and +unkempt, some without any overcoats, small pitiful mites wearing +shoes so old as barely to stick on their feet. And when the +teachers and visitors followed these children into their homes they +found bare, dirty, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id= +"Page_198"></a>[198]</span>chilly rooms where the little folk +shivered and wailed for food and the mothers looked distracted, +gaunt and sullen and half crazed. Over three hundred thousand +workers were idle in the city. Meanwhile, to make matters worse, +half the money from uptown which had gone in former years into work +for the tenements was going over to Belgium instead. And the same +relentless drain of war was felt by the tenement people themselves; +for all of them were foreigners, and from their relatives abroad, +in those wide zones of Europe already blackened and laid waste, in +endless torrents through the mails came wild appeals for money.</p> +<p>In such homes her children lived. And Deborah had set her mind +on vigorous measures of relief. Landlords must be made to wait and +the city be persuaded to give work to the most needy, food and fuel +must be secured. As she spoke of the task before her, with a flush +of animation upon her bright expressive face at the thought that in +less than an hour she would be facing thousands of people, the +gloom of the picture she painted was dispelled in the spirit she +showed.</p> +<p>"These things always work out," she declared, with an impatient +shrug of her shoulders. And watching her admiringly, young Betsy +thought, "How strong she is! What a wonderful grown-up woman!" And +Roger watching thought, "How young."</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>"What things?" It was Edith's voice at the door, and among those +at the table there was a little stir of alarm. She had entered +unnoticed and now took her seat. She was looking pale and tired. +"What things work out so finely?" she asked, and with a glance at +Deborah's gown,</p> +<p>"Where are you going?" she added.</p> +<p>"To a meeting," Deborah answered.</p> +<p>"Oh." And Edith began her soup. In the awkward pause that +followed, twice Deborah started to speak to her <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199"></a>[199]</span>sister, +but checked herself, for at other dinners just like this she had +made such dismal failures.</p> +<p>"By the way, Edith," she said, at last, "I've been thinking of +all that furniture of yours which is lying in storage." Her sister +looked up at her, startled.</p> +<p>"What about it?" she asked.</p> +<p>"There's so much of it you don't care for," Deborah answered +quietly. "Why don't you let a part of it go? I mean the few pieces +you've always disliked."</p> +<p>"For what purpose?"</p> +<p>"Why, it seems such a pity not to have Hannah back in the house. +She would make things so much easier." Roger felt a glow of +relief.</p> +<p>"A capital plan!" he declared at once.</p> +<p>"It would be," Edith corrected him, "if I hadn't already made +<i>other</i> plans." And then in a brisk, breathless tone, "You see +I've made up my mind," she said, "to sell not only part but +<i>all</i> my furniture—very soon—and a few other +belongings as well—and use the money to put George and +Elizabeth and little Bob back in the schools where they +belong."</p> +<p>"Mother!" gasped Elizabeth, and with a prolonged "Oh-h" of +delight she ran around to her mother's chair.</p> +<p>"But look here," George blurted worriedly, "I don't like it, +mother, darned if I do! You're selling everything—just for +school!"</p> +<p>"School is rather important, George," was Edith's tart +rejoinder. "If you don't think so, ask your aunt." "What do you +think of it, Auntie?" he asked. The cloud which had come on +Deborah's face was lifted in an instant.</p> +<p>"I think, George," she answered gently, "that you'd better let +your mother do what she thinks best for you. It <i>will</i> make +things easier here in the house," she added, to her sister, "but I +wish you could have Hannah, too."</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id= +"Page_200"></a>[200]</span>Oh, I'll manage nicely now," said Edith. +And with a slight smile of triumph she resumed her dinner.</p> +<p>"The war won't last forever," muttered Roger uneasily. And to +himself: "But suppose it <i>should</i> last—a year or more." +He did not approve of Edith's scheme. "It's burning her bridges all +at once, for something that isn't essential," he thought. But he +would not tell her so.</p> +<p>Meanwhile Deborah glanced at the clock.</p> +<p>"Oh! It's nearly eight o'clock! I must hurry or I'll be late," +she said. "Good-night, all—"</p> +<p>And she left them.</p> +<p>Roger followed her into the hall.</p> +<p>"What do you think of this?" he demanded. Her reply was a +tolerant shrug.</p> +<p>"It's her own money, father—"</p> +<p>"All her money!" he rejoined. "Every dollar she has in the +world!"</p> +<p>"But I don't just see how it can be helped."</p> +<p>"Can't you talk to her, show her what folly it is?"</p> +<p>"Hardly," said Deborah, smiling. Already she had on her coat and +hat and was turning to go. And her father scowled with annoyance. +She was always going, he told himself, leaving him to handle her +sister alone. He would like to go out himself in the +evenings—yes, by George, this very night—it would act +like a tonic on his mind. Just for a moment, standing there, he saw +Cooper Union packed to the doors, he heard the ringing speeches, +the cheers. But no, it was not to be thought of. With this silent +war going on in his house he knew he must stay neutral. Watchful +waiting was his course. If he went out with Deborah, Edith would be +distinctly hurt, and sitting all evening here alone she would draw +still deeper into herself. And so it would be night after night, as +it had been for many weeks. He would be cooped up at home while +Deborah did the running about.... In half the time <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201"></a>[201]</span>it takes +to tell it, Roger had worked himself into a state where he felt +like a mighty badly used man.</p> +<p>"I wish you <i>would</i> speak to her," he said. "I wish you +could manage to find time to be here more in the evenings. Edith +worries so much and she's trying so hard. A little sympathy now and +then—"</p> +<p>"But she doesn't seem to want any from me," said his daughter, a +bit impatiently. "I know it's hard—of course it is. But what +can I do? She won't let me help. And besides—there are other +families, you know—thousands—really suffering—for +the lack of all that we have here." She smiled and kissed him +quickly. "Good-night, dad dear, I've got to run."</p> +<p>And the door closed behind her.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXVIII"></a><span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202"></a>[202]</span>CHAPTER +XXVIII</h2> +<p>After dinner that night, in the living room the two older +children studied their lessons and Edith sat mending a pair of +rompers for little Tad. Presently Roger came out from his den with +the evening paper in his hand and sat down close beside her. He did +this conscientiously almost every evening. With a sigh he opened +his paper to read, again there was silence in the room, and in this +silence Roger's mind roamed far away across the sea.</p> +<p>For the front page of his paper was filled with the usual +headlines, tidings which a year before would have made a man's +heart jump into his throat, but which were getting commonplace now. +Dead and wounded by the thousands, famine, bombs and shrapnel, +hideous atrocities, submarines and floating mines, words once +remote but now familiar, always there on the front page and +penetrating into his soul, becoming a part of Roger Gale, so that +never again when the war was done would he be the same man he was +before. For he had forever lost his faith in the sanity and +steadiness of the great mind of humanity. Roger had thought of +mankind as mature, but there had come to him of late the same +feeling he had had before in the bosom of his family. Mankind had +suddenly unmasked and shown itself for what it was—still only +a precocious child, with a terrible precocity. For its growth had +been one sided. Its strength was growing at a speed breathless and +astounding. But its vision and its poise, its sense of human +justice, of kindliness and tolerance and of generous brotherly +love, these had been neglected and were being left behind. Vaguely +he thought of its ships of steel, its railroads and its flaming +mills, its miracles, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id= +"Page_203"></a>[203]</span>its prodigies. And the picture rose in +his mind of a child, standing there of giant's size with dangerous +playthings in its hands, and boastfully declaring,</p> +<p>"I can thunder over the earth, dive in the ocean, soar on the +clouds! I can shiver to atoms a mountain, I can drench whole lands +with blood! I can look up and laugh at God!"</p> +<p>And Roger frowned as he read the news. What strange new century +lay ahead? What convulsing throes of change? What was in store for +his children? Tighter set his heavy jaw.</p> +<p>"It shall be good," he told himself with a grim determination. +"For them there shall be better things. Something great and +splendid shall come out of it at last. They will look back upon +this time as I look on the French Revolution."</p> +<p>He tried to peer into that world ahead, dazzling, distant as the +sun. But then with a sigh he returned to the news, and little by +little his mind again was gripped and held by the most compelling +of all appeals so far revealed in humanity's growth, the appeal of +war to the mind of a man. He frowned as he read, but he read on. +Why didn't England send over more men?</p> +<p>The clock struck nine.</p> +<p>"Now, George. Now, Elizabeth," Edith said. With the usual delay +and reluctance the children brought their work to an end, kissed +their mother and went up to bed. And Edith continued sewing. +Presently she smiled to herself. Little Tad had been so droll that +day.</p> +<p>On the third page of his paper, Roger's glance was arrested by a +full column story concerning Deborah's meeting that night. And as +in a long interview he read here in the public print the same +things she had told him at supper, he felt a little glow of pride. +Yes, this daughter of his was a wonderful woman, living a big +useful life, taking a leading part in work which would certainly +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id= +"Page_204"></a>[204]</span>brighten the lives of millions of +children still unborn. Again he felt the tonic of it. Here was a +glimmer of hope in the world, here was an antidote to war. He +finished the column and glanced up.</p> +<p>Edith was still sewing. He thought of her plan to sell all she +possessed in order to put her children back in their expensive +schools uptown.</p> +<p>"Why can't she save her money?" he thought. "God knows there's +little enough of it left. But I can't tell her that. If I do she'll +sell everything, hand me the cash and tell me she's sorry to be +such a burden. She'll sit like a thundercloud in my house."</p> +<p>No, he could say nothing to stop her. And over the top of his +paper her father shot a look at her of keen exasperation. Why risk +everything she had to get these needless frills and fads? Why must +she cram her life so full of petty plans and worries and +titty-tatty little jobs? For the Lord's sake, leave their clothes +alone! And why these careful little rules for every minute of their +day, for their washing, their dressing, their eating, their +napping, their play and the very air they breathed! He crumpled his +paper impatiently. She was always talking of being old-fashioned. +Well then, why not be that way? Let her live as her grandmother +had, up there in the mountain farmhouse. <i>She</i> had not been so +particular. With one hired girl she had thought herself lucky. And +not only had she cooked and sewed, but she had spun and woven too, +had churned and made cheese and pickles and jam and quilts and even +mattresses. Once in two months she had cut Roger's hair, and the +rest of the time she had let him alone, except for something really +worth while—a broken arm, for example, or church. She had +stuck to the essentials!... But Edith was not old-fashioned, nor +was she alive to this modern age. In short, she was neither here +nor there!</p> +<p>Then from the nursery above, her smallest boy was <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205"></a>[205]</span>heard to +cry. With a little sigh of weariness, quickly she rose and went +upstairs, and a few moments later to Roger's ears came a low, +sweet, soothing lullaby. Years ago Edith had asked him to teach her +some of his mother's cradle songs. And the one which she was +singing to-night was a song he had heard when he was small, when +the mountain storms had shrieked and beat upon the rattling old +house and he had been frightened and had cried out and his mother +had come to his bed in the dark. He felt as though she were near +him now. And as he listened to the song, from the deep well of +sentiment which was a part of Roger Gale rose memories that changed +his mood, and with it his sense of proportions.</p> +<p>Here was motherhood of the genuine kind, not orating in Cooper +Union in the name of every child in New York, but crooning low and +tenderly, soothing one little child to sleep, one of the five she +herself had borne, in agony, without complaint. How Edith had +slaved and sacrificed, how bravely she had rallied after the death +of her husband. He remembered her a few hours ago on the bed +upstairs, spent and in anguish, sobbing, alone. And remorse came +over him. Deborah's talk at dinner had twisted his thinking, he +told himself. Well, that was Deborah's way of life. She had her +enormous family and Edith had her small one, and in this hell of +misery which war was spreading over the earth each mother was up in +arms for her brood. And, by George, of the two he didn't know but +that he preferred his own flesh and blood. All very noble, Miss +Deborah, and very dramatic, to open your arms to all the children +under the moon and get your name in the papers. But there was +something pretty fine in just sitting at home and singing to +one.</p> +<p>"All right, little mother, you go straight ahead. This is war +and panic and hard times. You're perfectly right to look after your +own."</p> +<p>He would show Edith he did not begrudge her this <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206"></a>[206]</span>use of +her small property. And more than that, he would do what he could +to take her out of her loneliness. How about reading aloud to her? +He had been a capital reader, during Judith's lifetime, for he had +always enjoyed it so. Roger rose and went to his shelves and began +to look over the volumes there. Perhaps a book of travel.... +Stoddard's "Lectures on Japan."</p> +<p>Meanwhile Edith came into the room, sat down and took up her +sewing. As she did so he turned and glanced at her, and she smiled +brightly back at him. Yes, he thought with a genial glow, from this +night on he would do his part. He came back to his chair with a +book in his hand, prepared to start on his new course.</p> +<p>"Father," she said quietly. Her eyes were on the work in her +lap.</p> +<p>"Yes, my child, what is it?"</p> +<p>"It's about John," she answered. And with a movement of alarm he +looked at his daughter intently.</p> +<p>"What's the matter with John?" he inquired.</p> +<p>"He has tuberculosis," she said.</p> +<p>"He has no such thing!" her father retorted. "John has Pott's +Disease of the spine!"</p> +<p>"Yes, I know he has," she replied. "And I'm sorry for him, poor +lad. But in the last year," she added, "certain complications have +come. And now he's tubercular as well."</p> +<p>"How do you know? He doesn't cough—his lungs are sound as +yours or mine!"</p> +<p>"No, it's—" Edith pursed her lips. "It's different," she +said softly.</p> +<p>"Who told you?" he demanded.</p> +<p>"Not Deborah," was the quick response. "She knew it, I'm +certain, for I find that she's been having Mrs. Neale, the woman +who comes in to wash, do John's things in a separate tub. I found +her doing it yesterday, and she told me what Deborah had said."</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id= +"Page_207"></a>[207]</span>It's the first I'd heard of it," Roger +put in.</p> +<p>"I know it is," she answered. "For if you'd heard of it before, +I don't believe you'd have been as ready as Deborah was, +apparently, to risk infecting the children here." Edith's voice was +gentle, slow and relentless. There was still a reflection in her +eyes of the tenderness which had been there as she had soothed her +child to sleep. "As time goes on, John is bound to get worse. The +risk will be greater every week."</p> +<p>"Oh, pshaw!" cried her father. "No such thing! You're just +scaring yourself over nothing at all!"</p> +<p>"Doctor Lake didn't think I was." Lake was the big child +specialist in whose care Edith's children had been for years. "I +talked to him to-day on the telephone, and he said we should get +John out of the house."</p> +<p>Roger heartily damned Doctor Lake!</p> +<p>"It's easy to find a good home for the boy," Edith went on +quietly, "close by, if you like—in some respectable family +that will be only too thankful to take in a boarder."</p> +<p>"How about the danger to that family's children?" Roger asked +malignantly.</p> +<p>"Very well, father, do as you please. Take any risk you want +to."</p> +<p>"I'm taking no risk," he retorted. "If there were any risk they +would have told me—Allan and Deborah would, I mean."</p> +<p>"They wouldn't!" burst from Edith with a vehemence which +startled him. "They'd take the same risk for my children they would +for any street urchin in town! All children are the same in their +eyes—and if you feel as they do—"</p> +<p>"I don't feel as they do!"</p> +<p>"Don't you? Then I'm telling you that Doctor Lake said there was +very serious risk—every day this boy remains in the house!" +Roger rose angrily from his chair:</p> +<p>"So you want me to turn him out! To-night!"</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id= +"Page_208"></a>[208]</span>No, I want you to wait a few +days—until we can find him a decent home."</p> +<p>"All right, I won't do it!"</p> +<p>"Very well, father—it's your house, not mine."</p> +<p>For a few moments longer she sat at her sewing, while her father +walked the floor. Then abruptly she rose, her eyes brimming with +tears, and left the room. And he heard a sob as she went +upstairs.</p> +<p>"Now she'll shut herself up with her children," he reflected +savagely, "and hold the fort till I come to terms!" Rather than +risk a hair on their heads, Edith would turn the whole world out of +doors! He thought of Deborah and he groaned. She would have to be +told of this; and when she was, what a row there would be! For +Johnny was one of <i>her</i> family. He glanced at the clock. She'd +be coming home soon. Should he tell her? Not to-night! Just for one +evening he'd had enough!</p> +<p>He picked up the book he had meant to read—Stoddard's +"Lectures on Japan." And Roger snorted wrathfully. By George, how +<i>he'd</i> like to go to Japan—or to darkest Africa! +Anywhere!</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXIX"></a><span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209"></a>[209]</span>CHAPTER +XXIX</h2> +<p>But later in the evening, when Allan and Deborah came in, Roger, +who in the meantime had had a good hour in Japan and was somewhat +relaxed and soothed, decided at once this was the time to tell her +and have done with it. For Deborah was flushed with triumph, the +meeting had been a huge success. Cooper Union had been packed to +the walls, with an overflow meeting out on the street; thousands of +dollars had been pledged and some big politicians had promised +support; and men and women, rich and poor, had volunteered their +services. She started to tell him about it, but noticed his +troubled expression and asked him what was on his mind.</p> +<p>"Oh, nothing tremendous," Roger said. "I hate to be any damper +to-night. I hadn't meant to tell you to-night—but I think I +will now, for you look as though you could find a solution for +anything."</p> +<p>"Then I must look like an idiot," his daughter said +good-humoredly. "What is it?" she demanded.</p> +<p>"It's about John." Her countenance changed.</p> +<p>"Oh. Is he worse?"</p> +<p>"Edith thinks he is—and she says it's not safe."</p> +<p>"I see—she wants him out of the house. Tell me what she +said to you." As he did so she listened intently, and turning to +Allan at the end, "What do you say to this, Allan?" she asked. "Is +there any real risk to the children?"</p> +<p>"A little," he responded. "As much as they take every day in the +trolley going to school."</p> +<p>"They never go in the trolley," Deborah answered dryly. "They +always go on the top of the 'bus." She was <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210"></a>[210]</span>silent +for a moment. "Well, there's no use discussing it. If Edith feels +that way, John must go. The house won't be livable till he +does."</p> +<p>Roger looked at her in surprise. He felt both relieved and +disappointed. "John's only one of thousands to her," he told +himself aggrievedly. "He isn't close to her, she hasn't room, she +has a whole mass meeting in her head. But I haven't, by George, I +like the boy—and I'm the one who will have to tell him to +pack up and leave the house! Isn't it the very devil, how things +all come back on me?"</p> +<p>"Look here, father," Deborah said, "suppose you let me manage +this." And Roger's heavy visage cleared.</p> +<p>"You mean you'll tell him?"</p> +<p>"Yes," she replied, "and he'll understand it perfectly. I think +he has been expecting it. I have, for a good many weeks," she +added, with some bitterness. "And I know some people who will be +glad enough to take him in. I'll see that he's made comfortable. +Only—" her face clouded.</p> +<p>"It has meant a lot to him, being here," her father put in +gruffly.</p> +<p>"Oh, John's used to getting knocks in this world." Her quiet +voice grew hard and stern. "I wasn't thinking of John just now. +What frightens me at times like this is Edith," she said slowly. +"No, not just Edith—motherhood. I see it in so many mothers +these days—in the women downtown, in their fight for their +children against all other children on earth. It's the hardest +thing we have to do—to try to make them see and feel outside +of their own small tenement homes—and help each +other—pull together. They can't see it's their only chance! +And all because of this mother love! It's so blind sometimes, like +an animal!" She broke off, and for a moment she seemed to be +looking deep into herself. "And I suppose we're all like that, we +women are," she muttered, "when we marry and have children. If the +pinch is ever hard enough—"</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id= +"Page_211"></a>[211]</span><i>You</i> wouldn't be," said Allan. And +a sudden sharp uneasiness came into Roger's mind.</p> +<p>"When are you two to be married?" he asked, without stopping to +think. And at once he regretted his question. With a quick +impatient look at him, Allan bent over a book on the table.</p> +<p>"I don't know," Deborah answered. "Next spring, I hope." The +frown was still on her face.</p> +<p>"Don't make it too long," said her father brusquely. He left +them and went up to bed.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>Deborah sat motionless. She wished Allan would go, for she +guessed what was coming and did not feel equal to it to-night. All +at once she felt tired and unnerved from her long exciting evening. +If only she could let go of herself and have a good cry. She locked +her hands together and looked up at him with impatience. He was +still at the table, his back was turned.</p> +<p>"Don't you <i>know</i> I love you?" she was thinking fiercely. +"Can't you see it—haven't you seen it—growing, +growing—day after day? But I don't want you here to-night! +Why can't you see you must leave me alone? Now! This minute!"</p> +<p>He turned and came over in front of her, and stood looking +steadily down.</p> +<p>"I wonder," he said slowly, "how well you understand +yourself."</p> +<p>"I think I do," she muttered. With a sudden twitching of her lip +she looked quickly up at him. "Go on, Allan—let's talk it all +over now if you must!"</p> +<p>"Not if you feel like that," he said. At his tone of displeasure +she caught his hand.</p> +<p>"Yes, yes, I want to! Please!" she cried. "It's +better—really! Believe me, it is—"</p> +<p>He hesitated a moment, his wide generous mouth set hard, and +then in a tone as sharp as hers he demanded,<span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212"></a>[212]</span> "Are +you sure you'll marry me next spring? Are you sure you <i>hope</i> +you will next spring? Are you sure this sister of yours in the +house, on your nerves day and night, with this blind narrow +motherhood, this motherhood which frightens you—isn't +frightening you too much?"</p> +<p>"No—a little—but not too much." Her deep sweet voice +was trembling. "You're the one who frightens me. If you only knew! +When you come like this—with all you've done for me back of +you—"</p> +<p>"Deborah! Don't be a fool!"</p> +<p>"Oh, I know you say you've done nothing, except what you've been +glad to do! You love me like that! But it's just that love! Giving +up all your practice little by little, and your reputation +uptown—all for the sake of me, Allan, me!"</p> +<p>"You're wrong," he replied. "Compared to what I'm getting, I've +given up nothing! Can't you see? You're just as narrow in your +school as Edith is right here in her home! You look upon my +hospital as a mere annex to your schools, when the truth of it is +that the work down there is a chance I've wanted all my life! Can't +you understand," he cried, "that instead of your being in debt to +me it's I who am in debt to you? You're a suffragist, eh, a +feminist—whatever you want to call it! All right! So you want +to be equal with man! Then, for God's sake, why not begin? +<i>Feel</i> equal! I'm no annex to you, nor you to me! It has +happened, thank God, that our work fits in—each with the +other!"</p> +<p>He stopped and stared, seemed to shake himself; he walked the +floor. And when he turned back his expression had changed.</p> +<p>"Look here, Deborah," he asked, with an appealing humorous +smile, "will you tell me what I'm driving at?"</p> +<p>Deborah threw back her head and laughed, and her laughter +thrilled with relief. "How sure I feel now that I love him," she +thought.</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id= +"Page_213"></a>[213]</span>You've proved I owe you nothing!" she +cried. "And that men and women of our kind can work on splendidly +side by side, and never bother our poor little heads about anything +else—even marriage!"</p> +<p>"We will, though!" he retorted. The next moment she was in his +arms. "Now, Deborah, listen to reason, child. Why can't you marry +me right away?"</p> +<p>"Because," she said, "when I marry you I'm going to have you all +to myself—for weeks and weeks as we planned before! And +afterwards, with a wonderful start—and with the war over, +work less hard and the world less dark and gloomy—we're going +to find that at last we can live! But this winter it couldn't be +like that. This winter we've got to go on with our work—and +without any more silly worries or talk about whether or not we're +in love. <i>For we are</i>!" Her upturned face was close to his, +and for some moments nothing was said, "Well?" she asked. "Are you +satisfied?"</p> +<p>"No—I want to get married. But it is now a quarter past +one. And I'm your physician. Go straight to bed."</p> +<p>She stopped him a minute at the front door:</p> +<p>"Are you sure, absolutely, you understand?"</p> +<p>He told her he did. But as he walked home he reflected. How +tense she had been in the way she had talked. Yes, the long strain +was telling. "Why was she so anxious to get me out of the house," +he asked, "when we were alone for the first time in days? And why, +if she's really sure of her love, does she hate the idea that she's +in my debt?"</p> +<p>He walked faster, for the night was cold. And there was a chill, +too, in this long waiting game.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>Roger heard Deborah come up to bed, and he wondered what they +had been talking about. Of the topic he himself had +broached—each other, love and marriage?</p> +<p>"Possibly—for a minute or two—but no more," he +grumbled. "For don't forget there's work to discuss, there's +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id= +"Page_214"></a>[214]</span>that mass meeting still on her mind. And +God knows a woman's mind is never any child's play. But when you +load a mass meeting on top—"</p> +<p>Here he yawned long and noisily. His head ached, he felt sore +and weak—"from the evening's entertainment my other daughter +gave me." No, he was through, he had had enough. They could settle +things to suit themselves. Let Edith squander her money on frills, +the more expensive the better. Let her turn poor Johnny out of the +house, let her give full play to her motherhood. And if that scared +Deborah out of marrying, let her stay single and die an old maid. +He had worried enough for his family. He wanted a little peace in +his house.</p> +<p>Drowsily he closed his eyes, and a picture came into his mind of +the city as he had seen it only a few nights before. It had been so +cool, so calm and still. At dusk he had been in the building of the +great tower on Madison Square; and when he had finished his +business there, on an impulse he had gone up to the top, and +through a wide low window had stood a few moments looking down. A +soft light snow was falling; and from high up in the storm, through +the silent whirling flakes, he had looked far down upon lights +below, in groups and clusters, dancing lines, between tall phantom +buildings, blurred and ghostly, faint, unreal. From all that bustle +and fever of life there had risen to him barely a sound. And the +town had seemed small and lonely, a little glow in the infinite +dark, fulfilling its allotted place for its moment in eternity. +Suddenly from close over his head like a brazen voice out of the +sky, hard and deafening and clear, the great bell had boomed the +hour. Then again had come the silence, and the cool, soft, whirling +snow.</p> +<p>Like a dream it faded all away, and with a curious smile on his +face presently Roger fell asleep.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXX" id="CHAPTER_XXX"></a><span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215"></a>[215]</span>CHAPTER +XXX</h2> +<p>And now he felt the approach at last of another season of quiet, +one of those uneventful times which come in family histories. As he +washed and dressed for dinner, one night a little later, he thought +with satisfaction, "How nicely things are smoothing out." His +dressing for dinner, as a rule, consisted in changing his low wing +collar and his large round detachable cuffs; but to-night he +changed his cravat as well, from a black to a pearl gray one. He +hoped the whole winter would be pearl gray.</p> +<p>The little storm which Edith had raised over John's presence in +the house had been allayed. Deborah had talked to John, and had +moved him with his belongings to a comfortable sunny room in the +small but neat apartment of a Scotch family nearby. And John had +been so sensible. "Oh, I'm fine, thank you," he had answered +simply, when in the office Roger had asked him about his new home. +So that incident was closed. Already Edith was disinfecting John's +old room to her heart's content, for George was to occupy it now. +She was having the woodwork repainted and a new paper put on the +walls. She had already purchased a small new rug, and a bed and a +bureau and one easy chair, and was making a pair of fresh pretty +curtains. All right, let her do it—if only there could be +peace in the house.</p> +<p>With his cravat adjusted and his thick-curling silver hair trim +from having just been cut by "Louis" over at the Brevoort, Roger +went comfortably down to his dinner. Edith greeted him with a +smile.</p> +<p>"Deborah's dining out," she said.</p> +<p>"Very well," he replied, "so much the better. We'll <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216"></a>[216]</span>go right +in—I'm hungry. And we'll have the evening to ourselves. No +big ideas nor problems. Eh, daughter?" He slipped his hand in hers, +and she gave it a little affectionate squeeze. With John safely out +of the way, and not only the health of her children but their +proper schooling assured, Edith was herself again, placid, sweet +and kindly. And dinner that night was a cheerful meal. Later, in +the living room, as Roger contentedly lit his cigar, Edith gave an +appreciative sniff.</p> +<p>"You do smoke such good cigars, father," she said, smiling over +her needle. And glancing up at her daughter, "Betsy, dear," she +added, "go and get your grandfather's evening paper."</p> +<p>In quiet perusal of the news he spent the first part of his +evening. The war did not bother him to-night, for there had come a +lull in the fighting, as though even war could know its place. And +times were better over here. As, skipping all news from abroad his +eye roved over the pages for what his business depended upon, Roger +began to find it now. The old familiar headliness were reappearing +side by side—high finance exposures, graft, the antics and +didos cut up by the sons and daughters of big millionaires; and +after them in cheery succession the Yale-Harvard game, a new man +for the Giants, a new college building for Cornell, a new city plan +for Seattle, a woman senator in Arizona and in Chicago a "sporting +mayor." In brief, all over the U.S.A., men and women old and new +had risen up, to power, fame, notoriety, whatever you chose to call +it. Men and women? Hardly. "Children" was the better word. But the +thought did not trouble Roger to-night. He had instead a heartening +sense of the youth, the wild exuberance, the boundless vigor in his +native land. He could feel it rising once again. Life was soon to +go on as before; people were growing hungry to see the names of +their countrymen back in the headlines where they belonged. And +Roger's business was picking <span class="pagenum"><a name= +"Page_217" id="Page_217"></a>[217]</span>up. He was not sure of the +figure of his deficit last week—he had always been vague on +the book-keeping side—but he knew it was down +considerably.</p> +<p>When Betsy and George had gone to bed, Roger put down his +paper.</p> +<p>"Look here, Edith," he proposed, "how'd you like me to read +aloud while you sew?" She looked up with a smile of pleased +surprise.</p> +<p>"Why, father dear, I'd love it." At once, she bent over her +needle again, so that if there were any awkwardness attending this +small change in their lives it did not reveal itself in her pretty +countenance. "What shall we read?" she affably asked.</p> +<p>"I've got a capital book," he replied. "It's about travel in +Japan."</p> +<p>"I'd like nothing better," Edith replied. And with a slight glow +of pride in himself Roger took his book in hand. The experiment was +a decided success. He read again the next night and the next, while +Edith sat at her sewing. And so this hour's companionship, from +nine to ten in the evening, became a regular custom—just one +hour and no more, which Roger spent with his daughter, intimately +and pleasantly. Yes, life was certainly smoothing out.</p> +<p>Edith's three older children had been reinstated in school. And +although at first, when deprived of their aid, she had found it +nearly impossible to keep her two small boys amused and give them +besides the four hours a day of fresh air they required, she had +soon met this trouble by the same simple process as before. Of her +few possessions still unsold, she had disposed of nearly all, and +with a small fund thus secured she had sent for Hannah to return. +The house was running beautifully.</p> +<p>Christmas, too, was drawing near. And though Roger knew that in +Edith's heart was a cold dread of this season, she bravely kept it +to herself; and she set about so determinedly to make a merry +holiday, that her father ad<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" +id="Page_218"></a>[218]</span>miring her pluck drew closer still to +his daughter. He entered into her Christmas plans and into all the +conspiracies which were whispered about the house. Great secrets, +anxious consultations, found in him a ready listener.</p> +<p>So passed three blessed quiet weeks, and he had high hopes for +the winter.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXI" id="CHAPTER_XXXI"></a><span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219"></a>[219]</span>CHAPTER +XXXI</h2> +<p>If there were any cloud upon his horizon, it was the thought of +Laura. She had barely been to the house since Edith had come back +to town; and at times, especially in the days when things had +looked dark for Roger, he had caught himself reproaching this +giddy-gaddy youngest child, so engrossed in her small +"ménage" that apparently she could not spare a thought for +her widowed sister. Laura on her return from abroad had brought as +a gift for Edith a mourning gown from Paris, a most alluring +creation—so much so, in fact, that Edith had felt it simply +indecent, insulting, and had returned it to her sister with a +stilted note of thanks. But Roger did not know of this. There were +so many ways, he thought, in which Laura might have been nice to +Edith. She had a gorgeous limousine in which she might so easily +have come and taken her sister off on little trips uptown. But no, +she kept her car to herself. And from her small apartment, where a +maid whom she had brought from Rome dressed her several times each +day, that limousine rushed her noiselessly forth, gay and wild as +ever, immaculate and elegant, radiant and very rich. To what places +did she go? What new friends was she making? What was Laura up +to?</p> +<p>He did not like her manner, one evening when she came to the +house. As he helped her off with her cloak, a sleek supple leopard +skin which fitted her figure like a glove, he asked,</p> +<p>"Where's Hal this evening?" And she answered lightly,</p> +<p>"Oh, don't ask <i>me</i> what he does with himself."</p> +<p>"You mean, I suppose," said Edith, with quiet dis<span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id= +"Page_220"></a>[220]</span>approval, "that he is rushed to death +this year with all this business from the war."</p> +<p>"Yes, it's business," Laura replied, as she deftly smoothed and +patted her soft, abundant, reddish hair. "And it's war, too," she +added.</p> +<p>"What do you mean?" her father asked. He knew what she meant, +war with her husband. But before Laura could answer him, Edith cut +in hastily, for two of her children were present. At dinner she +turned the talk to the war. But even on this topic, Laura's remarks +were disturbing. She did not consider the war wholly bad—by +no means, it had many good points. It was clearing away a lot of +old rubbish, customs, superstitions and institutions out of date. +"Musty old relics," she called them. She spoke as though repeating +what someone else had told her. Laura with her chicken's mind could +never have thought it all out by herself. When asked what she +meant, she was smilingly vague, with a glance at Edith's +youngsters. But she threw out hints about the church and even +Christianity, as though it were falling to pieces. She spoke of a +second Renaissance, "a glorious pagan era" coming. And then she +exploded a little bomb by inquiring of Edith.</p> +<p>"What do you think the girls over there are going to do for +husbands, with half the marriageable men either killed or +hopelessly damaged? They're not going to be nuns all their +lives!"</p> +<p>Again her sister cut her off, and the rest of the brief evening +was decidedly awkward. Yes, she was changing, growing fast. And +Roger did not like it. Here she was spending money like water, +absorbed in her pleasures, having no baby, apparently at loose ends +with her husband, and through it all so cocksure of herself and her +outrageous views about war, and smiling about them with such an +air, and in her whole manner, such a tone of amused superiority. +She talked about a world for the strong, <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221"></a>[221]</span>bits of +gabble from Nietzsche and that sort of rot; she spoke blithely of a +Rome reborn, the "Wings of the Eagles" heard again. This part of it +she had taken, no doubt, from her new Italian friend, her husband's +shrapnel partner.</p> +<p>Pshaw! What was Laura up to?</p> +<p>But that was only one evening. It was not repeated, another +month went quickly by, and Roger had soon shaken it from him, for +he had troubles enough at home. One daughter at a time, he had +thought. And as the dark clouds close above him had cleared, the +other cloud too had drifted away, until it was small, just on the +horizon, far away from Roger's house. What was Laura up to? He +barely ever thought of that now.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>But one night when he came home, Edith, who sat in the living +room reading aloud to her smaller boys, gave him a significant look +which warned him something had happened. And turning to take off +his overcoat, in the hall he almost stumbled upon a pile of hand +luggage, two smart patent leather bags, a hat trunk and a sable +cloak.</p> +<p>"Hello," he exclaimed. "What's this? Who's here?"</p> +<p>"Laura," Edith answered. "She's up in Deborah's room, I +think—they've been up there for over an hour." Roger looked +indignantly in at his daughter.</p> +<p>"What has happened?" he asked.</p> +<p>"I'm afraid I can't tell you," Edith replied. "They didn't seem +to need me. They made it rather plain, in fact. Another quarrel, I +presume. She came into the house like a whirlwind, asked at once +for Deborah and flew up to Deborah's room."</p> +<p>"Pshaw!" Roger heavily mounted the stairs. He at least did not +feel like flying. A whirlwind, eh—a nice evening ahead!</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>Meanwhile, in her room upstairs Deborah sat motionless, sternly +holding her feelings down, while in a tone <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222"></a>[222]</span>now +kindly but more often full of a sharp dismay, she threw out +question after question to Laura who was walking the floor in a +quick, feverish sort of way, with gestures half hysterical, her +voice bursting with emotions of mingled fright and rage.</p> +<p>"No, this time it's divorce!" she declared, at the end of her +first outburst, in which she had told in fragments of her husband's +double life. "I've stood it long enough! I'm through!"</p> +<p>"You mean you don't care for him," Deborah said. She was +fighting for time to think it out. "You want a divorce. Very well, +Laura dear—but how do you think you are going to get it? The +laws are rather strict in this state. They allow but one cause. +Have you any proofs?"</p> +<p>"No, I haven't—but I don't need any proofs! He wants it as +badly as I do! Wait—I'll give you his very words!" Laura's +face grew white with fury. "'It's entirely up to you, +Sweetie'—the beast!—'You can have any kind of divorce +you like. You can let me bring suit on the quiet or you can try to +fight me in court, climb up into the witness chair in front of the +reporters and tell them all about yourself!'"</p> +<p>"<i>Your husband is to bring suit against you</i>?" Deborah's +voice was loud and harsh. "For God's sake, Laura, what do you +mean?"</p> +<p>"Mean? I mean that <i>he has proofs</i>! He has used a +detective, the mean little cur, and he's treating me like the dirt +under his feet! Just as though it were one thing for a man, and +another—quite—for a woman! He even had the nerve to be +mad, to get on a high horse, call me names! Turn me!—turn me +out on the street!" Deborah winced as though from a blow. "Oh, it +was funny, funny!" Laura was almost sobbing now.</p> +<p>"Stop, this minute!" Deborah said. "You say that you've been +doing—what he has?" she demanded.</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id= +"Page_223"></a>[223]</span>Why shouldn't I? What do you know about +it? Are you going to turn against me, too?"</p> +<p>"I am—pretty nearly—"</p> +<p>"Oh, good God!" Laura tossed up her hands and went on with her +walking.</p> +<p>"Quiet! Please try to be clear and explain."</p> +<p>"Explain—to you? How can I? <i>You</i> don't +understand—you know nothing about it—all you know about +is schools! You're simply a nun when it comes to this. I see it +now—I didn't before—I thought you a modern +woman—with your mind open to new ideas. But it isn't, it +seems, when it comes to a pinch—it's shut as tight as Edith's +is—"</p> +<p>"Yes, tight!"</p> +<p>"Thank you very much! Then for the love of Heaven will you +kindly leave me alone! I'll have a talk with father!"</p> +<p>"You will <i>not</i> have a talk with father—"</p> +<p>"I most certainly will—and he'll understand! He's a man, +at least—and he led a man's life before he was married!"</p> +<p>"Laura!"</p> +<p>"<i>You</i> can't see it in him—<i>but I can</i>!"</p> +<p>"You'll say not a word to him, not one word! He has had enough +this year as it is!"</p> +<p>"Has he? Then I'm sorry! If <i>you</i> were any help to +me—instead of acting like a nun—"</p> +<p>"Will you please stop talking like a fool?"</p> +<p>"I'm not! I'm speaking the truth and you know it! You know no +more about love like mine than a nun of the middle ages! You +needn't tell me about Allan Baird. You think you're in love with +him, don't you? Well then, I'll tell you that you're not—your +love is the kind that can wait for years—because it's cold, +it's cold, it's cold—it's all in your mind and your reason! +And so I say you're no help to me now! Here—look at yourself +in <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id= +"Page_224"></a>[224]</span>the glass over there! You're just plain +angry—frightened!"</p> +<p>"Yes—I am—I'm frightened." While she strove to think +clearly, to form some plan, she let her young sister talk rapidly +on:</p> +<p>"I know you are! And you can't be fair! You're like nearly all +American women—married or single, young or old—you're +all of you scared to death about sex—just as your Puritan +mothers were! And you leave it alone—you keep it +down—you never give it a chance—you're afraid! But I'm +not afraid—and I'm living my life! And let me tell you I'm +not alone! There are hundreds and thousands doing the +same—right here in New York City to-night! It's been so +abroad for years and years—in Rome and Berlin, in Paris and +London—and now, thank God, it has come over here! If our +husbands can do it, why can't we? And we are—we're +starting—it's come with the war! You think war is hell and +nothing else, don't you—but you're wrong! It's not only +killing men—it's killing a lot of hypocrisies too—it's +giving a jolt to marriage! You'll see what the women will do soon +enough—when there aren't enough men any longer—"</p> +<p>"Suppose you stop this tirade and tell me exactly what you've +done," Deborah interrupted. A simple course of action had just +flashed into her mind.</p> +<p>"All right, I will. I'm not ashamed. I've given you this +'tirade' to show you exactly how I feel—that it's not any +question of sin or guilt or any musty old rubbish like that! I know +I'm right! I know just what I'm doing!"</p> +<p>"Who's the man? That Italian?"</p> +<p>"Yes."</p> +<p>"Where is he?"</p> +<p>"Right here in New York."</p> +<p>"Does he mean to stand by you?"</p> +<p>"Of course he does."</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id= +"Page_225"></a>[225]</span>Will he marry you, Laura?"</p> +<p>"Yes, he will—the minute I'm free from my beast of a +husband!"</p> +<p>"And your husband will keep his suit quiet, you said, if you +agree not to fight him."</p> +<p>"Yes."</p> +<p>Deborah rose abruptly.</p> +<p>"Then will you stay right here to-night, and leave this matter +to me?" she asked.</p> +<p>"What do <i>you</i> mean to do?"</p> +<p>"See your husband."</p> +<p>"What for? When?"</p> +<p>"To-night, if I can. I want to be sure."</p> +<p>Laura looked for the moment nonplussed.</p> +<p>"And what of my wishes?" she inquired.</p> +<p>"<i>Your</i> wishes," said Deborah steadily. "You want a +divorce, don't you—so do I. And you want it quiet—and +so do I. I want it so hard that I want to make sure." Deborah's +tone was kinder now, and she came over close to her sister. "Look +here, Laura, if I've been hard, forgive me—please—and +let me help. I'm not so narrow as you think. I've been through a +good deal of this before—downtown, I mean, with girls in my +school. They come to me, we have long talks. Maybe I <i>am</i> a +nun—as you say—but I'm one with a confessional. Not for +sins," she added, as Laura looked up angrily. "Sins don't interest +me very much. But troubles do. And heaven knows that marriage is +one," she said with a curious bitterness. "And when it has failed +and there's no love left—as in your case—I'm for +divorce. Only—" her wide sensitive lips quivered just a +little, "I'm sorry it had to come like this. But I love you, dear, +and I want to help, I want to see you safely through. And while I'm +doing it, if we can, I want to keep dad out of it—at least +until it's settled." She paused a moment. "So if you agree, I'll go +to your husband. I want to be sure, absolutely, just what we can +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id= +"Page_226"></a>[226]</span>count on. And until I come back, stay +here in my room. You don't want to talk to father and +Edith—"</p> +<p>"Most certainly not!" Laura muttered.</p> +<p>"Good. Then stay here until I return. I'll send you up some +supper."</p> +<p>"I don't want any, thank you."</p> +<p>Laura went and threw herself on the bed, while her sister +finished dressing.</p> +<p>"It's decent of you, Deborah." Her voice was muffled and +relaxed. "I wasn't fair," she added. "I'm sorry for some of the +things I said."</p> +<p>"About me and marriage?" Deborah looked at herself in the glass +in a peculiar searching way. A slight spasm crossed her features. +"I'm not sure but that you were right. At times I feel far from +certain," she said. Laura lifted her head from the pillow, watched +her sister a moment, dropped back.</p> +<p>"Don't let this affect <i>you</i>, Deborah."</p> +<p>"Oh, don't worry, dearie." And Deborah moved toward the door. +"My affair is just mine, you see, and this won't make any +difference."</p> +<p>But in her heart she knew it would. What an utter loathing she +had to-night for all that people meant by sex! Suddenly she was +quivering, her limbs and her whole body hot.</p> +<p>"You say I'm cold," she was thinking. "Cold toward Allan, calm +and cool, nothing but mind and reason! You say it means little to +me, all that! But if I had had trouble with Allan, would I have +come running home to talk? Wouldn't I have hugged it tight? And +isn't that love? What do <i>you</i> know of me and the life I've +led? Do you know how it feels to want to work, to be something +yourself, without any man? And can't <i>that</i> be a passion? Have +you had to live with Edith here and see what motherhood can be, +what it can do to a woman? And now you come with <i>another</i> +side, just as narrow as hers, devouring <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id= +"Page_227"></a>[227]</span>everything else in sight! And because +I'm a little afraid of that, for myself and all I want to do, you +say I don't know what love is! But I do! And my love's worth more +than yours! It's deeper, richer, it will last!... Then why do I +loathe it <i>all</i> to-night?... But I don't, I only loathe +<i>your</i> side!... But yours is the very heart of it!... All +right, then what am I going to do?"</p> +<p>She was going slowly down the stairs. She stopped for a moment, +frowning.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXII" id="CHAPTER_XXXII"></a><span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228"></a>[228]</span>CHAPTER +XXXII</h2> +<p>On the floor below she met her father, who was coming out of his +room. He looked at her keenly:</p> +<p>"What's the trouble?"</p> +<p>"Laura's here," she answered. "Trouble again with her husband. +Better leave her alone for the present—she's going to stay in +my room for a while."</p> +<p>"Very well," her father grunted, and they went down to dinner. +There Deborah was silent, and Edith did most of the talking. Edith, +quite aware of the fact that Laura and all Laura's ways were in +disgrace for the moment, and that she and her ways with her +children shone by the comparison, was bright and sweet and tactful. +Roger glanced at her more than once, with approval and with +gratitude for the effort she was making to smooth over the +situation. Deborah rose before they had finished.</p> +<p>"Where are you off to?" Roger asked.</p> +<p>"Oh, there's something I have to attend to—"</p> +<p>"School again this evening, dear?" inquired Edith cheerfully, +but her sister was already out of the room. She looked at her +father with quiet concern. "I'm sorry she has to be out +to-night—to-night of all nights," she murmured.</p> +<p>"Humph!" ejaculated her father. This <i>eternal</i> school +business of Deborah's was beginning to get on his nerves. Yes, just +a little on his nerves! Why couldn't she give up one evening, just +one, and get Laura out of this snarl she was in? He heard her at +the telephone, and presently she came back to them.</p> +<p>"Oh, Edith," she said casually, "don't send any supper +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id= +"Page_229"></a>[229]</span>up to Laura. She says she doesn't want +any to-night. And ask Hannah to put a cot in my room. Will +you?"</p> +<p>"Yes, dear, I'll attend to it."</p> +<p>"Thanks." And again she left them. In silence, when the front +door closed, Edith looked at her father. This must be rather +serious, Roger thought excitedly. So Laura was to stay all night, +while Deborah gallivanted off to those infernal schools of hers! He +had little joy in his paper that night. The news of the world had +such a trick of suddenly receding a million miles away from a man +the minute he was in trouble. And Roger was in trouble. With each +slow tick of the clock in the hall he grew more certain and more +disturbed. An hour passed. The clock struck nine. With a snort he +tossed his paper aside.</p> +<p>"Well, Edith," he said glumly, "how about some chess this +evening?" In answer she gave him a quick smile of understanding and +sympathy.</p> +<p>"All right, father dear." And she fetched the board. But they +had played only a short time when Deborah's latchkey was heard in +the door. Roger gave an angry hitch to his chair. Soon she appeared +in the doorway.</p> +<p>"May I talk to you, father?" she asked.</p> +<p>"I suppose so." Roger scowled.</p> +<p>"You'll excuse us, Edith?" she added.</p> +<p>"Oh, assuredly, dear." And Edith rose, looking very much hurt. +"Of course, if I'm not needed—"</p> +<p>At this her father scowled again. Why couldn't Deborah show her +sister a little consideration?</p> +<p>"What is it?" he demanded.</p> +<p>"Suppose we go into the study," she said.</p> +<p>He followed her there and shut the door.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>"Well?" he asked, from his big leather chair. Deborah had +remained standing.</p> +<p>"I've got some bad news," she began.</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id= +"Page_230"></a>[230]</span>What is it?" he snapped. "School burnt +down?" Savagely he bit off a cigar.</p> +<p>"I've just had a talk with Harold," she told him. He shot a +glance of surprise and dismay.</p> +<p>"Have, eh—what's it all about?"</p> +<p>"It's about a divorce," she answered.</p> +<p>The lighted match dropped from Roger's hand. He snatched it up +before it was out and lit his cigar, and puffing smoke in a +vigilant way again he eyed his daughter.</p> +<p>"I've done what I could," she said painfully, "but they seem to +have made up their minds."</p> +<p>"Then they'll unmake 'em," he replied, and he leaned forward +heavily. "They'll unmake 'em," he repeated, in a thick unnatural +tone. "I'm not a'goin' to hear to it!" In a curious manner his +voice had changed. It sounded like that of a man in the mountains, +where he had been born and raised. This thought flashed into +Deborah's mind and her wide resolute mouth set hard. It would be +very difficult.</p> +<p>"I'm afraid this won't do, father dear. Whether you give your +consent or not—"</p> +<p>"Wun't, wun't it! You wait and see if it wun't!" Deborah came +close to him.</p> +<p>"Suppose you wait till you understand," she admonished +sternly.</p> +<p>"All right, I'm waiting," he replied. She felt herself trembling +deep inside. She did not want him to understand, any more than she +must to induce him to keep out of this affair.</p> +<p>"To begin with," she said steadily, "you will soon see yourself, +I think, that they fairly loathe the sight of each other—that +there is no real marriage left."</p> +<p>"That's fiddlesticks!" snapped Roger. "Just modern talk and new +ideas—ideas you're to blame for! Yes, you are—you put +'em in her head—you and your gabble about <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231"></a>[231]</span>woman's +rights!" He was angry now. He was glad he was angry. He'd just +begun!</p> +<p>"If you want me to leave her alone," his daughter cut in +sharply, "just say so! I'll leave it all to you!" And she saw him +flinch a little. "What would be <i>your</i> idea?" she asked.</p> +<p>"My idea? She's to go straight home and make up with him!"</p> +<p>She hesitated. Then she said:</p> +<p>"Suppose there's another woman."</p> +<p>"Then he's a beast," growled Roger.</p> +<p>"And yet you want her to live with him?"</p> +<p>He scowled, he felt baffled, his mind in a whirl. And a wave of +exasperation suddenly swept over him.</p> +<p>"Well, why shouldn't she?" he cried. "Other wives have done +it—millions! Made a devilish good success of it, +too—made new men of their husbands! Let her show him she's +ready to forgive! That's only Christian, ain't it? Hard? Of course +it's hard on her! But can you tell me one hard thing she has ever +had to do in her life? Hasn't it been pleasure, pleasure from the +word go? Can't she stand something hard? Don't we all of us have +to? I do—God knows—with all of you!" And he puffed his +cigar in a fury. His daughter smiled. She saw her chance.</p> +<p>"Father," she said, in a low clear voice, "You've had so +<i>many</i> troubles. Why not leave this one to me? You can't +help—no matter how hard you try—you'll only make it +worse and worse. And you've been through so much this +year—you've earned the right to be quiet. And that's what +<i>they</i> want, both of them—they both want it quiet, +without any scandal." Her father glared, for he knew about scandal, +he handled it in his office each day. "Let me manage +this—please," she said. And her offer tempted him. He +struggled for a moment.</p> +<p>"No, I won't!" he burst out in reply. "I want quiet right +enough, but not at the price of her peace with her<span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232"></a>[232]</span> God!" +This sounded foolish, he felt that it did, and he flushed and grew +the angrier. "No, I won't," he said stubbornly. "She'll go back to +him if I take her myself. And what's more," he added, rising, +"she's to go straight back to-night!"</p> +<p>"She is not going back to-night, my dear." And Deborah caught +her father's arm. "Sit down, please—"</p> +<p>"I've heard enough!"</p> +<p>"I'm afraid you haven't," she replied.</p> +<p>"Very well." His smile was caustic. "Give me some more of it," +he said.</p> +<p>"Her husband won't have her," said Deborah bluntly. "He told me +so himself—to-night."</p> +<p>"Did, eh—then <i>I'll</i> talk to him!"</p> +<p>"He thinks," she went on in a desperate tone, "that Laura has +been leading—'her own little life'—as he put it to +me."</p> +<p>"<i>Eh</i>?"</p> +<p>"He is bringing suit himself."</p> +<p>"<i>Oh! He is</i>!" cried Roger hoarsely. "Then I <i>will</i> +talk to this young man!" But she put out a restraining hand:</p> +<p>"Father! Don't try to fight this suit!"</p> +<p>"You watch me!" he snarled. Tears showed in her eyes:</p> +<p>"Think! Oh, please! Think what you're doing! Have you ever seen +a divorce-court—here, in New York? Do you know what it's +like? What it <i>can</i> be like?"</p> +<p>"Yes," Roger panted. He did know, and the picture came vividly +into his mind—a mass of eager devouring eyes fixed on a girl +in a witness chair. "To-morrow I see a lawyer!" he said.</p> +<p>"No—you won't do that, my dear," Deborah told him sadly. +"Laura's husband has got proofs."</p> +<p>Her father looked up slowly and glared into his daughter's +face.</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id= +"Page_233"></a>[233]</span>I've seen them myself," she added. "And +Laura has admitted it, too."</p> +<p>Still for a moment he stared at her. Then slowly he settled back +in his chair, his eyes dropped in their sockets, and very +carefully, with a hand which was trembling visibly, he lifted his +cigar to his lips. It had gone nearly out, but he drew on it hard +until it began to glow again.</p> +<p>"Well," he asked simply, "what shall we do?"</p> +<p>Sharply Deborah turned away. To be quiet, to be matter of fact, +to act as though nothing had happened at all—she knew this +was what he wanted now, what he was silently begging her to be for +his sake, for the family's sake. For he had been raised in New +England. And so, when she turned back to him, her voice was flat +and commonplace.</p> +<p>"Keep her here," she said. "Let him do what he likes. There'll +be nothing noisy, he promised me that. But keep her here till it's +over."</p> +<p>Roger smoked for a moment, and said,</p> +<p>"There's Edith and her children."</p> +<p>"The children needn't know anything—and Edith only part of +it."</p> +<p>"The less, the better," he grunted.</p> +<p>"Of course." She looked at him anxiously. This tractable mood of +his might not last. "Why not go up and see her now—and get it +all over—so you can sleep."</p> +<p>Over Roger's set heavy visage flitted a smile of grim relish at +that. Sleep! Deborah was funny. Resolutely he rose from his +chair.</p> +<p>"You'll be careful, of course," she admonished him, and he +nodded in reply. At the door he turned back:</p> +<p>"Where's the other chap?"</p> +<p>"I don't know," she answered. "Surely you don't want to see +<i>him</i>—." Her father snorted his contempt:</p> +<p>"See him? No. Nor she neither. <i>She's</i> not to see him. +Understand?"</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id= +"Page_234"></a>[234]</span>I wouldn't tell her that to-night."</p> +<p>"Look here." Roger eyed his daughter a moment.</p> +<p>"You've done well. I've no complaint. But don't try to manage +everything."</p> +<p>He went out and slowly climbed the stairs. Outside the bedroom +door he paused. When had he stood like this before? In a moment he +remembered. One evening some two years ago, the night before +Laura's wedding, when they had had that other talk. And so it had +come to this, had it. Well, there was no use making a scene. Again, +with a sigh of weariness, Laura's father knocked at her door.</p> +<p>"Come in, Deborah," she said.</p> +<p>"It isn't Deborah, it's I." There was a little silence.</p> +<p>"Very well, father, come in, please." Her voice sounded tired +and lifeless. He opened the door and found the room dark. "I'm over +on the bed," she said. "I've had a headache this evening."</p> +<p>He came over to the bedside and he could just see her there, a +long shadow upon the white. She had not taken off her clothes. He +stood a moment helplessly.</p> +<p>"Please don't <i>you</i> talk to me!" His daughter fiercely +whispered. "I can't stand any more to-night!"</p> +<p>"I won't," he answered. "It's too late." Again there was a +pause.</p> +<p>"What time is it?" she asked him. But he did not answer.</p> +<p>"Well, Laura," he said presently, "your sister has told me +everything. She has seen your husband—it's all +arranged—and you're to stay here till it's over ... You want +to stay here, don't you?"</p> +<p>"Yes."</p> +<p>"Then it's settled," he went on. "There's only one +thing—the other man. I don't know who he is and I don't want +to know. And I don't want you to know him <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235"></a>[235]</span>again. +You're not to see him. Understand?" For a moment Laura was +silent.</p> +<p>"I'm going to marry him, father," she said. And standing in the +darkened room Roger stiffened sharply.</p> +<p>"Well," he answered, after a pause, "that's your affair. You're +no longer a child. I wish you were," he added.</p> +<p>Suddenly in the darkness Laura's hand came out clutching for +his. But he had already turned to the door.</p> +<p>"Good-night," he said, and left her.</p> +<p>In the hallway below he met Deborah, and to her questioning look +he replied, "All right, I guess. Now I'm going to bed." He went +into his room and closed the door.</p> +<p>As soon as Roger was alone, he knew this was the hardest +part—to be here by himself in this intimate room, with this +worn blue rug, these pictures and this old mahogany bed. For he had +promised Judith his wife to keep close to the children. What would +she think of him if she knew?</p> +<p>Judith had been a broad-minded woman, sensible, big-hearted. But +she never would have stood for this. Once, he recollected, she had +helped a girl friend to divorce her husband, a drunkard who ran +after chorus girls. But that had been quite different. There the +wife had been innocent and had done it for her children. Laura was +guilty, she hadn't a child, she was already planning to marry +again. And then what, he asked himself. "From bad to worse, very +likely. A woman can't stop when she's started downhill." His eye +was caught by the picture directly before him on the wall—the +one his wife had given him—two herdsmen with their cattle +high up on a shoulder of a sweeping mountain side, tiny blue +figures against the dawn. It had been like a symbol of their lives, +always beginning clean glorious days. What was Laura beginning?</p> +<p>"Well," he demanded angrily, as he began to jerk off his +clothes, "what can I do about it? Try to keep her <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236"></a>[236]</span>from +re-marrying, eh? And suppose I succeeded, how long would it last? +She wouldn't stay here and I couldn't keep her. She'll be +independent now—her looks will be her bank account. There'd +be some other chap in no time, and he might not even marry her!" He +tugged ferociously at his boots. "No, let well enough alone!"</p> +<p>He finished undressing, opened the window, turned out the gas +and got into bed. Wearily he closed his eyes. But after a time he +opened them and stared long through the window up at the beetling +cliff of a building close by, with its tier upon tier of lighted +apartments, a huge garish hive of homes. Yes, the town was crowding +down on him to-night, on his house and on his family. He realized +it had never stopped, and that his three grown children, each one +of them a part of himself, had been struggling with it all the +time. Laura—wasn't she part of himself? Hadn't he, too, had +his little fling, back in his early twenties? "You will live on in +our children's lives." She was a part of him gone wild. She gave it +free rein, took chances. God, what a chance she had taken this +time! The picture of that court he had seen, with the girl in the +witness chair and those many rows of eyes avidly fixed upon her, +came back to his mind so vividly they seemed for a moment right +here in the room, these eyes of the town boring into his house. +Angrily he shut out the scene. And alone in the darkness, Roger +said to his daughter all the ugly furious things he had not said to +her upstairs—until at last he was weary of it.</p> +<p>"Why am I working myself all up? I've got to take this. It's my +medicine."</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXXIII"></a><span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237"></a>[237]</span>CHAPTER +XXXIII</h2> +<p>But as he watched Laura in the house, Roger's first emotions +were complicated more and more by a feeling of bewilderment. At +dinner the next evening he noticed with astonishment that she +appeared like her natural self. "She's acting," he decided. But +this explanation he soon dismissed. No, it was something deeper. +She was actually unashamed, unafraid. That first display of +feelings, the night of her arrival, had been only the scare of an +hour. Within a few days she was back on her feet; and her cure for +her trouble, if trouble she felt, was not less but more pleasure, +as always. She went out nearly every evening now; and when she had +spent what money she had, she sold a part of her jewelry to the +little old Galician Jew in the shop around the corner. Yes, she was +her natural self. And she was as before to her father. Her attitude +said plainly,</p> +<p>"It isn't fair to you, poor dear, to expect you to fully +understand how right I am in this affair. And considering your +point of view, you're acting very nicely."</p> +<p>Often as she talked to him a note of good-humored forgiveness +crept into his daughter's voice. And looking at her grimly out of +the corner of his eye, he saw that she looked down on him, far, far +down from heights above.</p> +<p>"Yes," he thought, "this is modern." Then he grew angry all at +once. "No," he added, "this is wrong! You can't fool me, young +woman, you know it as well as I do myself! You're not going to +carry this off with an air—not with your father! No, by +George!"</p> +<p>And he would grow abrupt and stern. But days would <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238"></a>[238]</span>pass and +in spite of himself into their talks would creep a natural friendly +tone. Again he found himself friends with her—friends as +though nothing whatever had happened! Could it be that a woman who +had so sinned could go right on? Here was Laura, serenely +unconscious of guilt, and smiling into her future, dreaming still +of happiness, quite plainly sure of it, in fact! With a curious +dismayed relief Roger would scowl at this daughter of his—a +radiant enigma in his quiet sober house.</p> +<p>But Edith was not at all perplexed. When she learned from +Deborah that there was soon to be a divorce, she came at once to +her father. Her face was like a thundercloud.</p> +<p>"A nice example for my children!" she indignantly exclaimed.</p> +<p>"I'm sorry, my dear. But what can I do?"</p> +<p>"You can make her go back to her husband, can't you?"</p> +<p>"No, I can't," he flatly replied.</p> +<p>"Then I'd better try it myself!"</p> +<p>"You'll do no such thing!" he retorted. "I've gone clear to the +bottom of this—and I say you're to leave her alone!"</p> +<p>"Very well," she answered. And she did leave her sister alone, +so severely that Laura soon avoided being home for lunch or dinner. +She had taken the room which George had occupied ever since John +had been turned out, and there she breakfasted late in bed, until +Edith put a stop to it. They barely spoke to each other now. Laura +still smiled defiance.</p> +<p>Days passed. Christmas came at last, and despite Edith's glum +resolution to make it a happy time for the children, the happiness +soon petered out. After the tree in the morning, the day hung heavy +on the house. Roger buried himself in his study. Laura had motored +off into the country with a gay party of her friends. Or was this +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id= +"Page_239"></a>[239]</span>just a ruse, he wondered, and was she +spending the day with her lover? Well, what if she was? Could he +lock her in?</p> +<p>About twilight he thought he heard her return, and later from +his bedroom he heard her voice and Edith's. Both voices sounded +angry, but he would not interfere.</p> +<p>At the Christmas dinner that evening Laura did not put in an +appearance, but Edith sat stiff and silent there; and despite the +obvious efforts which Deborah and Allan made to be genial with the +children, the very air in the room was charged with the feeling of +trouble close ahead. Again Roger retreated into his den, and +presently Laura came to him.</p> +<p>"Good-night—I'm going out," she said, and she pressed her +cheek lightly to his own. "What a dear you've been to me, dad," she +murmured. And then she was gone.</p> +<p>A few minutes later Edith came in. She held a small note in her +hand, which Roger saw was addressed to himself.</p> +<p>"Well, father, I learned this afternoon what you've been keeping +from me," she said. Roger gave her a steady look.</p> +<p>"You did, eh—Laura told you?"</p> +<p>"Yes, she did!" his daughter exclaimed. "And I can't help +wondering, father—"</p> +<p>"Why did she tell you? Have you been at her again to-day?"</p> +<p>"Again? Not at all," she answered. "I've done as you asked me +to, let her alone. But to-day—mother's day—I got +thinking of <i>her</i>."</p> +<p>"Leave your mother out of it, please. What did you say to +Laura?"</p> +<p>"I tried to make her go back, of course—"</p> +<p>"And she told you—"</p> +<p>"He wouldn't have her! And then in a perfect tantrum she went on +to tell me why!" Edith's eyes were <span class="pagenum"><a name= +"Page_240" id="Page_240"></a>[240]</span>cold with disgust. "And +I'm wondering why you let her stay here—in the same house +with my children!"</p> +<p>Roger reached out his hand.</p> +<p>"Give me that note," he commanded. He read it quickly and handed +it back. The note was from Laura, a hasty good-bye.</p> +<p>"Edith will explain," she wrote, "and you will see I cannot stay +any longer. It is simply too impossible. I am going to the man I +love—and in a few days we shall sail for Naples. I know you +will not interfere. It will make the divorce even simpler and +everything easier all round. Please don't worry about me. We shall +soon be married over there. You have been so dear and sensible and +I do so love you for it." Then came her name scrawled hastily. And +at the bottom of the page: "I have paid every bill I can think +of."</p> +<p>Edith read it in silence, her color slowly mounting.</p> +<p>"All right," said her father, "your children are safe." She gave +him a quick angry look, burst into tears and ran out of the +room.</p> +<p>Roger sat without moving, his heavy face impassive. And so he +remained for a long time. Well, <i>Laura</i> was gone—no +mistake about that—and this time she was gone for good. She +was going to live in Rome. Try to stop her? No. What good would it +do? Wings of the Eagles, Rome reborn. That was it, she had hit it, +struck the keynote of this new age. Rome reborn, all clean, +old-fashioned Christian living swept away by millions of men at +each others' throats like so many wolves. And at last quite openly +to himself Roger admitted that he felt old. Old and beaten, out of +date. Moments passed, and hours—he took little note of time. +Nor did he see on the mantle the dark visage of "The Thinker" +there, resting on the huge clinched fist and brooding down upon +him. Lower, imperceptibly, he sank into his leather chair.</p> +<p>Quiet had returned to his house.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXXIV"></a><span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241"></a>[241]</span>CHAPTER +XXXIV</h2> +<p>But the quiet was dark to Roger now. Each night he spent in his +study alone, for instinctively he felt the need of being by himself +for a while, of keeping away from his children—out of whose +lives he divined that other events would soon come forth to use up +the last of the strength that was in him.</p> +<p>And Roger grew angry with the world. Why couldn't it let a man +alone, an old man in a silent house alive for him with memories? +Repeatedly in such hours his mind would go groping backward into +the years behind him. What a long and winding road, half buried in +the jungle, dim, almost impenetrable, made up of millions of small +events, small worries, plans and dazzling dreams, with which his +days had all been filled. But the more he recalled the more certain +he grew that he was right. Life had never been like this: the world +had never come smashing into his house, his very family, with its +dirty teeming tenements, its schools, its prisons, electric chairs, +its feverish rush for money, its luxuries, its scandals. These +things had existed in the world, but remote and never real, mere +things which he had read about. War? Did he not remember wars that +had come and gone in Europe? But they hadn't come into his home +like this, first making him poor when he needed money for Edith and +her children, then plunging Deborah into a struggle which might +very probably ruin her life, and now taking Laura and filling her +mind with thoughts of pagan living. Why was every man, woman and +child, these days, bound up in the whole life of the world? What +would come of it all? A <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" +id="Page_242"></a>[242]</span>new day out of this deafening night? +Maybe so. But for him it would come too late.</p> +<p>"What have I left to live for?"</p> +<p>One night with a sigh he went to his desk, lit a cigar and laid +his hand upon a pile of letters which had been mounting steadily. +It was made up of Laura's bills, the ones she had not remembered. +Send them after her to Rome for that Italian fellow to pay? No, it +could not be thought of. Roger turned to his dwindling bank +account. He was not yet making money, he was still losing a little +each week. But he would not cut expenses. To the few who were left +in his employ, to be turned away would mean dire need. And angrily +he determined that they should not starve to pay Laura's bills. +"The world for the strong, eh? Not in my office!" In Rome or Berlin +or Vienna, all right! But not over here!</p> +<p>Grimly, when he had made out the checks, Roger eyed his balance. +By spring he would be penniless. And he had no one to turn to now, +no rich young son-in-law who could aid.</p> +<p>He set himself doggedly to the task of forcing up his business, +and meanwhile in the evenings he tried with Edith to get back upon +their former footing. To do this was not easy at first, for his +bitterness still rankled deep: "When you were in trouble I took you +in, but when she was in trouble you turned her out, as you turned +out John before her." In the room again vacated, young George had +been reinstalled. One night Edith found her father there looking in +through the open doorway, and the look on his massive face was +hard.</p> +<p>"Better have the room disinfected again," he muttered when he +saw her. He turned and went slowly down the stairs. And she was +late for dinner that night.</p> +<p>But Edith had her children. And as he watched her night by night +hearing their lessons patiently, reading them <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243"></a>[243]</span>fairy +stories and holding them smilingly in her arms, the old appeal of +her motherhood regained its hold upon him. One evening when the +clock struck nine, putting down his paper he suggested gruffly,</p> +<p>"Well, daughter, how about some chess?"</p> +<p>Edith flushed a little:</p> +<p>"Why, yes, dear, I'd be glad to."</p> +<p>She rose and went to get the board. So the games were resumed, +and part at least of their old affection came to life. But only a +part. It could never be quite the same again.</p> +<p>And though he saw little of Deborah, slowly, almost unawares to +them both, she assumed the old place she had had in his +home—as the one who had been right here in the house through +all the years since her mother had died, the one who had helped and +never asked help, keeping her own troubles to herself. He fell back +into his habit of going before dinner to his daughter's bedroom +door to ask whether she would be home that night. At one such time, +getting no response and thinking Deborah was not there, he opened +the door part way to make sure. And he saw her at her dresser, +staring at herself in the glass, rigid as though in a trance. Later +in the dining room he heard her step upon the stairs. She came in +quietly and sat down; and as soon as dinner was over, she said her +good-nights and left the house. But when she came home at midnight, +he was waiting up for her. He had foraged in the kitchen, and on +his study table he had set out some supper. While she sat there +eating, her father watched her from his chair.</p> +<p>"Things going badly in school?" he inquired.</p> +<p>"Yes," she replied. There was silence.</p> +<p>"What's wrong?"</p> +<p>"To-night we had a line of mothers reaching out into the street. +They had come for food and coal—but we had to send most of +them home empty-handed. Some of <span class="pagenum"><a name= +"Page_244" id="Page_244"></a>[244]</span>them cried—and one +of them fainted. She's to have a baby soon."</p> +<p>"Can't you get any money uptown?" he asked.</p> +<p>"I have," she answered grimly. "I've been a beggar—heaven +knows—on every friend I can think of. And I've kept a press +agent hard at work trying to make the public see that Belgium is +right here in New York." She stopped and went on with her supper. +"But it's a bad time for work like mine," she continued presently. +"If we're to keep it going we must above all keep it cheap. That's +the keynote these days, keep everything cheap—at any +cost—so that men can expensively kill one another." Her voice +had a bitter ring to it. "You try to talk peace and they bowl you +over, with facts on the need of preparedness—for the defence +of your country. And that doesn't appeal to me very much. I want a +bigger preparedness—for the defence of the whole +world—for democracy, and human rights, no matter who the +people are! I'd like to train every child to that!"</p> +<p>"What do you mean?" her father asked.</p> +<p>"To teach him what his life can be!" she replied in a hard +quivering tone. "A fight? Oh yes! So long as he lives—and +even with guns if it must be so! But a fight for all the people on +earth!—and a world so full of happy lives that men will think +hard—before ever again letting themselves be led by the +nose—into war and death—for a place in the sun!" She +rose from her chair, with a weary smile: "Here I am making a speech +again. I've made so many lately it's become a habit. I'm tired out, +dad, I'm going to bed." Her father looked at her anxiously.</p> +<p>"You're seeing things out of proportion," he said. "You've +worked so hard you're getting stale. You ought to get out of it for +a while."</p> +<p>"I can't!" she answered sharply. "You don't know—you don't +even guess—how it takes every hour—all the +demands!"</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id= +"Page_245"></a>[245]</span>Where's Allan these days?"</p> +<p>"Working," was her harsh reply. "Trying to keep his hospital +going with half its staff. The woman who was backing him is giving +her money to Belgium instead."</p> +<p>"Do you see much of him?"</p> +<p>"Every day. Let's drop it. Shall we?"</p> +<p>"All right, my dear—"</p> +<p>And they said good-night ...</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>In the meantime, in the house, Edith had tried to scrimp and +save, but it was very difficult. Her children had so many needs, +they were all growing up so fast. Each month brought fresh demands +on her purse, and the fund from the sale of her belongings had been +used up long ago. Her sole resource was the modest allowance her +father gave her for running the house, and she had not asked him +for more. She had put off trouble from month to month. But one +evening early in March, when he gave her the regular monthly check, +she said hesitatingly:</p> +<p>"I'm very sorry, father dear, but I'm afraid we'll need more +money this month." He glanced up from his paper:</p> +<p>"What's the matter?" She gave him a forced little smile, and her +father noticed the gray in her hair.</p> +<p>"Oh, nothing in particular. Goodness knows I've tried to keep +down expenses, but—well, we're a pretty large household, you +know—"</p> +<p>"Yes," said Roger kindly, "I know. Are the month's bills +in?"</p> +<p>"Yes."</p> +<p>"Let me see them." She brought him the bills and he looked +relieved. "Not so many," he ventured.</p> +<p>"No, but they're large."</p> +<p>"Why, look here, Edith," he said abruptly, "these are bills for +two months—some for three, even four!"</p> +<p>"I know—that's just the trouble. I couldn't meet them at +the time."</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id= +"Page_246"></a>[246]</span>Why didn't you tell me?"</p> +<p>"Laura was here—and I didn't want to bother you—you +had enough on your mind as it was. I've done the best I could, +father dear—I've sold everything, you know—but I've +about come to the end of my rope." And her manner said clearly, +"I've done my part. I'm only a woman. I'll have to leave the rest +to you."</p> +<p>"I see—I see." And Roger knitted his heavy brows. "I +presume I can get it somehow." This would play the very devil with +things!</p> +<p>"Father." Edith's voice was low. "Why don't you let Deborah help +you? She does very little, it seems to me—compared to the +size of her salary."</p> +<p>"She can't do any more than she's doing now," was his decisive +answer. Edith looked at him, her color high. She hesitated, then +burst out:</p> +<p>"I saw her check book the other day, she had left it on the +table! She's spending thousands—every month!"</p> +<p>"That's not her own money," Roger said.</p> +<p>"No—it's money she gets for her fads—her work for +those tenement children! She can get money enough for <i>them!</i>" +He flung out his hand:</p> +<p>"Leave her out of this, please!"</p> +<p>"Very well, father, just as you say." And she sat there hurt and +silent while again he looked slowly through the bills. He jotted +down figures and added them up. They came to a bit over nine +hundred dollars. Soon Deborah's key was heard in the door, and +Roger scowled the deeper. She came into the room, but he did not +look up. He heard her voice:</p> +<p>"What's the matter, Edith?"</p> +<p>"Bills for the house."</p> +<p>"Oh." And Deborah came to her father. "May I see what's the +trouble, dear?"</p> +<p>"I'd rather you wouldn't. It's nothing," he growled. He wanted +her to keep out of this.</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id= +"Page_247"></a>[247]</span>Why shouldn't she see?" Edith tartly +inquired. "Deborah is living here—and before I came she ran +the house. In her place I should certainly want to know."</p> +<p>Deborah was already glancing rapidly over the bills.</p> +<p>"Why, Edith," she exclaimed, "most of these bills go back for +months. Why didn't you pay them when they were due?"</p> +<p>"Simply because I hadn't the money!"</p> +<p>"You've had the regular monthly amount."</p> +<p>"That didn't last long—"</p> +<p>"Why didn't you tell us?"</p> +<p>"Laura was here."</p> +<p>Deborah gave a shrug of impatience, and Roger saw how tired she +was, her nerves on edge from her long day.</p> +<p>"Never mind about it now," he put in.</p> +<p>"What a pity," Deborah muttered. "If we had been told, we could +have cut down."</p> +<p>"I don't agree with you!" Edith rejoined. "I have already done +that myself! I've done nothing else!"</p> +<p>"Have the servants been paid?" her sister asked.</p> +<p>"No, they haven't-"</p> +<p>"Since when?"</p> +<p>"Three months!"</p> +<p>Roger got up and walked the room. Deborah tried to speak +quietly:</p> +<p>"I can't quite see where the money has gone."</p> +<p>"Can't you? Then look at my check book." And Edith produced it +with a glare. Her sister turned over a few of the stubs.</p> +<p>"What's this item?"</p> +<p>"Where?"</p> +<p>"Here. A hundred and twenty-two dollars."</p> +<p>"The dentist," Edith answered. "Not extravagant, is it—for +five children?"</p> +<p>"I see," said Deborah. "And this?"</p> +<p>"Bedding," was Edith's sharp response. "A mattress <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248"></a>[248]</span>and more +blankets. I found there weren't half enough in the house."</p> +<p>"You burned John's, didn't you?"</p> +<p>"Naturally!"</p> +<p>All at once both grew ashamed.</p> +<p>"Let's be sensible," Deborah said. "We must do something, +Edith—and we can't till we're certain where we stand."</p> +<p>"Very well—"</p> +<p>They went on more calmly and took up the items one by one. +Deborah finished and was silent.</p> +<p>"Well, father, what's to be done?" she asked.</p> +<p>"I don't know," he answered shortly.</p> +<p>"Somehow or other," Deborah said, "we've got to cut our expenses +down."</p> +<p>"I'm afraid that's impossible," Edith rejoined. "I've already +cut as much as I can."</p> +<p>"So did I, in my school," said her sister. "And when I thought I +had reached the end, I called in an expert. And he showed me ways +of saving I had never dreamed of."</p> +<p>"What kind of expert would you advise here?" Edith's small lip +curled in scorn.</p> +<p>"Domestic science, naturally—I have a woman who does +nothing else. She shows women in their homes just how to make money +count the most."</p> +<p>"What women? And what homes? Tenements?"</p> +<p>"Yes. She's one of my teachers."</p> +<p>"Thank you!" said Edith indignantly. "But I don't care to have +my children brought down to tenement standards!"</p> +<p>"I didn't mean to <i>have</i> them! But I know she could show +you a great many things you can buy for less!"</p> +<p>"I'm afraid I shouldn't agree with her!"</p> +<p>"Why not, Edith?"</p> +<p>"Because she knows only tenement children—nothing of +children bred like mine!"</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id= +"Page_249"></a>[249]</span>Deborah drew a quick short breath, her +brows drew tight and she looked away. She bit her lip, controlled +herself:</p> +<p>"Very well, I'll try again. This house is plenty large enough so +that by a little crowding we could make room for somebody else. And +I know a teacher in one of my schools who'd be only too +glad—"</p> +<p>"Take a boarder, you mean?"</p> +<p>"Yes, I do! We've got to do something!"</p> +<p>"No!"</p> +<p>Deborah threw up her hands:</p> +<p>"All right, Edith, I'm through," she said. "Now what do you +propose?"</p> +<p>"I can try to do without Hannah again—"</p> +<p>"That will be hard—on all of us. But I guess you'll have +to."</p> +<p>"So it seems."</p> +<p>"But unfortunately that won't he enough."</p> +<p>Edith's face grew tenser:</p> +<p>"I'm afraid it will have to be—just now—I've had +about all I can stand for one night!"</p> +<p>"I'm sorry," Deborah answered. For a moment they confronted each +other. And Edith's look said to Deborah plainly, "You're spending +thousands, thousands, on those tenement children! You can get money +enough for them, but you won't raise a hand to help with mine!" And +as plainly Deborah answered, "My children are starving, shivering, +freezing! What do yours know about being poor?" Two mothers, each +with a family, and each one baffled, brought to bay. There was +something so insatiable in each angry mother's eyes.</p> +<p>"I think you'd better leave this to me," said Roger very +huskily. And both his daughters turned with a start, as though in +their bitter absorption they had forgotten his presence there. Both +flushed, and now the glances of all three in that room avoided each +other. For <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id= +"Page_250"></a>[250]</span>they felt how sordid it had been. +Deborah turned to her sister.</p> +<p>"I'm sorry, Edith," she said again, and this time there were +tears in her eyes.</p> +<p>"So am I," said Edith unsteadily, and in a moment she left the +room. Deborah stood watching her father.</p> +<p>"I'm ashamed of myself," she said. "Well? Shall we talk it +over?"</p> +<p>"No," he replied. "I can manage it somehow, Deborah, and I +prefer that you leave it to me."</p> +<p>Roger went into his study and sank grimly into his chair. Yes, +it had been pretty bad; it had been ugly, ominous. He took paper +and pencil and set to work. How he had come to hate this job of +wrestling with figures. Of the five thousand dollars borrowed in +August he had barely a thousand left. The first semi-annual +interest was due next week and must be paid. The balance would +carry them through March and on well into April. By that time he +hoped to be making money, for business was better every week. But +what of this nine hundred dollars in debts? Half at least must be +paid at once. Lower and lower he sank in his chair. But a few +moments later, his blunt heavy visage cleared, and with a little +sigh of relief he put away his papers, turned out the lights and +went upstairs. The dark house felt friendly and comforting now.</p> +<p>In his room he opened the safe in the corner where his +collection of curious rings had lain unnoticed for many months. He +drew out a tray, sat down by the light and began to look them over. +At first only small inanimate objects, gradually as from tray after +tray they glittered duskily up at him, they began to yield their +riches as they had so often done before. Spanish, French, Italian, +Bohemian, Hungarian, Russian and Arabian, rings small and rings +enormous, religious rings and magic rings, poison rings, some black +with age for all his careful polishing—<span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251"></a>[251]</span>again +they stole deep into Roger's imagination with suggestions of the +many hands that had worn them through the centuries, of women +kneeling in old churches, couples in dark crooked streets, +adventures, love, hate, jealousy. Youth and fire, dreams and +passion....</p> +<p>At last he remembered why he was here. He thought of possible +purchasers. He knew so many dealers, but he knew, too, that the war +had played the devil with them as with everyone else. Still, he +thought of several who would find it hard to resist the temptation. +He would see them to-morrow, one by one, and get them bidding, +haggling. Roger frowned disgustedly.</p> +<p>No help for it, though, and it was a relief. It would bring a +truce in his house for a time.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>But the truce was brief.</p> +<p>On the afternoon when he sold his collection Roger came home all +out of sorts. He had been forced to haggle long; it had been a mean +inglorious day; one of the brightest paths in his life had ended in +a pigstie. But at least he had bought some peace in his home! +Women, women, women! He shut the front door with a slam and went up +to his room for a little rest, a little of what he had paid for! On +the stairs he passed young Betsy, and he startled the girl by the +sudden glare of reproach he bestowed upon her. Savagely he told +himself he was no "feminist" that night!</p> +<p>The brief talk he had with Edith was far from reassuring. With +no Deborah there to wound her pride, Edith quickly showed herself +friendly to her father; but when he advised her to keep her nurse, +she at once refused to consider it.</p> +<p>"I want you to," he persisted, with an anxious note in his +voice. He had tried life without Hannah here and he did not care to +try it again.</p> +<p>"It is already settled, father, I sent her away this +morning."</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id= +"Page_252"></a>[252]</span>Then you get her right back!" he +exclaimed. But Edith's face grew obstinate.</p> +<p>"I don't care to give Deborah," she replied, "another chance to +talk as she did."</p> +<p>Roger looked at her gloomily. "You will, though," he was +thinking. "You two have only just begun. Let any little point +arise, which a couple of men would settle offhand, and you two will +get together and go it! There'll be no living in the house!"</p> +<p>With deepening displeasure he watched the struggle between them +go on. Sometimes it seemed to Roger there was not a topic he could +bring up which would not in some way bring on a clash. One night in +desperation he proposed the theatre.</p> +<p>"I'm afraid we can't afford it," said Edith, glancing at +Deborah. And she had the same answer, again and again, for the +requests her children made, if they involved but the smallest +expense. "No, dear, I'm afraid we can't afford that," she would say +gently, with a sigh. And under this constant pressure, these +nightly little thrusts and jabs, Deborah would grow rigid with +annoyance and impatience.</p> +<p>"For Heaven's sake, Edith," she burst out, one night when the +children had gone to their lessons, "can you think of nothing on +earth, except your own little family?"</p> +<p>"Here it comes again," thought Roger, scowling into his paper. +He heard Edith's curt reply:</p> +<p>"No, I can't, not nowadays. Nobody <i>else</i> seems to think of +them."</p> +<p>"You mean that I don't!"</p> +<p>"Do you?"</p> +<p>"Yes! I'm thinking of George! Do you want him killed in the +trenches—in a war with Germany or Japan?"</p> +<p>"Are you utterly mad?" demanded Edith.</p> +<p>"No, I'm awake—my eyes are open! But yours are shut so +tight, my dear, you can't see what has happened!<span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253"></a>[253]</span> You +know this war has made us poor and your own life harder, but that's +all. The big thing it has done you know nothing about!"</p> +<p>"Suppose you teach me," Edith said, with a prim provoking little +smile. Deborah turned on her angrily:</p> +<p>"It has shown that all such mothers as you are out of date and +have got to change! That we're bound together—all over the +world—whether we like it or whether we don't! And that if we +want to keep out of war, we've got to do it by coming right out of +our own little homes—<i>and thinking, Edith, +thinking!</i>"</p> +<p>"Votes for women," Edith said. Deborah looked at her, rose with +a shrug.</p> +<p>"All right, Edith, I give up."</p> +<p>"Thank you. I'm not worth it. You'd better go back to your +office now and go on with your work of saving the world. And use +every hour of your time and every dollar you possess. I'll stay +here and look after my children."</p> +<p>Deborah had gone into the hall. Roger, buried deep in his paper, +heard the heavy street door close. He looked up with a feverish +sigh—and saw at the open door of his study George and Betsy +standing, curious, solemn and wide eyed. How long had they been +listening?</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXV" id="CHAPTER_XXXV"></a><span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254"></a>[254]</span>CHAPTER +XXXV</h2> +<p>There came a season of sleet and rain when the smaller children +were shut indoors and it was hard to keep them amused. They did not +look well, and Edith was worried. She had always dreaded the +spring, and to carry her family safely through she had taken them, +in former years, to Atlantic City for two weeks. That of course was +impossible now. Trouble was bound to come, she thought. And it was +not long in coming. Bobby, who was ten years old and went to school +with his brother George, caught a wretched cold one day. Edith +popped him into bed, but despite her many precautions he gave his +cold to Bruce and Tad.</p> +<p>"Suppose I ask Allan Baird to come," Deborah suggested. "He's +wonderful with children, you know."</p> +<p>Edith curtly accepted his services. She felt he had been sent +for to prevent her getting Doctor Lake. But she said nothing. She +would wait. Through long hard days and longer nights she slaved +upstairs. All Deborah's proffers of aid she declined. She kept +Elizabeth home from school to help her with the many meals, the +medicines and the endless task of keeping her lively patients in +bed. She herself played with them by the hour, while the ache in +her head was a torment. At night she was up at the slightest sound. +Heavy circles came under her eyes. Within a few days her baby, +Bruce, had developed pneumonia.</p> +<p>That evening after dinner, while Deborah was sitting with Roger +in the living room, she heard her sister coming downstairs. She +listened acutely, and glancing around she saw that Roger was +listening, too. Edith passed the <span class="pagenum"><a name= +"Page_255" id="Page_255"></a>[255]</span>doorway and went on down +the hall, where they heard her voice at the telephone. She came +back and looked in at the door.</p> +<p>"I've called Doctor Lake," she said. "I've just taken Bruce's +temperature. It's a hundred and five and two fifths." Deborah +glanced up with a start.</p> +<p>"Oh, Edith!" she said softly. Her sister turned and looked at +her.</p> +<p>"I ought to have had him before," she said. "When he comes, +please bring him right up to the room." And she hurried +upstairs.</p> +<p>"Pshaw!" breathed Roger anxiously. He had seen Bruce an hour +ago; and the sight of the tiny boy, so exhausted and so still, had +given him a sudden scare. Could it be that <i>this</i> would +happen? Roger rose and walked the floor. Edith was right, he told +himself, they should have had Lake long before. And they would +have, by George, if it had not been for Deborah's interference! He +glanced at her indignantly. Bringing in Baird to save money, eh? +Well, it was just about time they stopped saving money on their own +flesh and blood! What had Bruce to do with tenement babies? But he +had had tenement treatment, just that! Deborah had had her way at +last with Edith's children, and one of them might have to pay with +its life! Again Roger glared at his silent daughter. And now, even +in his excited state, he noticed how still and rigid she was, how +unnatural the look she bent on the book held tightly in her +hands.</p> +<p>Still Deborah said nothing. She could feel her father's anger. +Both he and Edith held her to blame. She felt herself in a position +where she could not move a hand. She was stunned, and could not +think clearly. A vivid picture was in her mind, vivid as a burning +flame which left everything else in darkness. It was of Bruce, one +adorable baby, fighting for breath. "What would I do if he were +mine?"</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id= +"Page_256"></a>[256]</span>When the doctor arrived she took him +upstairs and then came down to her father.</p> +<p>"Well?" he demanded.</p> +<p>"I don't know. We'll have to wait." And they both sat silent. At +last they heard a door open and close, and presently steps coming +down the stairs. Roger went out into the hall:</p> +<p>"Come right in here, doctor, won't you? I want to hear about +this myself."</p> +<p>"Very well, sir." And Lake entered the room, with Edith close +behind him. He took no notice of anyone else. "Write this down," he +said to her. "And give it to the nurse when she comes." A heavy man +of middle age, with curious dark impassive eyes that at times +showed an ironic light, Lake was a despot in a world of mothers to +whom his word was law. He was busy to-night, with no time to waste, +and his low harsh voice now rattled out orders which Edith wrote +down in feverish haste—an hourly schedule, night and day. He +named a long list of things needed at once. "Night nurse will be +here in an hour," he ended. "Day nurse, to-morrow, eight a.m. Get +sleep yourself and plenty of it. As it is you're not fit to take +care of a cat." Abruptly he turned and left the room. Edith +followed. The street door closed, and in a moment after that his +motor was off with a muffled roar. Edith came back, picked up her +directions and turned to her sister:</p> +<p>"Will you go up and sit with Bruce? I'll telephone the +druggist," she said.</p> +<p>Deborah went to the sick room. Bruce's small face, peaked and +gray in the soft dim light, turned as she entered and came to the +bed.</p> +<p>"Well, dear?" she whispered. The small boy's eyes, large and +heavy with fever, looked straight into hers.</p> +<p>"Sick," said the baby hoarsely. The next instant he tossed up +his hands and went through a spasm, trying to <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257"></a>[257]</span>breathe. +It passed, he relaxed a little, and again stared solemnly at his +aunt. "Sick," he repeated. "Wery sick."</p> +<p>Deborah sat silent. The child had another fight for his breath; +and this time as he did so, Deborah's body contracted, too. A few +moments later Edith came in. Deborah returned downstairs, and for +over an hour she sat by herself. Roger was in his study, Betsy and +George had gone to bed. The night nurse arrived and was taken +upstairs. Still Deborah's mind felt numb and cold. Instinctively +again and again it kept groping toward one point: "If I had a baby +as sick as that, what would I do? What would I do?"</p> +<p>When the doorbell rang again, she frowned, rose quickly and went +to the door. It was Allan.</p> +<p>"Allan—come in here, will you?" she said, and he followed +her into the living room.</p> +<p>"What is it?" he inquired.</p> +<p>"Bruce is worse."</p> +<p>"Oh—I'm sorry. Why didn't Edith let me know?"</p> +<p>"She had Lake to-night," said Deborah. He knitted his brows in +annoyance, then smiled.</p> +<p>"Well, I don't mind that," he replied. "I'm rather glad. She'll +feel easier now. What did he tell her?"</p> +<p>"He seemed to consider it serious—by the number of things +he ordered."</p> +<p>"Two nurses, of course—"</p> +<p>"Yes, day and night." Deborah was silent a moment.</p> +<p>"I may be wrong," she continued, "but I still feel sure the +child will live. But I know it means a long hard fight. The expense +of it all will be heavy."</p> +<p>"Well?"</p> +<p>"Whatever it is, I'll meet it," she said. "Father can't, he has +reached the end. But even if he could help still, it wouldn't make +much difference in what I've been deciding. Because when I was with +Bruce to-night,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id= +"Page_258"></a>[258]</span> I saw as clear as I see you now that if +I had a child like that—as sick as that—I'd sacrifice +anything—everything—schools, tenement children, +thousands! I'd use the money which should have been theirs, and the +time and the attention! I'd shut them all out, they could starve if +they liked! I'd be like Edith—exactly! I'd center on this one +child of mine!"</p> +<p>Deborah turned her eyes to his, stern and gleaming with her +pain. And she continued sharply:</p> +<p>"But I don't mean to shut those children out! And so it's clear +as day to me that I can't ever marry you! That baby to-night was +the finishing stroke!"</p> +<p>She made a quick restless movement. Baird leaned slowly forward. +Her hands in her lap were clenched together. He took them both and +held them hard.</p> +<p>"No, this isn't clear," he said. "I can feel it in your hands. +This is nerves. This is the child upstairs. This is Edith in the +house. This is school, the end of the long winter's strain."</p> +<p>"No, it's what I've decided!"</p> +<p>"But this is the wrong decision," Allan answered steadily.</p> +<p>"It's made!"</p> +<p>"Not yet, it isn't, not to-night. We won't talk of it now, +you're in no condition." Deborah's wide sensitive lips began to +quiver suddenly:</p> +<p>"We <i>will</i> talk of it now, or never at all! I want it +settled—done with! I've had enough—it's killing +me!"</p> +<p>"No," was Allan's firm reply, "in a few days things will change. +Edith's child will be out of danger, your other troubles will clear +away!"</p> +<p>"But what of next winter, and the next? What of Edith's +children? Can't you see what a load they are on my father? Can't +you see he's ageing fast?"</p> +<p>"Suppose he dies," Baird answered. "It will leave them on your +hands. You'll have <i>these</i> children, won't <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259"></a>[259]</span>you, +whether you marry or whether you don't! And so will I! I'm their +guardian!"</p> +<p>"That won't be the same," she cried, "as having children of our +own—"</p> +<p>"Look into my eyes."</p> +<p>"I'm looking—" Her own eyes were bright with tears.</p> +<p>"Why are you always so afraid of becoming a mother?" Allan +asked. In his gruff low voice was a fierce appeal. "It's this +obsession in your mind that you'll be a mother like Edith. And +that's absurd! You never will! You say you're afraid of not keeping +school the first thing in your life! But you always do and you +always will! You're putting it ahead of me now!"</p> +<p>"Yes, I can put it ahead of <i>you</i>! But I couldn't put it +ahead of <i>my child</i>!" He winced at this and she noticed it. +"Because you are strong, and the child would be weak! The child +would be like Bruce to-night!"</p> +<p>"Are you sure if you marry you must have a child?"</p> +<p>"Yes," she answered huskily, "if I married you I'd want a child. +And that want in me would grow and grow until it made both of us +wretched. I'm that kind of a woman. That's why my work has +succeeded so far—because I've a passion for children! They're +not my work, they're my very life!" She bowed her head, her mouth +set hard. "But so are you," she whispered. "And since this is +settled, Allan, what do you think? Shall we try to go +on—working together side by side—seeing each other +every day as we have been doing all these months? Rather hard on +both of us, don't you think? I do, I feel that way," she said. +Again her features quivered. "The kind of feeling I have—for +you—would make that rather—difficult!"</p> +<p>His grip tightened on her hands.</p> +<p>"I won't give you up," he said. "Later you will change your +mind."</p> +<p>He left the room and went out of the house. Deborah <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260"></a>[260]</span>sat +rigid. She trembled and the tears came. She brushed them angrily +away. Struggling to control herself, presently she grew quieter. +Frowning, with her clear gray eyes intently staring before her, she +did not see her father come into the doorway. He stopped with a +jerk at sight of her face.</p> +<p>"What's the matter?" he asked. She started.</p> +<p>"Nothing's the matter! How is Bruce?"</p> +<p>"I don't know. Who went out a few minutes ago?"</p> +<p>"Allan Baird," she answered.</p> +<p>"Oh. You explained to him, of course, about Lake—"</p> +<p>"Yes, he understands," she said. "He won't come here after +this—"</p> +<p>Roger looked at her sharply, wondering just what she meant. He +hesitated. No, he would wait.</p> +<p>"Good-night," he said, and went upstairs.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXXVI"></a><span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261"></a>[261]</span>CHAPTER +XXXVI</h2> +<p>On the morrow Bruce did not grow better. If anything, the child +grew worse. But by the next morning the crisis had passed. In the +house the tension relaxed, and Roger suddenly felt so weak that he +went to see his own physician. They had a long and serious talk. +Later he went to his office, but he gave little heed to his work. +Sitting there at his desk, he stared through the window far out +over the city. A plan was forming in his mind.</p> +<p>At home that night, at dinner, he kept watching Deborah, who +looked tired and pale and rather relaxed. And as soon as she was +out of the house he telephoned Allan to come at once.</p> +<p>"It's something which can't wait," he urged.</p> +<p>"Very well, I'll come right up."</p> +<p>When Baird arrived a little later, Roger opened the door +himself, and they went back into his study.</p> +<p>"Sit down," he said. "Smoke, Allan?"</p> +<p>"No, thanks." Baird looked doubly tall and lean, his face had a +gaunt appearance; and as he sat down, his lithe supple right hand +slowly closed on the arm of his chair.</p> +<p>"Now then," began Roger, "there are two things we want to get +clear on. The first is about yourself and Deborah. There has been +trouble, hasn't there?"</p> +<p>"Yes."</p> +<p>"She has made up her mind not to marry you."</p> +<p>"Yes."</p> +<p>"I guessed as much." And Roger paused. "Do you mind my asking +questions?</p> +<p>"No—"</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id= +"Page_262"></a>[262]</span>Are you still in love with her, +Allan?"</p> +<p>"I am."</p> +<p>"And she with you?"</p> +<p>"I think so."</p> +<p>"Then it's the same old trouble."</p> +<p>"Yes." And he told a part of what she had said. As he talked in +clear, terse, even tones, Baird's steady eyes had a tortured light, +the look of a man who has almost reached the end of his endurance. +Roger smoked in silence.</p> +<p>"What do you propose to do?"</p> +<p>"Wait," said Allan, "a few days more. Then try again. If I fail +I'm through." Roger shot a quick look at him.</p> +<p>"I don't think you'll fail, my boy—and what's more I think +I can help you. This is a large house, Allan—there's more in +it than you know. My second point concerns myself. I'm going to die +within a year."</p> +<p>As Baird turned on him suddenly, Roger grimly smiled and said, +"We won't go into the details, but I've been examined lately and I +have quite positive knowledge of what I've suspected for some time. +So far, I have told no one but you. And I'm telling you only +because of the bearing it has on Deborah." Roger leaned forward +heavily. "She's the one of my daughters who means the most, now +that I'm so near the end. When I die next year that may be +all—I may simply end—a blank, a grave—I am not +sure. But I've made up my mind above everything else to see Deborah +happy before I go. And I mean to do it by setting her free—so +free I think it will frighten her."</p> +<p>Roger went on to explain his plan, and they talked together for +some time.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>Another week had soon gone by. Bruce still recovered rapidly, +and the other sick children were up and about. Deborah, in the +meantime, had barely been in the house <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263"></a>[263]</span>at all. +But late on Saturday evening Roger found her in her room. She was +working. He came behind her.</p> +<p>"What is it, dad?"</p> +<p>"Busy, eh?" He hesitated, and laid his hand on her shoulder with +a little affectionate pressure. "You've kept so busy lately," he +said, "I haven't had time to see anything of you. How's your work +going?"</p> +<p>"Much better, thanks—now that the winter is over."</p> +<p>He questioned her about her schools. And then after a brief +pause,</p> +<p>"Well, daughter," he said, "it has been a great fight, and I'm +proud of you for it. And if I've got anything to say—" his +hand was still on her shoulder, and he felt her tighten +suddenly—"it isn't by way of criticism—please be sure +of that ahead. In this damnable war my faith in men has been badly +shaken up. Humanity seems to me still a child—a child who +needs to go to school. God knows we need men and women like +you—and I'm proud of all you've accomplished, I'd be the last +man to hold you back. I only want to help you go on—by seeing +to it that you are free—from anything which can hinder you." +He stopped again for a moment.</p> +<p>"To begin with," he said, "I understand you're not going to +marry Allan Baird." She stirred slightly:</p> +<p>"Did he tell you so?"</p> +<p>"Yes—I asked him," Roger replied. "I had Allan here a few +nights ago, and he told me you had decided to give up your +happiness for the sake of all those children in that big family of +yours. You felt you must keep yourself free for them. Very well, if +that is your decision I propose to clear the way." She looked +intently up at his face. "You're not free now," he continued. "We +have Edith and her children here. And I'm growing old—that +has got to be thought of—I don't want to leave them on your +hands. So as soon as the baby is well enough, I'm going to move +them up to the mountains—not only for the sum<span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id= +"Page_264"></a>[264]</span>mer—they are to stay the whole +year 'round. From this time on they're to make it their home."</p> +<p>"Father! But they can't do that! Think of the winters!" Deborah +cried.</p> +<p>"It's already settled," he answered. "I've talked to Edith and +she has agreed. She has always loved the farm, and it will be good +for her children. In the meantime I've been talking to George. +'George,' I told him, 'I'm going to talk to you, man to man, about +a man's job I want you to tackle.'"</p> +<p>"The farm? But, dearie! He's only a boy!"</p> +<p>"He's nearly seventeen," said Roger, "and a young moose for his +age. And old Dave Royce will still be there. It's the work George +has been dreaming about ever since he was a child. You should have +seen how he was thrilled by the scheme. I told him we'd spend the +summer together up there laying all our plans, investing our money +carefully to make every dollar count."</p> +<p>"What money?" Deborah sharply asked. But her father was talking +steadily on:</p> +<p>"We already have a fine lot of cattle. We'll add to it and +enlarge the barn and put in some new equipment. In short, we'll put +it in fine shape, make it a first class dairy farm. 'And then, +George,' I said to him, 'I'm going to turn it over to you. I shall +give the farm to your mother, and the rest of the money I have I +mean to invest in her name down here, so that she'll have a small +income until you can make your dairy pay.'"</p> +<p>"What money are you speaking of?" Deborah's voice was thick and +hard, her sensitive lips were parted and she was breathing +quickly.</p> +<p>"I've sold the house," he told her. Convulsively she gripped his +arms:</p> +<p>"Then tell me where <i>you</i> mean to live!"</p> +<p>"I'm not going to live—I'm going to die—very +soon—I have definite knowledge."</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id= +"Page_265"></a>[265]</span>Without speaking Deborah rose; her face +went white. Her father kept tight hold of her hands, and he felt +them trembling, growing cold.</p> +<p>"You're soon to be free of everyone," he continued painfully. "I +know this is hurting you, but I see so plain, so plain, my child, +just what it is I've got to do. I'm trying to clear the way for you +to make a simple definite choice—a choice which is going to +settle your life one way or the other. I want to make sure you see +what you're doing. Because you mean so much to me. We're flesh and +blood—eh, my daughter?—and in this family of ours we've +been the closest ones of all!" She seemed to sway a little.</p> +<p>"<i>You're not going to die</i>!" she whispered.</p> +<p>"So it hurts you to lose me," he replied. "It will be hard to be +so free. Would you rather not have had me at all? I've been quite a +load on your back, you know. A fearful job you had of it, dragging +me up when I was down. And since then Edith and Bruce and the rest, +what burdens they have been at times. What sharp worries, heavy +sorrows, days and nights you and I have gone through, when we +should have been quietly resting—free—to keep up our +strength for our next day's work. Suppose you had missed them, +lived alone, would you have worked better? You don't know. But you +will know soon, you're to give it a trial. For I've cleared the +way—so that if you throw over Baird to be free you shall get +the freedom you feel you need!"</p> +<p>"Father! Please! Is this fair? Is this kind?" She asked in a +harsh frightened tone. Her eyes were wet with angry tears.</p> +<p>"This isn't a time to be kind, my dear." His voice was quivering +like her own. "I'm bungling it—I'm bungling it—but you +must let me stumble along and try to show you what I mean. You will +have your work, your crowded schools, to which you'll be able to +give your life. But I <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id= +"Page_266"></a>[266]</span>look ahead, I who know you—and I +don't see you happy, I don't even see you whole. For you there will +be no family. None of the intimate sorrows and joys that have been +in this house will come to you. I look back and I see them +all—for a man who has come so near the end gets a larger +vision." He shut his eyes, his jaw set tight. "I look into my +family back and back, and I see how it has been made of many +generations. Certain figures stand out in my mind—they cover +over a hundred years. And I see how much they've meant to me. I see +that I've been one of them—a link in a long chain of +lives—all inter-bound and reaching on. In my life they have +all been here—as I shall be in lives to come.</p> +<p>"And this is what I want for you." He held her close a moment. +The tears were rolling down her cheeks. "Until now you have been +one of us, too. You have never once been free. You have been the +one in this house to step in and take hold and try to decide what's +best to be done. I'm not putting you up on a pedestal, I don't say +you've made no mistakes—but I say you're the kind of a woman +who craves what's in a family. You're the one of my daughters who +has loved this house the most!"</p> +<p>"Yes," she said, "I've loved this house—"</p> +<p>"But now for you all this will stop—quite suddenly," he +told her. "This house of ours will soon be sold. And within a few +months I shall be dead, and your family will have dropped out of +your life."</p> +<p>"Stop! Can't you? Stop! It's brutal! It isn't true about you!" +she cried. "I won't believe it!" Her voice broke.</p> +<p>"Go and see my physician," he said.</p> +<p>"How long have you known it? Why didn't you tell me?"</p> +<p>"Because we had troubles enough as it was, other things to think +of. But there's only one thing now, this freedom you are +facing."</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id= +"Page_267"></a>[267]</span>Please! Please!" she cried imploringly. +"I don't want to talk of myself but of you! This +physician—"</p> +<p>"No," he answered with stern pain, "you'll have to hear me out, +my child. We're talking of you—of you alone when I am gone. +How will it be? Are you quite sure? You will have your work, that +vision of yours, and I know how close it has been to you, vivid and +warm, almost like a friend. But so was my business once like that, +when I was as young as you. And the business grew and it got +cold—impersonal, a mere machine. Thank God I had a family. +Isn't your work growing too? Are you sure it won't become a +machine? And won't you lose touch with the children then, unless +you have a child of your own? Friends won't be enough, you'll find, +they're not bound up into yourself. The world may reach a stage at +last where we shall live on in the lives of all—we may all be +one big family. But that time is still far off—we hold to our +own flesh and blood. And so I'm sure it will be with you. You see +you have been young, my dear, and your spirit has been fresh and +new. But how are you going to keep it so, without the ties you've +always had?" He felt the violent clutch of her hand.</p> +<p>"<i>You won't die</i>!" she whispered. But he went on +relentlessly:</p> +<p>"And what will you do without Allan Baird? For you see you have +not even worked alone. You have had this man who has loved you +there. I've seen how much he has helped you—how you have +grown and he has grown since you two got together. And if you throw +him over now, it seems to me you are not only losing what has done +the most for your work, but you're running away from life as well. +You've never won by doing that, you've always won by meeting life, +never evading it, taking it all, living it full, taking chances! If +you marry Baird, I see you both go on together in your work, while +in your home you struggle through the troubles, tangles, joys and +griefs <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id= +"Page_268"></a>[268]</span>which most of us mortals know so well! I +see you in a world of children, but with children, too, of your +own—to keep your spirit always young! Living on in your +children's lives!"</p> +<p>Roger stopped abruptly. He groped for something more to say.</p> +<p>"On the one side, all that," he muttered, "and on the other, a +lonely life which will soon grow old."</p> +<p>There fell a dangerous silence. And sharply without warning, the +influence, deep and invisible, of many generations of stolid folk +in New England made itself felt in each of them. Father and +daughter grew awkward, both. The talk had been too emotional. Each +made, as by an instinct, a quick strong effort at self-control, and +felt about for some way to get back upon their old easy footing. +Roger turned to his daughter. Her head was still bent, her hands +clasped tight, but she was frowning down at them now, although her +face was still wet with tears. She drew a deep unsteady breath.</p> +<p>"Well, Deborah," he said simply, "here I've gone stumbling on +like a fool. I don't know what I've said or how you have +listened."</p> +<p>"I've listened," she said thickly.</p> +<p>"I have tried," he went on in a steadier tone, "to give you some +feeling of what is ahead—and to speak for your mother as well +as myself. And more than that—much more than that—for +the world has changed since she was here. God knows I've tried to +be modern." A humorous glint came into his eyes, "Downright +modern," he declared. "Have I asked you to give up your career? Not +at all, I've asked you to marry Baird, and go right on with him in +your work. And if you can't marry Allan Baird, after what he has +done for you, how in God's name can you modern women ever marry +anyone? Now what do you say? Will you marry him? Don't laugh at me! +I'm serious! Talk!"</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id= +"Page_269"></a>[269]</span>But Deborah was laughing—although +her father felt her hands still cold and trembling in his. Her gray +eyes, bright and luminous, were shining up into his own.</p> +<p>"What a time you've been having, haven't you, dear!" his +daughter cried unsteadily. "Fairly lying awake at night and racking +your brains for everything modern I've ever said—to turn it +and twist it and use it against me!"</p> +<p>"Well?" he demanded. "How does it twist?"</p> +<p>"It twists hard, thank you," she declared. "You've turned and +twisted me about till I barely see how I can live at all!"</p> +<p>"You can, though! Marry Allan Baird!"</p> +<p>"I'll think it over—later on."</p> +<p>"What is there left to think about? Can you point to one hole in +all I've said?"</p> +<p>"Yes, a good many—and one right off."</p> +<p>"Out with it!"</p> +<p>"You're not dying," Deborah told him calmly, "I feel quite +certain you'll live for years."</p> +<p>"Oh, you do, eh—then see my physician!"</p> +<p>"I will, I'll see him to-morrow. How long did you give yourself? +Just a few months?"</p> +<p>"No, he said it might be more," admitted Roger grudgingly. "If I +had no worries to wear me out—"</p> +<p>"Me, you mean."</p> +<p>"Exactly."</p> +<p>"Well, you've worried quite enough. You're going to leave it to +me to decide."</p> +<p>"Very well," he agreed. He looked at her. "You have +listened—hard?" he gruffly asked.</p> +<p>"Yes, dear." Her hands slowly tightened on his. "But don't speak +of this again. You're to leave it to me. You promise?"</p> +<p>"Yes."</p> +<p>And Roger left her.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id= +"Page_270"></a>[270]</span>He went to bed but he could not sleep. +With a sudden sag in his spirits he felt what a bungler he had +been. He was not used to these solemn talks, he told himself +irately. What a fool to try it! And how had Deborah taken it all? +He did not mind her laughter, nor that lighter tone of hers. It was +only her way of ending the talk, an easy way out for both of them. +But what had she thought underneath? Had his points gone home? He +tried to remember them. Pshaw! He had been too excited, and he +could recall scarcely anything. He had not meant to speak of +Baird—he had meant to leave him out! Yes, how he must have +bungled it! Doubtless she was smiling still. Even the news about +himself she had not taken seriously.</p> +<p>But as he thought about that news, Roger's mood completely +changed. The talk of the evening grew remote, his family no longer +real, mere little figures, shadowy, receding swiftly far away.... +Much quieter now, he lay a long time listening to the life of the +house, the occasional sounds from the various rooms. From the +nursery adjoining came little Bruce's piping laugh, and Roger could +hear the nurse moving about. Afterwards for a long time he could +hear only creaks and breathings. Never had the old house seemed so +like a living creature. For nearly forty years it had held all that +he had loved and known, all he had been sure of. Outside of it was +the strange, the new, the uncertain, the vast unknown, stretching +away to infinity....</p> +<p>Again he heard Bruce's gay little laugh. What did it remind him +of? He puzzled. Then he had it. Edith had been a baby here. Her +cradle had been in this very room, close by the bed. And how she +had laughed! What gurgles and ripples of bursting glee! The first +child in his family....</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXXVII"></a><span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271"></a>[271]</span>CHAPTER +XXXVII</h2> +<p>On the next day, which was Sunday, Deborah made an appointment +with her father's physician, and had a long talk with him at his +house. Upon her return she went to her room and stayed there until +evening, but when she came down to supper her manner was as usual. +At the table she joined in the talk of Edith and the children, +already deep in their preparations for the move up to the farm. +George could hardly wait to start. That life would be a change +indeed in Edith's plans for her family, and as they talked about it +now the tension of hostility which had so long existed between the +two sisters passed away. Each knew the clash had come to an end, +that they would live together no more; and as though in remorse +they drew close, Deborah with her suggestions, Edith in her +friendly way of taking and discussing each one. Then Deborah went +again to her room. Her room was just over Roger's, and waking +several times in the night he heard his daughter walking the +floor.</p> +<p>The next day she was up early and off to her school before he +came down. It was a fine spring morning, Roger had had a good +night's sleep, and as he walked to his office he was buoyed up by a +feeling both of hope for his daughter and of solid satisfaction in +himself as he remembered all that he had said to her. Curiously +enough he could recall every word of it now. Every point which he +had made rose up before him vividly. How clear he had been, how +simple and true, and yet with what a tremendous effect he had piled +the points one on the other. "By George," he thought with a little +glow, "for a fellow who's never been in a pulpit I put up a +devilish strong appeal." And he <span class="pagenum"><a name= +"Page_272" id="Page_272"></a>[272]</span>added sagely, "Let it work +on the girl, give it a chance. She'll come out of this all right. +This idea some fellows have, that every woman is born a fool, isn't +fair, it isn't true. Just let a line of argument be presented to +her strong and clear—straight from the shoulder—by some +man—"</p> +<p>And again with a tingle of pleasure his mind recurred to his +sermon. His pleasures had been few of late, so he dwelt on this +little glow of pride and made the most of it while it was here.</p> +<p>At the office, as he entered his room, he stopped with a slight +shock of surprise. John, standing on his crutches in front of a +large table, had been going through the morning's mail, sorting out +the routine letters Roger did not need to see. To-day he had just +finished and was staring at the window. The light fell full on his +sallow face and showed an amazing happiness. At Roger's step he +started.</p> +<p>"Well, Johnny, how goes it this morning?"</p> +<p>"Fine, thank you," was the prompt reply. And John hobbled +briskly over to his typewriter in the corner. Roger sat down at his +desk. As he did so he glanced again at the cripple and felt a +little pang of regret. "What will become of him," he asked, "when I +close out my business?" He still thought of him as a mere boy, for +looking at the small crooked form it was difficult to remember that +John was twenty years of age. The lad had worked like a Trojan of +late. Even Roger, engrossed as he had been in family anxieties, had +noticed it in the last few weeks. He would have to make some +provision for John. Deborah would see to it.... Roger went slowly +through his mail. One letter was from the real estate firm through +whom he was to sell the house. The deal had not been closed as yet, +there were certain points still to be settled. So Roger called John +to his desk and dictated a reply. When he finished there was a +brief pause.</p> +<p>"That's all," said Roger gruffly.</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id= +"Page_273"></a>[273]</span>So you're sellin' the house," John +ventured.</p> +<p>"Yes."</p> +<p>The lad limped back to his corner and went to work at his +machine. But presently he came over again and stood waiting +awkwardly.</p> +<p>"What is it, Johnny?" Roger inquired, without looking up.</p> +<p>"Say, Mr. Gale," the boy began, in a carefully casual tone, +"would you mind talking business a minute or two?"</p> +<p>"No. Fire ahead."</p> +<p>"Well, sir, you've had your own troubles lately, you haven't had +much time for things here. The last time you went over the books +was nearly a couple of weeks ago."</p> +<p>John paused and his look was portentous.</p> +<p>"Well," asked Roger, "what about it? Business been picking up +any since then?"</p> +<p>"Yes, sir!" was the answer. "We didn't lose a cent last week! We +made money! Fifteen dollars!"</p> +<p>"Good Lord, Johnny, we're getting rich."</p> +<p>"But that's nothing," John continued. "The fact of the matter +is, Mr. Gale, I have been working lately on a new line I thought +of. And now it's got agoing so fast it's getting clean away from +me!" Again he stopped, and swallowed hard.</p> +<p>"Out with it, then," said Roger.</p> +<p>"I got it from the war," said John. "The papers are still half +full of war news, and that's what's keeping our business +down—because we ain't adopting ourselves to the new war +conditions. So I figured it like this. Say there are a million +people over here in America who've got either friends or relations +in the armies over there. Say that all of 'em want to get +news—not just this stuff about battles, but real live news of +what's happened to Bill. Has Bill still got his legs and arms? Can +he hold down a job when he gets home? News which counts for +something! See? A big new market! Business for us! So I tried to +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id= +"Page_274"></a>[274]</span>see what I could do!" John excitedly +shifted his crutches. Roger was watching intently.</p> +<p>"Go on, Johnny."</p> +<p>"Sure, I'll go on! One night I went to a library where they have +English papers. I went over their files for about a month. I took +one Canadian regiment—see?—and traced it through, and I +got quite a story. Then I used some of the money I've saved and +bought a whole bunch of papers. I piled 'em up in the room where I +sleep and went through 'em nights. I hired two kids to help me. +Well, Mr. Gale, the thing worked fine! In less than a week I had +any amount of little bunches of clippings. See how I mean? Each +bunch was the story of one regiment for a month. So I knew we could +deliver the goods!</p> +<p>"Well, this was about ten days ago. And then I went after the +market. I went to a man I met last year in an advertising office, +and for fifty dollars we put an 'ad' in the Sunday Times. After +that there was nothing to do but wait. The next day—nothing +doing! I was here at seven-thirty and I went through every mail. +Not a single answer to my 'ad'—and I thought I was busted! +But Tuesday morning there were three, with five dollar checks +inside of 'em! In the afternoon there were two more and the next +day eleven! By the end of last week we'd had forty-six! Friday I +put in another 'ad' and there've been over seventy more since then! +That makes a hundred and twenty in all—six hundred dollars! +And I'm swamped! I ain't done nothing yet—I've just kept 'em +all for you to see!"</p> +<p>He went quickly to the table, gathered a pile of letters there +and brought them over to Roger's desk. Roger glanced over a few of +them, dazed. He looked around into John's shrewd face, where +mingled devotion and triumph and business zeal were shining.</p> +<p>"Johnny," he said huskily, "you've adopted my busi<span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275"></a>[275]</span>ness and +no mistake." John swallowed again and scowled with joy.</p> +<p>"Let's figure it out!" he proposed.</p> +<p>"We will!"</p> +<p>They were at it all day, laying their plans, "adopting" the work +of the office to the new conditions. They found they would need a +larger force, including a French and a German translator. They +placed other "ads" in the papers. They forgot to have lunch and +worked steadily on, till the outer rooms were empty and still. At +last they were through. Roger wearily put on his cuffs, and went +and got his coat and hat.</p> +<p>"Say, Mr. Gale," John asked him, "how about this +letter—the one you dictated this morning to that firm about +your house?" Roger turned and looked at him.</p> +<p>"Throw it into the basket," he said. "We'll write 'em another +to-morrow and tell 'em we have changed our minds." He paused for +just a moment, and then he added brusquely, "If this goes through +as I hope it will, I guess you'd better come into the firm."</p> +<p>And he left the room abruptly. Behind him there was not a +sound.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>At home in his study, that evening, he made some more +calculations. In a few weeks he would have money enough to start +Edith and her family in their new life on the farm. For the present +at least, the house was safe.</p> +<p>"Why, father." Edith came into the room. "I didn't know you had +come home. What kept you so long at the office?"</p> +<p>"Oh, business, my dear—"</p> +<p>"Have you had any supper?"</p> +<p>"No, and I'd like some," he replied.</p> +<p>"I'll see to it myself," she said. Edith was good at this sort +of thing, and the supper she brought was delicious. He ate it with +keen relish. Then he went back to his study <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276"></a>[276]</span>and +picked up a book, an old favorite. He started to read, but +presently dozed. The book dropped from his hands and he fell +asleep.</p> +<p>He awakened with a start, and saw Deborah looking down at him. +For a moment he stared up, as he came to his senses, and in his +daughter's clear gray eyes he thought he saw a happiness which set +his heart to beating fast.</p> +<p>"Well?" he questioned huskily.</p> +<p>"We're to be married right away."</p> +<p>He stared a moment longer; "Oh, I'm so glad, so glad, my dear. I +was afraid you—" he stopped short. Deborah bent close to him, +and he felt her squeeze his arm:</p> +<p>"I've been over and over all you said," she told him, in a low +sweet voice. "I had a good many ups and downs. But I'm all through +now—I'm sure you were right." And she pressed her cheek to +his. "Oh, dad, dad—it's such a relief! And I'm so happy!... +Thank you, dear."</p> +<p>"Where is Allan?" he asked presently.</p> +<p>"I'll get him," she said. She left the room, and in a moment +Allan's tall ungainly form appeared in the doorway.</p> +<p>"Well, Allan, my boy," Roger cried.</p> +<p>"Oh, Roger Gale," said Allan softly. He was wringing Roger's +hand.</p> +<p>"So she decided to risk you, eh," Roger said unsteadily. "Well, +Baird, you look like a devilish risk for a woman like her—who +has the whole world on her back as it is—"</p> +<p>"I know—I know—and how rash she has been! Only two +years and her mind was made up!"</p> +<p>"But that's like her—that's our Deborah—always +acting like a flash—"</p> +<p>"Stop acting like children!" Deborah cried. "And be sensible and +listen to me! We're to be married to-morrow morning—"</p> +<p>"Why to-morrow?" Roger asked.</p> +<p>"Because," she said decidedly, "there has been enough +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id= +"Page_277"></a>[277]</span>fuss over this affair. So we'll just be +married and have it done. And when Edith and the children go up +next week to the mountains, we want to move right into this +house."</p> +<p>"This house?" exclaimed her father.</p> +<p>"I know—it's sold," she answered. "But we're going to get +a lease. We'll see the new owner and talk him around."</p> +<p>"Then you'll have to talk <i>your father</i> around—"</p> +<p>"<i>You</i> around?" And Deborah stared. "You mean to say you're +not going to sell?"</p> +<p>"I do," said Roger blithely. He told them the story of John's +new scheme. "And if things turn out in the office as I hope they +will," he ended, "we'll clear the mortgage on the house and then +make it your wedding gift—from the new firm to the new +family."</p> +<p>Deborah choked a little:</p> +<p>"Allan! What do you think of us now?"</p> +<p>"I think," he answered, in a drawl, "that we'd better try to +persuade the new firm to live with the new family."</p> +<p>"We will, and the sooner the better!" she said.</p> +<p>"I'm going up to the mountains," said Roger.</p> +<p>"Yes, but you're coming back in the fall, and when you do you're +coming here! And you're going to live here years and years!"</p> +<p>"You're forgetting my doctor."</p> +<p>"Not at all. I had a long talk with him Sunday and I know just +what I'm saying."</p> +<p>"You don't look it, my dear," said Roger, "but of course you may +be right. If you take the proper care of me here—and John +keeps booming things for the firm—"</p> +<p>"And George makes a huge success of the farm," Deborah added +quickly.</p> +<p>"And Deborah of teaching the world—"</p> +<p>"Oh, Allan, hush up!"</p> +<p>"Look here," he said. "You go upstairs and tell Edith all this. +Your father and I want to be alone."</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id= +"Page_278"></a>[278]</span>And when the two men were left alone, +they smoked and said nothing. They smiled at each other.</p> +<p>"It's hard to decide," grunted Roger at last. "Which did +it—my wonderful sermon or your own long waiting game? I'm +inclined to think it was the game. For any other man but +you—with all you've done, without any talk—no, sir, +there wouldn't have been a chance. For she's modern, Baird, she's +modern. And I'm going to live just as long as I can. I want to see +what happens here."</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>The next night in his study, how quiet it was. Edith was busy +packing upstairs, Deborah and Allan were gone. Thoughts drifted +slowly across his mind. Well, she was married, the last of his +daughters, the one whom he cared most for, the one who had taken +the heaviest risks. And this was the greatest risk of all. For +although she had put it happily out of her thoughts for the moment, +Roger knew the old troublesome question was still there in +Deborah's mind. The tenement children or her own, the big family or +the small? He felt there would still be struggles ahead. And with a +kind of a wistfulness he tried to see into the future here.</p> +<p>He gave a sudden start in his chair.</p> +<p>"By George!" he thought. "They forgot the ring!" Scowling, he +tried to remember. Yes, in the brief simple service that day, in +which so much had been omitted—music, flowers, wedding +gown—even the ring had been left out. Why? Not from any +principle, he knew that they were not such fools. No, they had +simply forgotten it, in the haste of getting married at once. Well, +by thunder, for a girl whose father had been a collector of rings +for the best part of his natural life, it was pretty shabby to say +the least! Then he recollected that he, too, had forgotten it. And +this quieted him immediately.</p> +<p>"I'll get one, though," he promised himself. "And no +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id= +"Page_279"></a>[279]</span>plain wedding ring either. I'll make A. +Baird attend to that. No, I'll get her a ring worth while."</p> +<p>He sank deep in his chair and took peace to his soul by thinking +of the ring he would choose. And this carried his thoughts back +over the years. For there had been so many rings....</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXXVIII"></a><span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280"></a>[280]</span>CHAPTER +XXXVIII</h2> +<p>It was a clear beautiful afternoon toward the end of May. And as +the train puffing up the grade wound along the Connecticut River, +Roger sat looking out of the window. The orchards were pink and +white on the hills. Slowly the day wore away. The river narrowed, +the hills reared high, and in the sloping meadows gray ribs and +shoulders of granite appeared. The air had a tang of the mountains. +Everywhere were signs of spring, of new vigor and fresh life. But +the voices at each station sounded drowsier than at the last, the +eyes appeared more stolid, and to Roger it felt like a journey far +back into old ways of living, old beliefs and old ideals. He had +always had this feeling, and always he had relished it, this dive +into his boyhood. But it was different to-day, for this was more +than a journey, it was a migration, too. Close about him in the car +were Edith and her children, bound for a new home up there in the +very heart and stronghold of all old things in America.</p> +<p>Old things dear to Edith's heart. As she sat by the window +staring out, he watched her shapely little head; he noted the +hardening lines on her forehead and the gray which had come in her +hair. It had been no easy move for her, this, she'd shown pluck to +take it so quietly. He saw her smile a little, then frown and go on +with her thinking. What was she thinking about, he +wondered—all she had left behind in New York, or the rest of +her life which lay ahead? She had always longed for things simple +and old. Well, she would have them now with a vengeance, summer and +winter, the year 'round, in the battered frame house on the +mountain side, the birthplace of her family. A <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id= +"Page_281"></a>[281]</span>recollection came to him of a summer's +dusk two years ago and a woman with a lawn mower cutting the grass +on the family graves. Would Edith ever be like that, a mere +custodian of the past? If she did, he thought, she would be false +to the very traditions she tried to preserve. For her forefathers +had never been mere guardians of things gone by. Always they had +been pioneers. That house had not been old to them, but a thrilling +new adventure. Their old homes they had left behind, far down in +the valleys to the east. And even those valley homes had been new +to the rugged men come over the sea. Would Edith ever understand? +Would she see that for herself the new must emerge from her +children, from the ideas, desires and plans already teeming in +their minds? Would she show keen interest, sympathy? Would she be +able to keep her hold?</p> +<p>In the seat behind her mother, Betsy was sitting with Bruce in +her lap, looking over a picture book. Quietly Roger watched the +girl.</p> +<p>"What are you going to be?" he asked. "A woman's college +president, a surgeon or a senator? And what will your mother think +of you then?"</p> +<p>They changed cars, and on a train made up of antiquated coaches +they wound through a side valley, down which rushing and tumbling +came the river that bore Roger's name. He went into the smoking +car, and presently George joined him there. George did not yet +smoke, (with his elders), but he had bought a package of gum and he +was chewing absorbedly. Plainly the lad was excited over the great +existence which he saw opening close ahead. Roger glanced at the +boy's broad shoulders, noticed the eager lines of his jaw, looked +down at his enormous hands, unformed as yet, ungainly; but in them +was a hungriness that caused a glow in Roger's breast. One more of +the family starting out.</p> +<p>"It's all going to depend on you," Roger gravely <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id= +"Page_282"></a>[282]</span>counseled. "Your whole life will depend +on the start you make. Either you're going to settle down, like so +many of your neighbors up there, or you're going to hustle, plan +out your day, keep on with your studies and go to college—the +State Agricultural College, I mean. In short, keep up to date, my +boy, and become in time a big figure in farming."</p> +<p>"I'm going to do it," George replied. His grandfather glanced +again at his face, so scowling, so determined. And a gleam of +compassion and yearning came for a moment in Roger's eyes. His +heavy hand lay on George's knee.</p> +<p>"That's right, son," he grunted. "Make the family proud of you. +I'll do all I can to help you start. My business is picking up, +thank God, and I'll be able to back you now. I'll stay up here a +good part of the summer. We've both of us got a lot to +learn—and not only from books—we want to remember we've +plenty to learn from the neighbors, too. Take old Dave Royce, for +instance, who when all is said and done has worked our farm for +twenty odd years and never once run me into debt."</p> +<p>"But, Gee!" demurred George. "He's so 'way out of date!"</p> +<p>"I know he is, son, but we've got to go slow." And Roger's look +passed furtively along the faces in the car. "We don't want to +forget," he warned, "that this is still New England. Every new idea +we have we want to go easy with, snake it in."</p> +<p>"I've got an awful lot of 'em," the boy muttered hungrily.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>At the farm, the next morning at daybreak, Roger was awakened by +the sound of George's voice. It was just beneath his window:</p> +<p>"But cattle are only part of it, Dave," the boy declared, in +earnest tones, "just part of what we can have up <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283"></a>[283]</span>here. +Think what we've got—over three hundred acres! And we want to +make every acre count! We want to get in a whole lot more of +hogs—Belted Hampshires, if we can afford 'em—and a +couple of hundred hens. White Leghorns ought to fill the bill. Of +course that's just a starter. I've got a scheme for some +incubators—electric—run by the dynamo which we'll put +in down by the dam. And we can do wonders with bees, too, +Dave—I've got a book on 'em I'd like you to read. And +besides, there's big money in squab these days. Rich women in New +York hotels eat thousands of 'em every night. And ducks, of course, +and turkeys. I'd like a white gobbler right at the start, if we +knew where we could get one cheap." The voice broke off and there +was a pause. "We can do an awful lot with this place."</p> +<p>Then Dave's deep drawl:</p> +<p>"That's so, George—yes, I guess that's so. Only we don't +want to fool ourselves. That ain't Noah's Ark over thar—it's +a barn. And just for a starter, if I was you—" Here Dave +deliberated. "Of course it's none of my business," he said, "it's +for you and your grandfather to decide—and I don't propose to +interfere in what ain't any of my affair—"</p> +<p>"Yes, yes, Dave, sure! That's all right! But go on! <i>What</i>, +just for a starter?"</p> +<p>"Cows," came the tranquil answer. "I've been hunting around +since you wrut me last month. And I know of three good +milkers—"</p> +<p>"Three? Why, Dave, I wrote we want thirty or forty!"</p> +<p>"Yes—you wrut," Dave answered. "But I've druv all around +these parts—and there ain't but three that I can find. And I +ain't so sure of that third one. She looks like she might—" +George cut in.</p> +<p>"But you only had a buggy, Dave! Gee! I'm going to have a +Ford!"</p> +<p>"That so, George?"</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id= +"Page_284"></a>[284]</span>You bet it's so! And we'll go on a cow +hunt all over the State!"</p> +<p>"Well—I dunno but what you're right," Dave responded +cautiously. "You might get more cows if you had a Ford—an' +got so you could run it. Yes, I guess it's a pretty good scheme. I +believe in being conservative, George—but I dunno now but +what a Ford—"</p> +<p>Their voices passed from under the window, and Roger relaxed and +smiled to himself. It was a good beginning, he thought.</p> +<p>They bought a Ford soon afterwards and in the next few weeks of +June they searched the farms for miles around, slowly adding to +their herd. To Roger's surprise he found many signs of a new life +stirring there—the farmers buying "autos" and improved +machinery, thinking of new processes; and down in the lower valleys +they found several big stock farms which were decidedly modern +affairs. At one such place, the man in charge took a fancy to +George and asked him to drop over often.</p> +<p>"You bet I'll drop over often!" George replied, as he climbed +excitedly into his Ford. "I want to see more of those milking +machines! We're going to have 'em some day ourselves! A dynamo +too!"</p> +<p>And at home, down by the ruined mill he again set about +rebuilding the dam.</p> +<p>Roger felt himself growing stronger. His sleeps were sound, and +his appetite had come back to a surprising degree. The mountain air +had got into his blood and George's warm vigor into his soul. One +afternoon, watching the herd come home, some thirty huge animals +swinging along with a slow heavy power in their limbs, he breathed +the strong sweet scent of them on the mountain breeze. George came +running by them and stopped a moment by Roger's side, watching +closely and eagerly every animal as it passed. And Roger glanced at +George's face. The herd passed on and George followed behind, his +collie dog <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id= +"Page_285"></a>[285]</span>leaping and barking beside him. And +Roger looked up at a billowy cloud resting on a mountain top and +wondered whether after all that New York doctor had been right.</p> +<p>He followed the herd into the barn. In two long rows, the great +heads of the cattle turned hungrily, lowing and sniffing deep, +breathing harshly, stamping, as the fodder cart came down the +lines. What a splendidly wholesome work for a lad, growing up with +his roots in the soil, in these massive simple forces of life. What +of Edith's other children? Would they be willing to stay here long? +Each morning Roger breakfasted with Bruce the baby by his side. +"What a thing for you, little lad," he thought, "if you could live +here all your days. But will you? Will you want to stay? Won't you, +too, get the fever, as I did, for the city?" In the joyous, +shining, mysterious eyes of the baby he found no reply. He had many +long talks with Betsy, who was eager to go away to school, and with +Bob and little Tad who were going to school in the village that +fall. And the feeling came to Roger that surely he would see these +lives, at least for many years ahead. They were so familiar and so +real, so fresh and filled with hopes and dreams. And he felt +himself so a part of them all.</p> +<p>But one morning, climbing the steep upper field to a spring +George wanted to show him, Roger suddenly swayed, turned faint. He +caught hold of a boulder on the wall and held himself rigid, +breathing hard. It passed, and he looked at his grandson. But +George had noticed nothing. The boy had turned and his brown eyes +were fixed on a fallow field below. Wistfully Roger watched his +face. They both stood motionless for a long time.</p> +<p>As the summer drew slowly to a close, Roger spent many quiet +hours alone by the copse of birches, where the glory of autumn was +already stealing in and out among the tall slender stems of the +trees. And he thought of the silent winter there, and of the spring +which would come again, and the long fragrant summer. And he +watched the glow on <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id= +"Page_286"></a>[286]</span>the mountains above and the rolling +splendors of the clouds. At dusk he heard the voices of animals, +birds and insects, murmuring up from all the broad valley, then +gradually sinking to deep repose, many never to wake again. And the +span of his life, from the boyhood which he could recall so vividly +here among these children, seemed brief to him as a summer's day, +only a part of a mighty whole made up of the innumerable lives, the +many generations, of his family, his own flesh and blood, come out +of a past he could never know, and going on without him now, +branching, dividing, widening out to what his eyes would never +see.</p> +<p>Vaguely he pictured them groping their way, just as he himself +had done. It seemed to Roger that all his days he had been only +entering life, as some rich bewildering thicket like this copse of +birches here, never getting very deep, never seeing very clearly, +never understanding all. And so it had been with his children, and +so it was with these children of Edith's, and so it would be with +those many others—always groping, blundering, +starting—children, only children all. And yet what lives they +were to lead, what joys and revelations and disasters would be +theirs, in the strange remote world they would live in—"my +flesh and blood that I never shall know."</p> +<p>But the stars were quiet and serene. The meadows and the forests +on the broad sweep of the mountain side took on still brighter, +warmer hues. And there was no gloom in these long good-byes.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>On a frosty night in September, he left the farm to go to the +city. From his seat in the small automobile Roger looked back at +the pleasant old house with its brightly lighted windows, and then +he turned to George by his side:</p> +<p>"We're in good shape for the winter, son."</p> +<p>But George did not get his full meaning.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id= +"Page_287"></a>[287]</span>At the little station, there were no +other passengers. They walked the platform for some time. Then the +train with a scream came around the curve. A quick grip on George's +hand, and Roger climbed into the car. Inside, a moment later, he +looked out through the window. By a trainman with a lantern, George +stood watching, smiling up, and he waved his hand as the train +pulled out.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXXIX"></a><span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288"></a>[288]</span>CHAPTER +XXXIX</h2> +<p>The next morning on his arrival in town, Roger went to his +office. He had little cause for uneasiness there, for twice in the +summer he had come down to keep an eye on the business, while John +had taken brief vacations at a seaside place nearby. The boy had no +color now in his cheeks; as always, they were a sallow gray with +the skin drawn tight over high cheek bones; his vigor was all in +his eyes. But here was a new John, nevertheless, a successful man +of affairs. He had on a spruce new suit of brown, no cheap +ready-made affair but one carefully fitted to conceal and soften +his deformity. He was wearing a bright blue tie and a cornflower in +his buttonhole, and his sandy hair was sleekly brushed. He showed +Roger into his private room, a small place he had partitioned off, +where over his desk was a motto in gold: "This is no place for your +troubles or mine."</p> +<p>"Lord, but you've got yourself fixed up fine in here," said +Roger. John smiled broadly. "And you're looking like a new man, +Johnny."</p> +<p>"I had a great time at the seashore. Learned to sail a boat +alone. What do you think of this chair of mine?" And John +complacently displayed the ingenious contrivance in front of his +desk, somewhat like a bicycle seat. It was made of steel and +leather pads.</p> +<p>"Wonderful," said Roger. "Where'd you ever pick it up?"</p> +<p>"I had it made," was the grave reply. "When a fellow has got up +in life enough to have a stenographer, it's high time he was +sitting down."</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id= +"Page_289"></a>[289]</span>Let's see you do it." John sat down. +"Now how is business?" Roger asked.</p> +<p>"Great. Since the little slump we had in August it has taken a +new start—and not only war business, at that—the old +people are sending in orders again. I tell you what it is, Mr. +Gale, this country is right on the edge of a boom!"</p> +<p>And the junior member of the firm tilted triumphantly back in +his chair.</p> +<p>With the solid comfort which comes to a man when he returns to +find his affairs all going well, Roger worked on until five +o'clock, and then he started for his home.</p> +<p>Deborah had not yet come in, and a deep silence reigned in the +house. He looked through the rooms downstairs, and with content he +noticed how little had been altered. His beloved study had not been +touched. On the third floor, in the large back room, he found John +comfortably installed. There were gay prints upon the walls, fresh +curtains at the windows, a mandolin lying on a chair. And Roger, +glancing down at the keen glad face of his partner, told himself +that the doctor who had said this lad would die was a fool.</p> +<p>"These doctors fool themselves often," he thought.</p> +<p>Deborah and Allan had the front room on the floor below. Roger +went in, and for a moment he stood looking about him. How restful +and how radiant was this large old-fashioned chamber, so softly +lighted, waiting. Through a passageway lined with cupboards he went +into his room at the back. Deborah had repapered it, but with a +pattern so similar that Roger did not notice the change. He only +felt a vague freshness here, as though even this old chamber, too, +were making a new start in life. And he felt as though he were to +live here for years. Slowly he unpacked his trunk and took a bath +and dressed at his leisure. Then he heard Deborah's voice at the +door.</p> +<p>"Come in, come in!" he answered.</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id= +"Page_290"></a>[290]</span>Why, father! Dearie!" Deborah cried "Oh, +how well you're looking, dad!" And she kissed him happily. "Oh, but +I'm glad to have you back—"</p> +<p>"That's good," he said, and he squeezed her hand "Here, come to +the light, let me look at you." He saw her cheeks a little flushed, +the gladness in her steady eyes. "Happy? Everything just right?" +His daughter nodded, smiling, and he gave a whimsical frown. "No +ups and down at all? That's bad."</p> +<p>"Oh, yes, plenty—but all so small."</p> +<p>"Good fellow to live with."</p> +<p>"Very."</p> +<p>"And your work?</p> +<p>"It's going splendidly. I'll tell you about it this evening, +after you give me the news from the farm."</p> +<p>They chatted on for a short while, but he saw she was barely +listening.</p> +<p>"Can't you guess what it means," she asked him softly, "to a +woman of my age—after she has been so afraid she was too old, +that she'd married too late—to know at last—to be sure +at last—that she's to have a baby, dad?" He drew back a +little, and a lump rose in his throat.</p> +<p>"By George!" he huskily exclaimed. "Oh, my dear, my dear!" And +he held her close in his arms for some time, till both of them grew +sensible.</p> +<p>Soon after she had gone to her room, he heard Allan coming +upstairs. He heard her low sweet cry of welcome, a silence, then +their voices. He heard them laughing together and later Deborah +humming a song. And still thinking of what she had told him, he +felt himself so close to it all. And again the feeling came to him +that surely he would live here for years.</p> +<p>Allan came in and they had a talk.</p> +<p>"Deborah says she has told you the news."</p> +<p>"Yes. Everything's all right, I suppose—her condition, I +mean," said Roger.</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id= +"Page_291"></a>[291]</span>Couldn't be better."</p> +<p>"Just as I thought."</p> +<p>"Those six weeks we had up in Maine—"</p> +<p>"Yes, you both show it. Working hard?"</p> +<p>"Yes—"</p> +<p>"And Deborah?" Roger asked.</p> +<p>"You'll have to help me hold her in."</p> +<p>They talked a few moments longer and went down to the living +room. John was there with Deborah. All four went in to dinner. And +through the conversation, from time to time Roger noticed the looks +that went back and forth between husband and wife; and again he +caught Deborah smiling as though oblivious of them all. After +dinner she went with him into his den.</p> +<p>"Well! Do you like the house?" she inquired.</p> +<p>"Better than ever," he replied.</p> +<p>"I wonder if you'll mind it. There'll be people coming to +dinner, you know—"</p> +<p>"That won't bother me any," he said.</p> +<p>"And committee meetings now and then. But you're safe in here, +it's a good thick door."</p> +<p>"Let 'em talk," he retorted, "as hard as they please. You're +married now—they can't scare me a bit. Only at ten o'clock, +by George, you've got to knock off and go to bed."</p> +<p>"Oh, I'll take care of myself," she said.</p> +<p>"If you don't, Allan will. We've had a talk."</p> +<p>"Scheming already."</p> +<p>"Yes. When will it be?"</p> +<p>"In April, I think."</p> +<p>"You'll quit work in your schools?"</p> +<p>"A month before."</p> +<p>"And in the meantime, not too hard."</p> +<p>"No, and not too easy. I'm so sure now that I can do both." And +Deborah kissed him gently. "I'm so happy, dearie—and oh, so +very glad you're here!"</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id= +"Page_292"></a>[292]</span>There followed for Roger, after that, +many quiet evenings at home, untroubled days in his office. Seldom +did he notice the progress of his ailment. His attention was upon +his house, as this woman who mothered thousands of children worked +on for her great family, putting all in order, making ready for the +crisis ahead when she would become the mother of one.</p> +<p>Now even more than ever before, her work came crowding into his +home. The house was old, but the house was new. For from schools +and libraries, cafés and tenements and streets, the mighty +formless hunger which had once so thrilled her father poured into +the house itself and soon became a part of it. He felt the presence +of the school. He heard the daily gossip of that bewildering system +of which his daughter was a part: a world in itself, with its +politics, its many jarring factions, its jealousies, dissensions, +its varied personalities, ambitions and conspiracies; but in spite +of these confusions its more progressive elements downing all +distrusts and fears and drawing steadily closer to life, fearlessly +rousing everywhere the hunger in people to live and learn and to +take from this amazing world all the riches that it holds: the +school with its great challenge steadily increasing its demands in +the name of its children, demands which went deep down into +conditions in the tenements and ramified through politics to the +City Hall, to Albany, and even away to Washington—while day +by day and week by week, from cities, towns and villages came the +vast prophetic story of the free public schools of the land.</p> +<p>And meanwhile, in the tenements, still groping and testing, +feeling her way, keeping close watch on her great brood, their +wakening desires, their widening curiosities, Deborah was bringing +them, children, mothers and fathers too, together through the one +big hope of brighter and more ample lives for everybody's children. +Step by step this hope was spread out into the surrounding swamps +and <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id= +"Page_293"></a>[293]</span>jungles of blind driven lives, to find +surprising treasures there deep buried under dirt and din, locked +in the common heart of mankind—old songs and fables, hopes +and dreams and visions of immortal light, handed down from father +to son, nurtured, guarded, breathed upon and clothed anew by +countless generations, innumerable millions of simple men and women +blindly struggling toward the sun. Over the door of one of the +schools, were these words carved in the stone:</p> +<p>"Humanity is still a child. Our parents are all people who have +lived upon the earth—our children, all who are to come. And +the dawn at last is breaking. The great day has just begun."</p> +<p>This spirit of triumphal life poured deep into Roger's house. It +was as though his daughter, in these last months which she had left +for undivided service, were strengthening her faith in it all and +pledging her devotion—as communing with herself she felt the +crisis drawing near.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XL" id="CHAPTER_XL"></a><span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294"></a>[294]</span>CHAPTER +XL</h2> +<p>There came an interruption. One night when Deborah was out and +Roger sat in his study alone, the maid came in highly flustered and +said,</p> +<p>"Mr. Gale! It's Miss Laura to see you!"</p> +<p>He turned with a startled jerk of his head and his face slowly +reddened. But when he saw the maid's eager expression and saw that +she was expecting a scene, with a frown of displeasure he rose from +his chair.</p> +<p>"Very well," he said, and he went to his daughter. He found her +in the living room. No repentant Magdalene, but quite unabashed and +at her ease, she came to her father quickly.</p> +<p>"Oh, dad, I'm so glad to see you, dear!" And she gave him a +swift impetuous kiss, her rich lips for an instant pressing warmly +to his cheek.</p> +<p>"Laura!" he said thickly. "Come into my study, will you? I'm +alone this evening."</p> +<p>"I'm so glad you are!" she replied. She followed him in and he +closed the door. He glanced at her confusedly. In her warmth, her +elegance, an indefinable change in the tone and accent of her high +magnetic voice, and in her ardent smiling eyes, she seemed to him +more the foreigner now. And Roger's thoughts were in a whirl. What +had happened? Had she married again?</p> +<p>"Is Edith here still?" she was asking.</p> +<p>"No, she's up in the mountains. She's living there," he +answered.</p> +<p>"Edith? In the mountains?" demanded Laura, in surprise. And she +asked innumerable questions. He <span class="pagenum"><a name= +"Page_295" id="Page_295"></a>[295]</span>replied to each one of +them carefully, slowly, meanwhile getting control of himself.</p> +<p>"And Deborah married—married at last! How has it worked? +Is she happy, dad?"</p> +<p>"Very," he said.</p> +<p>"And is she still keeping up her schools?"</p> +<p>"Yes, for the present. She'll have to stop soon." Laura leaned +forward, curious:</p> +<p>"Tell me, dad—a baby?"</p> +<p>"Yes." She stared a moment.</p> +<p>"Deborah!" she softly exclaimed; and in a moment, "I +wonder."</p> +<p>"What do you mean?" her father asked, but Laura evaded his +question. She plied him with her inquiries for a few minutes +longer, then turned to him with a challenging smile:</p> +<p>"Well, father, don't you think you had better ask me now about +myself?" He looked away a moment, but turned resolutely back:</p> +<p>"I suppose so. When did you land?"</p> +<p>"This morning, dear, from Italy—with my husband," she +replied. And Roger started slightly. "I want you to meet him soon," +she said.</p> +<p>"Very well," he answered. At his disturbed, almost guilty +expression Laura laughed a little and rose and came over and hugged +him tight.</p> +<p>"Oh, but, father dearest—it's working out so splendidly! I +want you to know him and see for yourself! We've come to live in +New York for a while—he has more to do here about war +supplies."</p> +<p>"More shrapnel, eh, machine guns. More wholesale death," her +father growled. But Laura smiled good-naturedly.</p> +<p>"Yes, love, from America. Aren't you all ashamed of +yourselves—scrambling so, to get rich quick—out of this +war you disapprove of."</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id= +"Page_296"></a>[296]</span><i>You</i> look a bit rich," her father +retorted.</p> +<p>"Rather—for the moment," was her cheerful answer.</p> +<p>"And you still like living in Italy?"</p> +<p>"Tremendously! Rome is wonderful now!"</p> +<p>"Reborn, eh. Wings of the Eagles."</p> +<p>"Yes, and we're doing rather well."</p> +<p>"I haven't noticed it," Roger said. "Why don't you send a few of +your troops to help those plucky Frenchmen?"</p> +<p>"Because," she replied, "we have a feeling that this is a war +where we had much better help ourselves."</p> +<p>"High ideals," he snorted.</p> +<p>"Rome reborn," she remarked, unabashed. And her father scowled +at her whimsically.</p> +<p>"You're a heathen. I give you up," he declared. Laura had risen, +smiling.</p> +<p>"Oh, no, don't give me up," she said. "For you see," she added +softly, "I'm a heathen with a great deal of love in her heart for +thee, my dearest dad. May I bring him down, my husband?"</p> +<p>"Yes—"</p> +<p>"I'll telephone to Deborah to-morrow and arrange it."</p> +<p>When she had gone he returned to his chair and sat for a long +time in a daze. He was still disturbed and bewildered. What a +daughter of his! And what did it mean? Could she really go on being +happy like this? Sinning? Yes, she was sinning! Laura had broken +her marriage vows, she had "run off with another fellah." Those +were the plain ugly facts. And now, divorced and re-married, she +was careering gayly on! And her views of the war were plain +heathenish! And yet there was something about her—yes, he +thought, he loved her still! What for? For being so happy! And yet +she was wrong to be happy, all wrong! His thoughts went 'round in +circles.</p> +<p>And his confusion and dismay grew even deeper the <span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297"></a>[297]</span>next +night when Laura brought her new husband to dine. For in place of +the dark polished scoundrel whom Roger had expected, here was a +spruce and affable youth with thick light hair and ruddy cheeks, a +brisk pleasant manner of talking and a decidedly forcible way of +putting the case of his country at war. They kept the conversation +to that. For despite Deborah's friendly air, she showed plainly +that she wanted to keep the talk impersonal. And Laura, rather +amused at this, replied by treating Deborah and Allan and her +father, too, with a bantering forbearance for their old-fashioned, +narrow views and Deborah's religion of brotherhood, democracy. All +that to Laura was passé.</p> +<p>From time to time Roger glanced at her face, into her clear and +luminous eyes so warm with the joy of living with this new man, her +second. How his family had split apart. He wrote Edith the news of +her sister, and he received but a brief reply. Nor did Deborah +speak of it often. She seemed to want to forget Laura's life as the +crisis in her own drew near.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLI" id="CHAPTER_XLI"></a><span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298"></a>[298]</span>CHAPTER +XLI</h2> +<p>Deborah had not yet stopped work. Again and again she put it +off. For in her busy office so many demands both old and new kept +pressing in upon her, such unexpected questions and vexing little +problems kept cropping up as Deborah tried to arrange her work for +the colleague who was to take her place in the spring, that day +after day she lingered there—until one afternoon in March her +husband went to her office, gave her an hour to finish up, and then +brought her home with him. She had a fit of the blues that night. +Allan was called out on a case, and a little while later Roger +found his daughter alone in the living room, a book unopened in her +lap, her gray eyes glistening with tears. She smiled when she +caught sight of him.</p> +<p>"It's so silly!" she muttered unsteadily. "Just my condition, I +suppose. I feel as though I had done with school for the remainder +of my days!... Better leave me now, dearie," she added. "I'm not +very proud of myself to-night—but I'll be all right in the +morning."</p> +<p>The next day she was herself again, and went quietly on with her +preparations for the coming of her child. But still the ceaseless +interests of those hordes of other children followed her into the +house. Not only her successor but principals and teachers came for +counsel or assistance. And later, when reluctantly she refused to +see such visitors, still the telephone kept ringing and letters +poured in by every mail. For in her larger family there were +weddings, births and deaths, and the endless savage struggle for +life; and there were many climaxes of dreams and aspirations, of +loves and bitter jealousies. And out <span class="pagenum"><a name= +"Page_299" id="Page_299"></a>[299]</span>of all this straining and +this fever of humanity, came messages to Deborah: last appeals for +aid and advice, and gifts for the child who was to be born; tiny +garments quaintly made by women and girls from Italy, from Russia +and from Poland; baby blankets, wraps and toys and curious charms +and amulets. There were so many of these gifts.</p> +<p>"There's enough for forty babies," Deborah told her father. +"What on earth am I to do, to avoid hurting anyone's feelings? And +isn't it rather awful, the way these inequalities will crop up in +spite of you? I know of eight tenement babies born down there in +this one week. How much fuss and feathers is made over them, and +their coming into the world, poor mites?" Roger smiled at his +daughter.</p> +<p>"You remind me of Jekyll and Hyde," he said.</p> +<p>"Father! What a horrible thought! What have Jekyll and Hyde to +do with me?"</p> +<p>"Nothing, my dear," he answered. "Only it's queer and a little +uncanny, something I've never seen before, this double mother life +of yours."</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>It was only a few days later when coming home one evening he +found that Deborah's doctor had put her to bed and installed a +nurse. There followed a week of keen suspense when Roger stayed +home from the office. She liked to have him with her, and sitting +at her bedside he saw how changed his daughter was, how far in +these few hours she had drawn into herself. He had suspected for +some time that all was not well with Deborah, and Allan confirmed +his suspicions. There was to be grave danger both for the mother +and the child. It would come out all right, of course, he strove to +reassure himself. Nothing else could happen now, with her life so +splendidly settled at last. That Fate could be so +pitiless—no, it was unthinkable!</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id= +"Page_300"></a>[300]</span>This is what comes of your modern +woman!" Roger exclaimed to Allan one night. "This is the price +she's paying for those nerve-racking years of work!"</p> +<p>The crisis came toward the end of the week. And while for one +entire night and through the day that followed and far into the +next night the doctors and nurses fought for life in the room +upstairs, Roger waited, left to himself, sitting in his study or +restlessly moving through the house. And still that thought was +with him—the price! It was kept in his mind by the anxious +demands which her big family made for news. The telephone kept +ringing. Women in motors from uptown and humbler visitors young and +old kept coming to make inquiries. More gifts were brought and +flowers. And Roger saw these people, and as he answered their +questions he fairly scowled in their faces—unconsciously, for +his mind was not clear. Reporters came. Barely an hour passed +without bringing a man or a woman from some one of the papers. He +gave them only brief replies. Why couldn't they leave his house +alone? He saw her name in headlines: "Deborah Gale at Point of +Death." And he turned angrily away. Vividly, on the second night, +there came to him a picture of Deborah's birth so long ago in this +same house. How safe it had been, how different, how secluded and +shut in. No world had clamored <i>then</i> for news. And so vivid +did this picture grow, that when at last there came to his ears the +shrill clear cry of a new life, it was some time before he could be +sure whether this were not still his dream of that other night so +long ago.</p> +<p>But now a nurse had led him upstairs, and he stood by a cradle +looking down at a small wrinkled face almost wholly concealed by a +soft woolly blanket. And presently Allan behind him said,</p> +<p>"It's a boy, and he's to be named after you." Roger looked +up.</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id= +"Page_301"></a>[301]</span>How's the mother?" he asked.</p> +<p>"Almost out of danger," was the reply. Then Roger glanced at +Allan's face and saw how drawn and gray it was. He drew a long +breath and turned back to the child. Allan had gone and so had the +nurse, and he was alone by the cradle. Relief and peace and +happiness stole into his spirit. He felt the deep remoteness of +this strange new little creature from all the clamoring world +without—which he himself was soon to leave. The thought grew +clearer, clearer, as with a curious steady smile Roger stood there +looking down.</p> +<p>"Well, little brother, you're here, thank God. And nobody knows +how close we'll be—for a little while," he thought. "For +we're almost out of the world, you and I."</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>Days passed, Deborah's strength increased, and soon they let +Roger come into the room. She, too, was remote from the world for a +time. That great family outside was anxious no longer, it left her +alone. But soon it would demand her. Never again, he told himself, +would she be so close, so intimate, as here in her bed with this +child of hers to whom she had given her father's name. "These hours +are my real good-byes."</p> +<p>Two long quiet weeks of this happiness, and then in a twinkling +it was gone. The child fell sick, within a few hours its small +existence hung by a thread—and to Roger's startled eyes a new +Deborah was revealed! Tense and silent on her bed, her sensitive +lips compressed with pain, her birthmark showing a jagged line of +fiery red upon her brow as her ears kept straining to catch every +sound from the nursery adjoining, through hours of stern anguish +she became the kind of mother that she had once so +dreaded—shutting out everything else in the world: people, +schools, all other children, rich or poor, well, sick or dying! +Here was the crisis of Deborah's life!</p> +<p>One night as she lay listening, with her hand +gripping<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id= +"Page_302"></a>[302]</span> Roger's tight, frowning abruptly she +said to him, in a harsh, unnatural voice:</p> +<p>"They don't care any longer, none of them care! <i>I'm</i> safe +and they've stopped worrying, for they know they'll soon have me +back at work! The work," she added fiercely, "that made my body +what it is, not fit to bear a baby!" She threw a quick and tortured +look toward the door of the other room. "My work for those others, +all those years, will be to blame if this one dies! And if it +doesn't live I'm through! I won't go on! I couldn't! I'd be too +bitter after this—toward all of them—<i>those +children</i>!"</p> +<p>These last two words were whispers so bitter they made Roger +cold.</p> +<p>"But this child is going to live," he responded hoarsely. Its +mother stared up with a quivering frown. The next moment her limbs +contracted as from an electric shock. There had come a faint wail +from the other room.</p> +<p>And this went on for three days and nights. Again Roger lived as +in a dream. He saw haggard faces from time to time of doctors, +nurses, servants. He saw Allan now and then, his tall ungainly +figure stooped, his features gaunt, his strong wide jaw set like a +vise, but his eyes kind and steady still, his low voice reassuring. +And Roger noticed John at times hobbling quickly down a hall and +stopping on his crutches before a closed door, listening. Then +these figures would recede, and it was as though he were alone in +the dark.</p> +<p>At last the nightmare ended. One afternoon as he sat in his +study, Allan came in slowly and dropped exhausted into a chair. He +turned to Roger with a smile.</p> +<p>"Safe now, I think," he said quietly.</p> +<p>Roger went to Deborah and found her asleep, her face at peace. +He went to his room and fell himself into a long dreamless +slumber.</p> +<p>In the days which followed, again he sat at her bedside and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id= +"Page_303"></a>[303]</span>together they watched the child in her +arms. So feeble still the small creature appeared that they both +spoke in whispers. But as little by little its strength returned, +Deborah too became herself. And though still jealously watchful of +its every movement, she had time for other thinking. She had talks +with her husband, not only about their baby but about his work and +hers. Slowly her old interest in all they had had in common +returned, and to the messages from outside she gave again a +kindlier ear.</p> +<p>"Allan tells me," she said one day, when she was alone with her +father, "that I can have no more children. And I'm glad of that. +But at least I have one," she added, "and he has already made me +feel like a different woman than before. I feel sometimes as though +I'd come a million miles along in life. And yet again it feels so +close, all that I left back there in school. Because I'm so much +closer now—to every mother and every child. At last I'm one +of the family."</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLII" id="CHAPTER_XLII"></a><span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304"></a>[304]</span>CHAPTER +XLII</h2> +<p>Of that greater family, one member had been in the house all +through the month which had just gone by. But he had been so quiet, +so carefully unobtrusive, that he had been scarcely noticed. Very +early each morning, day after day, John had gone outside for his +breakfast and thence to the office where he himself had handled the +business as well as he could, only coming to Roger at night now and +then with some matter he could not settle alone, but always stoutly +declaring that he needed no other assistance.</p> +<p>"Don't come, Mr. Gale," he had urged. "You look worn out. You'll +be sick yourself if you ain't careful. And anyhow, if you hang +around you'll be here whenever she wants you."</p> +<p>Early in Deborah's illness, John had offered to give up his room +for the use of one of the nurses.</p> +<p>"That's mighty thoughtful of you, Johnny," Allan had responded. +"But we've got plenty of room as it is. Just you stick around. We +want you here."</p> +<p>"All right, Doc. If there's any little thing, you +know—answering the 'phone at night or anything else that I +can do—"</p> +<p>"Thank you, so; I'll let you know. But in the meantime go to +bed."</p> +<p>From that day on, John had taken not only his breakfast but his +supper, too, outside, and no one had noticed his absence. Coming in +late, he had hobbled silently up to his room, stopping to listen at +Deborah's door. He had kept so completely out of the way, it was +not <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id= +"Page_305"></a>[305]</span>till the baby was three weeks old, and +past its second crisis, that Deborah thought to ask for John. When +he came to her bed, she smiled up at him with the baby in her +arms.</p> +<p>"I thought we'd see him together," she said. John stood on his +crutches staring down. And as Deborah watched him, all at once her +look grew intent. "Johnny," she said softly, "go over there, will +you, and turn up the light, so we can see him better."</p> +<p>And when this was done, though she still talked smilingly of the +child, again and again she glanced up at John's face, at the +strange self-absorbed expression, stern and sad and wistful, there. +When he had gone the tears came in her eyes. And Deborah sent for +her husband.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>The next day, at the office, John came into Roger's room. Roger +had been at work several days and they had already cleared up their +affairs.</p> +<p>"Here's something," said John gruffly, "that I wish you'd put +away somewhere."</p> +<p>And he handed to his partner a small blue leather album, filled +with the newspaper clippings dealing with Deborah's illness. On the +front page was one with her picture and a long record of her +service to the children of New York.</p> +<p>"She wouldn't want to see it now," John continued awkwardly. +"But I thought maybe later on the boy would like to have it. What +do you think?" he inquired. Roger gave him a kindly glance.</p> +<p>"I think he will. It's a fine thing to keep." And he handed it +back. "But I guess you'd better put it away, and give it to her +later yourself."</p> +<p>John shifted his weight on his crutches, so quickly that Roger +looked up in alarm:</p> +<p>"Look here! You're not well!" He saw now that the face of the +cripple was white and the sweat was glistening on his brow. John +gave a harsh little nervous laugh.</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id= +"Page_306"></a>[306]</span>Oh, it's nothing much, partner," he +replied. "That's another thing I wanted to tell you. I've had some +queer pains lately—new ones!" He caught his breath.</p> +<p>"Why didn't you tell me, you young fool?"</p> +<p>"You had your own troubles, didn't you?" John spoke with +difficulty. "But I'll be all right, I guess! All I need is a few +days off!"</p> +<p>Roger had pressed a button, and his stenographer came in.</p> +<p>"Call a taxi," he said sharply. "And, John, you go right over +there and lie down. I'm going to take you home at once!"</p> +<p>"I've got a better scheme," said John, setting his determined +jaws. The sweat was pouring down his cheeks. "It may be a +week—but there's just a chance it—may be a little worse +than that! So I've got a room in a hospital! See? Be better all +round!" He swayed forward.</p> +<p>"Johnny!" Roger caught him just in time, and the boy lay +senseless in his arms.</p> +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> +<p>At home, a few hours later, Allan came with another physician +down from John's small bedroom. He saw his colleague to the door +and then came in to Roger.</p> +<p>"I'm afraid Johnny has come to the end."</p> +<p>For a moment Roger stared at him.</p> +<p>"Has, eh," he answered huskily. "You're absolutely sure he has? +There's nothing—nothing on earth we can do?"</p> +<p>"Nothing more than we're doing now."</p> +<p>"He has fooled you fellows before, you know—"</p> +<p>"Not this time."</p> +<p>"How long will it be?"</p> +<p>"Days or hours—I don't know."</p> +<p>"He mustn't suffer!"</p> +<p>"I'll see to that." Roger rose and walked the floor.</p> +<p>"It was the last month did it, of course—"</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id= +"Page_307"></a>[307]</span>Yes—"</p> +<p>"I blame myself for that."</p> +<p>"I wouldn't," said Allan gently. "You've done a good deal for +Johnny Geer."</p> +<p>"He has done a good deal for this family! Can Deborah see +him?"</p> +<p>"I wish she could."</p> +<p>"Better stretch a point for her, hadn't you? She's been a kind +of a mother to John."</p> +<p>"I know. But she can't leave her bed."</p> +<p>"Then you won't tell her?"</p> +<p>"I think she knows. She talked to me about him last night."</p> +<p>"That's it, a mother!" Roger cried. "She was watching! We were +blind!" He came back to his chair and dropped into it.</p> +<p>"Does John know this himself?" he asked.</p> +<p>"He suspects it, I think," said Allan.</p> +<p>"Then go and tell him, will you, that he's going to get well. +And after you've done it I'll see him myself. I've got something in +mind I want to think out."</p> +<p>After Allan had left the room, Roger sat thinking about John. He +thought of John's birth and his drunken mother, the accident and +his struggle for life, through babyhood and childhood, through +ignorance and filth and pain, through din and clamor and hunger, +fear; of the long fierce fight which John had made not to be "put +away" in some big institution, of his battle to keep up his head, +to be somebody, make a career for himself. He thought of John's +becoming one of Deborah's big family, only one of thousands, but it +seemed now to Roger that John had stood out from them all, as the +figure best embodying that great fierce hunger for a full life, and +as the link connecting, the one who slowly year by year had emerged +from her greater family and come into her small one. And last of +all he thought of John as his own <span class="pagenum"><a name= +"Page_308" id="Page_308"></a>[308]</span>companion, his only one, +in the immense adventure on which he was so soon to embark.</p> +<p>A few moments later he stood by John's bed.</p> +<p>"Pretty hard, Johnny?" he gently asked.</p> +<p>"Oh, not so bad as it might be, I guess—"</p> +<p>"You'll soon feel better, they tell me, boy." John shut his +eyes.</p> +<p>"Yes," he muttered.</p> +<p>"Can you stand my talking, just a minute?"</p> +<p>"Sure I can," John whispered. "I'm not suffering any now. He's +given me something to put me to sleep. What is it you want to talk +about? Business?"</p> +<p>"Not exactly, partner. It's about the family. You've got so +you're almost one of us. I guess you know us pretty well."</p> +<p>"I guess I do. It's meant a lot to me, Mr. Gale—"</p> +<p>"But I'll tell you what you don't know, John," Roger went on +slowly. "I had a son in the family once, and he died when he was +three months old. That was a long time ago—and I never had +another, you see—to take his place—till you came +along." There fell a breathless silence. "And I've been thinking +lately," Roger added steadily. "I haven't long to live, you know. +And I've been wondering whether—you'd like to come into the +family—take my name. Do you understand?"</p> +<p>John said nothing. His eyes were still closed. But presently, +groping over the bed, he found Roger's hand and clutched it tight. +After this, from time to time his throat contracted sharply. Tears +welled from under his eyelids. Then gradually, as the merciful drug +which Allan had given did its work, his clutch relaxed and he began +breathing deep and hard. But still for some time longer Roger sat +quietly by his side.</p> +<p>The next night he was there again. Death had come to the huddled +form on the bed, but there had been no relaxing. With the head +thrown rigidly far back and <span class="pagenum"><a name= +"Page_309" id="Page_309"></a>[309]</span>all the features tense and +hard, it was a fighting figure still, a figure of stern protest +against the world's injustice. But Roger was not thinking of this, +but of the discovery he had made, that in their talk of the night +before John had understood him—completely. For upon a piece +of paper which Allan had given the lad that day, these words had +been painfully inscribed:</p> +<p>"This is my last will and testament. I am in my right +mind—I know what I am doing—though nobody else +does—nobody is here. To my partner Roger Gale I leave my +share in our business. And to my teacher Deborah Baird I leave my +crutches for her school."</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLIII" id="CHAPTER_XLIII"></a><span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310"></a>[310]</span>CHAPTER +XLIII</h2> +<p>After John had gone away the house was very quiet. Only from the +room upstairs there could be heard occasionally the faint clear cry +of Deborah's child. And once again to Roger came a season of +repose. He was far from unhappy. His disease, although progressing +fast, gave him barely any pain; it rather made its presence felt by +the manner in which it affected his mind. His inner life grew +uneven. At times his thoughts were as in a fog, again they were +amazingly clear and vistas opened far ahead. He could not control +his thinking.</p> +<p>This bothered him at the office, in the work he still had to do. +For some months he had been considering an offer from one of his +rivals, a modern concern which wished to buy out his business +together with that of three other firms and consolidate them all +into one corporation. And Roger was selling, and it was hard; for +the whole idea of bargaining was more distasteful than ever now. He +had to keep reminding himself of Edith and her children.</p> +<p>At last it was over, his books were closed, and there was +nothing left to be done. Nor did he care to linger. These rooms had +meant but little to him; they had been but a place of transition +from the old office far downtown, so full of memories of his youth, +to the big corporation looming ahead, the huge impersonal clipping +mill into which his business was to merge. And it came to his mind +that New York was like that—no settled calm abiding place +cherishing its memories, but only a town of transition, a great +turbulent city of change, restlessly shaking off its past, tearing +down and building anew, building higher, higher, higher, rearing to +the very stars, and shouting,<span class="pagenum"><a name= +"Page_311" id="Page_311"></a>[311]</span> "Can you see me now?" +What was the goal of this mad career? What dazzling city would be +here? For a time he stared out of his window as into a promised +land. Slowly at last he rose from his desk. Clippings, clippings, +clippings. He looked at those long rows of girls gleaning in items +large and small the public reputations of all kinds of men and +women, new kinds in a new nation seething with activities, sweeping +on like some wide river swollen at flood season to a new America, a +world which Roger would not know. And yet it would be his world +still, for in it he would play a part.</p> +<p>"In their lives, too, we shall be there—the dim strong +figures of the past."</p> +<p>From his desk he gathered a few belongings. Then he looked into +John's small room, with the big gold motto over the desk: "This is +no place for your troubles or mine." On the desk lay that small +album, John's parting gift to Deborah's boy. Roger picked it up and +walked out of the office. He had never liked good-byes.</p> +<p>In the elevator he noticed that his shoes needed shining, and +when he reached the street below he stopped at the stand on the +corner. The stocky Greek with bushy black hair, who had run the +stand for many years, gave him a cheery greeting; for Roger had +stopped there frequently—not that he cared about his shoes, +but he had always liked to watch the crowds of people passing.</p> +<p>"No hurry, boss?"</p> +<p>"None," said Roger.</p> +<p>"Then I give a fine shine! Polish, too?"</p> +<p>"Yes, polish, too." And Roger settled back to watch.</p> +<p>"And put in new shoe strings," he added, with a whimsical +smile.</p> +<p>Men and women, girls and boys by thousands passed him, pushing, +hurrying, shuffling by. Girls tittering and nudging and darting +quick side glances. Bobbing heads and figures, vigorous steps and +dancing eyes. Life <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_312" id= +"Page_312"></a>[312]</span>bubbling over everywhere, in laughter, +in sharp angry tones, in glad expectant chatter. Deborah's big +family. Across the street was a movie between two lurid posters, +and there was a dance hall overhead. The windows were all open, and +faintly above the roar of the street he could hear the piano, drum, +fiddle and horn. The thoroughfare each moment grew more tumultuous +to his ears, with trolley cars and taxis, motor busses, trucks and +drays. A small red motor dashed uptown with piles of evening +papers; a great black motor hearse rushed by. In a taxi which had +stopped in a jam, a man was kissing a girl in his arms, and both of +them were laughing. The smart little toque of blue satin she wore +was crushed to one side. How red were her lips as she threw back +her head....</p> +<p>"Silk or cotton, boss? Which you like?" Roger glanced at the +shoe strings and pondered.</p> +<p>"Silk," he grunted in reply. Idly for a moment he watched this +busy little man. From whence had he come in far away Greece? What +existence had he here, and what kind of life would he still have +through those many years to come? A feeling half of sadness crept +into Roger's heavy eyes as he looked at the man, at his smiling +face and then at other faces in the multitudes sweeping past. The +moment he tried to single them out, how doubly chaotic it became. +What an ocean of warm desires, passions, vivid hopes and worries. +Vaguely he could feel them pass. Often in the midst of his life, +his active and self-centered life, Roger had looked at these crowds +on the street and had thought these faces commonplace. But now at +the end it was not so.</p> +<p>A woman with a baby carriage stopped directly in front of him +and stood there anxiously watching for a chance to cross the +street. And Roger thought of Deborah. Heavily he climbed down from +his seat, paid the man and bade him good-night, and went home to +see Deborah's baby.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_313" id= +"Page_313"></a>[313]</span>For a long time he sat by the cradle. +Presently Deborah joined him, and soon they were laughing heartily +at the astonishing jerks and kicks and grimaces of the tiny boy. He +was having his bath and he hated it. But safe at last on his +mother's lap, wrapped to his ears in a big soft towel, he grew very +gay and contented and looked waggishly about.</p> +<p>There followed long lazy days of spring, as April drifted into +May. Early in the morning Roger could hear through his window the +cries of the vendors of flowers and fruits. And he listened +drowsily. He rose late and spent most of the day in the house; but +occasionally he went out for a stroll. And one balmy evening when +groups of youths came trooping by, singing in close harmony, Roger +called a taxi and went far down through the tenement streets to a +favorite haunt of his, a little Syrian pawnshop, where after long +delving he purchased a ring to put in the new collection that he +had been making lately. He had nearly a dozen now.</p> +<p>Days passed. The house was still so quiet, Deborah was still +upstairs. At last, one night upon leaving his study, he stopped +uncertainly in the hall. He took more time than was his wont in +closing up the house for the night, in trying all the windows, in +turning out the various lights. Room after room he left in the +dark. Then he went slowly up the stairs, his hand gratefully +feeling those guiding points grown so familiar to his touch through +many thousand evenings. His hand lingered on the banister and he +stopped again to listen there.</p> +<p>He did not come downstairs again.</p> +<p>He was able to sleep but little at night. Turning restlessly on +his bed, he would glance out of the window up at the beetling wall +close by, tier on tier of apartments from which faint voices +dropped out of the dark. Gradually as the night wore on, these +voices would all die away into long mysterious silences—for +to him at least such silences <span class="pagenum"><a name= +"Page_314" id="Page_314"></a>[314]</span>had grown to be very +mysterious. Alone in the hours that followed, even these modern +neighbors and this strange new eager town pressing down upon his +house seemed no longer strange to him nor so appallingly immense, +seemed even familiar and small to him, as the eyes of his mind +looked out ahead.</p> +<p>From his bed he could see on the opposite wall the picture +Judith had given him, always so fresh and cool and dim with its +deep restful tones of blue, of the herdsmen and the cattle on the +dark mountain rim at dawn. And vaguely he wondered whether it was +because he saw more clearly, or whether his mind in this curious +haze could no longer see so well, that as he looked before him he +felt no fear nor any more uncertainty. All his doubts had lifted, +he was so sure of Judith now. As though she were coming to meet +him, her image grew more vivid, with memories emerging out of all +the years gone by. What memories, what vivid scenes! What intimate +conversations they had, her voice so natural, close in his ear, as +together they planned for their children.... Wistfully he would +search the years for what he should soon tell his wife—until +the drowsiness returned, and then again came visions.</p> +<p>But by day it was not so, for the life of the house would rouse +him and at intervals hold his attention.</p> +<p>One evening a slight rustle, a faint fragrance in the room, made +Roger suddenly open his eyes. And he saw Laura by his bed, her +slender figure clad in blue silk, something white at her full +bosom. He noticed her shapely shoulders, her glossy hair and moist +red lips. She was smiling down at him.</p> +<p>"See what I've brought you, dear," she said. And she turned to a +chair where, one on the other, tray after tray, was piled his whole +collection of rings. At sight of them his eyes grew fixed; he could +feel his pulse beat faster.</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_315" id= +"Page_315"></a>[315]</span>How did you ever find them?" he asked +his daughter huskily.</p> +<p>"Oh, I had a long hunt all by myself. But I found them at last +and I've brought them home. Shall we look them over a little +while?"</p> +<p>"Yes," he said. She turned up the light, and came and sat down +at the bedside with a tray of rings in her lap. One by one she held +them up to his gaze, still smiling and talking softly on in that +rich melodious voice of hers, of which he heard but snatches. How +good it felt to be so gay. No solemn thoughts nor questionings, +just these dusky glittering beauties here, deep soft gleams of +color, each with its suggestion of memories for Roger, a procession +of adventures reaching back into his life. He smiled and lay in +silence watching, until at last she bent over him, kissed him +softly, breathed a good-night and went out of the room. Roger +followed her with his glance. He knew he would never see her again. +How graceful of her to go like that.</p> +<p>He lay there thinking about her. In her large blue limousine he +saw his gay young daughter speeding up the Avenue, the purple +gleaming pavement reflecting studded lines of lights. And he +thought he could see her smiling still. He recalled scattered +fragments of her life—the first luxurious little +ménage, and the second. How many more would there be? She +was only in her twenties still. Uneasily he tried to see into the +years ahead for her, and he thought he saw a lonely old age, +childless, loveless, cynical, hard. But this fear soon fell from +his mind. No, whatever happened, she would do it gracefully, an +artist always, to the end. He sighed and gave up the effort. For he +could not think of Laura as old, nor could he think of her any more +as being a part of his family.</p> +<p>Edith came to him several times, and there was something in her +face which gave him sharp forebodings. Making a great effort he +tried to talk to her clearly.</p> +<p>"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_316" id= +"Page_316"></a>[316]</span>It's hard to keep up with your +children," he said. "It means keeping up with everything new. And +you stay in your rut and then it's too late. Before you know it you +are old."</p> +<p>But his words subsided in mutterings, and Roger wearily closed +his eyes. For a glance up into Edith's face had shown him only pity +there and no heed to his warning. He saw that she looked upon him +as old and still upon herself as young, though he noticed the +threads of gray in her hair.... Then he realized she had gone and +that his chamber had grown dark. He must have been dreaming. Of +what, he asked. He tried to remember. And suddenly out of the +darkness, so harsh and clear it startled him, a picture rose in +Roger's mind of a stark lonely figure, a woman in a graveyard +cutting the grass on family graves. Where had he seen it? He could +not recall. What had it to do with Edith? Was she not living in New +York?... What had so startled him just now? Some thought, some +vivid picture, some nightmare he could not recall.</p> +<p>His last talks were with Deborah. All through those days and the +long nights, too, he kept fancying she was in the room, and it +brought deep balm to his restless soul. He asked her to tell him +about the schools, and Deborah talked to him quietly. She was going +back to her work in the fall. She felt very humble about +it—she told him she felt older now and she saw that her work +was barely begun. But she was even happier than before. Her hand +lay in his, and it tightened there. He opened his eyes and looked +up into hers.</p> +<p>"All so strange," he muttered, "life." There was a sharp +contracting of her wide and sensitive mouth.</p> +<p>"Yes, dear, strange!" she whispered.</p> +<p>"But I'm so glad you're going on." He frowned as he tried to be +simple and clear, and make her feel he understood what she had set +herself to do. "All people," he <span class="pagenum"><a name= +"Page_317" id="Page_317"></a>[317]</span>said slowly, "never +counted so much as now. And never so hungry—all—as +now—for all of life—like children—children who +should go to school. Your work will grow—I can see ahead. +Never a time when every man and woman and child could grow so +much—and hand it on—and hand it on—as you will do +to your small son."</p> +<p>He felt her hand on his forehead, and for some moments nothing +was said. Vaguely in glimpses Roger saw his small grandson growing +up; and he pictured other children here, not her own but of her +greater family, as the two merged into one. He felt that she would +not grow old. Children, lives of children; work, dreams and +aspirations. How bright it seemed as he stared ahead. Then he heard +the cry of her baby.</p> +<p>"Shall I nurse him here?" he heard her ask. He pressed her hand +in answer. And when again he opened his eyes she was by his side +with the child at her breast. Its large round eyes, so pure and +clear, gazed into his own for a long, long time.</p> +<p>"Now he's so sleepy," she whispered. "Would you like him beside +you a moment?"</p> +<p>"Please."</p> +<p>He felt the faint scent of the tiny boy, and still those eyes +looked into his. He forgot his daughter standing there; and as he +watched, a sweet fresh sense of the mystery of this life so new +stole deep into his spirit. All at once the baby fell asleep.</p> +<p>"Good-night, little brother," he whispered. "God grant the world +be very kind." He could feel the mother lift it up, and he heard +the door close softly.</p> +<p>Smiling he, too, fell asleep. And after that there were only +dreams.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLIV" id="CHAPTER_XLIV"></a><span class= +"pagenum"><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318"></a>[318]</span>CHAPTER +XLIV</h2> +<p>And his dreams were of children. Their faces passed before him. +Now they were young again in the house. They were eating their +suppers, three small girls, chattering like magpies. From her end +of the table their mother smiled quietly across at him. "Come +children," she was saying, "that will do for a little while." But +Roger said, "Oh, let them talk."... Then he saw new-comers. Bruce +came in with Edith, and George and young Elizabeth, and Allan came +with Deborah who had a baby in her arms, and Laura stood beside +them. Here were his three daughters, grown, but still in some +uncanny way they looked to him like children still; and behind them +he detected figures long forgotten, of boys and girls whom he had +known far back in his own childhood. John, too, had come into the +house. Strangely now the walls were gone, had lifted, and a +clamorous throng, laughing, shouting, pummeling, hedged him in on +every hand—Deborah's big family!</p> +<p>Soon the uproar wearied him, and Roger tried to shut them out, +to bring back again the walls to his house. And sometimes he +succeeded, and he was left for a while in peace with Judith and his +three small girls. But despite his efforts to keep them there, new +faces kept intruding. Swiftly his small family grew, split into +other families, and these were merged with other figures pressing +in from every side. Again he felt the presence of countless +families all around, dividing, reuniting, with ceaseless changes +and fresh life—a never ending multitude. Here they were +singing and dancing, and Laura gaily waved to him. At another place +were only men, and they were <span class="pagenum"><a name= +"Page_319" id="Page_319"></a>[319]</span>struggling savagely to +clutch things from each other's hands. A sea of scowling visages, +angry shouts, fists clinched in air. And he thought he saw Bruce +for an instant. Behind them lay wide valleys obscured by heavy +clouds of smoke, and he could hear the roar of guns. But they +vanished suddenly, and he saw women mourning now, and Edith with +her children turned to him her anxious eyes. He tried to reach and +help her, but already she had gone. And behind her came huge +bending forms, men heaving at great burdens, jaws set in scowls of +fierce revolt. And John was there on his crutches, and near him was +a figure bound into a chair of steel, with terror in the straining +limbs, while in desperation Deborah tried to wrench him free. +Abruptly Roger turned away.</p> +<p>And in a twinkling all was gone, the tumult and the clamor, and +he was in a silent place high up on a mountain side. It was dusk. A +herd of cattle passed, and George came close behind them. And +around him Roger saw, emerging from the semi-dark, faces turning +like his own to the summits of the mountains and the billowy +splendors there. It grew so dark he could see no more. There fell a +deep silence, not a sound but the occasional chirp of a bird or the +faint whirr of an insect. Even the glow on the peaks was gone. +Darkness, only darkness.</p> +<p>"Surely this is death," he thought. After that he was alone. And +presently from far away he heard the booming of a bell, deep and +slow, sepulchral, as it measured off his life. Another silence +followed, and this time it was more profound; and with a breathless +awe he knew that all the people who had ever lived on earth were +before him in the void to which he himself was drifting: people of +all nations, of countless generations reaching back and back and +back to the beginnings of mankind: the mightiest family of all, +that had stumbled up through the ages, had slaved and starved and +dreamed and died, had blindly hated, blindly killed, had raised up +gods and <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_320" id= +"Page_320"></a>[320]</span>idols and yearned for everlasting life, +had laughed and played and danced along, had loved and mated, given +birth, had endlessly renewed itself and handed on its heritage, had +striven hungrily to learn, had groped its way in darkness, and +after all its struggles had come now barely to the dawn. And then a +voice within him cried,</p> +<p>"What is humanity but a child? In the name of the dead I salute +the unborn!"</p> +<p>Slowly a glow appeared in his dream, and once again the scene +had changed. The light was coming from long rows of houses rising +tall and steep out of a teeming city street. And from these lighted +houses children now came pouring forth. They filled the street from +wall to wall with a torrent of warm vivid hues, they joined in mad +tempestuous games, they shouted and they danced with glee, they +whirled each other 'round and 'round. The very air seemed +quivering. Then was heard the crash of a band, and he saw them +marching into school. In and in and in they pressed, till the +school seemed fairly bursting. Out they came by another way, and +went off marching down the street with the big flag waving at their +head. He followed and saw the street divide into narrower streets +and bye-ways, into roads and country lanes. And all were filled +with children. In endless multitudes they came—marching, +marching, spreading, spreading, like wide bobbing fields of flowers +rolling out across the land, toward a great round flashing sun +above a distant rim of hills.</p> +<p>The sun rose strangely dazzling. It filled the heavens with +blinding light. He felt himself drawn up and up—while from +somewhere far behind he heard the cry of Deborah's child. A clear +sweet thrill of happiness came. And after that—we do not +know.</p> +<p>For he had left his family.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h5>Printed in the United States of America</h5> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_321" id= +"Page_321"></a>[321]</span> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of His Family, by Ernest Poole + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HIS FAMILY *** + +***** This file should be named 14396-h.htm or 14396-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/4/3/9/14396/ + +Produced by Rick Niles, Melissa Er-Raqabi and the PG Online +Distributed Proofreading Team + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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