diff options
Diffstat (limited to 'old/mnstr10.txt')
| -rw-r--r-- | old/mnstr10.txt | 22323 |
1 files changed, 22323 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/old/mnstr10.txt b/old/mnstr10.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e1f90a2 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/mnstr10.txt @@ -0,0 +1,22323 @@ +*The Project Gutenberg Etext of Main Street, by Sinclair Lewis* + + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world, be sure to check +the copyright laws for your country before posting these files!! + +Please take a look at the important information in this header. +We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an +electronic path open for the next readers. Do not remove this. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**Etexts Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*These Etexts Prepared By Hundreds of Volunteers and Donations* + +Information on contacting Project Gutenberg to get Etexts, and +further information is included below. We need your donations. + + +Main Street + +by Sinclair Lewis + +May, 1996 [Etext #543] + + +*The Project Gutenberg Etext of Main Street, by Sinclair Lewis* +*****This file should be named mnstr10.txt or mnstr10.zip****** + +Corrected EDITIONS of our etexts get a new NUMBER, mnstr11.txt. +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, mnstr10a.txt. + + +We are now trying to release all our books one month in advance +of the official release dates, for time for better editing. + +Please note: neither this list nor its contents are final till +midnight of the last day of the month of any such announcement. +The official release date of all Project Gutenberg Etexts is at +Midnight, Central Time, of the last day of the stated month. A +preliminary version may often be posted for suggestion, comment +and editing by those who wish to do so. To be sure you have an +up to date first edition [xxxxx10x.xxx] please check file sizes +in the first week of the next month. Since our ftp program has +a bug in it that scrambles the date [tried to fix and failed] a +look at the file size will have to do, but we will try to see a +new copy has at least one byte more or less. + + +Information about Project Gutenberg (one page) + +We produce about two million dollars for each hour we work. The +fifty hours is one conservative estimate for how long it we take +to get any etext selected, entered, proofread, edited, copyright +searched and analyzed, the copyright letters written, etc. This +projected audience is one hundred million readers. If our value +per text is nominally estimated at one dollar then we produce $2 +million dollars per hour this year as we release thirty-two text +files per month: or 400 more Etexts in 1996 for a total of 800. +If these reach just 10% of the computerized population, then the +total should reach 80 billion Etexts. + +The Goal of Project Gutenberg is to Give Away One Trillion Etext +Files by the December 31, 2001. [10,000 x 100,000,000=Trillion] +This is ten thousand titles each to one hundred million readers, +which is only 10% of the present number of computer users. 2001 +should have at least twice as many computer users as that, so it +will require us reaching less than 5% of the users in 2001. + + +We need your donations more than ever! + + +All donations should be made to "Project Gutenberg/IBC", and are +tax deductible to the extent allowable by law ("IBC" is Illinois +Benedictine College). (Subscriptions to our paper newsletter go +to IBC, too) + +For these and other matters, please mail to: + +Project Gutenberg +P. O. Box 2782 +Champaign, IL 61825 + +When all other email fails try our Executive Director: +Michael S. Hart <hart@pobox.com> + +We would prefer to send you this information by email +(Internet, Bitnet, Compuserve, ATTMAIL or MCImail). + +****** +If you have an FTP program (or emulator), please +FTP directly to the Project Gutenberg archives: +[Mac users, do NOT point and click. . .type] + +ftp uiarchive.cso.uiuc.edu +login: anonymous +password: your@login +cd etext/etext90 through /etext96 +or cd etext/articles [get suggest gut for more information] +dir [to see files] +get or mget [to get files. . .set bin for zip files] +GET INDEX?00.GUT +for a list of books +and +GET NEW GUT for general information +and +MGET GUT* for newsletters. + +**Information prepared by the Project Gutenberg legal advisor** +(Three Pages) + + +***START**THE SMALL PRINT!**FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS**START*** +Why is this "Small Print!" statement here? You know: lawyers. +They tell us you might sue us if there is something wrong with +your copy of this etext, even if you got it for free from +someone other than us, and even if what's wrong is not our +fault. So, among other things, this "Small Print!" statement +disclaims most of our liability to you. It also tells you how +you can distribute copies of this etext if you want to. + +*BEFORE!* YOU USE OR READ THIS ETEXT +By using or reading any part of this PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm +etext, you indicate that you understand, agree to and accept +this "Small Print!" statement. If you do not, you can receive +a refund of the money (if any) you paid for this etext by +sending a request within 30 days of receiving it to the person +you got it from. If you received this etext on a physical +medium (such as a disk), you must return it with your request. + +ABOUT PROJECT GUTENBERG-TM ETEXTS +This PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm etext, like most PROJECT GUTENBERG- +tm etexts, is a "public domain" work distributed by Professor +Michael S. Hart through the Project Gutenberg Association at +Illinois Benedictine College (the "Project"). Among other +things, this means that no one owns a United States copyright +on or for this work, so the Project (and you!) can copy and +distribute it in the United States without permission and +without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth +below, apply if you wish to copy and distribute this etext +under the Project's "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark. + +To create these etexts, the Project expends considerable +efforts to identify, transcribe and proofread public domain +works. Despite these efforts, the Project's etexts and any +medium they may be on may contain "Defects". Among other +things, Defects may take the form of incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other +intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged +disk or other etext medium, a computer virus, or computer +codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment. + +LIMITED WARRANTY; DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES +But for the "Right of Replacement or Refund" described below, +[1] the Project (and any other party you may receive this +etext from as a PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm etext) disclaims all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including +legal fees, and [2] YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE OR +UNDER STRICT LIABILITY, OR FOR BREACH OF WARRANTY OR CONTRACT, +INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE +OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES, EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE +POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGES. + +If you discover a Defect in this etext within 90 days of +receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any) +you paid for it by sending an explanatory note within that +time to the person you received it from. If you received it +on a physical medium, you must return it with your note, and +such person may choose to alternatively give you a replacement +copy. If you received it electronically, such person may +choose to alternatively give you a second opportunity to +receive it electronically. + +THIS ETEXT IS OTHERWISE PROVIDED TO YOU "AS-IS". NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, ARE MADE TO YOU AS +TO THE ETEXT OR ANY MEDIUM IT MAY BE ON, INCLUDING BUT NOT +LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR A +PARTICULAR PURPOSE. + +Some states do not allow disclaimers of implied warranties or +the exclusion or limitation of consequential damages, so the +above disclaimers and exclusions may not apply to you, and you +may have other legal rights. + +INDEMNITY +You will indemnify and hold the Project, its directors, +officers, members and agents harmless from all liability, cost +and expense, including legal fees, that arise directly or +indirectly from any of the following that you do or cause: +[1] distribution of this etext, [2] alteration, modification, +or addition to the etext, or [3] any Defect. + +DISTRIBUTION UNDER "PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm" +You may distribute copies of this etext electronically, or by +disk, book or any other medium if you either delete this +"Small Print!" and all other references to Project Gutenberg, +or: + +[1] Only give exact copies of it. Among other things, this + requires that you do not remove, alter or modify the + etext or this "small print!" statement. You may however, + if you wish, distribute this etext in machine readable + binary, compressed, mark-up, or proprietary form, + including any form resulting from conversion by word pro- + cessing or hypertext software, but only so long as + *EITHER*: + + [*] The etext, when displayed, is clearly readable, and + does *not* contain characters other than those + intended by the author of the work, although tilde + (~), asterisk (*) and underline (_) characters may + be used to convey punctuation intended by the + author, and additional characters may be used to + indicate hypertext links; OR + + [*] The etext may be readily converted by the reader at + no expense into plain ASCII, EBCDIC or equivalent + form by the program that displays the etext (as is + the case, for instance, with most word processors); + OR + + [*] You provide, or agree to also provide on request at + no additional cost, fee or expense, a copy of the + etext in its original plain ASCII form (or in EBCDIC + or other equivalent proprietary form). + +[2] Honor the etext refund and replacement provisions of this + "Small Print!" statement. + +[3] Pay a trademark license fee to the Project of 20% of the + net profits you derive calculated using the method you + already use to calculate your applicable taxes. If you + don't derive profits, no royalty is due. Royalties are + payable to "Project Gutenberg Association / Illinois + Benedictine College" within the 60 days following each + date you prepare (or were legally required to prepare) + your annual (or equivalent periodic) tax return. + +WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO? +The Project gratefully accepts contributions in money, time, +scanning machines, OCR software, public domain etexts, royalty +free copyright licenses, and every other sort of contribution +you can think of. Money should be paid to "Project Gutenberg +Association / Illinois Benedictine College". + +*END*THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END* + + + + + +Scanned by Charles Keller with +OmniPage Professional OCR software +donated by Caere Corporation, 1-800-535-7226. +Contact Mike Lough <Mikel@caere.com> + + + + + +SINCLAIR LEWIS + +MAIN STREET + + + + +To James Branch Cabell +and Joseph Hergesheimer + + + + +This is America--a town of a few thousand, in a region of +wheat and corn and dairies and little groves. + +The town is, in our tale, called "Gopher Prairie, Minnesota." +But its Main Street is the continuation of Main Streets +everywhere. The story would be the same in Ohio or Montana, in +Kansas or Kentucky or Illinois, and not very differently would +it be told Up York State or in the Carolina hills. + +Main Street is the climax of civilization. That this Ford +car might stand in front of the Bon Ton Store, Hannibal +invaded Rome and Erasmus wrote in Oxford cloisters. What +Ole Jenson the grocer says to Ezra Stowbody the banker is the +new law for London, Prague, and the unprofitable isles of the +sea; whatsoever Ezra does not know and sanction, that thing +is heresy, worthless for knowing and wicked to consider. + +Our railway station is the final aspiration of architecture. +Sam Clark's annual hardware turnover is the envy of the four +counties which constitute God's Country. In the sensitive art +of the Rosebud Movie Palace there is a Message, and humor +strictly moral. + +Such is our comfortable tradition and sure faith. Would he +not betray himself an alien cynic who should otherwise portray +Main Street, or distress the citizens by speculating whether +there may not be other faiths? + + + +CHAPTER I + +I + +ON a hill by the Mississippi where Chippewas camped two +generations ago, a girl stood in relief against the cornflower +blue of Northern sky. She saw no Indians now; she saw flour- +mills and the blinking windows of skyscrapers in Minneapolis +and St. Paul. Nor was she thinking of squaws and portages, +and the Yankee fur-traders whose shadows were all about her. +She was meditating upon walnut fudge, the plays of Brieux, +the reasons why heels run over, and the fact that the chemistry +instructor had stared at the new coiffure which concealed her +ears. + +A breeze which had crossed a thousand miles of wheat-lands +bellied her taffeta skirt in a line so graceful, so full of animation +and moving beauty, that the heart of a chance watcher on the +lower road tightened to wistfulness over her quality of +suspended freedom. She lifted her arms, she leaned back against +the wind, her skirt dipped and flared, a lock blew wild. A girl +on a hilltop; credulous, plastic, young; drinking the air as she +longed to drink life. The eternal aching comedy of expectant +youth. + +It is Carol Milford, fleeing for an hour from Blodgett College. + +The days of pioneering, of lassies in sunbonnets, and bears +killed with axes in piney clearings, are deader now than Camelot; +and a rebellious girl is the spirit of that bewildered empire +called the American Middlewest. + + + +II + + +Blodgett College is on the edge of Minneapolis. It is a +bulwark of sound religion. It is still combating the recent +heresies of Voltaire, Darwin, and Robert Ingersoll. Pious +families in Minnesota, Iowa, Wisconsin, the Dakotas send their +children thither, and Blodgett protects them from the wickedness +of the universities. But it secretes friendly girls, young +men who sing, and one lady instructress who really likes +Milton and Carlyle. So the four years which Carol spent at +Blodgett were not altogether wasted. The smallness of the +school, the fewness of rivals, permitted her to experiment with +her perilous versatility. She played tennis, gave chafing-dish +parties, took a graduate seminar in the drama, went "twosing," +and joined half a dozen societies for the practise of the arts +or the tense stalking of a thing called General Culture. + +In her class there were two or three prettier girls, but none +more eager. She was noticeable equally in the classroom grind +and at dances, though out of the three hundred students of +Blodgett, scores recited more accurately and dozens Bostoned +more smoothly. Every cell of her body was alive--thin wrists, +quince-blossom skin, ingenue eyes, black hair. + +The other girls in her dormitory marveled at the slightness +of her body when they saw her in sheer negligee, or darting out +wet from a shower-bath. She seemed then but half as large as +they had supposed; a fragile child who must be cloaked with +understanding kindness. "Psychic," the girls whispered, and +"spiritual." Yet so radioactive were her nerves, so adventurous +her trust in rather vaguely conceived sweetness and light, +that she was more energetic than any of the hulking young +women who, with calves bulging in heavy-ribbed woolen stockings +beneath decorous blue serge bloomers, thuddingly galloped +across the floor of the "gym" in practise for the Blodgett +Ladies' Basket-Ball Team. + +Even when she was tired her dark eyes were observant. She +did not yet know the immense ability of the world to be +casually cruel and proudly dull, but if she should ever learn +those dismaying powers, her eyes would never become sullen +or heavy or rheumily amorous. + +For all her enthusiasms, for all the fondness and the +"crushes" which she inspired, Carol's acquaintances were shy +of her. When she was most ardently singing hymns or planning +deviltry she yet seemed gently aloof and critical. She was +credulous, perhaps; a born hero-worshipper; yet she did +question and examine unceasingly. Whatever she might become +she would never be static. + +Her versatility ensnared her. By turns she hoped to discover +that she had an unusual voice, a talent for the piano, the +ability to act, to write, to manage organizations. Always she +was disappointed, but always she effervesced anew--over the +Student Volunteers, who intended to become missionaries, over +painting scenery for the dramatic club, over soliciting +advertisements for the college magazine. + +She was on the peak that Sunday afternoon when she played +in chapel. Out of the dusk her violin took up the organ +theme, and the candle-light revealed her in a straight golden +frock, her arm arched to the bow, her lips serious. Every +man fell in love then with religion and Carol. + +Throughout Senior year she anxiously related all her +experiments and partial successes to a career. Daily, on the +library steps or in the hall of the Main Building, the co-eds +talked of "What shall we do when we finish college?" Even +the girls who knew that they were going to be married +pretended to be considering important business positions; even +they who knew that they would have to work hinted about +fabulous suitors. As for Carol, she was an orphan; her only +near relative was a vanilla-flavored sister married to an +optician in St. Paul. She had used most of the money from +her father's estate. She was not in love--that is, not often, +nor ever long at a time. She would earn her living. + +But how she was to earn it, how she was to conquer the +world--almost entirely for the world's own good--she did not +see. Most of the girls who were not betrothed meant to be +teachers. Of these there were two sorts: careless young +women who admitted that they intended to leave the "beastly +classroom and grubby children" the minute they had a chance +to marry; and studious, sometimes bulbous-browed and pop- +eyed maidens who at class prayer-meetings requested God to +"guide their feet along the paths of greatest usefulness." +Neither sort tempted Carol. The former seemed insincere (a +favorite word of hers at this era). The earnest virgins were, +she fancied, as likely to do harm as to do good by their +faith in the value of parsing Caesar. + +At various times during Senior year Carol finally decided +upon studying law, writing motion-picture scenarios, professional +nursing, and marrying an unidentified hero. + +Then she found a hobby in sociology. + +The sociology instructor was new. He was married, and +therefore taboo, but he had come from Boston, he had lived +among poets and socialists and Jews and millionaire uplifters +at the University Settlement in New York, and he had a +beautiful white strong neck. He led a giggling class through the +prisons, the charity bureaus, the employment agencies of +Minneapolis and St. Paul. Trailing at the end of the line Carol +was indignant at the prodding curiosity of the others, their +manner of staring at the poor as at a Zoo. She felt herself a +great liberator. She put her hand to her mouth, her forefinger +and thumb quite painfully pinching her lower lip, and +frowned, and enjoyed being aloof. + +A classmate named Stewart Snyder, a competent bulky +young man in a gray flannel shirt, a rusty black bow tie, and +the green-and-purple class cap, grumbled to her as they walked +behind the others in the muck of the South St. Paul stockyards, +"These college chumps make me tired. They're so +top-lofty. They ought to of worked on the farm, the way I +have. These workmen put it all over them." + +"I just love common workmen," glowed Carol. + +"Only you don't want to forget that common workmen don't +think they're common!" + +"You're right! I apologize!" Carol's brows lifted in the +astonishment of emotion, in a glory of abasement. Her eyes +mothered the world. Stewart Snyder peered at her. He +rammed his large red fists into his pockets, he jerked them +out, he resolutely got rid of them by clenching his hands +behind him, and he stammered: + +"I know. You get people. Most of these darn co-eds---- +Say, Carol, you could do a lot for people." + +"Oh--oh well--you know--sympathy and everything--if +you were--say you were a lawyer's wife. You'd understand +his clients. I'm going to be a lawyer. I admit I fall down +in sympathy sometimes. I get so dog-gone impatient with people +that can't stand the gaff. You'd be good for a fellow that was +too serious. Make him more--more--YOU know--sympathetic!" + +His slightly pouting lips, his mastiff eyes, were begging her +to beg him to go on. She fled from the steam-roller of his +sentiment. She cried, "Oh, see those poor sheep--millions +and millions of them." She darted on. + +Stewart was not interesting. He hadn't a shapely white +neck, and he had never lived among celebrated reformers. +She wanted, just now, to have a cell in a settlement-house, like +a nun without the bother of a black robe, and be kind, and +read Bernard Shaw, and enormously improve a horde of grateful poor. + +The supplementary reading in sociology led her to a book +on village-improvement--tree-planting, town pageants, girls' +clubs. It had pictures of greens and garden-walls in France, +New England, Pennsylvania. She had picked it up carelessly, +with a slight yawn which she patted down with her finger-tips +as delicately as a cat. + +She dipped into the book, lounging on her window-seat, +with her slim, lisle-stockinged legs crossed, and her knees up +under her chin. She stroked a satin pillow while she read. +About her was the clothy exuberance of a Blodgett College +room: cretonne-covered window-seat, photographs of girls, a +carbon print of the Coliseum, a chafing-dish, and a dozen +pillows embroidered or beaded or pyrographed. Shockingly +out of place was a miniature of the Dancing Bacchante. It +was the only trace of Carol in the room. She had inherited the +rest from generations of girl students. + +It was as a part of all this commonplaceness that she +regarded the treatise on village-improvement. But she suddenly +stopped fidgeting. She strode into the book. She had fled +half-way through it before the three o'clock bell called her +to the class in English history. + +She sighed, "That's what I'll do after college! I'll get my +hands on one of these prairie towns and make it beautiful. +Be an inspiration. I suppose I'd better become a teacher then, +but--I won't be that kind of a teacher. I won't drone. Why +should they have all the garden suburbs on Long Island? +Nobody has done anything with the ugly towns here in the +Northwest except hold revivals and build libraries to contain the +Elsie books. I'll make 'em put in a village green, and darling +cottages, and a quaint Main Street!" + +Thus she triumphed through the class, which was a +typical Blodgett contest between a dreary teacher and unwilling +children of twenty, won by the teacher because his +opponents had to answer his questions, while their treacherous +queries he could counter by demanding, "Have you looked +that up in the library? Well then, suppose you do!" + +The history instructor was a retired minister. He was +sarcastic today. He begged of sporting young Mr. Charley +Holmberg, "Now Charles, would it interrupt your undoubtedly +fascinating pursuit of that malevolent fly if I were to ask you +to tell us that you do not know anything about King John?" +He spent three delightful minutes in assuring himself of the +fact that no one exactly remembered the date of Magna Charta. + +Carol did not hear him. She was completing the roof of a +half-timbered town hall. She had found one man in the +prairie village who did not appreciate her picture of winding +streets and arcades, but she had assembled the town council +and dramatically defeated him. + + + +III + + +Though she was Minnesota-born Carol was not an intimate +of the prairie villages. Her father, the smiling and shabby, +the learned and teasingly kind, had come from Massachusetts, +and through all her childhood he had been a judge in Mankato, +which is not a prairie town, but in its garden-sheltered streets +and aisles of elms is white and green New England reborn. +Mankato lies between cliffs and the Minnesota River, hard by +Traverse des Sioux, where the first settlers made treaties with +the Indians, and the cattle-rustlers once came galloping before +hell-for-leather posses. + +As she climbed along the banks of the dark river Carol +listened to its fables about the wide land of yellow waters and +bleached buffalo bones to the West; the Southern levees and +singing darkies and palm trees toward which it was forever +mysteriously gliding; and she heard again the startled bells +and thick puffing of high-stacked river steamers wrecked on +sand-reefs sixty years ago. Along the decks she saw missionaries, +gamblers in tall pot hats, and Dakota chiefs with scarlet +blankets. . . . Far off whistles at night, round the river bend, +plunking paddles reechoed by the pines, and a glow on black +sliding waters. + +Carol's family were self-sufficient in their inventive life, +with Christmas a rite full of surprises and tenderness, and +"dressing-up parties" spontaneous and joyously absurd. The +beasts in the Milford hearth-mythology were not the obscene +Night Animals who jump out of closets and eat little girls, but +beneficent and bright-eyed creatures--the tam htab, who is +woolly and blue and lives in the bathroom, and runs rapidly to +warm small feet; the ferruginous oil stove, who purrs and +knows stories; and the skitamarigg, who will play with children +before breakfast if they spring out of bed and close the +window at the very first line of the song about puellas which +father sings while shaving. + +Judge Milford's pedagogical scheme was to let the children +read whatever they pleased, and in his brown library Carol +absorbed Balzac and Rabelais and Thoreau and Max Muller. +He gravely taught them the letters on the backs of the encyclopedias, +and when polite visitors asked about the mental progress +of the "little ones," they were horrified to hear the +children earnestly repeating A-And, And-Aus, Aus-Bis, Bis-Cal, +Cal-Cha. + +Carol's mother died when she was nine. Her father retired +from the judiciary when she was eleven, and took the family +to Minneapolis. There he died, two years after. Her sister, a +busy proper advisory soul, older than herself, had become a +stranger to her even when they lived in the same house. + +From those early brown and silver days and from her +independence of relatives Carol retained a willingness to be +different from brisk efficient book-ignoring people; an instinct +to observe and wonder at their bustle even when she was +taking part in it. But, she felt approvingly, as she discovered +her career of town-planning, she was now roused to being brisk +and efficient herself. + + + +IV + + +In a month Carol's ambition had clouded. Her hesitancy +about becoming a teacher had returned. She was not, she +worried, strong enough to endure the routine, and she could +not picture herself standing before grinning children and +pretending to be wise and decisive. But the desire for the creation +of a beautiful town remained. When she encountered an item +about small-town women's clubs or a photograph of a straggling +Main Street, she was homesick for it, she felt robbed of +her work. + +It was the advice of the professor of English which led her +to study professional library-work in a Chicago school. Her +imagination carved and colored the new plan. She saw herself +persuading children to read charming fairy tales, helping young +men to find books on mechanics, being ever so courteous to +old men who were hunting for newspapers--the light of the +library, an authority on books, invited to dinners with poets +and explorers, reading a paper to an association of distinguished +scholars. + + + +V + + +The last faculty reception before commencement. In +five days they would be in the cyclone of final examinations. + +The house of the president had been massed with palms +suggestive of polite undertaking parlors, and in the library, a +ten-foot room with a globe and the portraits of Whittier and +Martha Washington, the student orchestra was playing +"Carmen" and "Madame Butterfly." Carol was dizzy with +music and the emotions of parting. She saw the palms as a +jungle, the pink-shaded electric globes as an opaline haze, and +the eye-glassed faculty as Olympians. She was melancholy at +sight of the mousey girls with whom she had "always intended +to get acquainted," and the half dozen young men who were +ready to fall in love with her. + +But it was Stewart Snyder whom she encouraged. He was +so much manlier than the others; he was an even warm brown, +like his new ready-made suit with its padded shoulders. She +sat with him, and with two cups of coffee and a chicken patty, +upon a pile of presidential overshoes in the coat-closet under +the stairs, and as the thin music seeped in, Stewart +whispered: + +"I can't stand it, this breaking up after four years! The +happiest years of life." + +She believed it. "Oh, I know! To think that in just a few +days we'll be parting, and we'll never see some of the bunch +again!" + +"Carol, you got to listen to me! You always duck when I +try to talk seriously to you, but you got to listen to me. +I'm going to be a big lawyer, maybe a judge, and I need you, +and I'd protect you----" + +His arm slid behind her shoulders. The insinuating music +drained her independence. She said mournfully, "Would you +take care of me?" She touched his hand. It was warm, +solid. + +"You bet I would! We'd have, Lord, we'd have bully +times in Yankton, where I'm going to settle----" + +"But I want to do something with life." + +"What's better than making a comfy home and bringing up +some cute kids and knowing nice homey people?" + +It was the immemorial male reply to the restless woman. +Thus to the young Sappho spake the melon-venders; thus the +captains to Zenobia; and in the damp cave over gnawed bones +the hairy suitor thus protested to the woman advocate of +matriarchy. In the dialect of Blodgett College but with the +voice of Sappho was Carol's answer: + +"Of course. I know. I suppose that's so. Honestly, I do +love children. But there's lots of women that can do housework, +but I--well, if you HAVE got a college education, you +ought to use it for the world." + +"I know, but you can use it just as well in the home. And +gee, Carol, just think of a bunch of us going out on an auto +picnic, some nice spring evening." + +"Yes." + +"And sleigh-riding in winter, and going fishing----" + +Blarrrrrrr! The orchestra had crashed into the "Soldiers' +Chorus"; and she was protesting, "No! No! You're a dear, +but I want to do things. I don't understand myself but I want-- +everything in the world! Maybe I can't sing or write, but I +know I can be an influence in library work. Just suppose I +encouraged some boy and he became a great artist! I will! +I will do it! Stewart dear, I can't settle down to nothing but +dish-washing!" + +Two minutes later--two hectic minutes--they were disturbed +by an embarrassed couple also seeking the idyllic seclusion of +the overshoe-closet. + +After graduation she never saw Stewart Snyder again. She +wrote to him once a week--for one month. + + + +VI + + +A year Carol spent in Chicago. Her study of library- +cataloguing, recording, books of reference, was easy and not too +somniferous. She reveled in the Art Institute, in symphonies +and violin recitals and chamber music, in the theater and +classic dancing. She almost gave up library work to become one +of the young women who dance in cheese-cloth in the moonlight. +She was taken to a certified Studio Party, with beer, cigarettes. +bobbed hair, and a Russian Jewess who sang the Internationale. +It cannot be reported that Carol had anything significant +to say to the Bohemians. She was awkward with them, and +felt ignorant, and she was shocked by the free manners which +she had for years desired. But she heard and remembered +discussions of Freud, Romain Rolland, syndicalism, the +Confederation Generale du Travail, feminism vs. haremism, +Chinese lyrics, nationalization of mines, Christian Science, and +fishing in Ontario. + +She went home, and that was the beginning and end of her +Bohemian life. + +The second cousin of Carol's sister's husband lived in +Winnetka, and once invited her out to Sunday dinner. She walked +back through Wilmette and Evanston, discovered new forms of +suburban architecture, and remembered her desire to recreate +villages. She decided that she would give up library work and, +by a miracle whose nature was not very clearly revealed to +her, turn a prairie town into Georgian houses and Japanese +bungalows. + +The next day in library class she had to read a theme on the +use of the Cumulative Index, and she was taken so seriously +in the discussion that she put off her career of town-planning-- +and in the autumn she was in the public library of St. Paul. + + + +VII + + +Carol was not unhappy and she was not exhilarated, in the +St. Paul Library. She slowly confessed that she was not visibly +affecting lives. She did, at first, put into her contact with the +patrons a willingness which should have moved worlds. But +so few of these stolid worlds wanted to be moved. When she +was in charge of the magazine room the readers did not ask +for suggestions about elevated essays. They grunted, "Wanta +find the Leather Goods Gazette for last February." When she +was giving out books the principal query was, "Can you tell me +of a good, light, exciting love story to read? My husband's +going away for a week." + +She was fond of the other librarians; proud of their +aspirations. And by the chance of propinquity she read scores of +books unnatural to her gay white littleness: volumes of +anthropology with ditches of foot-notes filled with heaps of +small dusty type, Parisian imagistes, Hindu recipes for curry, +voyages to the Solomon Isles, theosophy with modern American +improvements, treatises upon success in the real-estate business. +She took walks, and was sensible about shoes and diet. And +never did she feel that she was living. + +She went to dances and suppers at the houses of college +acquaintances. Sometimes she one-stepped demurely; +sometimes, in dread of life's slipping past, she turned into a +bacchanal, her tender eyes excited, her throat tense, as she slid +down the room. + +During her three years of library work several men showed +diligent interest in her--the treasurer of a fur-manufacturing +firm, a teacher, a newspaper reporter, and a petty railroad +official. None of them made her more than pause in thought. +For months no male emerged from the mass. Then, at the +Marburys', she met Dr. Will Kennicott. + + + +CHAPTER II + +IT was a frail and blue and lonely Carol who trotted to the +flat of the Johnson Marburys for Sunday evening supper. Mrs. +Marbury was a neighbor and friend of Carol's sister; Mr. +Marbury a traveling representative of an insurance company. They +made a specialty of sandwich-salad-coffee lap suppers, and they +regarded Carol as their literary and artistic representative. +She was the one who could be depended upon to appreciate the +Caruso phonograph record, and the Chinese lantern which Mr. +Marbury had brought back as his present from San Francisco. +Carol found the Marburys admiring and therefore admirable. + +This September Sunday evening she wore a net frock with a +pale pink lining. A nap had soothed away the faint lines of +tiredness beside her eyes. She was young, naive, stimulated +by the coolness. She flung her coat at the chair in the hall of +the flat, and exploded into the green-plush living-room. The +familiar group were trying to be conversational. She saw Mr. +Marbury, a woman teacher of gymnastics in a high school, a +chief clerk from the Great Northern Railway offices, a young +lawyer. But there was also a stranger, a thick tall man of +thirty-six or -seven, with stolid brown hair, lips used to giving +orders, eyes which followed everything good-naturedly, and +clothes which you could never quite remember. + +Mr. Marbury boomed, "Carol, come over here and meet +Doc Kennicott--Dr. Will Kennicott of Gopher Prairie. He +does all our insurance-examining up in that neck of the woods, +and they do say he's some doctor!" + +As she edged toward the stranger and murmured nothing in +particular, Carol remembered that Gopher Prairie was a +Minnesota wheat-prairie town of something over three thousand +people. + +"Pleased to meet you," stated Dr. Kennicott. His hand +was strong; the palm soft, but the back weathered, showing +golden hairs against firm red skin. + +He looked at her as though she was an agreeable discovery. +She tugged her hand free and fluttered, "I must go out to the +kitchen and help Mrs. Marbury." She did not speak to him +again till, after she had heated the rolls and passed the +paper napkins, Mr. Marbury captured her with a loud, "Oh, +quit fussing now. Come over here and sit down and tell us +how's tricks." He herded her to a sofa with Dr. Kennicott, +who was rather vague about the eyes, rather drooping of bulky +shoulder, as though he was wondering what he was expected to +do next. As their host left them, Kennicott awoke: + +"Marbury tells me you're a high mogul in the public library. +I was surprised. Didn't hardly think you were old enough +I thought you were a girl, still in college maybe." + +"Oh, I'm dreadfully old. I expect to take to a lip-stick, and +to find a gray hair any morning now." + +"Huh! You must be frightfully old--prob'ly too old to be +my granddaughter, I guess!" + +Thus in the Vale of Arcady nymph and satyr beguiled the +hours; precisely thus, and not in honeyed pentameters, +discoursed Elaine and the worn Sir Launcelot in the pleached alley. + +"How do you like your work?" asked the doctor. + +"It's pleasant, but sometimes I feel shut off from things-- +the steel stacks, and the everlasting cards smeared all over with +red rubber stamps." + +"Don't you get sick of the city?" + +"St. Paul? Why, don't you like it? I don't know of any +lovelier view than when you stand on Summit Avenue and +look across Lower Town to the Mississippi cliffs and the upland +farms beyond." + +"I know but---- Of course I've spent nine years around +the Twin Cities--took my B.A. and M.D. over at the U., and +had my internship in a hospital in Minneapolis, but still, oh +well, you don't get to know folks here, way you do up home. +I feel I've got something to say about running Gopher Prairie, +but you take it in a big city of two-three hundred thousand, +and I'm just one flea on the dog's back. And then I like +country driving, and the hunting in the fall. Do you know +Gopher Prairie at all?" + +"No, but I hear it's a very nice town." + +"Nice? Say honestly---- Of course I may be prejudiced, +but I've seen an awful lot of towns--one time I went to +Atlantic City for the American Medical Association meeting, +and I spent practically a week in New York! But I never saw +a town that had such up-and-coming people as Gopher Prairie. +Bresnahan--you know--the famous auto manufacturer--he +comes from Gopher Prairie. Born and brought up there! +And it's a darn pretty town. Lots of fine maples and box- +elders, and there's two of the dandiest lakes you ever saw, +right near town! And we've got seven miles of cement walks +already, and building more every day! Course a lot of these +towns still put up with plank walks, but not for us, you +bet!" + +"Really?" + +(Why was she thinking of Stewart Snyder?) + +"Gopher Prairie is going to have a great future. Some of the +best dairy and wheat land in the state right near there--some +of it selling right now at one-fifty an acre, and I bet it will +go up to two and a quarter in ten years!" + +"Is---- Do you like your profession?" + +"Nothing like it. Keeps you out, and yet you have a +chance to loaf in the office for a change." + +"I don't mean that way. I mean--it's such an opportunity +for sympathy." + +Dr. Kennicott launched into a heavy, "Oh, these Dutch +farmers don't want sympathy. All they need is a bath and a +good dose of salts." + +Carol must have flinched, for instantly he was urging, "What +I mean is--I don't want you to think I'm one of these old +salts-and-quinine peddlers, but I mean: so many of my +patients are husky farmers that I suppose I get kind of case- +hardened." + +"It seems to me that a doctor could transform a whole +community, if he wanted to--if he saw it. He's usually the +only man in the neighborhood who has any scientific training, +isn't he?" + +"Yes, that's so, but I guess most of us get rusty. We land +in a rut of obstetrics and typhoid and busted legs. What we +need is women like you to jump on us. It'd be you that would +transform the town." + +"No, I couldn't. Too flighty. I did used to think about +doing just that, curiously enough, but I seem to have drifted +away from the idea. Oh, I'm a fine one to be lecturing +you!" + +"No! You're just the one. You have ideas without having +lost feminine charm. Say! Don't you think there's a lot +of these women that go out for all these movements and so on +that sacrifice----" + +After his remarks upon suffrage he abruptly questioned her +about herself. His kindliness and the firmness of his +personality enveloped her and she accepted him as one who had +a right to know what she thought and wore and ate and read. +He was positive. He had grown from a sketched-in stranger +to a friend, whose gossip was important news. She noticed the +healthy solidity of his chest. His nose, which had seemed +irregular and large, was suddenly virile. + +She was jarred out of this serious sweetness when Marbury +bounced over to them and with horrible publicity yammered, +"Say, what do you two think you're doing? Telling fortunes +or making love? Let me warn you that the doc is a frisky +bacheldore, Carol. Come on now, folks, shake a leg. Let's +have some stunts or a dance or something." + +She did not have another word with Dr. Kennicott until their +parting: + +"Been a great pleasure to meet you, Miss Milford. May +I see you some time when I come down again? I'm here quite +often--taking patients to hospitals for majors, and so on." + +"Why----" + +"What's your address?" + +"You can ask Mr. Marbury next time you come down--if +you really want to know!" + +"Want to know? Say, you wait!" + + + +II + + +Of the love-making of Carol and Will Kennicott there is +nothing to be told which may not be heard on every summer +evening, on every shadowy block. + +They were biology and mystery; their speech was slang +phrases and flares of poetry; their silences were contentment, +or shaky crises when his arm took her shoulder. All the +beauty of youth, first discovered when it is passing--and all +the commonplaceness of a well-to-do unmarried man encountering +a pretty girl at the time when she is slightly weary of +her employment and sees no glory ahead nor any man she +is glad to serve. + +They liked each other honestly--they were both honest. +She was disappointed by his devotion to making money, but +she was sure that he did not lie to patients, and that he did +keep up with the medical magazines. What aroused her to +something more than liking was his boyishness when they went +tramping. + +They walked from St. Paul down the river to Mendota, +Kennicott more elastic-seeming in a cap and a soft crepe shirt, +Carol youthful in a tam-o'-shanter of mole velvet, a blue serge +suit with an absurdly and agreeably broad turn-down linen +collar, and frivolous ankles above athletic shoes. The High +Bridge crosses the Mississippi, mounting from low banks to a +palisade of cliffs. Far down beneath it on the St. Paul side, +upon mud flats, is a wild settlement of chicken-infested gardens +and shanties patched together from discarded sign-boards, +sheets of corrugated iron, and planks fished out of the river. +Carol leaned over the rail of the bridge to look down at this +Yang-tse village; in delicious imaginary fear she shrieked that +she was dizzy with the height; and it was an extremely human +satisfaction to have a strong male snatch her back to safety, +instead of having a logical woman teacher or librarian sniff, +"Well, if you're scared, why don't you get away from the rail, +then?" + +From the cliffs across the river Carol and Kennicott looked +back at St. Paul on its hills; an imperial sweep from the dome +of the cathedral to the dome of the state capitol. + +The river road led past rocky field slopes, deep glens, woods +flamboyant now with September, to Mendota, white walls and +a spire among trees beneath a hill, old-world in its placid ease. +And for this fresh land, the place is ancient. Here is the bold +stone house which General Sibley, the king of fur-traders, built +in 1835, with plaster of river mud, and ropes of twisted grass +for laths. It has an air of centuries. In its solid rooms Carol +and Kennicott found prints from other days which the house +had seen--tail-coats of robin's-egg blue, clumsy Red River carts +laden with luxurious furs, whiskered Union soldiers in slant +forage caps and rattling sabers. + +It suggested to them a common American past, and it was +memorable because they had discovered it together. They +talked more trustingly, more personally, as they trudged on. +They crossed the Minnesota River in a rowboat ferry. They +climbed the hill to the round stone tower of Fort Snelling. +They saw the junction of the Mississippi and the Minnesota, +and recalled the men who had come here eighty years ago-- +Maine lumbermen, York traders, soldiers from the Maryland +hills. + +"It's a good country, and I'm proud of it. Let's make it all +that those old boys dreamed about," the unsentimental Kennicott +was moved to vow. + +"Let's!" + +"Come on. Come to Gopher Prairie. Show us. Make the +town--well--make it artistic. It's mighty pretty, but I'll +admit we aren't any too darn artistic. Probably the lumber- +yard isn't as scrumptious as all these Greek temples. But go +to it! Make us change!" + +"I would like to. Some day!" + +"Now! You'd love Gopher Prairie. We've been doing a +lot with lawns and gardening the past few years, and it's so +homey--the big trees and---- And the best people on earth. +And keen. I bet Luke Dawson----" + +Carol but half listened to the names. She could not fancy +their ever becoming important to her. + +"I bet Luke Dawson has got more money than most of the +swells on Summit Avenue; and Miss Sherwin in the high school +is a regular wonder--reads Latin like I do English; and Sam +Clark, the hardware man, he's a corker--not a better man in the +state to go hunting with; and if you want culture, besides Vida +Sherwin there's Reverend Warren, the Congregational preacher, +and Professor Mott, the superintendent of schools, and Guy +Pollock, the lawyer--they say he writes regular poetry and-- +and Raymie Wutherspoon, he's not such an awful boob when +you get to KNOW him, and he sings swell. And---- And +there's plenty of others. Lym Cass. Only of course none of +them have your finesse, you might call it. But they don't make +'em any more appreciative and so on. Come on! We're +ready for you to boss us!" + +They sat on the bank below the parapet of the old fort, +hidden from observation. He circled her shoulder with his +arm. Relaxed after the walk, a chill nipping her throat, +conscious of his warmth and power, she leaned gratefully against him. + +"You know I'm in love with you, Carol!" + +She did not answer, but she touched the back of his hand +with an exploring finger. + +"You say I'm so darn materialistic. How can I help it, +unless I have you to stir me up?" + +She did not answer. She could not think. + +"You say a doctor could cure a town the way he does a +person. Well, you cure the town of whatever ails it, if +anything does, and I'll be your surgical kit." + +She did not follow his words, only the burring resoluteness +of them. + +She was shocked, thrilled, as he kissed her cheek and cried, +"There's no use saying things and saying things and saying +things. Don't my arms talk to you--now?" + +"Oh, please, please!" She wondered if she ought to be +angry, but it was a drifting thought, and she discovered that +she was crying. + +Then they were sitting six inches apart, pretending that they +had never been nearer, while she tried to be impersonal: + +"I would like to--would like to see Gopher Prairie." + +"Trust me! Here she is! Brought some snapshots down +to show you." + +Her cheek near his sleeve, she studied a dozen village +pictures. They were streaky; she saw only trees, shrubbery, a +porch indistinct in leafy shadows. But she exclaimed over the +lakes: dark water reflecting wooded bluffs, a flight of ducks, a +fisherman in shirt sleeves and a wide straw hat, holding up a +string of croppies. One winter picture of the edge of Plover +Lake had the air of an etching: lustrous slide of ice, snow in +the crevices of a boggy bank, the mound of a muskrat house, +reeds in thin black lines, arches of frosty grasses. It was an +impression of cool clear vigor. + +"How'd it be to skate there for a couple of hours, or go +zinging along on a fast ice-boat, and skip back home for coffee +and some hot wienies?" he demanded. + +"It might be--fun." + +"But here's the picture. Here's where you come in." + +A photograph of a forest clearing: pathetic new furrows +straggling among stumps, a clumsy log cabin chinked with +mud and roofed with hay. In front of it a sagging woman with +tight-drawn hair, and a baby bedraggled, smeary, glorious- +eyed. + +"Those are the kind of folks I practise among, good share +of the time. Nels Erdstrom, fine clean young Svenska. He'll +have a corking farm in ten years, but now---- I operated his +wife on a kitchen table, with my driver giving the anesthetic. +Look at that scared baby! Needs some woman with hands +like yours. Waiting for you! Just look at that baby's eyes, +look how he's begging----" + +"Don't! They hurt me. Oh, it would be sweet to help +him--so sweet." + +As his arms moved toward her she answered all her doubts +with "Sweet, so sweet." + + + +CHAPTER III + +UNDER the rolling clouds of the prairie a moving mass of +steel. An irritable clank and rattle beneath a prolonged roar. +The sharp scent of oranges cutting the soggy smell of +unbathed people and ancient baggage. + +Towns as planless as a scattering of pasteboard boxes on an +attic floor. The stretch of faded gold stubble broken only by +clumps of willows encircling white houses and red barns. + +No. 7, the way train, grumbling through Minnesota, +imperceptibly climbing the giant tableland that slopes in a +thousand-mile rise from hot Mississippi bottoms to the Rockies. + +It is September, hot, very dusty. + +There is no smug Pullman attached to the train, and the +day coaches of the East are replaced by free chair cars, with +each seat cut into two adjustable plush chairs, the head-rests +covered with doubtful linen towels. Halfway down the car is +a semi-partition of carved oak columns, but the aisle is of +bare, splintery, grease-blackened wood. There is no porter, +no pillows, no provision for beds, but all today and all tonight +they will ride in this long steel box-farmers with perpetually +tired wives and children who seem all to be of the same age; +workmen going to new jobs; traveling salesmen with derbies +and freshly shined shoes. + +They are parched and cramped, the lines of their hands filled +with grime; they go to sleep curled in distorted attitudes, heads +against the window-panes or propped on rolled coats on seat- +arms, and legs thrust into the aisle. They do not read; +apparently they do not think. They wait. An early-wrinkled, +young-old mother, moving as though her joints were dry, opens +a suit-case in which are seen creased blouses, a pair of slippers +worn through at the toes, a bottle of patent medicine, a tin +cup, a paper-covered book about dreams which the news- +butcher has coaxed her into buying. She brings out a graham +cracker which she feeds to a baby lying flat on a seat and +wailing hopelessly. Most of the crumbs drop on the red plush +of the seat, and the woman sighs and tries to brush them +away, but they leap up impishly and fall back on the plush. + +A soiled man and woman munch sandwiches and throw the +crusts on the floor. A large brick-colored Norwegian takes off +his shoes, grunts in relief, and props his feet in their thick +gray socks against the seat in front of him. + +An old woman whose toothless mouth shuts like a mud- +turtle's, and whose hair is not so much white as yellow like +moldy linen, with bands of pink skull apparent between the +tresses, anxiously lifts her bag, opens it, peers in, closes it, puts +it under the seat, and hastily picks it up and opens it and hides +it all over again. The bag is full of treasures and of memories: +a leather buckle, an ancient band-concert program, scraps +of ribbon, lace, satin. In the aisle beside her is an extremely +indignant parrakeet in a cage. + +Two facing seats, overflowing with a Slovene iron-miner's +family, are littered with shoes, dolls, whisky bottles, bundles +wrapped in newspapers, a sewing bag. The oldest boy takes +a mouth-organ out of his coat pocket, wipes the tobacco +crumbs off, and plays "Marching through Georgia" till every +head in the car begins to ache. + +The news-butcher comes through selling chocolate bars and +lemon drops. A girl-child ceaselessly trots down to the water- +cooler and back to her seat. The stiff paper envelope which +she uses for cup drips in the aisle as she goes, and on each trip +she stumbles over the feet of a carpenter, who grunts, "Ouch! +Look out!" + +The dust-caked doors are open, and from the smoking-car +drifts back a visible blue line of stinging tobacco smoke, and +with it a crackle of laughter over the story which the young +man in the bright blue suit and lavender tie and light yellow +shoes has just told to the squat man in garage overalls. + +The smell grows constantly thicker, more stale. + + + +II + + +To each of the passengers his seat was his temporary home, +and most of the passengers were slatternly housekeepers. But +one seat looked clean and deceptively cool. In it were an +obviously prosperous man and a black-haired, fine-skinned girl +whose pumps rested on an immaculate horsehide bag. + +They were Dr. Will Kennicott and his bride, Carol. + +They had been married at the end of a year of conversational +courtship, and they were on their way to Gopher Prairie +after a wedding journey in the Colorado mountains. + +The hordes of the way-train were not altogether new to +Carol. She had seen them on trips from St. Paul to Chicago. +But now that they had become her own people, to bathe and +encourage and adorn, she had an acute and uncomfortable +interest in them. They distressed her. They were so stolid. +She had always maintained that there is no American peasantry, +and she sought now to defend her faith by seeing imagination +and enterprise in the young Swedish farmers, and in a +traveling man working over his order-blanks. But the older +people, Yankees as well as Norwegians, Germans, Finns, +Canucks, had settled into submission to poverty. They were +peasants, she groaned. + +"Isn't there any way of waking them up? What would +happen if they understood scientific agriculture?" she begged +of Kennicott, her hand groping for his. + +It had been a transforming honeymoon. She had been +frightened to discover how tumultuous a feeling could be +roused in her. Will had been lordly--stalwart, jolly, impressively +competent in making camp, tender and understanding +through the hours when they had lain side by side in a tent +pitched among pines high up on a lonely mountain spur. + +His hand swallowed hers as he started from thoughts of +the practise to which he was returning. "These people? Wake +'em up? What for? They're happy." + +"But they're so provincial. No, that isn't what I mean. +They're--oh, so sunk in the mud." + +"Look here, Carrie. You want to get over your city idea +that because a man's pants aren't pressed, he's a fool. These +farmers are mighty keen and up-and-coming." + +"I know! That's what hurts. Life seems so hard for them +--these lonely farms and this gritty train." + +"Oh, they don't mind it. Besides, things are changing. +The auto, the telephone, rural free delivery; they're bringing +the farmers in closer touch with the town. Takes time, you +know, to change a wilderness like this was fifty years ago. +But already, why, they can hop into the Ford or the Overland +and get in to the movies on Saturday evening quicker than you +could get down to 'em by trolley in St. Paul." + +"But if it's these towns we've been passing that the farmers +run to for relief from their bleakness Can't you understand? +Just LOOK at them!" + +Kennicott was amazed. Ever since childhood he had seen +these towns from trains on this same line. He grumbled, +"Why, what's the matter with 'em? Good hustling burgs. It +would astonish you to know how much wheat and rye and +corn and potatoes they ship in a year." + +"But they're so ugly." + +"I'll admit they aren't comfy like Gopher Prairie. But +give 'em time." + +"What's the use of giving them time unless some one has +desire and training enough to plan them? Hundreds of factories +trying to make attractive motor cars, but these towns-- +left to chance. No! That can't be true. It must have taken +genius to make them so scrawny!" + +"Oh, they're not so bad," was all he answered. He +pretended that his hand was the cat and hers the mouse. For +the first time she tolerated him rather than encouraged him. +She was staring out at Schoenstrom, a hamlet of perhaps a +hundred and fifty inhabitants, at which the train was stopping. + +A bearded German and his pucker-mouthed wife tugged their +enormous imitation-leather satchel from under a seat and +waddled out. The station agent hoisted a dead calf aboard the +baggage-car. There were no other visible activities in +Schoenstrom. In the quiet of the halt, Carol could hear a horse +kicking his stall, a carpenter shingling a roof. + +The business-center of Schoenstrom took up one side of one +block, facing the railroad. It was a row of one-story shops +covered with galvanized iron, or with clapboards painted red +and bilious yellow. The buildings were as ill-assorted, as +temporary-looking, as a mining-camp street in the motion-pictures. +The railroad station was a one-room frame box, a mirey cattle- +pen on one side and a crimson wheat-elevator on the other. +The elevator, with its cupola on the ridge of a shingled roof, +resembled a broad-shouldered man with a small, vicious, +pointed head. The only habitable structures to be seen were +the florid red-brick Catholic church and rectory at the end of +Main Street. + +Carol picked at Kennicott's sleeve. "You wouldn't call this +a not-so-bad town, would you?" + +"These Dutch burgs ARE kind of slow. Still, at that---- +See that fellow coming out of the general store there, getting +into the big car? I met him once. He owns about half the +town, besides the store. Rauskukle, his name is. He owns a +lot of mortgages, and he gambles in farm-lands. Good nut on +him, that fellow. Why, they say he's worth three or four +hundred thousand dollars! Got a dandy great big yellow +brick house with tiled walks and a garden and everything, other +end of town--can't see it from here--I've gone past it when +I've driven through here. Yes sir!" + +"Then, if he has all that, there's no excuse whatever for this +place! If his three hundred thousand went back into the town, +where it belongs, they could burn up these shacks, and build +a dream-village, a jewel! Why do the farmers and the town- +people let the Baron keep it?" + +"I must say I don't quite get you sometimes, Carrie. Let +him? They can't help themselves! He's a dumm old Dutchman, +and probably the priest can twist him around his finger, +but when it comes to picking good farming land, he's a regular +wiz!" + +"I see. He's their symbol of beauty. The town erects him, +instead of erecting buildings." + +"Honestly, don't know what you're driving at. You're kind +of played out, after this long trip. You'll feel better when you +get home and have a good bath, and put on the blue negligee. +That's some vampire costume, you witch!" + +He squeezed her arm, looked at her knowingly. + +They moved on from the desert stillness of the Schoenstrom +station. The train creaked, banged, swayed. The air was +nauseatingly thick. Kennicott turned her face from the window, +rested her head on his shoulder. She was coaxed from +her unhappy mood. But she came out of it unwillingly, and +when Kennicott was satisfied that he had corrected all her +worries and had opened a magazine of saffron detective stories, +she sat upright. + +Here--she meditated--is the newest empire of the world; +the Northern Middlewest; a land of dairy herds and exquisite +lakes, of new automobiles and tar-paper shanties and silos likes +red towers, of clumsy speech and a hope that is boundless. An +empire which feeds a quarter of the world--yet its work is +merely begun. They are pioneers, these sweaty wayfarers, for +all their telephones and bank-accounts and automatic pianos +and co-operative leagues. And for all its fat richness, theirs +is a pioneer land. What is its future? she wondered. A +future of cities and factory smut where now are loping empty +fields? Homes universal and secure? Or placid chateaux +ringed with sullen huts? Youth free to find knowledge and +laughter? Willingness to sift the sanctified lies? Or creamy- +skinned fat women, smeared with grease and chalk, gorgeous in +the skins of beasts and the bloody feathers of slain birds, +playing bridge with puffy pink-nailed jeweled fingers, women who +after much expenditure of labor and bad temper still grotesquely +resemble their own flatulent lap-dogs? The ancient stale +inequalities, or something different in history, unlike the +tedious maturity of other empires? What future and what +hope? + +Carol's head ached with the riddle. + +She saw the prairie, flat in giant patches or rolling in long +hummocks. The width and bigness of it, which had expanded +her spirit an hour ago, began to frighten her. It spread out +so; it went on so uncontrollably; she could never know it. +Kennicott was closeted in his detective story. With the loneliness +which comes most depressingly in the midst of many +people she tried to forget problems, to look at the prairie +objectively. + +The grass beside the railroad had been burnt over; it was +a smudge prickly with charred stalks of weeds. Beyond the +undeviating barbed-wire fences were clumps of golden rod. +Only this thin hedge shut them off from the plains-shorn +wheat-lands of autumn, a hundred acres to a field, prickly and +gray near-by but in the blurred distance like tawny velvet +stretched over dipping hillocks. The long rows of wheat- +shocks marched like soldiers in worn yellow tabards. The +newly plowed fields were black banners fallen on the distant +slope. It was a martial immensity, vigorous, a little harsh, +unsoftened by kindly gardens. + +The expanse was relieved by clumps of oaks with patches +of short wild grass; and every mile or two was a chain of +cobalt slews, with the flicker of blackbirds' wings across +them. + +All this working land was turned into exuberance by the +light. The sunshine was dizzy on open stubble; shadows from +immense cumulus clouds were forever sliding across low +mounds; and the sky was wider and loftier and more resolutely +blue than the sky of cities. . .she declared. + +"It's a glorious country; a land to be big in," she crooned. + +Then Kennicott startled her by chuckling, "D' you realize +the town after the next is Gopher Prairie? Home!" + + + +III + + +That one word--home--it terrified her. Had she really +bound herself to live, inescapably, in this town called Gopher +Prairie? And this thick man beside her, who dared to define +her future, he was a stranger! She turned in her seat, stared +at him. Who was he? Why was he sitting with her? He +wasn't of her kind! His neck was heavy; his speech was +heavy; he was twelve or thirteen years older than she; and +about him was none of the magic of shared adventures and +eagerness. She could not believe that she had ever slept +in his arms. That was one of the dreams which you had but +did not officially admit. + +She told herself how good he was, how dependable and +understanding. She touched his ear, smoothed the plane of his +solid jaw, and, turning away again, concentrated upon liking +his town. It wouldn't be like these barren settlements. It +couldn't be! Why, it had three thousand population. That +was a great many people. There would be six hundred houses +or more. And---- The lakes near it would be so lovely. +She'd seen them in the photographs. They had looked +charming. . .hadn't they? + +As the train left Wahkeenyan she began nervously to watch +for the lakes--the entrance to all her future life. But when +she discovered them, to the left of the track, her only +impression of them was that they resembled the photographs. + +A mile from Gopher Prairie the track mounts a curving low +ridge, and she could see the town as a whole. With a passionate +jerk she pushed up the window, looked out, the arched fingers +of her left hand trembling on the sill, her right hand at her +breast. + +And she saw that Gopher Prairie was merely an enlargement +of all the hamlets which they had been passing. Only to the +eyes of a Kennicott was it exceptional. The huddled low +wooden houses broke the plains scarcely more than would a +hazel thicket. The fields swept up to it, past it. It was +unprotected and unprotecting; there was no dignity in it nor +any hope of greatness. Only the tall red grain-elevator and a +few tinny church-steeples rose from the mass. It was a +frontier camp. It was not a place to live in, not possibly, +not conceivably. + +The people--they'd be as drab as their houses, as flat as +their fields. She couldn't stay here. She would have to +wrench loose from this man, and flee. + +She peeped at him. She was at once helpless before his +mature fixity, and touched by his excitement as he sent his +magazine skittering along the aisle, stooped for their bags, came +up with flushed face, and gloated, "Here we are!" + +She smiled loyally, and looked away. The train was entering +town. The houses on the outskirts were dusky old red +mansions with wooden frills, or gaunt frame shelters like grocery +boxes, or new bungalows with concrete foundations imitating +stone. + +Now the train was passing the elevator, the grim storage- +tanks for oil, a creamery, a lumber-yard, a stock-yard muddy +and trampled and stinking. Now they were stopping at a +squat red frame station, the platform crowded with unshaven +farmers and with loafers--unadventurous people with dead +eyes. She was here. She could not go on. It was the end-- +the end of the world. She sat with closed eyes, longing to +push past Kennicott, hide somewhere in the train, flee on +toward the Pacific. + +Something large arose in her soul and commanded, "Stop +it! Stop being a whining baby!" She stood up quickly; she +said, "Isn't it wonderful to be here at last!" + +He trusted her so. She would make herself like the place. +And she was going to do tremendous things---- + +She followed Kennicott and the bobbing ends of the two bags +which he carried. They were held back by the slow line of +disembarking passengers. She reminded herself that she was +actually at the dramatic moment of the bride's home-coming. +She ought to feel exalted. She felt nothing at all except +irritation at their slow progress toward the door. + +Kennicott stooped to peer through the windows. He shyly +exulted: + +"Look! Look! There's a bunch come down to welcome us! +Sam Clark and the missus and Dave Dyer and Jack Elder, +and, yes sir, Harry Haydock and Juanita, and a whole crowd! +I guess they see us now. Yuh, yuh sure, they see us! See 'em +waving!" + +She obediently bent her head to look out at them. She had +hold of herself. She was ready to love them. But she was +embarrassed by the heartiness of the cheering group. From +the vestibule she waved to them, but she clung a second to the +sleeve of the brakeman who helped her down before she had +the courage to dive into the cataract of hand-shaking people, +people whom she could not tell apart. She had the impression +that all the men had coarse voices, large damp hands, tooth- +brush mustaches, bald spots, and Masonic watch-charms. + +She knew that they were welcoming her. Their hands, their +smiles, their shouts, their affectionate eyes overcame her. She +stammered, "Thank you, oh, thank you!" + +One of the men was clamoring at Kennicott, "I brought my +machine down to take you home, doc." + +"Fine business, Sam!" cried Kennicott; and, to Carol, +"Let's jump in. That big Paige over there. Some boat, too, +believe me! Sam can show speed to any of these Marmons +from Minneapolis!" + +Only when she was in the motor car did she distinguish the +three people who were to accompany them. The owner, now +at the wheel, was the essence of decent self-satisfaction; a +baldish, largish, level-eyed man, rugged of neck but sleek and +round of face--face like the back of a spoon bowl. He was +chuckling at her, "Have you got us all straight yet?" + +"Course she has! Trust Carrie to get things straight and +get 'em darn quick! I bet she could tell you every date in +history!" boasted her husband. + +But the man looked at her reassuringly and with a certainty +that he was a person whom she could trust she confessed, +"As a matter of fact I haven't got anybody straight." + +"Course you haven't, child. Well, I'm Sam Clark, dealer +in hardware, sporting goods, cream separators, and almost any +kind of heavy junk you can think of. You can call me Sam-- +anyway, I'm going to call you Carrie, seein' 's you've been +and gone and married this poor fish of a bum medic that we +keep round here." Carol smiled lavishly, and wished that she +called people by their given names more easily. "The fat +cranky lady back there beside you, who is pretending that she +can't hear me giving her away, is Mrs. Sam'l Clark; and this +hungry-looking squirt up here beside me is Dave Dyer, who +keeps his drug store running by not filling your hubby's +prescriptions right--fact you might say he's the guy that put the +`shun' in `prescription.' So! Well, leave us take the bonny +bride home. Say, doc, I'll sell you the Candersen place for +three thousand plunks. Better be thinking about building a +new home for Carrie. Prettiest Frau in G. P., if you asks me!" + +Contentedly Sam Clark drove off, in the heavy traffic of +three Fords and the Mirmiemashie House Free 'Bus. + +"I shall like Mr. Clark. . .I CAN'T call him `Sam'! +They're all so friendly." She glanced at the houses; tried +not to see what she saw; gave way in: "Why do these stories +lie so? They always make the bride's home-coming a bower +of roses. Complete trust in noble spouse. Lies about +marriage. I'm NOT changed. And this town--O my God! I +can't go through with it. This junk-heap!" + +Her husband bent over her. "You look like you were in +a brown study. Scared? I don't expect you to think Gopher +Prairie is a paradise, after St. Paul. I don't expect you to be +crazy about it, at first. But you'll come to like it so much-- +life's so free here and best people on earth." + +She whispered to him (while Mrs. Clark considerately +turned away), "I love you for understanding. I'm just--I'm +beastly over-sensitive. Too many books. It's my lack of +shoulder-muscles and sense. Give me time, dear." + +"You bet! All the time you want!" + +She laid the back of his hand against her cheek, snuggled +near him. She was ready for her new home. + +Kennicott had told her that, with his widowed mother as +housekeeper, he had occupied an old house, "but nice and +roomy, and well-heated, best furnace I could find on the +market." His mother had left Carol her love, and gone back +to Lac-qui-Meurt. + +It would be wonderful, she exulted, not to have to live in +Other People's Houses, but to make her own shrine. She +held his hand tightly and stared ahead as the car swung +round a corner and stopped in the street before a prosaic +frame house in a small parched lawn. + + + +IV + + +A concrete sidewalk with a "parking" of grass and mud. +A square smug brown house, rather damp. A narrow concrete +walk up to it. Sickly yellow leaves in a windrow with dried +wings of box-elder seeds and snags of wool from the cotton- +woods. A screened porch with pillars of thin painted pine +surmounted by scrolls and brackets and bumps of jigsawed +wood. No shrubbery to shut off the public gaze. A lugubrious +bay-window to the right of the porch. Window curtains +of starched cheap lace revealing a pink marble table with a +conch shell and a Family Bible. + +"You'll find it old-fashioned--what do you call it?--Mid- +Victorian. I left it as is, so you could make any changes you +felt were necessary." Kennicott sounded doubtful for the +first time since he had come back to his own. + +"It's a real home!" She was moved by his humility. She +gaily motioned good-by to the Clarks. He unlocked the door-- +he was leaving the choice of a maid to her, and there was +no one in the house. She jiggled while he turned the key, +and scampered in. . . . It was next day before either +of them remembered that in their honeymoon camp they had +planned that he should carry her over the sill. + +In hallway and front parlor she was conscious of dinginess +and lugubriousness and airlessness, but she insisted, "I'll make +it all jolly." As she followed Kennicott and the bags up to +their bedroom she quavered to herself the song of the fat +little-gods of the hearth: + + I have my own home, + To do what I please with, + To do what I please with, + My den for me and my mate and my cubs, + My own! + + +She was close in her husband's arms; she clung to him; +whatever of strangeness and slowness and insularity she might +find in him, none of that mattered so long as she could slip +her hands beneath his coat, run her fingers over the warm +smoothness of the satin back of his waistcoat, seem almost to +creep into his body, find in him strength, find in the courage +and kindness of her man a shelter from the perplexing world. + +"Sweet, so sweet," she whispered. + + + +CHAPTER IV + +I + +"THE Clarks have invited some folks to their house to meet +us, tonight," said Kennicott, as he unpacked his suit-case. + +"Oh, that is nice of them!" + +"You bet. I told you you'd like 'em. Squarest people on +earth. Uh, Carrie---- Would you mind if I sneaked down to +the office for an hour, just to see how things are?" + +"Why, no. Of course not. I know you're keen to get back +to work." + +"Sure you don't mind?" + +"Not a bit. Out of my way. Let me unpack." + +But the advocate of freedom in marriage was as much +disappointed as a drooping bride at the alacrity with which he +took that freedom and escaped to the world of men's affairs. +She gazed about their bedroom, and its full dismalness crawled +over her: the awkward knuckly L-shape of it; the black walnut +bed with apples and spotty pears carved on the headboard; the +imitation maple bureau, with pink-daubed scent-bottles and a +petticoated pin-cushion on a marble slab uncomfortably like a +gravestone; the plain pine washstand and the garlanded water- +pitcher and bowl. The scent was of horsehair and plush and +Florida Water. + +"How could people ever live with things like this?" she +shuddered. She saw the furniture as a circle of elderly judges, +condemning her to death by smothering. The tottering brocade +chair squeaked, "Choke her--choke her--smother her." +The old linen smelled of the tomb. She was alone in this +house, this strange still house, among the shadows of dead +thoughts and haunting repressions. "I hate it! I hate it!" +she panted. "Why did I ever----" + +She remembered that Kennicott's mother had brought these +family relics from the old home in Lac-qui-Meurt. "Stop it! +They're perfectly comfortable things. They're--comfortable. +Besides---- Oh, they're horrible! We'll change them, right away." + +Then, "But of course he HAS to see how things are at the office----" + +She made a pretense of busying herself with unpacking. The +chintz-lined, silver-fitted bag which had seemed so desirable a +luxury in St. Paul was an extravagant vanity here. The daring +black chemise of frail chiffon and lace was a hussy at +which the deep-bosomed bed stiffened in disgust, and she +hurled it into a bureau drawer, hid it beneath a sensible linen +blouse. + +She gave up unpacking. She went to the window, with a +purely literary thought of village charm--hollyhocks and lanes +and apple-cheeked cottagers. What she saw was the side of +the Seventh-Day Adventist Church--a plain clapboard wall +of a sour liver color; the ash-pile back of the church; an +unpainted stable; and an alley in which a Ford delivery-wagon +had been stranded. This was the terraced garden below her +boudoir; this was to be her scenery for---- + +"I mustn't! I mustn't! I'm nervous this afternoon. Am +I sick? . . . Good Lord, I hope it isn't that! Not now! +How people lie! How these stories lie! They say the bride +is always so blushing and proud and happy when she finds that +out, but--I'd hate it! I'd be scared to death! Some day +but---- Please, dear nebulous Lord, not now! Bearded sniffy +old men sitting and demanding that we bear children. If +THEY had to bear them----! I wish they did have to! Not now! +Not till I've got hold of this job of liking the ash-pile out +there! . . . I must shut up. I'm mildly insane. I'm +going out for a walk. I'll see the town by myself. My first +view of the empire I'm going to conquer!" + +She fled from the house. + +She stared with seriousness at every concrete crossing, every +hitching-post, every rake for leaves; and to each house she +devoted all her speculation. What would they come to mean? +How would they look six months from now? In which of +them would she be dining? Which of these people whom she +passed, now mere arrangements of hair and clothes, would turn +into intimates, loved or dreaded, different from all the other +people in the world? + +As she came into the small business-section she inspected +a broad-beamed grocer in an alpaca coat who was bending over +the apples and celery on a slanted platform in front of his +store. Would she ever talk to him? What would he say if +she stopped and stated, "I am Mrs. Dr. Kennicott. Some +day I hope to confide that a heap of extremely dubious pumpkins +as a window-display doesn't exhilarate me much." + +(The grocer was Mr. Frederick F. Ludelmeyer, whose market +is at the corner of Main Street and Lincoln Avenue. In +supposing that only she was observant Carol was ignorant, +misled by the indifference of cities. She fancied that she was +slipping through the streets invisible; but when she had +passed, Mr. Ludelmeyer puffed into the store and coughed at +his clerk, "I seen a young woman, she come along the side +street. I bet she iss Doc Kennicott's new bride, good-looker, +nice legs, but she wore a hell of a plain suit, no style, I wonder +will she pay cash, I bet she goes to Howland & Gould's more +as she does here, what you done with the poster for Fluffed +Oats?") + + + +II + + +When Carol had walked for thirty-two minutes she had +completely covered the town, east and west, north and south; and +she stood at the corner of Main Street and Washington Avenue +and despaired. + +Main Street with its two-story brick shops, its story-and-a- +half wooden residences, its muddy expanse from concrete walk +to walk, its huddle of Fords and lumber-wagons, was too +small to absorb her. The broad, straight, unenticing gashes +of the streets let in the grasping prairie on every side. She +realized the vastness and the emptiness of the land. The +skeleton iron windmill on the farm a few blocks away, at the +north end of Main Street, was like the ribs of a dead cow. +She thought of the coming of the Northern winter, when the +unprotected houses would crouch together in terror of storms +galloping out of that wild waste. They were so small and +weak, the little brown houses. They were shelters for sparrows, +not homes for warm laughing people. + +She told herself that down the street the leaves were a +splendor. The maples were orange; the oaks a solid tint +of raspberry. And the lawns had been nursed with love. But +the thought would not hold. At best the trees resembled a +thinned woodlot. There was no park to rest the eyes. And +since not Gopher Prairie but Wakamin was the county-seat, +there was no court-house with its grounds. + +She glanced through the fly-specked windows of the most +pretentious building in sight, the one place which welcomed +strangers and determined their opinion of the charm and +luxury of Gopher Prairie--the Minniemashie House. It was +a tall lean shabby structure, three stories of yellow-streaked +wood, the corners covered with sanded pine slabs purporting +to symbolize stone. In the hotel office she could see a stretch +of bare unclean floor, a line of rickety chairs with brass +cuspidors between, a writing-desk with advertisements in +mother-of-pearl letters upon the glass-covered back. The +dining-room beyond was a jungle of stained table-cloths and +catsup bottles. + +She looked no more at the Minniemashie House. + +A man in cuffless shirt-sleeves with pink arm-garters, wearing +a linen collar but no tie, yawned his way from Dyer's Drug +Store across to the hotel. He leaned against the wall, scratched +a while, sighed, and in a bored way gossiped with a man tilted +back in a chair. A lumber-wagon, its long green box filled +with large spools of barbed-wire fencing, creaked down the +block. A Ford, in reverse, sounded as though it were shaking +to pieces, then recovered and rattled away. In the Greek +candy-store was the whine of a peanut-roaster, and the oily +smell of nuts. + +There was no other sound nor sign of life. + +She wanted to run, fleeing from the encroaching prairie, +demanding the security of a great city. Her dreams of creating +a beautiful town were ludicrous. Oozing out from every +drab wall, she felt a forbidding spirit which she could never +conquer. + +She trailed down the street on one side, back on the other, +glancing into the cross streets. It was a private Seeing Main +Street tour. She was within ten minutes beholding not only +the heart of a place called Gopher Prairie, but ten thousand +towns from Albany to San Diego: + +Dyer's Drug Store, a corner building of regular and unreal +blocks of artificial stone. Inside the store, a greasy marble +soda-fountain with an electric lamp of red and green and +curdled-yellow mosaic shade. Pawed-over heaps of tooth- +brushes and combs and packages of shaving-soap. Shelves +of soap-cartons teething-rings, garden-seeds, and patent +medicines in yellow packages-nostrums for consumption, for +"women's diseases"--notorious mixtures of opium and alco- +hol, in the very shop to which her husband sent patients for +the filling of prescriptions. + +From a second-story window the sign "W. P. Kennicott, +Phys. & Surgeon," gilt on black sand. + +A small wooden motion-picture theater called "The +Rosebud Movie Palace." Lithographs announcing a film called +"Fatty in Love." + +Howland & Gould's Grocery. In the display window, black, +overripe bananas and lettuce on which a cat was sleeping. +Shelves lined with red crepe paper which was now faded and +torn and concentrically spotted. Flat against the wall of the +second story the signs of lodges--the Knights of Pythias, +the Maccabees, the Woodmen, the Masons. + +Dahl & Oleson's Meat Market--a reek of blood. + +A jewelry shop with tinny-looking wrist-watches for women. +In front of it, at the curb, a huge wooden clock which did not +go. + +A fly-buzzing saloon with a brilliant gold and enamel whisky +sign across the front. Other saloons down the block. From +them a stink of stale beer, and thick voices bellowing pidgin +German or trolling out dirty songs--vice gone feeble and +unenterprising and dull--the delicacy of a mining-camp minus its +vigor. In front of the saloons, farmwives sitting on the seats of +wagons, waiting for their husbands to become drunk and ready +to start home. + +A tobacco shop called "The Smoke House," filled with young +men shaking dice for cigarettes. Racks of magazines, and +pictures of coy fat prostitutes in striped bathing-suits. + +A clothing store with a display of "ox-blood-shade Oxfords +with bull-dog toes." Suits which looked worn and glossless +while they were still new, flabbily draped on dummies like +corpses with painted cheeks. + +The Bon Ton Store--Haydock & Simons'--the largest shop +in town. The first-story front of clear glass, the plates cleverly +bound at the edges with brass. The second story of pleasant +tapestry brick. One window of excellent clothes for men, +interspersed with collars of floral pique which showed mauve +daisies on a saffron ground. Newness and an obvious notion +of neatness and service. Haydock & Simons. Haydock. She +had met a Haydock at the station; Harry Haydock; an active +person of thirty-five. He seemed great to her, now, and very +like a saint. His shop was clean! + +Axel Egge's General Store, frequented by Scandinavian +farmers. In the shallow dark window-space heaps of sleazy +sateens, badly woven galateas, canvas shoes designed for +women with bulging ankles, steel and red glass buttons upon +cards with broken edges, a cottony blanket, a granite-ware +frying-pan reposing on a sun-faded crepe blouse. + +Sam Clark's Hardware Store. An air of frankly metallic +enterprise. Guns and churns and barrels of nails and beautiful +shiny butcher knives. + +Chester Dashaway's House Furnishing Emporium. A vista +of heavy oak rockers with leather seats, asleep in a dismal +row. + +Billy's Lunch. Thick handleless cups on the wet oilcloth- +covered counter. An odor of onions and the smoke of hot +lard. In the doorway a young man audibly sucking a toothpick. + +The warehouse of the buyer of cream and potatoes. The +sour smell of a dairy. + +The Ford Garage and the Buick Garage, competent one- +story brick and cement buildings opposite each other. Old +and new cars on grease-blackened concrete floors. Tire +advertisements. The roaring of a tested motor; a racket which +beat at the nerves. Surly young men in khaki union-overalls. +The most energetic and vital places in town. + +A large warehouse for agricultural implements. An impressive +barricade of green and gold wheels, of shafts and sulky +seats, belonging to machinery of which Carol knew nothing-- +potato-planters, manure-spreaders, silage-cutters, disk-harrows, +breaking-plows. + +A feed store, its windows opaque with the dust of bran, a +patent medicine advertisement painted on its roof. + +Ye Art Shoppe, Prop. Mrs. Mary Ellen Wilks, Christian +Science Library open daily free. A touching fumble at beauty. +A one-room shanty of boards recently covered with rough +stucco. A show-window delicately rich in error: vases starting +out to imitate tree-trunks but running off into blobs of gilt-- +an aluminum ash-tray labeled "Greetings from Gopher Prairie" +--a Christian Science magazine--a stamped sofa-cushion +portraying a large ribbon tied to a small poppy, the correct +skeins of embroidery-silk lying on the pillow. Inside the shop, +a glimpse of bad carbon prints of bad and famous pictures, +shelves of phonograph records and camera films, wooden toys, +and in the midst an anxious small woman sitting in a padded +rocking chair. + +A barber shop and pool room. A man in shirt sleeves, +presumably Del Snafflin the proprietor, shaving a man who had +a large Adam's apple. + +Nat Hicks's Tailor Shop, on a side street off Main. A one- +story building. A fashion-plate showing human pitchforks +in garments which looked as hard as steel plate. + +On another side street a raw red-brick Catholic Church with +a varnished yellow door. + +The post-office--merely a partition of glass and brass +shutting off the rear of a mildewed room which must once have +been a shop. A tilted writing-shelf against a wall rubbed black +and scattered with official notices and army recruiting-posters. + +The damp, yellow-brick schoolbuilding in its cindery grounds. + +The State Bank, stucco masking wood. + +The Farmers' National Bank. An Ionic temple of marble. +Pure, exquisite, solitary. A brass plate with "Ezra Stowbody, +Pres't." + +A score of similar shops and establishments. + +Behind them and mixed with them, the houses, meek cottages +or large, comfortable, soundly uninteresting symbols of prosperity. + +In all the town not one building save the Ionic bank which +gave pleasure to Carol's eyes; not a dozen buildings which +suggested that, in the fifty years of Gopher Prairie's existence, the +citizens had realized that it was either desirable or possible to +make this, their common home, amusing or attractive. + +It was not only the unsparing unapologetic ugliness and the +rigid straightness which overwhelmed her. It was the planlessness, +the flimsy temporariness of the buildings, their faded +unpleasant colors. The street was cluttered with electric- +light poles, telephone poles, gasoline pumps for motor cars, +boxes of goods. Each man had built with the most valiant +disregard of all the others. Between a large new "block" of +two-story brick shops on one side, and the fire-brick Overland +garage on the other side, was a one-story cottage turned into +a millinery shop. The white temple of the Farmers' Bank +was elbowed back by a grocery of glaring yellow brick. One +store-building had a patchy galvanized iron cornice; the +building beside it was crowned with battlements and pyramids of +brick capped with blocks of red sandstone. + +She escaped from Main Street, fled home. + +She wouldn't have cared, she insisted, if the people had +been comely. She had noted a young man loafing before a +shop, one unwashed hand holding the cord of an awning; a +middle-aged man who had a way of staring at women as +though he had been married too long and too prosaically; an +old farmer, solid, wholesome, but not clean--his face like a +potato fresh from the earth. None of them had shaved for three +days. + +"If they can't build shrines, out here on the prairie, surely +there's nothing to prevent their buying safety-razors!" she +raged. + +She fought herself: "I must be wrong. People do live here. +It CAN'T be as ugly as--as I know it is! I must be wrong. +But I can't do it. I can't go through with it." + +She came home too seriously worried for hysteria; and when +she found Kennicott waiting for her, and exulting, "Have a +walk? Well, like the town? Great lawns and trees, eh?" +she was able to say, with a self-protective maturity new to +her, "It's very interesting." + + + +III + + +The train which brought Carol to Gopher Prairie also +brought Miss Bea Sorenson. + +Miss Bea was a stalwart, corn-colored, laughing young +woman, and she was bored by farm-work. She desired the +excitements of city-life, and the way to enjoy city-life was, +she had decided, to "go get a yob as hired girl in Gopher +Prairie." She contentedly lugged her pasteboard telescope from +the station to her cousin, Tina Malmquist, maid of all work +in the residence of Mrs. Luke Dawson. + +"Vell, so you come to town," said Tina. + +"Ya. Ay get a yob," said Bea. + +"Vell. . . . You got a fella now?" + +"Ya. Yim Yacobson." + +"Vell. I'm glat to see you. How much you vant a veek?" + +"Sex dollar." + +"There ain't nobody pay dat. Vait! Dr. Kennicott, I +t'ink he marry a girl from de Cities. Maybe she pay dat. +Vell. You go take a valk." + +"Ya," said Bea. + +So it chanced that Carol Kennicott and Bea Sorenson were +viewing Main Street at the same time. + +Bea had never before been in a town larger than Scandia +Crossing, which has sixty-seven inhabitants. + +As she marched up the street she was meditating that it +didn't hardly seem like it was possible there could be so +many folks all in one place at the same time. My! It +would take years to get acquainted with them all. And swell +people, too! A fine big gentleman in a new pink shirt with +a diamond, and not no washed-out blue denim working-shirt. +A lovely lady in a longery dress (but it must be an awful hard +dress to wash). And the stores! + +Not just three of them, like there were at Scandia Crossing, +but more than four whole blocks! + +The Bon Ton Store--big as four barns--my! it would +simply scare a person to go in there, with seven or eight +clerks all looking at you. And the men's suits, on figures just +like human. And Axel Egge's, like home, lots of Swedes and +Norskes in there, and a card of dandy buttons, like rubies. + +A drug store with a soda fountain that was just huge, awful +long, and all lovely marble; and on it there was a great big +lamp with the biggest shade you ever saw--all different kinds +colored glass stuck together; and the soda spouts, they were +silver, and they came right out of the bottom of the lamp- +stand! Behind the fountain there were glass shelves, and +bottles of new kinds of soft drinks, that nobody ever heard of. +Suppose a fella took you THERE! + +A hotel, awful high, higher than Oscar Tollefson's new red barn; +three stories, one right on top of another; you had to stick your +head back to look clear up to the top. There was a swell +traveling man in there--probably been to Chicago, lots of times. + +Oh, the dandiest people to know here! There was a lady +going by, you wouldn't hardly say she was any older than Bea +herself; she wore a dandy new gray suit and black pumps. +She almost looked like she was looking over the town, too. +But you couldn't tell what she thought. Bea would like to +be that way--kind of quiet, so nobody would get fresh. Kind +of--oh, elegant. + +A Lutheran Church. Here in the city there'd be lovely +sermons, and church twice on Sunday, EVERY Sunday! + +And a movie show! + +A regular theater, just for movies. With the sign "Change +of bill every evening." Pictures every evening! + +There were movies in Scandia Crossing, but only once every +two weeks, and it took the Sorensons an hour to drive in-- +papa was such a tightwad he wouldn't get a Ford. But here +she could put on her hat any evening, and in three minutes' +walk be to the movies, and see lovely fellows in dress-suits +and Bill Hart and everything! + +How could they have so many stores? Why! There was +one just for tobacco alone, and one (a lovely one--the Art +Shoppy it was) for pictures and vases and stuff, with oh, the +dandiest vase made so it looked just like a tree trunk! + +Bea stood on the corner of Main Street and Washington +Avenue. The roar of the city began to frighten her. There +were five automobuls on the street all at the same time--and +one of 'em was a great big car that must of cost two thousand +dollars--and the 'bus was starting for a train with five elegant- +dressed fellows, and a man was pasting up red bills with lovely +pictures of washing-machines on them. and the jeweler was laying +out bracelets and wrist-watches and EVERYTHING on real velvet. + +What did she care if she got six dollars a week? Or two! +It was worth while working for nothing, to be allowed to stay +here. And think how it would be in the evening, all lighted +up--and not with no lamps, but with electrics! And maybe a +gentleman friend taking you to the movies and buying you a +strawberry ice cream soda! + +Bea trudged back. + +"Vell? You lak it?" said Tina. + +"Ya. Ay lak it. Ay t'ink maybe Ay stay here," said Bea. + + + +IV + + +The recently built house of Sam Clark, in which was given +the party to welcome Carol, was one of the largest in Gopher +Prairie. It had a clean sweep of clapboards, a solid squareness, +a small tower, and a large screened porch. Inside, it was as +shiny, as hard, and as cheerful as a new oak upright piano. + +Carol looked imploringly at Sam Clark as he rolled to the +door and shouted, "Welcome, little lady! The keys of the +city are yourn!" + +Beyond him, in the hallway and the living-room, sitting in +a vast prim circle as though they were attending a funeral, +she saw the guests. They were WAITING so! They were waiting +for her! The determination to be all one pretty flowerlet +of appreciation leaked away. She begged of Sam, "I don't +dare face them! They expect so much. They'll swallow me +in one mouthful--glump!--like that!" + +"Why, sister, they're going to love you--same as I would +if I didn't think the doc here would beat me up!" + +"B-but---- I don't dare! Faces to the right of me, faces +in front of me, volley and wonder!" + +She sounded hysterical to herself; she fancied that to Sam +Clark she sounded insane. But he chuckled, "Now you just +cuddle under Sam's wing, and if anybody rubbers at you too +long, I'll shoo 'em off. Here we go! Watch my smoke-- +Sam'l, the ladies' delight and the bridegrooms' terror!" + +His arm about her, he led her in and bawled, "Ladies and +worser halves, the bride! We won't introduce her round yet, +because she'll never get your bum names straight anyway. +Now bust up this star-chamber!" + +They tittered politely, but they did not move from the social +security of their circle, and they did not cease staring. + +Carol had given creative energy to dressing for the event. +Her hair was demure, low on her forehead with a parting and +a coiled braid. Now she wished that she had piled it high. +Her frock was an ingenue slip of lawn, with a wide gold sash +and a low square neck, which gave a suggestion of throat and +molded shoulders. But as they looked her over she was +certain that it was all wrong. She wished alternately that she +had worn a spinsterish high-necked dress, and that she had +dared to shock them with a violent brick-red scarf which she +had bought in Chicago. + +She was led about the circle. Her voice mechanically +produced safe remarks: + +"Oh, I'm sure I'm going to like it here ever so much," and +"Yes, we did have the best time in Colorado--mountains," +and "Yes, I lived in St. Paul several years. Euclid P. Tinker? +No, I don't REMEMBER meeting him, but I'm pretty sure I've +heard of him." + +Kennicott took her aside and whispered, "Now I'll introduce +you to them, one at a time." + +"Tell me about them first." + +"Well, the nice-looking couple over there are Harry Hay- +dock and his wife, Juanita. Harry's dad owns most of the +Bon Ton, but it's Harry who runs it and gives it the pep. +He's a hustler. Next to him is Dave Dyer the druggist--you +met him this afternoon--mighty good duck-shot. The tall +husk beyond him is Jack Elder--Jackson Elder--owns the +planing-mill, and the Minniemashie House, and quite a share +in the Farmers' National Bank. Him and his wife are good +sports--him and Sam and I go hunting together a lot. The +old cheese there is Luke Dawson, the richest man in town. +Next to him is Nat Hicks, the tailor." + +"Really? A tailor?" + +"Sure. Why not? Maybe we're slow, but we are democratic. +I go hunting with Nat same as I do with Jack Elder." + +"I'm glad. I've never met a tailor socially. It must be +charming to meet one and not have to think about what you +owe him. And do you---- Would you go hunting with your +barber, too?" + +"No but---- No use running this democracy thing into the +ground. Besides, I've known Nat for years, and besides, he's +a mighty good shot and---- That's the way it is, see? Next +to Nat is Chet Dashaway. Great fellow for chinning. He'll +talk your arm off, about religion or politics or books or +anything." + +Carol gazed with a polite approximation to interest at +Mr. Dashaway, a tan person with a wide mouth. "Oh, I +know! He's the furniture-store man!" She was much pleased +with herself. + +"Yump, and he's the undertaker. You'll like him. Come +shake hands with him." + +"Oh no, no! He doesn't--he doesn't do the embalming +and all that--himself? I couldn't shake hands with an undertaker!" + +"Why not? You'd be proud to shake hands with a great +surgeon, just after he'd been carving up people's bellies." + +She sought to regain her afternoon's calm of maturity. +"Yes. You're right. I want--oh, my dear, do you know how +much I want to like the people you like? I want to see people +as they are." + +"Well, don't forget to see people as other folks see them +as they are! They have the stuff. Did you know that Percy +Bresnahan came from here? Born and brought up here!" + +"Bresnahan?" + +"Yes--you know--president of the Velvet Motor Company +of Boston, Mass.--make the Velvet Twelve--biggest automobile +factory in New England." + +"I think I've heard of him." + +"Sure you have. Why, he's a millionaire several times over! +Well, Perce comes back here for the black-bass fishing almost +every summer, and he says if he could get away from business, +he'd rather live here than in Boston or New York or any of +those places. HE doesn't mind Chet's undertaking." + +"Please! I'll--I'll like everybody! I'll be the community sunbeam!" + +He led her to the Dawsons. + +Luke Dawson, lender of money on mortgages, owner of +Northern cut-over land, was a hesitant man in unpressed +soft gray clothes, with bulging eyes in a milky face. His wife +had bleached cheeks, bleached hair, bleached voice, and a +bleached manner. She wore her expensive green frock, with +its passementeried bosom, bead tassels, and gaps between the +buttons down the back, as though she had bought it second- +hand and was afraid of meeting the former owner. They were +shy. It was "Professor" George Edwin Mott, superintendent +of schools, a Chinese mandarin turned brown, who held +Carol's hand and made her welcome. + +When the Dawsons and Mr. Mott had stated that they were +"pleased to meet her," there seemed to be nothing else to say, +but the conversation went on automatically. + +"Do you like Gopher Prairie?" whimpered Mrs. Dawson. + +"Oh, I'm sure I'm going to be ever so happy." + +"There's so many nice people." Mrs. Dawson looked to +Mr. Mott for social and intellectual aid. He lectured: + +"There's a fine class of people. I don't like some of these +retired farmers who come here to spend their last days-- +especially the Germans. They hate to pay school-taxes. They +hate to spend a cent. But the rest are a fine class of people. +Did you know that Percy Bresnahan came from here? Used +to go to school right at the old building!" + +"I heard he did." + +"Yes. He's a prince. He and I went fishing together, last +time he was here. + +The Dawsons and Mr. Mott teetered upon weary feet, and +smiled at Carol with crystallized expressions. She went on: + +"Tell me, Mr. Mott: Have you ever tried any experiments +with any of the new educational systems? The modern kindergarten +methods or the Gary system?" + +"Oh. Those. Most of these would-be reformers are simply +notoriety-seekers. I believe in manual training, but Latin and +mathematics always will be the backbone of sound Americanism, +no matter what these faddists advocate--heaven knows +what they do want--knitting, I suppose, and classes in wiggling +the ears!" + +The Dawsons smiled their appreciation of listening to a +savant. Carol waited till Kennicott should rescue her. The +rest of the party waited for the miracle of being amused. + +Harry and Juanita Haydock, Rita Simons and Dr. Terry +Gould--the young smart set of Gopher Prairie. She was led +to them. Juanita Haydock flung at her in a high, cackling, +friendly voice: + +"Well, this is SO nice to have you here. We'll have some +good parties--dances and everything. You'll have to join the +Jolly Seventeen. We play bridge and we have a supper once +a month. You play, of course?" + +"N-no, I don't." + +"Really? In St. Paul?" + +"I've always been such a book-worm." + +"We'll have to teach you. Bridge is half the fun of life." +Juanita had become patronizing, and she glanced disrespectfully +at Carol's golden sash, which she had previously admired. + +Harry Haydock said politely, "How do you think you're +going to like the old burg?" + +"I'm sure I shall like it tremendously." + +"Best people on earth here. Great hustlers, too. Course +I've had lots of chances to go live in Minneapolis, but we +like it here. Real he-town. Did you know that Percy Bresnahan +came from here?" + +Carol perceived that she had been weakened in the biological +struggle by disclosing her lack of bridge. Roused to nervous +desire to regain her position she turned on Dr. Terry Gould, +the young and pool-playing competitor of her husband. Her +eyes coquetted with him while she gushed: + +"I'll learn bridge. But what I really love most is the +outdoors. Can't we all get up a boating party, and fish, or +whatever you do, and have a picnic supper afterwards?" + +"Now you're talking!" Dr. Gould affirmed. He looked +rather too obviously at the cream-smooth slope of her shoulder. + +"Like fishing?. Fishing is my middle name. I'll teach you +bridge. Like cards at all?" + +"I used to be rather good at bezique." + +She knew that bezique was a game of cards--or a game of +something else. Roulette, possibly. But her lie was a triumph. +Juanita's handsome, high-colored, horsey face showed doubt. +Harry stroked his nose and said humbly, "Bezique? Used +to be great gambling game, wasn't it?" + +While others drifted to her group, Carol snatched up the +conversation. She laughed and was frivolous and rather brittle. +She could not distinguish their eyes. They were a blurry +theater-audience before which she self-consciously enacted the +comedy of being the Clever Little Bride of Doc Kennicott: + +"These-here celebrated Open Spaces, that's what I'm going +out for. I'll never read anything but the sporting-page again. +Will converted me on our Colorado trip. There were so +many mousey tourists who were afraid to get out of the motor +'bus that I decided to be Annie Oakley, the Wild Western +Wampire, and I bought oh! a vociferous skirt which revealed +my perfectly nice ankles to the Presbyterian glare of all the +Ioway schoolma'ams, and I leaped from peak to peak like the +nimble chamoys, and---- You may think that Herr Doctor +Kennicott is a Nimrod, but you ought to have seen me daring +him to strip to his B. V. D.'s and go swimming in an icy +mountain brook." + +She knew that they were thinking of becoming shocked, but +Juanita Haydock was admiring, at least. She swaggered on: + +"I'm sure I'm going to ruin Will as a respectable +practitioner---- Is he a good doctor, Dr. Gould?" + +Kennicott's rival gasped at this insult to professional ethics, +and he took an appreciable second before he recovered his +social manner. "I'll tell you, Mrs. Kennicott." He smiled +at Kennicott, to imply that whatever he might say in the +stress of being witty was not to count against him in the +commercio-medical warfare. "There's some people in town +that say the doc is a fair to middlin' diagnostician and +prescription-writer, but let me whisper this to you--but for +heaven's sake don't tell him I said so--don't you ever go to +him for anything more serious than a pendectomy of the left +ear or a strabismus of the cardiograph." + +No one save Kennicott knew exactly what this meant, but +they laughed, and Sam Clark's party assumed a glittering +lemon-yellow color of brocade panels and champagne and tulle +and crystal chandeliers and sporting duchesses. Carol saw +that George Edwin Mott and the blanched Mr. and Mrs. +Dawson were not yet hypnotized. They looked as though they +wondered whether they ought to look as though they +disapproved. She concentrated on them: + +"But I know whom I wouldn't have dared to go to Colorado +with! Mr. Dawson there! I'm sure he's a regular heart- +breaker. When we were introduced he held my hand and +squeezed it frightfully." + +"Haw! Haw! Haw!" The entire company applauded. Mr. +Dawson was beatified. He had been called many things-- +loan-shark, skinflint, tightwad, pussyfoot--but he had never +before been called a flirt. + +"He is wicked, isn't he, Mrs. Dawson? Don't you have to +lock him up?" + +"Oh no, but maybe I better," attempted Mrs. Dawson, a +tint on her pallid face. + +For fifteen minutes Carol kept it up. She asserted that she +was going to stage a musical comedy, that she preferred cafe +parfait to beefsteak, that she hoped Dr. Kennicott would never +lose his ability to make love to charming women, and that +she had a pair of gold stockings. They gaped for more. But +she could not keep it up. She retired to a chair behind Sam +Clark's bulk. The smile-wrinkles solemnly flattened out in +the faces of all the other collaborators in having a party, and +again they stood about hoping but not expecting to be amused. + +Carol listened. She discovered that conversation did not +exist in Gopher Prairie. Even at this affair, which brought +out the young smart set, the hunting squire set, the respectable +intellectual set, and the solid financial set, they sat up +with gaiety as with a corpse. + +Juanita Haydock talked a good deal in her rattling voice +but it was invariably of personalities: the rumor that Raymie +Wutherspoon was going to send for a pair of patent leather +shoes with gray buttoned tops; the rheumatism of Champ +Perry; the state of Guy Pollock's grippe; and the dementia of +Jim Howland in painting his fence salmon-pink. + +Sam Clark had been talking to Carol about motor cars, +but he felt his duties as host. While he droned, his brows +popped up and down. He interrupted himself, "Must stir +'em up." He worried at his wife, "Don't you think I better +stir 'em up?" He shouldered into the center of the room, and +cried: + +"Let's have some stunts, folks." + +"Yes, let's!" shrieked Juanita Haydock. + +"Say, Dave, give us that stunt about the Norwegian catching +a hen." + +"You bet; that's a slick stunt; do that, Dave!" cheered +Chet Dashaway. + +Mr. Dave Dyer obliged. + +All the guests moved their lips in anticipation of being called +on for their own stunts. + +"Ella, come on and recite `Old Sweetheart of Mine,' for +us," demanded Sam. + +Miss Ella Stowbody, the spinster daughter of the Ionic bank, +scratched her dry palms and blushed. "Oh, you don't want +to hear that old thing again." + +"Sure we do! You bet!" asserted Sam. + +"My voice is in terrible shape tonight." + +"Tut! Come on!" + +Sam loudly explained to Carol, "Ella is our shark at +elocuting. She's had professional training. She studied singing and +oratory and dramatic art and shorthand for a year, in Milwaukee." + +Miss Stowbody was reciting. As encore to "An Old Sweetheart +of Mine," she gave a peculiarly optimistic poem regarding +the value of smiles. + +There were four other stunts: one Jewish, one Irish, one +juvenile, and Nat Hicks's parody of Mark Antony's funeral +oration. + +During the winter Carol was to hear Dave Dyer's hen- +catching impersonation seven times, "An Old Sweetheart of +Mine" nine times, the Jewish story and the funeral oration +twice; but now she was ardent and, because she did so want +to be happy and simple-hearted, she was as disappointed as +the others when the stunts were finished, and the party +instantly sank back into coma. + +They gave up trying to be festive; they began to talk +naturally, as they did at their shops and homes. + +The men and women divided, as they had been tending to +do all evening. Carol was deserted by the men, left to a +group of matrons who steadily pattered of children, sickness, +and cooks--their own shop-talk. She was piqued. She re- +membered visions of herself as a smart married woman in a +drawing-room, fencing with clever men. Her dejection was +relieved by speculation as to what the men were discussing, in +the corner between the piano and the phonograph. Did they +rise from these housewifely personalities to a larger world +of abstractions and affairs? + +She made her best curtsy to Mrs. Dawson; she twittered, +"I won't have my husband leaving me so soon! I'm going +over and pull the wretch's ears." She rose with a jeune fille +bow. She was self-absorbed and self-approving because she +had attained that quality of sentimentality. She proudly +dipped across the room and, to the interest and commendation +of all beholders, sat on the arm of Kennicott's chair. + +He was gossiping with Sam Clark, Luke Dawson, Jackson +Elder of the planing-mill, Chet Dashaway, Dave Dyer, Harry +Haydock, and Ezra Stowbody, president of the Ionic bank. + +Ezra Stowbody was a troglodyte. He had come to Gopher +Prairie in 1865. He was a distinguished bird of prey-- +swooping thin nose, turtle mouth, thick brows, port-wine +cheeks, floss of white hair, contemptuous eyes. He was not +happy in the social changes of thirty years. Three decades +ago, Dr. Westlake, Julius Flickerbaugh the lawyer, Merriman +Peedy the Congregational pastor and himself had been the +arbiters. That was as it should be; the fine arts--medicine, +law, religion, and finance--recognized as aristocratic; four +Yankees democratically chatting with but ruling the Ohioans +and Illini and Swedes and Germans who had ventured to +follow them. But Westlake was old, almost retired; Julius +Flickerbaugh had lost much of his practice to livelier attorneys; +Reverend (not The Reverend) Peedy was dead; and nobody +was impressed in this rotten age of automobiles by the +"spanking grays" which Ezra still drove. The town was as +heterogeneous as Chicago. Norwegians and Germans owned stores. +The social leaders were common merchants. Selling nails was +considered as sacred as banking. These upstarts--the Clarks, +the Haydocks--had no dignity. They were sound and +conservative in politics, but they talked about motor cars and +pump-guns and heaven only knew what new-fangled fads. Mr. +Stowbody felt out of place with them. But his brick house +with the mansard roof was still the largest residence in town, +and he held his position as squire by occasionally appearing +among the younger men and reminding them by a wintry eye +that without the banker none of them could carry on their +vulgar businesses. + +As Carol defied decency by sitting down with the men, Mr. +Stowbody was piping to Mr. Dawson, "Say, Luke, when was't +Biggins first settled in Winnebago Township? Wa'n't it in +1879?" + +"Why no 'twa'n't!" Mr. Dawson was indignant. "He +come out from Vermont in 1867--no, wait, in 1868, it must +have been--and took a claim on the Rum River, quite a ways +above Anoka." + +"He did not!" roared Mr. Stowbody. "He settled first +in Blue Earth County, him and his father!" + +("What's the point at issue?" Carol whispered to Kennicott. + +("Whether this old duck Biggins had an English setter or +a Llewellyn. They've been arguing it all evening!") + +Dave Dyer interrupted to give tidings, "D' tell you that +Clara Biggins was in town couple days ago? She bought a +hot-water bottle--expensive one, too--two dollars and thirty +cents!" + +"Yaaaaaah!" snarled Mr. Stowbody. "Course. She's just +like her grandad was. Never save a cent. Two dollars and +twenty--thirty, was it?--two dollars and thirty cents for a +hot-water bottle! Brick wrapped up in a flannel petticoat just +as good, anyway!" + +"How's Ella's tonsils, Mr. Stowbody?" yawned Chet Dashaway. + +While Mr. Stowbody gave a somatic and psychic study of +them, Carol reflected, "Are they really so terribly interested +in Ella's tonsils, or even in Ella's esophagus? I wonder if I +could get them away from personalities? Let's risk damnation +and try." + +"There hasn't been much labor trouble around here, has +there, Mr. Stowbody?" she asked innocently. + +"No, ma'am, thank God, we've been free from that, except +maybe with hired girls and farm-hands. Trouble enough with +these foreign farmers; if you don't watch these Swedes they +turn socialist or populist or some fool thing on you in a +minute. Of course, if they have loans you can make 'em +listen to reason. I just have 'em come into the bank for a +talk, and tell 'em a few things. I don't mind their being +democrats, so much, but I won't stand having socialists around. +But thank God, we ain't got the labor trouble they have in +these cities. Even Jack Elder here gets along pretty well, in +the planing-mill, don't you, Jack?" + +"Yep. Sure. Don't need so many skilled workmen in my +place, and it's a lot of these cranky, wage-hogging, half- +baked skilled mechanics that start trouble--reading a lot of +this anarchist literature and union papers and all." + +"Do you approve of union labor?" Carol inquired of Mr. +Elder. + +"Me? I should say not! It's like this: I don't mind +dealing with my men if they think they've got any grievances-- +though Lord knows what's come over workmen, nowadays-- +don't appreciate a good job. But still, if they come to me +honestly, as man to man, I'll talk things over with them. +But I'm not going to have any outsider, any of these walking +delegates, or whatever fancy names they call themselves now-- +bunch of rich grafters, living on the ignorant workmen! Not +going to have any of those fellows butting in and telling ME +how to run MY business!" + +Mr. Elder was growing more excited, more belligerent and +patriotic. "I stand for freedom and constitutional rights. If +any man don't like my shop, he can get up and git. Same way, +if I don't like him, he gits. And that's all there is to it. I +simply can't understand all these complications and hoop-te- +doodles and government reports and wage-scales and God +knows what all that these fellows are balling up the labor +situation with, when it's all perfectly simple. They like what +I pay 'em, or they get out. That's all there is to it!" + +"What do you think of profit-sharing?" Carol ventured. + +Mr. Elder thundered his answer, while the others nodded, +solemnly and in tune, like a shop-window of flexible toys, +comic mandarins and judges and ducks and clowns, set quivering +by a breeze from the open door: + +"All this profit-sharing and welfare work and insurance and +old-age pension is simply poppycock. Enfeebles a workman's +independence--and wastes a lot of honest profit. The half- +baked thinker that isn't dry behind the ears yet, and these +suffragettes and God knows what all buttinskis there are that +are trying to tell a business man how to run his business, and +some of these college professors are just about as bad, the +whole kit and bilin' of 'em are nothing in God's world but +socialism in disguise! And it's my bounden duty as a pro- +ducer to resist every attack on the integrity of American +industry to the last ditch. Yes--SIR!" + +Mr. Elder wiped his brow. + +Dave Dyer added, "Sure! You bet! What they ought to +do is simply to hang every one of these agitators, and that +would settle the whole thing right off. Don't you think so, +doc?" + +"You bet," agreed Kennicott. + +The conversation was at last relieved of the plague of Carol's +intrusions and they settled down to the question of whether +the justice of the peace had sent that hobo drunk to jail for +ten days or twelve. It was a matter not readily determined. +Then Dave Dyer communicated his carefree adventures on the +gipsy trail: + +"Yep. I get good time out of the flivver. 'Bout a week +ago I motored down to New Wurttemberg. That's forty- +three---- No, let's see: It's seventeen miles to Belldale, and +'bout six and three-quarters, call it seven, to Torgenquist, and +it's a good nineteen miles from there to New Wurttemberg-- +seventeen and seven and nineteen, that makes, uh, let me see: +seventeen and seven 's twenty-four, plus nineteen, well say +plus twenty, that makes forty-four, well anyway, say about +forty-three or -four miles from here to New Wurttemberg. We +got started about seven-fifteen, prob'ly seven-twenty, because +I had to stop and fill the radiator, and we ran along, just keeping +up a good steady gait----" + +Mr. Dyer did finally, for reasons and purposes admitted and +justified, attain to New Wurttemberg. + +Once--only once--the presence of the alien Carol was +recognized. Chet Dashaway leaned over and said asthmatically, +"Say, uh, have you been reading this serial `Two Out' in +Tingling Tales? Corking yarn! Gosh, the fellow that wrote +it certainly can sling baseball slang!" + +The others tried to look literary. Harry Haydock offered, +"Juanita is a great hand for reading high-class stuff, like +`Mid the Magnolias' by this Sara Hetwiggin Butts, and +`Riders of Ranch Reckless.' Books. But me," he glanced +about importantly, as one convinced that no other hero had +ever been in so strange a plight, "I'm so darn busy I don't +have much time to read." + +"I never read anything I can't check against," said Sam Clark. + +Thus ended the literary portion of the conversation, and +for seven minutes Jackson Elder outlined reasons for believing +that the pike-fishing was better on the west shore of Lake +Minniemashie than on the east--though it was indeed quite +true that on the east shore Nat Hicks had caught a pike +altogether admirable. + +The talk went on. It did go on! Their voices were +monotonous, thick, emphatic. They were harshly pompous, like +men in the smoking-compartments of Pullman cars. They did +not bore Carol. They frightened her. She panted, "They +will be cordial to me, because my man belongs to their tribe. +God help me if I were an outsider!" + +Smiling as changelessly as an ivory figurine she sat quiescent, +avoiding thought, glancing about the living-room and hall, noting +their betrayal of unimaginative commercial prosperity. +Kennicott said, "Dandy interior, eh? My idea of how a +place ought to be furnished. Modern." She looked polite, +and observed the oiled floors, hard-wood staircase, unused +fireplace with tiles which resembled brown linoleum, cut-glass +vases standing upon doilies, and the barred, shut, forbidding +unit bookcases that were half filled with swashbuckler novels +and unread-looking sets of Dickens, Kipling, O. Henry, and +Elbert Hubbard. + +She perceived that even personalities were failing to hold +the party. The room filled with hesitancy as with a fog. +People cleared their throats, tried to choke down yawns. The +men shot their cuffs and the women stuck their combs more +firmly into their back hair. + +Then a rattle, a daring hope in every eye, the swinging of +a door, the smell of strong coffee, Dave Dyer's mewing voice +in a triumphant, "The eats!" They began to chatter. They +had something to do; They could escape from themselves. +They fell upon the food--chicken sandwiches, maple cake, +drug-store ice cream. Even when the food was gone they +remained cheerful. They could go home, any time now, and go +to bed! + +They went, with a flutter of coats, chiffon scarfs, and good- +bys. + +Carol and Kennicott walked home. + +"Did you like them?" he asked. + +"They were terribly sweet to me." + +"Uh, Carrie---- You ought to be more careful about +shocking folks. Talking about gold stockings, and about +showing your ankles to schoolteachers and all!" More +mildly: "You gave 'em a good time, but I'd watch out for +that, 'f I were you. Juanita Haydock is such a damn cat. I +wouldn't give her a chance to criticize me." + +"My poor effort to lift up the party! Was I wrong to +try to amuse them?" + +"No! No! Honey, I didn't mean---- You were the only +up-and-coming person in the bunch. I just mean---- Don't +get onto legs and all that immoral stuff. Pretty conservative +crowd." + +She was silent, raw with the shameful thought that the +attentive circle might have been criticizing her, laughing at +her. + +"Don't, please don't worry!" he pleaded. + +Silence + +"Gosh; I'm sorry I spoke about it. I just meant---- But +they were crazy about you. Sam said to me, `That little +lady of yours is the slickest thing that ever came to this +town,' he said; and Ma Dawson--I didn't hardly know +whether she'd like you or not, she's such a dried-up old bird, +but she said, `Your bride is so quick and bright, I declare, +she just wakes me up.' " + +Carol liked praise, the flavor and fatness of it, but she was +so energetically being sorry for herself that she could not +taste this commendation. + +"Please! Come on! Cheer up!" His lips said it, his +anxious shoulder said it, his arm about her said it, as they +halted on the obscure porch of their house. + +"Do you care if they think I'm flighty, Will?" + +"Me? Why, I wouldn't care if the whole world thought +you were this or that or anything else. You're my--well, +you're my soul!" + +He was an undefined mass, as solid-seeming as rock. She +found his sleeve, pinched it, cried, "I'm glad! It's sweet to +be wanted! You must tolerate my frivolousness. You're all +I have!" + +He lifted her, carried her into the house, and with her +arms about his neck she forgot Main Street. + + + +CHAPTER V + +I + + +"WE'LL steal the whole day, and go hunting. I want you +to see the country round here," Kennicott announced at breakfast. +"I'd take the car--want you to see how swell she runs +since I put in a new piston. But we'll take a team, so we can +get right out into the fields. Not many prairie chickens left +now, but we might just happen to run onto a small covey." + +He fussed over his hunting-kit. He pulled his hip boots +out to full length and examined them for holes. He feverishly +counted his shotgun shells, lecturing her on the qualities of +smokeless powder. He drew the new hammerless shotgun out +of its heavy tan leather case and made her peep through the +barrels to see how dazzlingly free they were from rust. + +The world of hunting and camping-outfits and fishing-tackle +was unfamiliar to her, and in Kennicott's interest she found +something creative and joyous. She examined the smooth +stock, the carved hard rubber butt of the gun. The shells, with +their brass caps and sleek green bodies and hieroglyphics on +the wads, were cool and comfortably heavy in her hands. + +Kennicott wore a brown canvas hunting-coat with vast +pockets lining the inside, corduroy trousers which bulged at +the wrinkles, peeled and scarred shoes, a scarecrow felt hat. +In this uniform he felt virile. They clumped out to the livery +buggy, they packed the kit and the box of lunch into the back, +crying to each other that it was a magnificent day. + +Kennicott had borrowed Jackson Elder's red and white +English setter, a complacent dog with a waving tail of silver +hair which flickered in the sunshine. As they started, the dog +yelped, and leaped at the horses' heads, till Kennicott took +him into the buggy, where he nuzzled Carol's knees and leaned +out to sneer at farm mongrels. + +The grays clattered out on the hard dirt road with a +pleasant song of hoofs: "Ta ta ta rat! Ta ta ta rat!" It +was early and fresh, the air whistling, frost bright on the +golden rod. As the sun warmed the world of stubble into a +welter of yellow they turned from the highroad, through the +bars of a farmer's gate, into a field, slowly bumping over the +uneven earth. In a hollow of the rolling prairie they lost +sight even of the country road. It was warm and placid. +Locusts trilled among the dry wheat-stalks, and brilliant little +flies hurtled across the buggy. A buzz of content filled the +air. Crows loitered and gossiped in the sky. + +The dog had been let out and after a dance of excitement +he settled down to a steady quartering of the field, forth +and back, forth and back, his nose down. + +"Pete Rustad owns this farm, and he told me he saw a +small covey of chickens in the west forty, last week. Maybe +we'll get some sport after all," Kennicott chuckled blissfully. + +She watched the dog in suspense, breathing quickly every +time he seemed to halt. She had no desire to slaughter +birds, but she did desire to belong to Kennicott's world. + +The dog stopped, on the point, a forepaw held up. + +"By golly! He's hit a scent! Come on!" squealed Kennicott. +He leaped from the buggy, twisted the reins about the +whip-socket, swung her out, caught up his gun, slipped in two +shells, stalked toward the rigid dog, Carol pattering after +him. The setter crawled ahead, his tail quivering, his belly +close to the stubble. Carol was nervous. She expected clouds +of large birds to fly up instantly. Her eyes were strained with +staring. But they followed the dog for a quarter of a mile, +turning, doubling, crossing two low hills, kicking through +a swale of weeds, crawling between the strands of a barbed- +wire fence. The walking was hard on her pavement-trained +feet. The earth was lumpy, the stubble prickly and lined with +grass, thistles, abortive stumps of clover. She dragged and +floundered. + +She heard Kennicott gasp, "Look!" Three gray birds were +starting up from the stubble. They were round, dumpy, like +enormous bumble bees. Kennicott was sighting, moving the +barrel. She was agitated. Why didn't he fire? The birds +would be gone! Then a crash, another, and two birds turned +somersaults in the air, plumped down. + +When he showed her the birds she had no sensation of blood. +These heaps of feathers were so soft and unbruised--there +was about them no hint of death. She watched her conquering +man tuck them into his inside pocket, and trudged with him +back to the buggy. + +They found no more prairie chickens that morning. + +At noon they drove into her first farmyard, a private village, +a white house with no porches save a low and quite dirty +stoop at the back, a crimson barn with white trimmings, a +glazed brick silo, an ex-carriage-shed, now the garage of a Ford, +an unpainted cow-stable, a chicken-house, a pig-pen, a corn- +crib, a granary, the galvanized-iron skeleton tower of a wind- +mill. The dooryard was of packed yellow clay, treeless, barren +of grass, littered with rusty plowshares and wheels of +discarded cultivators. Hardened trampled mud, like lava, filled +the pig-pen. The doors of the house were grime-rubbed, the +corners and eaves were rusted with rain, and the child who +stared at them from the kitchen window was smeary-faced. +But beyond the barn was a clump of scarlet geraniums; the +prairie breeze was sunshine in motion; the flashing metal +blades of the windmill revolved with a lively hum; a horse +neighed, a rooster crowed, martins flew in and out of the +cow-stable. + +A small spare woman with flaxen hair trotted from the +house. She was twanging a Swedish patois--not in monotone, +like English, but singing it, with a lyrical whine: + +"Pete he say you kom pretty soon hunting, doctor. My, +dot's fine you kom. Is dis de bride? Ohhhh! Ve yoost say +las' night, ve hope maybe ve see her som day. My, soch a +pretty lady!" Mrs. Rustad was shining with welcome. "Vell, +vell! Ay hope you lak dis country! Von't you stay for dinner, +doctor?" + +"No, but I wonder if you wouldn't like to give us a glass +of milk?" condescended Kennicott. + +"Vell Ay should say Ay vill! You vait har a second and +Ay run on de milk-house!" She nervously hastened to a tiny +red building beside the windmill; she came back with a pitcher +of milk from which Carol filled the thermos bottle. + +As they drove off Carol admired, "She's the dearest thing +I ever saw. And she adores you. You are the Lord of the +Manor." + +"Oh no," much pleased, "but still they do ask my advice +about things. Bully people, these Scandinavian farmers. And +prosperous, too. Helga Rustad, she's still scared of America, +but her kids will be doctors and lawyers and governors of the +state and any darn thing they want to." + +"I wonder----" Carol was plunged back into last night's +Weltschmerz. "I wonder if these farmers aren't bigger than +we are? So simple and hard-working. The town lives on +them. We townies are parasites, and yet we feel superior +to them. Last night I heard Mr. Haydock talking about +`hicks.' Apparently he despises the farmers because they +haven't reached the social heights of selling thread and buttons." + +"Parasites? Us? Where'd the farmers be without the +town? Who lends them money? Who--why, we supply them +with everything!" + +"Don't you find that some of the farmers think they pay +too much for the services of the towns?" + +"Oh, of course there's a lot of cranks among the farmers +same as there are among any class. Listen to some of these +kickers, a fellow'd think that the farmers ought to run the +state and the whole shooting-match--probably if they had +their way they'd fill up the legislature with a lot of farmers +in manure-covered boots--yes, and they'd come tell me I was +hired on a salary now, and couldn't fix my fees! That'd be +fine for you, wouldn't it!" + +"But why shouldn't they?" + +"Why? That bunch of---- Telling ME---- Oh, for heaven's sake, +let's quit arguing. All this discussing may be all right +at a party but---- Let's forget it while we're hunting." + +"I know. The Wonderlust--probably it's a worse affliction +than the Wanderlust. I just wonder----" + +She told herself that she had everything in the world. +And after each self-rebuke she stumbled again on "I just +wonder----" + +They ate their sandwiches by a prairie slew: long grass +reaching up out of clear water, mossy bogs, red-winged black- +birds, the scum a splash of gold-green. Kennicott smoked a +pipe while she leaned back in the buggy and let her tired spirit +be absorbed in the Nirvana of the incomparable sky. + +They lurched to the highroad and awoke from their sun- +soaked drowse at the sound of the clopping hoofs. They +paused to look for partridges in a rim of woods, little woods, +very clean and shiny and gay, silver birches and poplars +with immaculate green trunks, encircling a lake of sandy +bottom, a splashing seclusion demure in the welter of hot prairie. + +Kennicott brought down a fat red squirrel and at dusk he had +a dramatic shot at a flight of ducks whirling down from the +upper air, skimming the lake, instantly vanishing. + +They drove home under the sunset. Mounds of straw, and +wheat-stacks like bee-hives, stood out in startling rose and +gold, and the green-tufted stubble glistened. As the vast +girdle of crimson darkened, the fulfilled land became autumnal +in deep reds and browns. The black road before the buggy +turned to a faint lavender, then was blotted to uncertain +grayness. Cattle came in a long line up to the barred gates +of the farmyards, and over the resting land was a dark glow. + +Carol had found the dignity and greatness which had failed +her in Main Street. + + + +II + + +Till they had a maid they took noon dinner and six o'clock +supper at Mrs. Gurrey's boarding-house. + +Mrs. Elisha Gurrey, relict of Deacon Gurrey the dealer in +hay and grain, was a pointed-nosed, simpering woman with +iron-gray hair drawn so tight that it resembled a soiled +handkerchief covering her head. But she was unexpectedly +cheerful, and her dining-room, with its thin tablecloth on a long +pine table, had the decency of clean bareness. + +In the line of unsmiling, methodically chewing guests, like +horses at a manger, Carol came to distinguish one countenance: +the pale, long, spectacled face and sandy pompadour hair of +Mr. Raymond P. Wutherspoon, known as "Raymie," professional +bachelor, manager and one half the sales-force in the +shoe-department of the Bon Ton Store. + +"You will enjoy Gopher Prairie very much, Mrs. Kennicott," +petitioned Raymie. His eyes were like those of a dog waiting +to be let in out of the cold. He passed the stewed apricots +effusively. "There are a great many bright cultured people +here. Mrs. Wilks, the Christian Science reader, is a very +bright woman--though I am not a Scientist myself, in fact I +sing in the Episcopal choir. And Miss Sherwin of the high +school--she is such a pleasing, bright girl--I was fitting her +to a pair of tan gaiters yesterday, I declare, it really was a +pleasure." + +"Gimme the butter, Carrie," was Kennicott's comment. She +defied him by encouraging Raymie: + +"Do you have amateur dramatics and so on here?" + +"Oh yes! The town's just full of talent. The Knights of +Pythias put on a dandy minstrel show last year." + +"It's nice you're so enthusiastic." + +"Oh, do you really think so? Lots of folks jolly me for +trying to get up shows and so on. I tell them they have more +artistic gifts than they know. Just yesterday I was saying +to Harry Haydock: if he would read poetry, like Longfellow, +or if he would join the band--I get so much pleasure out of +playing the cornet, and our band-leader, Del Snafflin, is such +a good musician, I often say he ought to give up his barbering +and become a professional musician, he could play the clarinet +in Minneapolis or New York or anywhere, but--but I couldn't +get Harry to see it at all and--I hear you and the doctor went +out hunting yesterday. Lovely country, isn't it. And did you +make some calls? The mercantile life isn't inspiring like +medicine. It must be wonderful to see how patients trust +you, doctor." + +"Huh. It's me that's got to do all the trusting. Be damn +sight more wonderful 'f they'd pay their bills," grumbled +Kennicott and, to Carol, he whispered something which +sounded like "gentleman hen." + +But Raymie's pale eyes were watering at her. She helped +him with, "So you like to read poetry?" + +"Oh yes, so much--though to tell the truth, I don't get much +time for reading, we're always so busy at the store and---- +But we had the dandiest professional reciter at the Pythian +Sisters sociable last winter." + +Carol thought she heard a grunt from the traveling salesman +at the end of the table, and Kennicott's jerking elbow was a +grunt embodied. She persisted: + +"Do you get to see many plays, Mr. Wutherspoon?" + +He shone at her like a dim blue March moon, and sighed, +"No, but I do love the movies. I'm a real fan. One trouble +with books is that they're not so thoroughly safeguarded by +intelligent censors as the movies are, and when you drop into +the library and take out a book you never know what you're +wasting your time on. What I like in books is a wholesome, +really improving story, and sometimes---- Why, once I started +a novel by this fellow Balzac that you read about, and it +told how a lady wasn't living with her husband, I mean she +wasn't his wife. It went into details, disgustingly! And the +English was real poor. I spoke to the library about it, and +they took it off the shelves. I'm not narrow, but I must say +I don't see any use in this deliberately dragging in immorality! +Life itself is so full of temptations that in literature one wants +only that which is pure and uplifting." + +"What's the name of that Balzac yarn? Where can I get +hold of it?" giggled the traveling salesman. + +Raymie ignored him. "But the movies, they are mostly +clean, and their humor---- Don't you think that the most +essential quality for a person to have is a sense of humor?" + +"I don't know. I really haven't much," said Carol. + +He shook his finger at her. "Now, now, you're too modest. +I'm sure we can all see that you have a perfectly corking sense +of humor. Besides, Dr. Kennicott wouldn't marry a lady that +didn't have. We all know how he loves his fun!" + +"You bet. I'm a jokey old bird. Come on, Carrie; let's +beat it," remarked Kennicott. + +Raymie implored, "And what is your chief artistic interest, +Mrs. Kennicott?" + +"Oh----" Aware that the traveling salesman had murmured, +"Dentistry," she desperately hazarded, "Architecture." + +"That's a real nice art. I've always said--when Haydock & +Simons were finishing the new front on the Bon Ton building, +the old man came to me, you know, Harry's father, `D. H.,' +I always call him, and he asked me how I liked it, and I said +to him, `Look here, D. H.,' I said--you see, he was going to +leave the front plain, and I said to him, `It's all very well +to have modern lighting and a big display-space,' I said, `but +when you get that in, you want to have some architecture, too,' +I said, and he laughed and said he guessed maybe I was right, +and so he had 'em put on a cornice." + +"Tin!" observed the traveling salesman. + +Raymie bared his teeth like a belligerent mouse. "Well, +what if it is tin? That's not my fault. I told D. H. to make +it polished granite. You make me tired!" + +"Leave us go! Come on, Carrie, leave us go!" from +Kennicott. + +Raymie waylaid them in the hall and secretly informed Carol +that she musn't mind the traveling salesman's coarseness-- +he belonged to the hwa pollwa. + +Kennicott chuckled, "Well, child, how about it? Do you +prefer an artistic guy like Raymie to stupid boobs like Sam +Clark and me?" + +"My dear! Let's go home, and play pinochle, and laugh, +and be foolish, and slip up to bed, and sleep without dreaming. +It's beautiful to be just a solid citizeness!" + + + +III + +From the Gopher Prairie Weekly Dauntless: + + +One of the most charming affairs of the season was held Tuesday +evening at the handsome new residence of Sam and Mrs. Clark +when many of our most prominent citizens gathered to greet the +lovely new bride of our popular local physician, Dr. Will Kennicott. +All present spoke of the many charms of the bride, formerly Miss +Carol Milford of St. Paul. Games and stunts were the order of the +day, with merry talk and conversation. At a late hour dainty +refreshments were served, and the party broke up with many +expressions of pleasure at the pleasant affair. Among those present +were Mesdames Kennicott, Elder---- + + * * * + +Dr. Will Kennicott, for the past several years one of our most +popular and skilful physicians and surgeons, gave the town a +delightful surprise when he returned from an extended honeymoon +tour in Colorado this week with his charming bride. nee Miss Carol +Milford of St. Paul, whose family are socially prominent in +Minneapolis and Mankato. Mrs. Kennicott is a lady of manifold +charms, not only of striking charm of appearance but is also a +distinguished graduate of a school in the East and has for the +past year been prominently connected in an important position of +responsibility with the St. Paul Public Library, in which city +Dr. "Will" had the good fortune to meet her. The city of +Gopher Prairie welcomes her to our midst and prophesies for her +many happy years m the energetic city of the twin lakes and +the future. The Dr. and Mrs. Kennicott will reside for the present +at the Doctor's home on Poplar Street which his charming mother +has been keeping for him who has now returned to her own home +at Lac-qui-Meurt leaving a host of friends who regret her absence +and hope to see her soon with us again. + + + +IV + + +She knew that if she was ever to effect any of the "reforms" +which she had pictured, she must have a starting-place. What +confused her during the three or four months after her marriage +was not lack of perception that she must be definite, but sheer +careless happiness of her first home. + +In the pride of being a housewife she loved every detail-- +the brocade armchair with the weak back, even the brass water- +cock on the hot-water reservoir, when she had become familiar +with it by trying to scour it to brilliance. + +She found a maid--plump radiant Bea Sorenson from +Scandia Crossing. Bea was droll in her attempt to be at once +a respectful servant and a bosom friend. They laughed +together over the fact that the stove did not draw, over the +slipperiness of fish in the pan. + +Like a child playing Grandma in a trailing skirt, Carol +paraded uptown for her marketing, crying greetings to housewives +along the way. Everybody bowed to her, strangers and +all, and made her feel that they wanted her, that she belonged +here. In city shops she was merely A Customer--a hat, a +voice to bore a harassed clerk. Here she was Mrs. Doc +Kennicott, and her preferences in grape-fruit and manners were +known and remembered and worth discussing. . . . even +if they weren't worth fulfilling. + +Shopping was a delight of brisk conferences. The very +merchants whose droning she found the dullest at the two or three +parties which were given to welcome her were the pleasantest +confidants of all when they had something to talk about-- +lemons or cotton voile or floor-oil. With that skip-jack Dave +Dyer, the druggist, she conducted a long mock-quarrel. She +pretended that he cheated her in the price of magazines and +candy; he pretended she was a detective from the Twin Cities. +He hid behind the prescription-counter, and when she stamped +her foot he came out wailing, "Honest, I haven't done nothing +crooked today--not yet." + +She never recalled her first impression of Main Street; never +had precisely the same despair at its ugliness. By the end of +two shopping-tours everything had changed proportions. As +she never entered it, the Minniemashie House ceased to exist +for her. Clark's Hardware Store, Dyer's Drug Store, the +groceries of Ole Jenson and Frederick Ludelmeyer and Howland +& Gould, the meat markets, the notions shop--they expanded, +and hid all other structures. When she entered Mr. +Ludelmeyer's store and he wheezed, "Goot mornin', Mrs. +Kennicott. Vell, dis iss a fine day," she did not notice the +dustiness of the shelves nor the stupidity of the girl clerk; +and she did not remember the mute colloquy with him on her +first view of Main Street. + +She could not find half the kinds of food she wanted, but +that made shopping more of an adventure. When she did +contrive to get sweetbreads at Dahl & Oleson's Meat Market +the triumph was so vast that she buzzed with excitement and +admired the strong wise butcher, Mr. Dahl. + +She appreciated the homely ease of village life. She liked +the old men, farmers, G.A.R. veterans, who when they gossiped +sometimes squatted on their heels on the sidewalk, like +resting Indians, and reflectively spat over the curb. + +She found beauty in the children. + +She had suspected that her married friends exaggerated their +passion for children. But in her work in the library, children +had become individuals to her, citizens of the State with their +own rights and their own senses of humor. In the library +she had not had much time to give them, but now she knew +the luxury of stopping, gravely asking Bessie Clark whether +her doll had yet recovered from its rheumatism, and agreeing +with Oscar Martinsen that it would be Good Fun to go trapping +"mushrats." + +She touched the thought, "It would be sweet to have a +baby of my own. I do want one. Tiny---- No! Not yet! +There's so much to do. And I'm still tired from the job. +It's in my bones." + +She rested at home. She listened to the village noises +common to all the world, jungle or prairie; sounds simple and +charged with magic--dogs barking, chickens making a gurgling +sound of content, children at play, a man beating a rug +wind in the cottonwood trees, a locust fiddling, a footstep on +the walk, jaunty voices of Bea and a grocer's boy in the +kitchen, a clinking anvil, a piano--not too near. + +Twice a week, at least, she drove into the country with +Kennicott, to hunt ducks in lakes enameled with sunset, or to +call on patients who looked up to her as the squire's lady and +thanked her for toys and magazines. Evenings she went with +her husband to the motion pictures and was boisterously greeted +by every other couple; or, till it became too cold, they sat on +the porch, bawling to passers-by in motors, or to neighbors who +were raking the leaves. The dust became golden in the low +sun; the street was filled with the fragrance of burning leaves. + + + +V + + +But she hazily wanted some one to whom she could say +what she thought. + +On a slow afternoon when she fidgeted over sewing and +wished that the telephone would ring, Bea announced Miss +Vida Sherwin. + +Despite Vida Sherwin's lively blue eyes, if you had looked +at her in detail you would have found her face slightly lined, +and not so much sallow as with the bloom rubbed off; you +would have found her chest flat, and her fingers rough from +needle and chalk and penholder; her blouses and plain cloth +skirts undistinguished; and her hat worn too far back, +betraying a dry forehead. But you never did look at Vida +Sherwin in detail. You couldn't. Her electric activity veiled +her. She was as energetic as a chipmunk. Her fingers +fluttered; her sympathy came out in spurts; she sat on the +edge of a chair in eagerness to be near her auditor, to send +her enthusiasms and optimism across. + +She rushed into the room pouring out: "I'm afraid you'll +think the teachers have been shabby in not coming near you, +but we wanted to give you a chance to get settled. I am +Vida Sherwin, and I try to teach French and English and a +few other things in the high school." + +"I've been hoping to know the teachers. You see, I was +a librarian----" + +"Oh, you needn't tell me. I know all about you! Awful +how much I know--this gossipy village. We need you so +much here. It's a dear loyal town (and isn't loyalty the finest +thing in the world!) but it's a rough diamond, and we need +you for the polishing, and we're ever so humble----" She +stopped for breath and finished her compliment with a smile. + +"If I COULD help you in any way---- Would I be committing +the unpardonable sin if I whispered that I think Gopher +Prairie is a tiny bit ugly?" + +"Of course it's ugly. Dreadfully! Though I'm probably +the only person in town to whom you could safely say that. +(Except perhaps Guy Pollock the lawyer--have you met him? +--oh, you MUST!--he's simply a darling--intelligence and +culture and so gentle.) But I don't care so much about the +ugliness. That will change. It's the spirit that gives me +hope. It's sound. Wholesome. But afraid. It needs live +creatures like you to awaken it. I shall slave-drive you!" + +"Splendid. What shall I do? I've been wondering if it +would be possible to have a good architect come here to +lecture." + +"Ye-es, but don't you think it would be better to work +with existing agencies? Perhaps it will sound slow to you, but +I was thinking---- It would be lovely if we could get you to +teach Sunday School." + +Carol had the empty expression of one who finds that she +has been affectionately bowing to a complete stranger. "Oh +yes. But I'm afraid I wouldn't be much good at that. My +religion is so foggy." + +"I know. So is mine. I don't care a bit for dogma. +Though I do stick firmly to the belief in the fatherhood of +God and the brotherhood of man and the leadership of Jesus. +As you do, of course." + +Carol looked respectable and thought about having tea. + +"And that's all you need teach in Sunday School. It's +the personal influence. Then there's the library-board. You'd +be so useful on that. And of course there's our women's +study club--the Thanatopsis Club." + +"Are they doing anything? Or do they read papers made +out of the Encyclopedia?" + +Miss Sherwin shrugged. "Perhaps. But still, they are so +earnest. They will respond to your fresher interest. And +the Thanatopsis does do a good social work--they've made +the city plant ever so many trees, and they run the rest-room +for farmers' wives. And they do take such an interest in +refinement and culture. So--in fact, so very unique." + +Carol was disappointed--by nothing very tangible. She +said politely, "I'll think them all over. I must have a while +to look around first." + +Miss Sherwin darted to her, smoothed her hair, peered at +her. "Oh, my dear, don't you suppose I know? These first +tender days of marriage--they're sacred to me. Home, and +children that need you, and depend on you to keep them alive, +and turn to you with their wrinkly little smiles. And the +hearth and----" She hid her face from Carol as she made an +activity of patting the cushion of her chair, but she went on +with her former briskness: + +"I mean, you must help us when you're ready. . . . +I'm afraid you'll think I'm conservative. I am! So much +to conserve. All this treasure of American ideals. Sturdiness +and democracy and opportunity. Maybe not at Palm Beach. +But, thank heaven, we're free from such social distinctions in +Gopher Prairie. I have only one good quality--overwhelming +belief in the brains and hearts of our nation, our state, our +town. It's so strong that sometimes I do have a tiny effect +on the haughty ten-thousandaires. I shake 'em up and make +'em believe in ideals--yes, in themselves. But I get into a +rut of teaching. I need young critical things like you to +punch me up. Tell me, what are you reading?" + +"I've been re-reading `The Damnation of Theron Ware.' +Do you know it?" + +"Yes. It was clever. But hard. Man wanted to tear +down, not build up. Cynical. Oh, I do hope I'm not a +sentimentalist. But I can't see any use in this high-art stuff +that doesn't encourage us day-laborers to plod on." + +Ensued a fifteen-minute argument about the oldest topic +in the world: It's art but is it pretty? Carol tried to be +eloquent regarding honesty of observation. Miss Sherwin stood +out for sweetness and a cautious use of the uncomfortable +properties of light. At the end Carol cried: + +"I don't care how much we disagree. It's a relief to have +somebody talk something besides crops. Let's make Gopher +Prairie rock to its foundations: let's have afternoon tea +instead of afternoon coffee." + +The delighted Bea helped her bring out the ancestral folding +sewing-table, whose yellow and black top was scarred with +dotted lines from a dressmaker's tracing-wheel, and to set it +with an embroidered lunch-cloth, and the mauve-glazed Japanese +tea-set which she had brought from St. Paul. Miss +Sherwin confided her latest scheme--moral motion pictures for +country districts, with light from a portable dynamo hitched +to a Ford engine. Bea was twice called to fill the hot-water +pitcher and to make cinnamon toast. + +When Kennicott came home at five he tried to be courtly, +as befits the husband of one who has afternoon tea. Carol +suggested that Miss Sherwin stay for supper, and that Kennicott +invite Guy Pollock, the much-praised lawyer, the poetic bachelor. + +Yes, Pollock could come. Yes, he was over the grippe which +had prevented his going to Sam Clark's party. + +Carol regretted her impulse. The man would be an opinionated +politician, heavily jocular about The Bride. But at the +entrance of Guy Pollock she discovered a personality. Pollock +was a man of perhaps thirty-eight, slender, still, deferential. +His voice was low. "It was very good of you to want me," +he said, and he offered no humorous remarks, and did not +ask her if she didn't think Gopher Prairie was "the livest little +burg in the state." + +She fancied that his even grayness might reveal a thousand +tints of lavender and blue and silver. + +At supper he hinted his love for Sir Thomas Browne, +Thoreau, Agnes Repplier, Arthur Symons, Claude Washburn, +Charles Flandrau. He presented his idols diffidently, but he +expanded in Carol's bookishness, in Miss Sherwin's voluminous +praise, in Kennicott's tolerance of any one who amused his +wife. + +Carol wondered why Guy Pollock went on digging at routine +law-cases; why he remained in Gopher Prairie. She had no +one whom she could ask. Neither Kennicott nor Vida Sherwin +would understand that there might be reasons why a Pollock +should not remain in Gopher Prairie. She enjoyed the faint +mystery. She felt triumphant and rather literary. She already +had a Group. It would be only a while now before she provided +the town with fanlights and a knowledge of Galsworthy. +She was doing things! As she served the emergency +dessert of cocoanut and sliced oranges, she cried to Pollock, +"Don't you think we ought to get up a dramatic club?" + + + +CHAPTER VI + +I + +WHEN the first dubious November snow had filtered down, +shading with white the bare clods in the plowed fields, when +the first small fire had been started in the furnace, which +is the shrine of a Gopher Prairie home, Carol began to make +the house her own. She dismissed the parlor furniture--the +golden oak table with brass knobs, the moldy brocade chairs, +the picture of "The Doctor." She went to Minneapolis, to +scamper through department stores and small Tenth Street +shops devoted to ceramics and high thought. She had to ship +her treasures, but she wanted to bring them back in her arms. + +Carpenters had torn out the partition between front parlor +and back parlor, thrown it into a long room on which she +lavished yellow and deep blue; a Japanese obi with an +intricacy of gold thread on stiff ultramarine tissue, which she +hung as a panel against the maize wall; a couch with pillows of +sapphire velvet and gold bands; chairs which, in Gopher Prairie, +seemed flippant. She hid the sacred family phonograph in the +dining-room, and replaced its stand with a square cabinet on +which was a squat blue jar between yellow candles. + +Kennicott decided against a fireplace. "We'll have a new +house in a couple of years, anyway." + +She decorated only one room. The rest, Kennicott hinted, +she'd better leave till he "made a ten-strike." + +The brown cube of a house stirred and awakened; it seemed +to be in motion; it welcomed her back from shopping; it lost +its mildewed repression. + +The supreme verdict was Kennicott's "Well, by golly, I +was afraid the new junk wouldn't be so comfortable, but I +must say this divan, or whatever you call it, is a lot better +than that bumpy old sofa we had, and when I look around---- +Well, it's worth all it cost, I guess." + +Every one in town took an interest in the refurnishing. The +carpenters and painters who did not actually assist crossed +the lawn to peer through the windows and exclaim, "Fine! +Looks swell!" Dave Dyer at the drug store, Harry Haydock +and Raymie Wutherspoon at the Bon Ton, repeated daily, +"How's the good work coming? I hear the house is getting +to be real classy." + +Even Mrs. Bogart. + +Mrs. Bogart lived across the alley from the rear of Carol's +house. She was a widow, and a Prominent Baptist, and a +Good Influence. She had so painfully reared three sons to +be Christian gentlemen that one of them had become an Omaha +bartender, one a professor of Greek, and one, Cyrus N. +Bogart, a boy of fourteen who was still at home, the most +brazen member of the toughest gang in Boytown. + +Mrs. Bogart was not the acid type of Good Influence. She +was the soft, damp, fat, sighing, indigestive, clinging, +melancholy, depressingly hopeful kind. There are in every large +chicken-yard a number of old and indignant hens who resemble +Mrs. Bogart, and when they are served at Sunday noon +dinner, as fricasseed chicken with thick dumplings, they keep +up the resemblance. + +Carol had noted that Mrs. Bogart from her side window +kept an eye upon the house. The Kennicotts and Mrs. Bogart +did not move in the same sets--which meant precisely the same +in Gopher Prairie as it did on Fifth Avenue or in Mayfair. +But the good widow came calling. + +She wheezed in, sighed, gave Carol a pulpy hand, sighed, +glanced sharply at the revelation of ankles as Carol crossed +her legs, sighed, inspected the new blue chairs, smiled with a +coy sighing sound, and gave voice: + +"I've wanted to call on you so long, dearie, you know we're +neighbors, but I thought I'd wait till you got settled, you must +run in and see me, how much did that big chair cost?" + +"Seventy-seven dollars!" + +"Sev---- Sakes alive! Well, I suppose it's all right for them +that can afford it, though I do sometimes think---- Of course +as our pastor said once, at Baptist Church---- By the way, we +haven't seen you there yet, and of course your husband was +raised up a Baptist, and I do hope he won't drift away from +the fold, of course we all know there isn't anything, not +cleverness or gifts of gold or anything, that can make up for humility +and the inward grace and they can say what they want to about +the P. E. church, but of course there's no church that has more +history or has stayed by the true principles of Christianity +better than the Baptist Church and---- In what church were +you raised, Mrs. Kennicott?" + +"W-why, I went to Congregational, as a girl in Mankato, +but my college was Universalist." + +"Well---- But of course as the Bible says, is it the Bible, +at least I know I have heard it in church and everybody admits +it, it's proper for the little bride to take her husband's vessel +of faith, so we all hope we shall see you at the Baptist Church +and---- As I was saying, of course I agree with Reverend +Zitterel in thinking that the great trouble with this nation +today is lack of spiritual faith--so few going to church, and +people automobiling on Sunday and heaven knows what all. +But still I do think that one trouble is this terrible waste of +money, people feeling that they've got to have bath-tubs and +telephones in their houses---- I heard you were selling the +old furniture cheap." + +"Yes!" + +"Well--of course you know your own mind, but I can't +help thinking, when Will's ma was down here keeping house +for him--SHE used to run in to SEE me, real OFTEN!--it was good +enough furniture for her. But there, there, I mustn't croak, +I just wanted to let you know that when you find you can't +depend on a lot of these gadding young folks like the Haydocks +and the Dyers--and heaven only knows how much money +Juanita Haydock blows in in a year--why then you may be +glad to know that slow old Aunty Bogart is always right there, +and heaven knows----" A portentous sigh. "--I HOPE you and +your husband won't have any of the troubles, with sickness and +quarreling and wasting money and all that so many of these +young couples do have and---- But I must be running along +now, dearie. It's been such a pleasure and---- Just run in +and see me any time. I hope Will is well? I thought he +looked a wee mite peaked." + +It was twenty minutes later when Mrs. Bogart finally oozed +out of the front door. Carol ran back into the living-room +and jerked open the windows. "That woman has left damp +finger-prints in the air," she said. + + + +II + + +Carol was extravagant, but at least she did not try to clear +herself of blame by going about whimpering, "I know I'm +terribly extravagant but I don't seem to be able to help it." + +Kennicott had never thought of giving her an allowance. +His mother had never had one! As a wage-earning spinster +Carol had asserted to her fellow librarians that when she was +married, she was going to have an allowance and be business- +like and modern. But it was too much trouble to explain to +Kennicott's kindly stubbornness that she was a practical +housekeeper as well as a flighty playmate. She bought a budget- +plan account book and made her budgets as exact as budgets +are likely to be when they lack budgets. + +For the first month it was a honeymoon jest to beg prettily, +to confess, "I haven't a cent in the house, dear," and to be +told, "You're an extravagant little rabbit." But the budget +book made her realize how inexact were her finances. She +became self-conscious; occasionally she was indignant that she +should always have to petition him for the money with which +to buy his food. She caught herself criticizing his belief that, +since his joke about trying to keep her out of the poorhouse +had once been accepted as admirable humor, it should continue +to be his daily bon mot. It was a nuisance to have to run +down the street after him because she had forgotten to ask +him for money at breakfast. + +But she couldn't "hurt his feelings," she reflected. He +liked the lordliness of giving largess. + +She tried to reduce the frequency of begging by opening +accounts and having the bills sent to him. She had found that +staple groceries, sugar, flour, could be most cheaply purchased +at Axel Egge's rustic general store. She said sweetly to Axel: + +"I think I'd better open a charge account here." + +"I don't do no business except for cash," grunted Axel. + +She flared, "Do you know who I am?" + +"Yuh, sure, I know. The doc is good for it. But that's +yoost a rule I made. I make low prices. I do business for +cash." + +She stared at his red impassive face, and her fingers had +the undignified desire to slap him, but her reason agreed with +him. "You're quite right. You shouldn't break your rule +for me." + +Her rage had not been lost. It had been transferred to +her husband. She wanted ten pounds of sugar in a hurry, but +she had no money. She ran up the stairs to Kennicott's office. +On the door was a sign advertising a headache cure and +stating, "The doctor is out, back at----" Naturally, the blank +space was not filled out. She stamped her foot. She ran +down to the drug store--the doctor's club. + +As she entered she heard Mrs. Dyer demanding, "Dave, +I've got to have some money." + +Carol saw that her husband was there, and two other men, +all listening in amusement. + +Dave Dyer snapped, "How much do you want? Dollar be +enough?" + +"No, it won't! I've got to get some underclothes for the +kids." + +"Why, good Lord, they got enough now to fill the closet +so I couldn't find my hunting boots, last time I wanted them." + +"I don't care. They're all in rags. You got to give me +ten dollars----" + +Carol perceived that Mrs. Dyer was accustomed to this +indignity. She perceived that the men, particularly Dave, +regarded it as an excellent jest. She waited--she knew what +would come--it did. Dave yelped, "Where's that ten dollars +I gave you last year?" and he looked to the other men to +laugh. They laughed. + +Cold and still, Carol walked up to Kennicott and +commanded, "I want to see you upstairs." + +"Why--something the matter?" + +"Yes!" + +He clumped after her, up the stairs, into his barren office. +Before he could get out a query she stated: + +"Yesterday, in front of a saloon, I heard a German farm- +wife beg her husband for a quarter, to get a toy for the baby-- +and he refused. Just now I've heard Mrs. Dyer going through +the same humiliation. And I--I'm in the same position! I +have to beg you for money. Daily! I have just been informed +that I couldn't have any sugar because I hadn't the money +to pay for it!" + +"Who said that? By God, I'll kill any----" + +"Tut. It wasn't his fault. It was yours. And mine. I now +humbly beg you to give me the money with which to buy meals +for you to eat. And hereafter to remember it. The next time, +I sha'n't beg. I shall simply starve. Do you understand? +I can't go on being a slave----" + +Her defiance, her enjoyment of the role, ran out. She +was sobbing against his overcoat, "How can you shame me +so?" and he was blubbering, "Dog-gone it, I meant to give +you some, and I forgot it. I swear I won't again. By golly +I won't!" + +He pressed fifty dollars upon her, and after that he +remembered to give her money regularly. . .sometimes. + +Daily she determined, "But I must have a stated amount-- +be business-like. System. I must do something about it." +And daily she didn't do anything about it. + + + +III + + +Mrs. Bogart had, by the simpering viciousness of her +comments on the new furniture, stirred Carol to economy. She +spoke judiciously to Bea about left-overs. She read the cook- +book again and, like a child with a picture-book, she studied +the diagram of the beef which gallantly continues to browse +though it is divided into cuts. + +But she was a deliberate and joyous spendthrift in her +preparations for her first party, the housewarming. She made +lists on every envelope and laundry-slip in her desk. She +sent orders to Minneapolis "fancy grocers." She pinned +patterns and sewed. She was irritated when Kennicott was +jocular about "these frightful big doings that are going on." +She regarded the affair as an attack on Gopher Prairie's timidity +in pleasure. "I'll make 'em lively, if nothing else. I'll +make 'em stop regarding parties as committee-meetings." + +Kennicott usually considered himself the master of the +house. At his desire, she went hunting, which was his symbol +of happiness, and she ordered porridge for breakfast, which +was his symbol of morality. But when he came home on the +afternoon before the housewarming he found himself a slave, +an intruder, a blunderer. Carol wailed, "Fix the furnace so +you won't have to touch it after supper. And for heaven's sake +take that horrible old door-mat off the porch. And put on your +nice brown and white shirt. Why did you come home so +late? Would you mind hurrying? Here it is almost suppertime, +and those fiends are just as likely as not to come at +seven instead of eight. PLEASE hurry!" + +She was as unreasonable as an amateur leading woman on +a first night, and he was reduced to humility. When she came +down to supper, when she stood in the doorway, he gasped. +She was in a silver sheath, the calyx of a lily, her piled hair +like black glass; she had the fragility and costliness of a +Viennese goblet; and her eyes were intense. He was stirred +to rise from the table and to hold the chair for her; and all +through supper he ate his bread dry because he felt that she +would think him common if he said "Will you hand me the +butter?" + + + +IV + + +She had reached the calmness of not caring whether her +guests liked the party or not, and a state of satisfied suspense +in regard to Bea's technique in serving, before Kennicott cried +from the bay-window in the living-room, "Here comes somebody!" +and Mr. and Mrs. Luke Dawson faltered in, at a +quarter to eight. Then in a shy avalanche arrived the entire +aristocracy of Gopher Prairie: all persons engaged in a +profession, or earning more than twenty-five hundred dollars a +year, or possessed of grandparents born in America. + +Even while they were removing their overshoes they were +peeping at the new decorations. Carol saw Dave Dyer +secretively turn over the gold pillows to find a price-tag, and +heard Mr. Julius Flickerbaugh, the attorney, gasp, "Well, I'll +be switched," as he viewed the vermilion print hanging against +the Japanese obi. She was amused. But her high spirits slackened +as she beheld them form in dress parade, in a long, silent, +uneasy circle clear round the living-room. She felt that she +had been magically whisked back to her first party, at Sam +Clark's. + +"Have I got to lift them, like so many pigs of iron? I +don't know that I can make them happy, but I'll make them +hectic." + +A silver flame in the darkling circle, she whirled around, drew +them with her smile, and sang, "I want my party to be noisy +and undignified! This is the christening of my house, and +I want you to help me have a bad influence on it, so that +it will be a giddy house. For me, won't you all join in an +old-fashioned square dance? And Mr. Dyer will call." + +She had a record on the phonograph; Dave Dyer was capering +in the center of the floor, loose-jointed, lean, small, rusty +headed, pointed of nose, clapping his hands and shouting, +"Swing y' pardners--alamun lef!" + +Even the millionaire Dawsons and Ezra Stowbody and +"Professor" George Edwin Mott danced, looking only slightly +foolish; and by rushing about the room and being coy and coaxing +to all persons over forty-five, Carol got them into a waltz +and a Virginia Reel. But when she left them to disenjoy +themselves in their own way Harry Haydock put a one-step record +on the phonograph, the younger people took the floor, and +all the elders sneaked back to their chairs, with crystallized +smiles which meant, "Don't believe I'll try this one myself, +but I do enjoy watching the youngsters dance." + +Half of them were silent; half resumed the discussions of +that afternoon in the store. Ezra Stowbody hunted for something +to say, hid a yawn, and offered to Lyman Cass, the +owner of the flour-mill, "How d' you folks like the new +furnace, Lym? Huh? So." + +"Oh, let them alone. Don't pester them. They must like +it, or they wouldn't do it." Carol warned herself. But they +gazed at her so expectantly when she flickered past that she +was reconvinced that in their debauches of respectability they +had lost the power of play as well as the power of impersonal +thought. Even the dancers were gradually crushed by the +invisible force of fifty perfectly pure and well-behaved and +negative minds; and they sat down, two by two. In twenty +minutes the party was again elevated to the decorum of a +prayer-meeting. + +"We're going to do something exciting," Carol exclaimed +to her new confidante, Vida Sherwin. She saw that in the +growing quiet her voice had carried across the room. Nat +Hicks, Ella Stowbody, and Dave Dyer were abstracted, fingers +and lips slightly moving. She knew with a cold certainty that +Dave was rehearsing his "stunt" about the Norwegian catching +the hen, Ella running over the first lines of "An Old Sweetheart +of Mine," and Nat thinking of his popular parody on Mark +Antony's oration. + +"But I will not have anybody use the word `stunt' in my +house," she whispered to Miss Sherwin. + +"That's good. I tell you: why not have Raymond Wutherspoon sing?" + +"Raymie? Why, my dear, he's the most sentimental yearner +in town!" + +"See here, child! Your opinions on house-decorating are +sound, but your opinions of people are rotten! Raymie does +wag his tail. But the poor dear---- Longing for what he +calls `self-expression' and no training in anything except selling +shoes. But he can sing. And some day when he gets away +from Harry Haydock's patronage and ridicule, he'll do +something fine." + +Carol apologized for her superciliousness. She urged +Raymie, and warned the planners of "stunts," "We all want +you to sing, Mr. Wutherspoon. You're the only famous actor +I'm going to let appear on the stage tonight." + +While Raymie blushed and admitted, "Oh, they don't want +to hear me," he was clearing his throat, pulling his clean +handkerchief farther out of his breast pocket, and thrusting his +fingers between the buttons of his vest. + +In her affection for Raymie's defender, in her desire to +"discover artistic talent," Carol prepared to be delighted by the +recital. + +Raymie sang "Fly as a Bird," "Thou Art My Dove," and +"When the Little Swallow Leaves Its Tiny Nest," all in a +reasonably bad offertory tenor. + +Carol was shuddering with the vicarious shame which +sensitive people feel when they listen to an "elocutionist" being +humorous, or to a precocious child publicly doing badly what +no child should do at all. She wanted to laugh at the gratified +importance in Raymie's half-shut eyes; she wanted to weep +over the meek ambitiousness which clouded like an aura his +pale face, flap ears, and sandy pompadour. She tried to look +admiring, for the benefit of Miss Sherwin, that trusting +admirer of all that was or conceivably could be the good, the +true, and the beautiful. + +At the end of the third ornithological lyric Miss Sherwin +roused from her attitude of inspired vision and breathed to +Carol, "My! That was sweet! Of course Raymond hasn't +an unusually good voice, but don't you think he puts such +a lot of feeling into it?" + +Carol lied blackly and magnificently, but without originality: +"Oh yes, I do think he has so much FEELING!" + +She saw that after the strain of listening in a cultured +manner the audience had collapsed; had given up their last hope +of being amused. She cried, "Now we're going to play an +idiotic game which I learned in Chicago. You will have to +take off your shoes, for a starter! After that you will probably +break your knees and shoulder-blades." + +Much attention and incredulity. A few eyebrows indicating +a verdict that Doc Kennicott's bride was noisy and improper. + +"I shall choose the most vicious, like Juanita Haydock and +myself, as the shepherds. The rest of you are wolves. Your +shoes are the sheep. The wolves go out into the hall. The +shepherds scatter the sheep through this room, then turn off +all the lights, and the wolves crawl in from the hall and in the +darkness they try to get the shoes away from the shepherds-- +who are permitted to do anything except bite and use black- +jacks. The wolves chuck the captured shoes out into the hall. +No one excused! Come on! Shoes off!" + +Every one looked at every one else and waited for every +one else to begin. + +Carol kicked off her silver slippers, and ignored the universal +glance at her arches. The embarrassed but loyal Vida Sherwin +unbuttoned her high black shoes. Ezra Stowbody cackled, +"Well, you're a terror to old folks. You're like the gals I +used to go horseback-riding with, back in the sixties. Ain't +much accustomed to attending parties barefoot, but here goes!" +With a whoop and a gallant jerk Ezra snatched off his elastic- +sided Congress shoes. + +The others giggled and followed. + +When the sheep had been penned up, in the darkness the +timorous wolves crept into the living-room, squealing, halting, +thrown out of their habit of stolidity by the strangeness of +advancing through nothingness toward a waiting foe, a +mysterious foe which expanded and grew more menacing. The +wolves peered to make out landmarks, they touched gliding +arms which did not seem to be attached to a body, they +quivered with a rapture of fear. Reality had vanished. A +yelping squabble suddenly rose, then Juanita Haydock's high +titter, and Guy Pollock's astonished, "Ouch! Quit! You're +scalping me!" + +Mrs. Luke Dawson galloped backward on stiff hands and +knees into the safety of the lighted hallway, moaning, "I +declare, I nev' was so upset in my life!" But the propriety was +shaken out of her, and she delightedly continued to ejaculate +"Nev' in my LIFE" as she saw the living-room door opened +by invisible hands and shoes hurling through it, as she heard +from the darkness beyond the door a squawling, a bumping, +a resolute "Here's a lot of shoes. Come on, you wolves. Ow! +Y' would, would you!" + +When Carol abruptly turned on the lights in the embattled +living-room, half of the company were sitting back against the +walls, where they had craftily remained throughout the +engagement, but in the middle of the floor Kennicott was wrestling +with Harry Haydock--their collars torn off, their hair in +their eyes; and the owlish Mr. Julius Flickerbaugh was +retreating from Juanita Haydock, and gulping with unaccustomed +laughter. Guy Pollock's discreet brown scarf hung down his +back. Young Rita Simons's net blouse had lost two buttons, +and betrayed more of her delicious plump shoulder than was +regarded as pure in Gopher Prairie. Whether by shock, disgust, +joy of combat, or physical activity, all the party were +freed from their years of social decorum. George Edwin Mott +giggled; Luke Dawson twisted his beard; Mrs. Clark insisted, +`I did too, Sam--I got a shoe--I never knew I could fight +so terrible!" + +Carol was certain that she was a great reformer. + +She mercifully had combs, mirrors, brushes, needle and +thread ready. She permitted them to restore the divine +decency of buttons. + +The grinning Bea brought down-stairs a pile of soft thick +sheets of paper with designs of lotos blossoms, dragons, apes, +in cobalt and crimson and gray, and patterns of purple +birds flying among sea-green trees in the valleys of Nowhere. + +"These," Carol announced, "are real Chinese masquerade +costumes. I got them from an importing shop in Minneapolis. +You are to put them on over your clothes, and please forget +that you are Minnesotans, and turn into mandarins and coolies and-- +and samurai (isn't it?), and anything else you can think of." + +While they were shyly rustling the paper costumes she +disappeared. Ten minutes after she gazed down from the stairs +upon grotesquely ruddy Yankee heads above Oriental robes, +and cried to them, "The Princess Winky Poo salutes her +court!" + +As they looked up she caught their suspense of admiration. +They saw an airy figure in trousers and coat of green brocade +edged with gold; a high gold collar under a proud chin; black +hair pierced with jade pins; a languid peacock fan in an out- +stretched hand; eyes uplifted to a vision of pagoda towers. +When she dropped her pose and smiled down she discovered +Kennicott apoplectic with domestic pride--and gray Guy Pollock +staring beseechingly. For a second she saw nothing in +all the pink and brown mass of their faces save the hunger +of the two men. + +She shook off the spell and ran down. "We're going to +have a real Chinese concert. Messrs. Pollock, Kennicott, and, +well, Stowbody are drummers; the rest of us sing and play the +fife." + +The fifes were combs with tissue paper; the drums were +tabourets and the sewing-table. Loren Wheeler, editor of the +Dauntless, led the orchestra, with a ruler and a totally +inaccurate sense of rhythm. The music was a reminiscence of +tom-toms heard at circus fortune-telling tents or at the +Minnesota State Fair, but the whole company pounded and puffed +and whined in a sing-song, and looked rapturous. + +Before they were quite tired of the concert Carol led them +in a dancing procession to the dining-room, to blue bowls of +chow mein, with Lichee nuts and ginger preserved in syrup. + +None of them save that city-rounder Harry Haydock had +heard of any Chinese dish except chop sooey. With agreeable +doubt they ventured through the bamboo shoots into the +golden fried noodles of the chow mein; and Dave Dyer did +a not very humorous Chinese dance with Nat Hicks; and +there was hubbub and contentment. + +Carol relaxed, and found that she was shockingly tired. She +had carried them on her thin shoulders. She could not keep +it up. She longed for her father, that artist at creating +hysterical parties. She thought of smoking a cigarette, to shock +them, and dismissed the obscene thought before it was quite +formed. She wondered whether they could for five minutes +be coaxed to talk about something besides the winter top of +Knute Stamquist's Ford, and what Al Tingley had said about +his mother-in-law. She sighed, "Oh, let 'em alone. I've +done enough." She crossed her trousered legs, and snuggled +luxuriously above her saucer of ginger; she caught Pollock's +congratulatory still smile, and thought well of herself for having +thrown a rose light on the pallid lawyer; repented the heretical +supposition that any male save her husband existed; jumped +up to find Kennicott and whisper, "Happy, my lord? . . . +No, it didn't cost much!" + +"Best party this town ever saw. Only---- Don't cross your +legs in that costume. Shows your knees too plain." + +She was vexed. She resented his clumsiness. She returned +to Guy Pollock and talked of Chinese religions--not that she +knew anything whatever about Chinese religions, but he had +read a book on the subject as, on lonely evenings in his office, +he had read at least one book on every subject in the world. +Guy's thin maturity was changing in her vision to flushed youth +and they were roaming an island in the yellow sea of chatter +when she realized that the guests were beginning that cough +which indicated, in the universal instinctive language, that +they desired to go home and go to bed. + +While they asserted that it had been "the nicest party +they'd ever seen--my! so clever and original," she smiled +tremendously, shook hands, and cried many suitable things +regarding children, and being sure to wrap up warmly, and +Raymie's singing and Juanita Haydock's prowess at games. +Then she turned wearily to Kennicott in a house filled with +quiet and crumbs and shreds of Chinese costumes. + +He was gurgling, "I tell you, Carrie, you certainly are a +wonder, and guess you're right about waking folks up. Now +you've showed 'em how, they won't go on having the same old +kind of parties and stunts and everything. Here! Don't touch +a thing! Done enough. Pop up to bed, and I'll clear up." + +His wise surgeon's-hands stroked her shoulder, and her +irritation at his clumsiness was lost in his strength. + + + +V + +From the Weekly Dauntless: + + +One of the most delightful social events of recent months was +held Wednesday evening in the housewarming of Dr. and Mrs. +Kennicott, who have completely redecorated their charming home +on Poplar Street, and is now extremely nifty in modern color +scheme. The doctor and his bride were at home to their numerous +friends and a number of novelties in diversions were held, including +a Chinese orchestra in original and genuine Oriental costumes, of +which Ye Editor was leader. Dainty refreshments were served +in true Oriental style, and one and all voted a delightful time. + + + +VI + + +The week after, the Chet Dashaways gave a party. The +circle of mourners kept its place all evening, and Dave Dyer +did the "stunt" of the Norwegian and the hen. + + + +CHAPTER VII + +I + +GOPHER PRAIRIE was digging in for the winter. Through late +November and all December it snowed daily; the thermometer +was at zero and might drop to twenty below, or thirty. Winter +is not a season in the North Middlewest; it is an industry. +Storm sheds were erected at every door. In every block the +householders, Sam Clark, the wealthy Mr. Dawson, all save +asthmatic Ezra Stowbody who extravagantly hired a boy, were +seen perilously staggering up ladders, carrying storm windows +and screwing them to second-story jambs. While Kennicott +put up his windows Carol danced inside the bedrooms and +begged him not to swallow the screws, which he held in his +mouth like an extraordinary set of external false teeth. + +The universal sign of winter was the town handyman-- +Miles Bjornstam, a tall, thick, red-mustached bachelor, opinionated +atheist, general-store arguer, cynical Santa Claus. Children +loved him, and he sneaked away from work to tell them +improbable stories of sea-faring and horse-trading and bears. +The children's parents either laughed at him or hated him. He +was the one democrat in town. He called both Lyman Cass +the miller and the Finn homesteader from Lost Lake by their +first names. He was known as "The Red Swede," and considered +slightly insane. + +Bjornstam could do anything with his hands--solder a pan, +weld an automobile spring, soothe a frightened filly, tinker a +clock, carve a Gloucester schooner which magically went into +a bottle. Now, for a week, he was commissioner general of +Gopher Prairie. He was the only person besides the repairman +at Sam Clark's who understood plumbing. Everybody begged +him to look over the furnace and the water-pipes. He rushed +from house to house till after bedtime--ten o'clock. Icicles +from burst water-pipes hung along the skirt of his brown dog- +skin overcoat; his plush cap, which he never took off in the +house, was a pulp of ice and coal-dust; his red hands were +cracked to rawness; he chewed the stub of a cigar. + +But he was courtly to Carol. He stooped to examine the +furnace flues; he straightened, glanced down at her, and +hemmed, "Got to fix your furnace, no matter what else I do." + +The poorer houses of Gopher Prairie, where the services of +Miles Bjornstam were a luxury--which included the shanty +of Miles Bjornstam--were banked to the lower windows with +earth and manure. Along the railroad the sections of snow +fence, which had been stacked all summer in romantic wooden +tents occupied by roving small boys, were set up to prevent +drifts from covering the track. + +The farmers came into town in home-made sleighs, with bed- +quilts and hay piled in the rough boxes. + +Fur coats, fur caps, fur mittens, overshoes buckling almost +to the knees, gray knitted scarfs ten feet long, thick woolen +socks, canvas jackets lined with fluffy yellow wool like the +plumage of ducklings, moccasins, red flannel wristlets for the +blazing chapped wrists of boys--these protections against winter +were busily dug out of moth-ball-sprinkled drawers and +tar-bags in closets, and all over town small boys were squealing, +"Oh, there's my mittens!" or "Look at my shoe-packs!" +There is so sharp a division between the panting summer and +the stinging winter of the Northern plains that they rediscovered +with surprise and a feeling of heroism this armor of +an Artic explorer. + +Winter garments surpassed even personal gossip as the +topic at parties. It was good form to ask, "Put on your +heavies yet?" There were as many distinctions in wraps as in +motor cars. The lesser sort appeared in yellow and black +dogskin coats, but Kennicott was lordly in a long raccoon +ulster and a new seal cap. When the snow was too deep for +his motor he went off on country calls in a shiny, floral, steel- +tipped cutter, only his ruddy nose and his cigar emerging from +the fur. + +Carol herself stirred Main Street by a loose coat of nutria. +Her finger-tips loved the silken fur. + +Her liveliest activity now was organizing outdoor sports in +the motor-paralyzed town. + +The automobile and bridge-whist had not only made more +evident the social divisions in Gopher Prairie but they had +also enfeebled the love of activity. It was so rich-looking to +sit and drive--and so easy. Skiing and sliding were "stupid" +and "old-fashioned." In fact, the village longed for the ele- +gance of city recreations almost as much as the cities longed +for village sports; and Gopher Prairie took as much pride in +neglecting coasting as St. Paul--or New York--in going +coasting. Carol did inspire a successful skating-party in mid- +November. Plover Lake glistened in clear sweeps of gray- +green ice, ringing to the skates. On shore the ice-tipped reeds +clattered in the wind, and oak twigs with stubborn last leaves +hung against a milky sky. Harry Haydock did figure-eights, +and Carol was certain that she had found the perfect life. +But when snow had ended the skating and she tried to get up +a moonlight sliding party, the matrons hesitated to stir away +from their radiators and their daily bridge-whist imitations of +the city. She had to nag them. They scooted down a long +hill on a bob-sled, they upset and got snow down their necks +they shrieked that they would do it again immediately--and +they did not do it again at all. + +She badgered another group into going skiing. They shouted +and threw snowballs, and informed her that it was SUCH fun, +and they'd have another skiing expedition right away, and +they jollily returned home and never thereafter left their +manuals of bridge. + +Carol was discouraged. She was grateful when Kennicott +invited her to go rabbit-hunting in the woods. She waded +down stilly cloisters between burnt stump and icy oak, through +drifts marked with a million hieroglyphics of rabbit and mouse +and bird. She squealed as he leaped on a pile of brush and +fired at the rabbit which ran out. He belonged there, +masculine in reefer and sweater and high-laced boots. That night +she ate prodigiously of steak and fried potatoes; she produced +electric sparks by touching his ear with her finger-tip; she slept +twelve hours; and awoke to think how glorious was this brave land. + +She rose to a radiance of sun on snow. Snug in her furs she +trotted up-town. Frosted shingles smoked against a sky colored +like flax-blossoms, sleigh-bells clinked, shouts of greeting +were loud in the thin bright air, and everywhere was a +rhythmic sound of wood-sawing. It was Saturday, and the +neighbors' sons were getting up the winter fuel. Behind walls +of corded wood in back yards their sawbucks stood in +depressions scattered with canary-yellow flakes of sawdust. The +frames of their buck-saws were cherry-red, the blades blued +steel, and the fresh cut ends of the sticks--poplar, maple, iron- +wood, birch--were marked with engraved rings of growth. The +boys wore shoe-packs, blue flannel shirts with enormous pearl +buttons, and mackinaws of crimson, lemon yellow, and foxy brown. + +Carol cried "Fine day!" to the boys; she came in a glow +to Howland & Gould's grocery, her collar white with frost +from her breath; she bought a can of tomatoes as though it +were Orient fruit; and returned home planning to surprise +Kennicott with an omelet creole for dinner. + +So brilliant was the snow-glare that when she entered the +house she saw the door-knobs, the newspaper on the table, +every white surface as dazzling mauve, and her head was dizzy +in the pyrotechnic dimness. When her eyes had recovered she +felt expanded, drunk with health, mistress of life. The world +was so luminous that she sat down at her rickety little desk in +the living-room to make a poem. (She got no farther than +"The sky is bright, the sun is warm, there ne'er will be +another storm.") + +In the mid-afternoon of this same day Kennicott was called +into the country. It was Bea's evening out--her evening for +the Lutheran Dance. Carol was alone from three till midnight. +She wearied of reading pure love stories in the magazines +and sat by a radiator, beginning to brood. + +Thus she chanced to discover that she had nothing to do. + + + +II + + +She had, she meditated, passed through the novelty of seeing +the town and meeting people, of skating and sliding and +hunting. Bea was competent; there was no household labor +except sewing and darning and gossipy assistance to Bea in +bed-making. She couldn't satisfy her ingenuity in planning +meals. At Dahl & Oleson's Meat Market you didn't give +orders--you wofully inquired whether there was anything +today besides steak and pork and ham. The cuts of beef were +not cuts. They were hacks. Lamb chops were as exotic as +sharks' fins. The meat-dealers shipped their best to the city, +with its higher prices. + +In all the shops there was the same lack of choice. She +could not find a glass-headed picture-nail in town; she did +not hunt for the sort of veiling she wanted--she took what +she could get; and only at Howland & Gould's was there such +a luxury as canned asparagus. Routine care was all she could +devote to the house. Only by such fussing as the Widow +Bogart's could she make it fill her time. + +She could not have outside employment. To the village +doctor's wife it was taboo. + +She was a woman with a working brain and no work. + +There were only three things which she could do: Have +children; start her career of reforming; or become so definitely +a part of the town that she would be fulfilled by the activities +of church and study-club and bridge-parties. + +Children, yes, she wanted them, but---- She was not quite +ready. She had been embarrassed by Kennicott's frankness, +but she agreed with him that in the insane condition of civilization, +which made the rearing of citizens more costly and perilous +than any other crime, it was inadvisable to have children till +he had made more money. She was sorry---- Perhaps he had +made all the mystery of love a mechanical cautiousness but---- +She fled from the thought with a dubious, "Some day." + +Her "reforms," her impulses toward beauty in raw Main +Street, they had become indistinct. But she would set them +going now. She would! She swore it with soft fist beating +the edges of the radiator. And at the end of all her vows +she had no notion as to when and where the crusade was to +begin. + +Become an authentic part of the town? She began to think +with unpleasant lucidity. She reflected that she did not know +whether the people liked her. She had gone to the women at +afternoon-coffees, to the merchants in their stores, with so many +outpouring comments and whimsies that she hadn't given them +a chance to betray their opinions of her. The men smiled-- +but did they like her? She was lively among the women-- +but was she one of them? She could not recall many times +when she had been admitted to the whispering of scandal +which is the secret chamber of Gopher Prairie conversation. + +She was poisoned with doubt, as she drooped up to bed. + +Next day, through her shopping, her mind sat back and +observed. Dave Dyer and Sam Clark were as cordial as +she had been fancying; but wasn't there an impersonal abruptness +in the "H' are yuh?" of Chet Dashaway? Howland the +grocer was curt. Was that merely his usual manner? + +"It's infuriating to have to pay attention to what people +think. In St. Paul I didn't care. But here I'm spied on. +They're watching me. I mustn't let it make me self-conscious," +she coaxed herself--overstimulated by the drug of thought, +and offensively on the defensive. + + + +III + + +A thaw which stripped the snow from the sidewalks; a +ringing iron night when the lakes could be heard booming; +a clear roistering morning. In tam o'shanter and tweed skirt +Carol felt herself a college junior going out to play hockey. +She wanted to whoop, her legs ached to run. On the way +home from shopping she yielded, as a pup would have yielded. +She galloped down a block and as she jumped from a curb +across a welter of slush, she gave a student "Yippee!" + +She saw that in a window three old women were gasping. +Their triple glare was paralyzing. Across the street, at +another window, the curtain had secretively moved. She stopped, +walked on sedately, changed from the girl Carol into Mrs. Dr. +Kennicott. + +She never again felt quite young enough and defiant enough +and free enough to run and halloo in the public streets; and +it was as a Nice Married Woman that she attended the next +weekly bridge of the Jolly Seventeen. + + + +IV + + +The Jolly Seventeen (the membership of which ranged from +fourteen to twenty-six) was the social cornice of Gopher +Prairie. It was the country club, the diplomatic set, the St. +Cecilia, the Ritz oval room, the Club de Vingt. To belong to +it was to be "in." Though its membership partly coincided +with that of the Thanatopsis study club, the Jolly Seventeen +as a separate entity guffawed at the Thanatopsis, and +considered it middle-class and even "highbrow." + +Most of the Jolly Seventeen were young married women, +with their husbands as associate members. Once a week they +had a women's afternoon-bridge; once a month the husbands +joined them for supper and evening-bridge; twice a year they +had dances at I. O. O. F. Hall. Then the town exploded. Only +at the annual balls of the Firemen and of the Eastern Star +was there such prodigality of chiffon scarfs and tangoing and +heart-burnings, and these rival institutions were not select-- +hired girls attended the Firemen's Ball, with section-hands +and laborers. Ella Stowbody had once gone to a Jolly Seventeen +Soiree in the village hack, hitherto confined to chief +mourners at funerals; and Harry Haydock and Dr. Terry Gould +always appeared in the town's only specimens of evening clothes. + +The afternoon-bridge of the Jolly Seventeen which followed +Carol's lonely doubting was held at Juanita Haydock's new +concrete bungalow, with its door of polished oak and beveled +plate-glass, jar of ferns in the plastered hall, and in the +living-room, a fumed oak Morris chair, sixteen color-prints, +and a square varnished table with a mat made of cigar-ribbons +on which was one Illustrated Gift Edition and one pack of +cards in a burnt-leather case. + +Carol stepped into a sirocco of furnace heat. They were +already playing. Despite her flabby resolves she had not yet +learned bridge. She was winningly apologetic about it to +Juanita, and ashamed that she should have to go on being +apologetic. + +Mrs. Dave Dyer, a sallow woman with a thin prettiness +devoted to experiments in religious cults, illnesses, and scandal- +bearing, shook her finger at Carol and trilled, "You're a +naughty one! I don't believe you appreciate the honor, when +you got into the Jolly Seventeen so easy!" + +Mrs. Chet Dashaway nudged her neighbor at the second +table. But Carol kept up the appealing bridal manner so far +as possible. She twittered, "You're perfectly right. I'm a +lazy thing. I'll make Will start teaching me this very evening." +Her supplication had all the sound of birdies in the nest, and +Easter church-bells, and frosted Christmas cards. Internally +she snarled, "That ought to be saccharine enough." She sat +in the smallest rocking-chair, a model of Victorian modesty. +But she saw or she imagined that the women who had gurgled +at her so welcomingly when she had first come to Gopher +Prairie were nodding at her brusquely. + +During the pause after the first game she petitioned Mrs. +Jackson Elder, "Don't you think we ought to get up another +bob-sled party soon?" + +"It's so cold when you get dumped in the snow," said +Mrs. Elder, indifferently. + +"I hate snow down my neck," volunteered Mrs. Dave Dyer, +with an unpleasant look at Carol and, turning her back, she +bubbled at Rita Simons, "Dearie, won't you run in this +evening? I've got the loveliest new Butterick pattern I want to +show you." + +Carol crept back to her chair. In the fervor of discussing +the game they ignored her. She was not used to being a +wallflower. She struggled to keep from oversensitiveness, from +becoming unpopular by the sure method of believing that she +was unpopular; but she hadn't much reserve of patience, and +at the end of the second game, when Ella Stowbody sniffily +asked her, "Are you going to send to Minneapolis for your +dress for the next soiree--heard you were," Carol said "Don't +know yet" with unnecessary sharpness. + +She was relieved by the admiration with which the jeune fille +Rita Simons looked at the steel buckles on her pumps; but +she resented Mrs. Howland's tart demand, "Don't you find +that new couch of yours is too broad to be practical?" She +nodded, then shook her head, and touchily left Mrs. Howland +to get out of it any meaning she desired. Immediately she +wanted to make peace. She was close to simpering in the +sweetness with which she addressed Mrs Howland: "I think +that is the prettiest display of beef-tea your husband has in +his store." + +"Oh yes, Gopher Prairie isn't so much behind the times," +gibed Mrs. Howland. Some one giggled. + +Their rebuffs made her haughty; her haughtiness irritated +them to franker rebuffs; they were working up to a state of +painfully righteous war when they were saved by the coming +of food. + +Though Juanita Haydock was highly advanced in the matters +of finger-bowls, doilies, and bath-mats, her "refreshments" +were typical of all the afternoon-coffees. Juanita's best friends, +Mrs. Dyer and Mrs. Dashaway, passed large dinner plates, +each with a spoon, a fork, and a coffee cup without saucer. +They apologized and discussed the afternoon's game as they +passed through the thicket of women's feet. Then they +distributed hot buttered rolls, coffee poured from an enamel-ware +pot, stuffed olives, potato salad, and angel's-food cake. There +was, even in the most strictly conforming Gopher Prairie +circles, a certain option as to collations. The olives need not +be stuffed. Doughnuts were in some houses well thought of as +a substitute for the hot buttered rolls. But there was in all +the town no heretic save Carol who omitted angel's-food. + +They ate enormously. Carol had a suspicion that the +thriftier housewives made the afternoon treat do for evening +supper. + +She tried to get back into the current. She edged over to +Mrs. McGanum. Chunky, amiable, young Mrs. McGanum +with her breast and arms of a milkmaid, and her loud delayed +laugh which burst startlingly from a sober face, was the +daughter of old Dr. Westlake, and the wife of Westlake's +partner, Dr. McGanum. Kennicott asserted that Westlake and +McGanum and their contaminated families were tricky, but +Carol had found them gracious. She asked for friendliness by +crying to Mrs. McGanum, "How is the baby's throat now?" +and she was attentive while Mrs. McGanum rocked and knitted +and placidly described symptoms. + +Vida Sherwin came in after school, with Miss Ethel Villets, +the town librarian. Miss Sherwin's optimistic presence gave +Carol more confidence. She talked. She informed the circle +"I drove almost down to Wahkeenyan with Will, a few days +ago. Isn't the country lovely! And I do admire the Scandinavian +farmers down there so: their big red barns and silos +and milking-machines and everything. Do you all know that +lonely Lutheran church, with the tin-covered spire, that stands +out alone on a hill? It's so bleak; somehow it seems so brave. +I do think the Scandinavians are the hardiest and best +people----" + +"Oh, do you THINK so?" protested Mrs. Jackson Elder. +"My husband says the Svenskas that work in the planing-mill +are perfectly terrible--so silent and cranky, and so selfish, the +way they keep demanding raises. If they had their way they'd +simply ruin the business." + +"Yes, and they're simply GHASTLY hired girls!" wailed Mrs. +Dave Dyer. "I swear, I work myself to skin and bone trying +to please my hired girls--when I can get them! I do everything +in the world for them. They can have their gentleman +friends call on them in the kitchen any time, and they get +just the same to eat as we do, if there's, any left over, and I +practically never jump on them." + +Juanita Haydock rattled, "They're ungrateful, all that class +of people. I do think the domestic problem is simply becoming +awful. I don't know what the country's coming to, with these +Scandahoofian clodhoppers demanding every cent you can save, +and so ignorant and impertinent, and on my word, demanding +bath-tubs and everything--as if they weren't mighty good and +lucky at home if they got a bath in the wash-tub." + +They were off, riding hard. Carol thought of Bea and waylaid them: + +"But isn't it possibly the fault of the mistresses if the maids +are ungrateful? For generations we've given them the leavings +of food, and holes to live in. I don't want to boast, but I +must say I don't have much trouble with Bea. She's so friendly. +The Scandinavians are sturdy and honest----" + +Mrs. Dave Dyer snapped, "Honest? Do you call it honest +to hold us up for every cent of pay they can get? I can't +say that I've had any of them steal anything (though you +might call it stealing to eat so much that a roast of beef hardly +lasts three days), but just the same I don't intend to let them +think they can put anything over on ME! I always make them +pack and unpack their trunks down-stairs, right under my +eyes, and then I know they aren't being tempted to dishonesty +by any slackness on MY part!" + +"How much do the maids get here?" Carol ventured. + +Mrs. B. J. Gougerling, wife of the banker, stated in a shocked +manner, "Any place from three-fifty to five-fifty a week! I +know positively that Mrs. Clark, after swearing that she +wouldn't weaken and encourage them in their outrageous +demands, went and paid five-fifty--think of it! practically a +dollar a day for unskilled work and, of course, her food and +room and a chance to do her own washing right in with the +rest of the wash. HOW MUCH DO YOU PAY, Mrs. KENNICOTT?" + +"Yes! How much do you pay?" insisted half a dozen. + +"W-why, I pay six a week," she feebly confessed. + +They gasped. Juanita protested, "Don't you think it's hard +on the rest of us when you pay so much?" Juanita's demand +was re-inforced by the universal glower. + +Carol was angry. "I don't care! A maid has one of the +hardest jobs on earth. She works from ten to eighteen hours +a day. She has to wash slimy dishes and dirty clothes. She +tends the children and runs to the door with wet chapped +hands and----" + +Mrs. Dave Dyer broke into Carol's peroration with a furious, +"That's all very well, but believe me, I do those things myself +when I'm without a maid--and that's a good share of the time +for a person that isn't willing to yield and pay exorbitant +wages!" + +Carol was retorting, "But a maid does it for strangers, and +all she gets out of it is the pay----" + +Their eyes were hostile. Four of them were talking at once +Vida Sherwin's dictatorial voice cut through, took control of +the revolution: + +"Tut, tut, tut, tut! What angry passions--and what an +idiotic discussion! All of you getting too serious. Stop it! +Carol Kennicott, you're probably right, but you're too much +ahead of the times. Juanita, quit looking so belligerent. What +is this, a card party or a hen fight? Carol, you stop admiring +yourself as the Joan of Arc of the hired girls, or I'll spank +you. You come over here and talk libraries with Ethel Villets. +Boooooo! If there's any more pecking, I'll take charge of +the hen roost myself!" + +They all laughed artificially, and Carol obediently "talked +libraries." + +A small-town bungalow, the wives of a village doctor and +a village dry-goods merchant, a provincial teacher, a colloquial +brawl over paying a servant a dollar more a week. Yet this +insignificance echoed cellar-plots and cabinet meetings and +labor conferences in Persia and Prussia, Rome and Boston, and +the orators who deemed themselves international leaders were +but the raised voices of a billion Juanitas denouncing a million +Carols, with a hundred thousand Vida Sherwins trying to shoo +away the storm. + +Carol felt guilty. She devoted herself to admiring the +spinsterish Miss Villets--and immediately committed another +offense against the laws of decency. + +"We haven't seen you at the library yet," Miss Villets +reproved. + +"I've wanted to run in so much but I've been getting settled +and---- I'll probably come in so often you'll get tired of +me! I hear you have such a nice library." + +"There are many who like it. We have two thousand more +books than Wakamin." + +"Isn't that fine. I'm sure you are largely responsible. +I've had some experience, in St. Paul." + +"So I have been informed. Not that I entirely approve +of library methods in these large cities. So careless, letting +tramps and all sorts of dirty persons practically sleep in the +reading-rooms." + +"I know, but the poor souls---- Well, I'm sure you will +agree with me in one thing: The chief task of a librarian is to +get people to read." + +"You feel so? My feeling, Mrs. Kennicott, and I am merely quoting +the librarian of a very large college, is that the first duty +of the CONSCIENTIOUS librarian is to preserve the books." + +"Oh!" Carol repented her "Oh." Miss Villets stiffened, +and attacked: + +"It may be all very well in cities, where they have unlimited funds, +to let nasty children ruin books and just deliberately tear them up, +and fresh young men take more books out than they are entitled to by +the regulations, but I'm never going to permit it in this library!" + +"What if some children are destructive? They learn to read. +Books are cheaper than minds." + +"Nothing is cheaper than the minds of some of these children +that come in and bother me simply because their mothers +don't keep them home where they belong. Some librarians +may choose to be so wishy-washy and turn their libraries into +nursing-homes and kindergartens, but as long as I'm in charge, +the Gopher Prairie library is going to be quiet and decent, and +the books well kept!" + +Carol saw that the others were listening, waiting for her +to be objectionable. She flinched before their dislike. She +hastened to smile in agreement with Miss Villets, to glance +publicly at her wrist-watch, to warble that it was "so late-- +have to hurry home--husband--such nice party--maybe you +were right about maids, prejudiced because Bea so nice--such +perfectly divine angel's-food, Mrs. Haydock must give me the +recipe--good-by, such happy party----" + +She walked home. She reflected, "It was my fault. I was +touchy. And I opposed them so much. Only---- I can't! +I can't be one of them if I must damn all the maids toiling +in filthy kitchens, all the ragged hungry children. And these +women are to be my arbiters, the rest of my life!" + +She ignored Bea's call from the kitchen; she ran up-stairs +to the unfrequented guest-room; she wept in terror, her body +a pale arc as she knelt beside a cumbrous black-walnut bed, +beside a puffy mattress covered with a red quilt, in a shuttered +and airless room. + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +"DON'T I, in looking for things to do, show that I'm not +attentive enough to Will? Am I impressed enough by his +work? I will be. Oh, I will be. If I can't be one of the +town, if I must be an outcast----" + +When Kennicott came home she bustled, "Dear, you must +tell me a lot more about your cases. I want to know. I want +to understand." + +"Sure. You bet." And he went down to fix the furnace. + +At supper she asked, "For instance, what did you do +today?" + +"Do today? How do you mean?" + +"Medically. I want to understand----" + +"Today? Oh, there wasn't much of anything: couple +chumps with bellyaches, and a sprained wrist, and a fool +woman that thinks she wants to kill herself because her +husband doesn't like her and---- Just routine work." + +"But the unhappy woman doesn't sound routine!" + +"Her? Just case of nerves. You can't do much with these +marriage mix-ups." + +"But dear, PLEASE, will you tell me about the next case +that you do think is interesting?" + +"Sure. You bet. Tell you about anything that---- Say +that's pretty good salmon. Get it at Howland's?" + + + +II + + +Four days after the Jolly Seventeen debacle Vida Sherwin +called and casually blew Carol's world to pieces. + +"May I come in and gossip a while?" she said, with such +excess of bright innocence that Carol was uneasy. Vida took +off her furs with a bounce, she sat down as though it were +a gymnasium exercise, she flung out: + +"Feel disgracefully good, this weather! Raymond Wutherspoon +says if he had my energy he'd be a grand opera singer. +I always think this climate is the finest in the world, and my +friends are the dearest people in the world, and my work is +the most essential thing in the world. Probably I fool myself. +But I know one thing for certain: You're the pluckiest little +idiot in the world." + +"And so you are about to flay me alive." Carol was +cheerful about it. + +"Am I? Perhaps. I've been wondering--I know that the +third party to a squabble is often the most to blame: the one +who runs between A and B having a beautiful time telling each +of them what the other has said. But I want you to take a +big part in vitalizing Gopher Prairie and so---- Such a very +unique opportunity and---- Am I silly?" + +"I know what you mean. I was too abrupt at the Jolly +Seventeen." + +"It isn't that. Matter of fact, I'm glad you told them some +wholesome truths about servants. (Though perhaps you were +just a bit tactless.) It's bigger than that. I wonder if you +understand that in a secluded community like this every +newcomer is on test? People cordial to her but watching her all +the time. I remember when a Latin teacher came here from +Wellesley, they resented her broad A. Were sure it was +affected. Of course they have discussed you----" + +"Have they talked about me much?" + +"My dear!" + +"I always feel as though I walked around in a cloud, looking +out at others but not being seen. I feel so inconspicuous and +so normal--so normal that there's nothing about me to discuss. +I can't realize that Mr. and Mrs. Haydock must gossip about +me." Carol was working up a small passion of distaste. "And +I don't like it. It makes me crawly to think of their daring +to talk over all I do and say. Pawing me over! I resent it. +I hate----" + +"Wait, child! Perhaps they resent some things in you. I +want you to try and be impersonal. They'd paw over anybody +who came in new. Didn't you, with newcomers in +College?" + +"Yes." + +"Well then! Will you be impersonal? I'm paying you the +compliment of supposing that you can be. I want you to +be big enough to help me make this town worth while." + +"I'll be as impersonal as cold boiled potatoes. (Not that +I shall ever be able to help you `make the town worth while.') +What do they say about me? Really. I want to know." + +"Of course the illiterate ones resent your references to +anything farther away than Minneapolis. They're so suspicious-- +that's it, suspicious. And some think you dress too well." + +"Oh, they do, do they! Shall I dress in gunny-sacking to +suit them?" + +"Please! Are you going to be a baby?" + +"I'll be good," sulkily. + +"You certainly will, or I won't tell you one single thing. +You must understand this: I'm not asking you to change yourself. +Just want you to know what they think. You must +do that, no matter how absurd their prejudices are, if you're +going to handle them. Is it your ambition to make this a +better town, or isn't it?" + +"I don't know whether it is or not!" + +"Why--why---- Tut, tut, now, of course it is! Why, I +depend on you. You're a born reformer." + +"I am not--not any more!" + +"Of course you are." + +"Oh, if I really could help---- So they think I'm +affected?" + +"My lamb, they do! Now don't say they're nervy. After +all, Gopher Prairie standards are as reasonable to Gopher +Prairie as Lake Shore Drive standards are to Chicago. And +there's more Gopher Prairies than there are Chicagos. Or +Londons. And---- I'll tell you the whole story: They think +you're showing off when you say `American' instead of +`Ammurrican.' They think you're too frivolous. Life's so +serious to them that they can't imagine any kind of laughter +except Juanita's snortling. Ethel Villets was sure you were +patronizing her when----" + +"Oh, I was not!" + +"----you talked about encouraging reading; and Mrs. Elder +thought you were patronizing when you said she had `such +a pretty little car.' She thinks it's an enormous car! And +some of the merchants say you're too flip when you talk to +them in the store and----" + +"Poor me, when I was trying to be friendly!" + +"----every housewife in town is doubtful about your being +so chummy with your Bea. All right to be kind, but they say +you act as though she were your cousin. (Wait now! There's +plenty more.) And they think you were eccentric in +furnishing this room--they think the broad couch and that +Japanese dingus are absurd. (Wait! I know they're silly.) And +I guess I've heard a dozen criticize you because you don't +go to church oftener and----" + +"I can't stand it--I can't bear to realize that they've been +saying all these things while I've been going about so happily +and liking them. I wonder if you ought to have told me? It +will make me self-conscious." + +"I wonder the same thing. Only answer I can get is the +old saw about knowledge being power. And some day you'll +see how absorbing it is to have power, even here; to control +the town---- Oh, I'm a crank. But I do like to see things +moving." + +"It hurts. It makes these people seem so beastly and +treacherous, when I've been perfectly natural with them. But +let's have it all. What did they say about my Chinese house- +warming party?" + +"Why, uh----" + +"Go on. Or I'll make up worse things than anything you +can tell me." + +"They did enjoy it. But I guess some of them felt you +were showing off--pretending that your husband is richer than +he is." + +"I can't---- Their meanness of mind is beyond any horrors +I could imagine. They really thought that I---- And you +want to `reform' people like that when dynamite is so cheap? +Who dared to say that? The rich or the poor?" + +"Fairly well assorted." + +"Can't they at least understand me well enough to see +that though I might be affected and culturine, at least I simply +couldn't commit that other kind of vulgarity? If they must +know, you may tell them, with my compliments, that Will +makes about four thousand a year, and the party cost half of +what they probably thought it did. Chinese things are not +very expensive, and I made my own costume----" + +"Stop it! Stop beating me! I know all that. What they +meant was: they felt you were starting dangerous competition +by giving a party such as most people here can't afford. Four +thousand is a pretty big income for this town." + +"I never thought of starting competition. Will you believe +that it was in all love and friendliness that I tried to give +them the gayest party I could? It was foolish; it was childish +and noisy. But I did mean it so well." + +"I know, of course. And it certainly is unfair of them to +make fun of your having that Chinese food--chow men, was +it?--and to laugh about your wearing those pretty trousers----" + +Carol sprang up, whimpering, "Oh, they didn't do that! +They didn't poke fun at my feast, that I ordered so carefully +for them! And my little Chinese costume that I was so happy +making--I made it secretly, to surprise them. And they've +been ridiculing it, all this while!" + +She was huddled on the couch. + +Vida was stroking her hair, muttering, "I shouldn't----" + +Shrouded in shame, Carol did not know when Vida slipped +away. The clock's bell, at half past five, aroused her. "I +must get hold of myself before Will comes. I hope he never +knows what a fool his wife is. . . . Frozen, sneering, +horrible hearts." + +Like a very small, very lonely girl she trudged up-stairs, +slow step by step, her feet dragging, her hand on the rail. +It was not her husband to whom she wanted to run for +protection--it was her father, her smiling understanding father, +dead these twelve years. + + + +III + + +Kennicott was yawning, stretched in the largest chair, +between the radiator and a small kerosene stove + +Cautiously, "Will dear, I wonder if the people here don't +criticize me sometimes? They must. I mean: if they ever do, +you mustn't let it bother you." + +"Criticize you? Lord, I should say not. They all keep +telling me you're the swellest girl they ever saw." + +"Well, I've just fancied---- The merchants probably think +I'm too fussy about shopping. I'm afraid I bore Mr. Dashaway +and Mr. Howland and Mr. Ludelmeyer." + +"I can tell you how that is. I didn't want to speak of it +but since you've brought it up: Chet Dashaway probably +resents the fact that you got this new furniture down in the +Cities instead of here. I didn't want to raise any objection at +the time but---- After all, I make my money here and they +naturally expect me to spend it here." + +"If Mr. Dashaway will kindly tell me how any civilized +person can furnish a room out of the mortuary pieces that he +calls----" She remembered. She said meekly, "But I understand." + +"And Howland and Ludelmeyer---- Oh, you've probably +handed 'em a few roasts for the bum stocks they carry, when +you just meant to jolly 'em. But rats, what do we care! +This is an independent town, not like these Eastern holes +where you have to watch your step all the time, and live up +to fool demands and social customs, and a lot of old tabbies +always busy criticizing. Everybody's free here to do what he +wants to." He said it with a flourish, and Carol perceived +that he believed it. She turned her breath of fury into a +yawn. + +"By the way, Carrie, while we're talking of this: Of course +I like to keep independent, and I don't believe in this business +of binding yourself to trade with the man that trades with +you unless you really want to, but same time: I'd be just +as glad if you dealt with Jenson or Ludelmeyer as much as +you ran, instead of Howland & Gould, who go to Dr. Gould +every last time, and the whole tribe of 'em the same way. +I don't see why I should be paying out my good money for +groceries and having them pass it on to Terry Gould!" + +"I've gone to Howland & Gould because they're better, and +cleaner." + +"I know. I don't mean cut them out entirely. Course +Jenson is tricky--give you short weight--and Ludelmeyer is +a shiftless old Dutch hog. But same time, I mean let's keep +the trade in the family whenever it is convenient, see how I +mean?" + +"I see." + +"Well, guess it's about time to turn in." + +He yawned, went out to look at the thermometer, slammed +the door, patted her head, unbuttoned his waistcoat, yawned, +wound the clock, went down to look at the furnace, yawned, +and clumped up-stairs to bed, casually scratching his thick +woolen undershirt. + +Till he bawled, "Aren't you ever coming up to bed?" she +sat unmoving. + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +I + +SHE had tripped into the meadow to teach the lambs a pretty +educational dance and found that the lambs were wolves. +There was no way out between their pressing gray shoulders. +She was surrounded by fangs and sneering eyes. + +She could not go on enduring the hidden derision. She +wanted to flee. She wanted to hide in the generous indifference +of cities. She practised saying to Kennicott, "Think perhaps +I'll run down to St. Paul for a few days." But she could +not trust herself to say it carelessly; could not abide his +certain questioning. + +Reform the town? All she wanted was to be tolerated! + +She could not look directly at people. She flushed and +winced before citizens who a week ago had been amusing +objects of study, and in their good-mornings she heard a cruel +sniggering. + +She encountered Juanita Haydock at Ole Jenson's grocery. +She besought, "Oh, how do you do! Heavens, what beautiful +celery that is!" + +"Yes, doesn't it look fresh. Harry simply has to have his +celery on Sunday, drat the man!" + +Carol hastened out of the shop exulting, "She didn't make +fun of me. . . . Did she?" + +In a week she had recovered from consciousness of +insecurity, of shame and whispering notoriety, but she kept her +habit of avoiding people. She walked the streets with her head +down. When she spied Mrs. McGanum or Mrs. Dyer ahead +she crossed over with an elaborate pretense of looking at a +billboard. Always she was acting, for the benefit of every one +she saw--and for the benefit of the ambushed leering eyes +which she did not see. + +She perceived that Vida Sherwin had told the truth. Whether +she entered a store, or swept the back porch, or stood at the +bay-window in the living-room, the village peeped at her. +Once she had swung along the street triumphant in making +a home. Now she glanced at each house, and felt, when she +was safely home, that she had won past a thousand enemies +armed with ridicule. She told herself that her sensitiveness +was preposterous, but daily she was thrown into panic. She +saw curtains slide back into innocent smoothness. Old women +who had been entering their houses slipped out again to stare +at her--in the wintry quiet she could hear them tiptoeing +on their porches. When she had for a blessed hour forgotten +the searchlight, when she was scampering through a chill dusk, +happy in yellow windows against gray night, her heart checked +as she realized that a head covered with a shawl was thrust +up over a snow-tipped bush to watch her. + +She admitted that she was taking herself too seriously; that +villagers gape at every one. She became placid, and thought +well of her philosophy. But next morning she had a shock +of shame as she entered Ludelmeyer's The grocer, his clerk, +and neurotic Mrs. Dave Dyer had been giggling about something. +They halted, looked embarrassed, babbled about onions. +Carol felt guilty. That evening when Kennicott took her to +call on the crochety Lyman Casses, their hosts seemed flustered +at their arrival. Kennicott jovially hooted, "What makes you +so hang-dog, Lym?" The Casses tittered feebly. + +Except Dave Dyer, Sam Clark, and Raymie Wutherspoon, +there were no merchants of whose welcome Carol was certain. +She knew that she read mockery into greetings but she could +not control her suspicion, could not rise from her psychic +collapse. She alternately raged and flinched at the superiority of +the merchants. They did not know that they were being rude, +but they meant to have it understood that they were prosperous +and "not scared of no doctor's wife." They often said, "One +man's as good as another--and a darn sight better." This +motto, however, they did not commend to farmer customers +who had had crop failures. The Yankee merchants were +crabbed; and Ole Jenson, Ludelmeyer, and Gus Dahl, from the +"Old Country," wished to be taken for Yankees. James +Madison Howland, born in New Hampshire, and Ole Jenson, +born in Sweden, both proved that they were free American +citizens by grunting, "I don't know whether I got any or not," +or "Well, you can't expect me to get it delivered by noon." + +It was good form for the customers to fight back. Juanita +Haydock cheerfully jabbered, "You have it there by twelve or +I'll snatch that fresh delivery-boy bald-headed." But Carol +had never been able to play the game of friendly rudeness; +and now she was certain that she never would learn it. She +formed the cowardly habit of going to Axel Egge's. + +Axel was not respectable and rude. He was still a foreigner, +and he expected to remain one. His manner was heavy and +uninterrogative. His establishment was more fantastic than +any cross-roads store. No one save Axel himself could find +anything. A part of the assortment of children's stockings +was under a blanket on a shelf, a part in a tin ginger-snap box, +the rest heaped like a nest of black-cotton snakes upon a flour- +barrel which was surrounded by brooms, Norwegian Bibles, +dried cod for ludfisk, boxes of apricots, and a pair and a half +of lumbermen's rubber-footed boots. The place was crowded +with Scandinavian farmwives, standing aloof in shawls and +ancient fawn-colored leg o' mutton jackets, awaiting the return +of their lords. They spoke Norwegian or Swedish, and looked +at Carol uncomprehendingly. They were a relief to her-- +they were not whispering that she was a poseur. + +But what she told herself was that Axel Egge's was "so +picturesque and romantic." + +It was in the matter of clothes that she was most self- +conscious. + +When she dared to go shopping in her new checked suit with +the black-embroidered sulphur collar, she had as good as +invited all of Gopher Prairie (which interested itself in nothing +so intimately as in new clothes and the cost thereof) to +investigate her. It was a smart suit with lines unfamiliar to the +dragging yellow and pink frocks of the town. The Widow +Bogart's stare, from her porch, indicated, "Well I never saw +anything like that before!" Mrs. McGanum stopped Carol +at the notions shop to hint, "My, that's a nice suit--wasn't +it terribly expensive?" The gang of boys in front of the +drug store commented, "Hey, Pudgie, play you a game of +checkers on that dress." Carol could not endure it. She +drew her fur coat over the suit and hastily fastened the buttons, +while the boys snickered. + + + +II + + +No group angered her quite so much as these staring young +roues. + +She had tried to convince herself that the village, with its +fresh air, its lakes for fishing and swimming, was healthier than +the artificial city. But she was sickened by glimpses of the +gang of boys from fourteen to twenty who loafed before Dyer's +Drug Store, smoking cigarettes, displaying "fancy" shoes and +purple ties and coats of diamond-shaped buttons, whistling +the Hoochi-Koochi and catcalling, "Oh, you baby-doll" at +every passing girl. + +She saw them playing pool in the stinking room behind Del +Snafflin's barber shop, and shaking dice in "The Smoke House," +and gathered in a snickering knot to listen to the "juicy +stories" of Bert Tybee, the bartender of the Minniemashie +House. She heard them smacking moist lips over every love- +scene at the Rosebud Movie Palace. At the counter of the +Greek Confectionery Parlor, while they ate dreadful messes +of decayed bananas, acid cherries, whipped cream, and gelatinous +ice-cream, they screamed to one another, "Hey, lemme +'lone," "Quit dog-gone you, looka what you went and done, +you almost spilled my glass swater," "Like hell I did," "Hey, +gol darn your hide, don't you go sticking your coffin nail in +my i-scream," "Oh you Batty, how juh like dancing with Tillie +McGuire, last night? Some squeezing, heh, kid?" + +By diligent consultation of American fiction she discovered +that this was the only virile and amusing manner in which +boys could function; that boys who were not compounded of +the gutter and the mining-camp were mollycoddles and +unhappy. She had taken this for granted. She had studied the +boys pityingly, but impersonally. It had not occurred to her +that they might touch her. + +Now she was aware that they knew all about her; that they +were waiting for some affectation over which they could guffaw. +No schoolgirl passed their observation-posts more flushingly +than did Mrs. Dr. Kennicott. In shame she knew that they +glanced appraisingly at her snowy overshoes, speculating about +her legs. Theirs were not young eyes there was no youth +in all the town, she agonized. They were born old, grim and +old and spying and censorious. + +She cried again that their youth was senile and cruel on the +day when she overheard Cy Bogart and Earl Haydock. + +Cyrus N. Bogart, son of the righteous widow who lived +across the alley, was at this time a boy of fourteen or fifteen. +Carol had already seen quite enough of Cy Bogart. On her +first evening in Gopher Prairie Cy had appeared at the head +of a "charivari," banging immensely upon a discarded +automobile fender. His companions were yelping in imitation of +coyotes. Kennicott had felt rather complimented; had gone +out and distributed a dollar. But Cy was a capitalist in +charivaris. He returned with an entirely new group, and this +time there were three automobile fenders and a carnival rattle. +When Kennicott again interrupted his shaving, Cy piped, +"Naw, you got to give us two dollars," and he got it. A week +later Cy rigged a tic-tac to a window of the living-room, and +the tattoo out of the darkness frightened Carol into screaming. +Since then, in four months, she had beheld Cy hanging a cat, +stealing melons, throwing tomatoes at the Kennicott house, and +making ski-tracks across the lawn, and had heard him +explaining the mysteries of generation, with great audibility and +dismaying knowledge. He was, in fact, a museum specimen +of what a small town, a well-disciplined public school, a +tradition of hearty humor, and a pious mother could produce from +the material of a courageous and ingenious mind. + +Carol was afraid of him. Far from protesting when he set +his mongrel on a kitten, she worked hard at not seeing him. + +The Kennicott garage was a shed littered with paint-cans, +tools, a lawn-mower, and ancient wisps of hay. Above it was +a loft which Cy Bogart and Earl Haydock, young brother of +Harry, used as a den, for smoking, hiding from whippings, +and planning secret societies. They climbed to it by a ladder +on the alley side of the shed. + +This morning of late January, two or three weeks after +Vida's revelations, Carol had gone into the stable-garage to +find a hammer. Snow softened her step. She heard voices +in the loft above her: + +"Ah gee, lez--oh, lez go down the lake and swipe some +mushrats out of somebody's traps," Cy was yawning. + +"And get our ears beat off!" grumbled Earl Haydock. + +"Gosh, these cigarettes are dandy. 'Member when we were +just kids, and used to smoke corn-silk and hayseed?" + +"Yup. Gosh!" + +Spit. Silence. + +"Say Earl, ma says if you chew tobacco you get consumption." + +"Aw rats, your old lady is a crank." + +"Yuh, that's so." Pause. "But she says she knows a fella +that did." + +"Aw, gee whiz, didn't Doc Kennicott used to chew tobacco +all the time before he married this-here girl from the Cities? +He used to spit--- Gee! Some shot! He could hit a tree +ten feet off." + +This was news to the girl from the Cities. + +"Say, how is she?" continued Earl. + +"Huh? How's who?" + +"You know who I mean, smarty." + +A tussle, a thumping of loose boards, silence, weary +narration from Cy: + +"Mrs. Kennicott? Oh, she's all right, I guess." Relief to +Carol, below. "She gimme a hunk o' cake, one time. But +Ma says she's stuck-up as hell. Ma's always talking about +her. Ma says if Mrs. Kennicott thought as much about the +doc as she does about her clothes, the doc wouldn't look so +peaked." + +Spit. Silence. + +"Yuh. Juanita's always talking about her, too," from Earl. +"She says Mrs. Kennicott thinks she knows it all. Juanita +says she has to laugh till she almost busts every time she +sees Mrs. Kennicott peerading along the street with that `take +a look--I'm a swell skirt' way she's got. But gosh, I don't +pay no attention to Juanita. She's meaner 'n a crab." + +"Ma was telling somebody that she heard that Mrs. +Kennicott claimed she made forty dollars a week when she was +on some job in the Cities, and Ma says she knows +posolutely that she never made but eighteen a week--Ma says +that when she's lived here a while she won't go round making +a fool of herself, pulling that bighead stuff on folks that know +a whole lot more than she does. They're all laughing up their +sleeves at her." + +"Say, jever notice how Mrs. Kennicott fusses around the +house? Other evening when I was coming over here, she'd +forgot to pull down the curtain, and I watched her for ten +minutes. Jeeze, you'd 'a' died laughing. She was there all +alone, and she must 'a' spent five minutes getting a picture +straight. It was funny as hell the way she'd stick out her finger +to straighten the picture--deedle-dee, see my tunnin' 'ittle +finger, oh my, ain't I cute, what a fine long tail my cat's got!" + +"But say, Earl, she's some good-looker, just the same, and +O Ignatz! the glad rags she must of bought for her wedding. +Jever notice these low-cut dresses and these thin shimmy-shirts +she wears? I had a good squint at 'em when they were out +on the line with the wash. And some ankles she's got, heh?" + +Then Carol fled. + +In her innocence she had not known that the whole town +could discuss even her garments, her body. She felt that she +was being dragged naked down Main Street. + +The moment it was dusk she pulled down the window-shades +all the shades, flush with the sill, but beyond them she felt +moist fleering eyes. + + + +III + + +She remembered, and tried to forget, and remembered more +sharply the vulgar detail of her husband's having observed the +ancient customs of the land by chewing tobacco. She would +have preferred a prettier vice--gambling or a mistress. For +these she might have found a luxury of forgiveness. She could +not remember any fascinatingly wicked hero of fiction who +chewed tobacco. She asserted that it proved him to be a man +of the bold free West. She tried to align him with the hairy- +chested heroes of the motion-pictures. She curled on the couch +a pallid softness in the twilight, and fought herself, and lost the +battle. Spitting did not identify him with rangers riding the +buttes; it merely bound him to Gopher Prairie--to Nat Hicks +the tailor and Bert Tybee the bartender. + +"But he gave it up for me. Oh, what does it matter! We're +all filthy in some things. I think of myself as so superior, +but I do eat and digest, I do wash my dirty paws and scratch. +I'm not a cool slim goddess on a column. There aren't any! +He gave it up for me. He stands by me, believing that every +one loves me. He's the Rock of Ages--in a storm of meanness +that's driving me mad. . .it will drive me mad." + +All evening she sang Scotch ballads to Kennicott, and when +she noticed that he was chewing an unlighted cigar she smiled +maternally at his secret. + +She could not escape asking (in the exact words and mental +intonations which a thousand million women, dairy wenches +and mischief-making queens, had used before her, and which +a million million women will know hereafter), "Was it all +a horrible mistake, my marrying him?" She quieted the +doubt--without answering it. + + + +IV + + +Kennicott had taken her north to Lac-qui-Meurt, in the Big +Woods. It was the entrance to a Chippewa Indian reservation, +a sandy settlement among Norway pines on the shore of a +huge snow-glaring lake. She had her first sight of his mother, +except the glimpse at the wedding. Mrs. Kennicott had a +hushed and delicate breeding which dignified her woodeny over- +scrubbed cottage with its worn hard cushions in heavy rockers. +She had never lost the child's miraculous power of wonder. +She asked questions about books and cities. She murmured: + +"Will is a dear hard-working boy but he's inclined to be too +serious, and you've taught him how to play. Last night I +heard you both laughing about the old Indian basket-seller, +and I just lay in bed and enjoyed your happiness." + +Carol forgot her misery-hunting in this solidarity of family +life. She could depend upon them; she was not battling alone. +Watching Mrs. Kennicott flit about the kitchen she was better +able to translate Kennicott himself. He was matter-of-fact, +yes, and incurably mature. He didn't really play; he let Carol +play with him. But he had his mother's genius for trusting, +her disdain for prying, her sure integrity. + +From the two days at Lac-qui-Meurt Carol drew confidence +in herself, and she returned to Gopher Prairie in a throbbing +calm like those golden drugged seconds when, because he is +for an instant free from pain, a sick man revels in living. + +A bright hard winter day, the wind shrill, black and silver +clouds booming across the sky, everything in panicky motion +during the brief light. They struggled against the surf of wind, +through deep snow. Kennicott was cheerful. He hailed Loren +Wheeler, "Behave yourself while I been away?" The editor +bellowed, "B' gosh you stayed so long that all your patients +have got well!" and importantly took notes for the Dauntless +about their journey. Jackson Elder cried, "Hey, folks! How's +tricks up North?" Mrs. McGanum waved to them from her +porch. + +"They're glad to see us. We mean something here. These +people are satisfied. Why can't I be? But can I sit back +all my life and be satisfied with `Hey, folks'? They want +shouts on Main Street, and I want violins in a paneled room. +Why----?" + + + +V + + +Vida Sherwin ran in after school a dozen times. She was tactful, +torrentially anecdotal. She had scuttled about town and plucked +compliments: Mrs. Dr. Westlake had pronounced Carol a "very sweet, +bright, cultured young woman," and Brad Bemis, the tinsmith at +Clark's Hardware Store, had declared that she was "easy to work for +and awful easy to look at." + +But Carol could not yet take her in. She resented this +outsider's knowledge of her shame. Vida was not too long +tolerant. She hinted, "You're a great brooder, child. Buck up +now. The town's quit criticizing you, almost entirely. Come +with me to the Thanatopsis Club. They have some of the +BEST papers, and current-events discussions--SO interesting." + +In Vida's demands Carol felt a compulsion, but she was too +listless to obey. + +It was Bea Sorenson who was really her confidante. + +However charitable toward the Lower Classes she may have +thought herself, Carol had been reared to assume that servants +belong to a distinct and inferior species. But she discovered +that Bea was extraordinarily like girls she had loved in college, +and as a companion altogether superior to the young matrons +of the Jolly Seventeen. Daily they became more frankly two +girls playing at housework. Bea artlessly considered Carol +the most beautiful and accomplished lady in the country; she +was always shrieking, "My, dot's a swell hat!" or, "Ay t'ink +all dese ladies yoost die when dey see how elegant you do +your hair!" But it was not the humbleness of a servant, nor +the hypocrisy of a slave; it was the admiration of Freshman +for Junior. + +They made out the day's menus together. Though they +began with propriety, Carol sitting by the kitchen table and +Bea at the sink or blacking the stove, the conference was +likely to end with both of them by the table, while Bea gurgled +over the ice-man's attempt to kiss her, or Carol admitted, +"Everybody knows that the doctor is lots more clever than +Dr. McGanum." When Carol came in from marketing, Bea +plunged into the hall to take off her coat, rub her frostied +hands, and ask, "Vos dere lots of folks up-town today?" + +This was the welcome upon which Carol depended. + + + +VI + +Through her weeks of cowering there was no change in +her surface life. No one save Vida was aware of her agonizing. +On her most despairing days she chatted to women on the +street, in stores. But without the protection of Kennicott's +presence she did not go to the Jolly Seventeen; she delivered +herself to the judgment of the town only when she went shopping +and on the ritualistic occasions of formal afternoon calls, +when Mrs. Lyman Cass or Mrs. George Edwin Mott, with +clean gloves and minute handkerchiefs and sealskin card-cases +and countenances of frozen approbation, sat on the edges of +chairs and inquired, "Do you find Gopher Prairie pleasing?" +When they spent evenings of social profit-and-loss at the +Haydocks' or the Dyers' she hid behind Kennicott, playing the +simple bride. + +Now she was unprotected. Kennicott had taken a patient +to Rochester for an operation. He would be away for two +or three days. She had not minded; she would loosen the +matrimonial tension and be a fanciful girl for a time. But +now that he was gone the house was listeningly empty. Bea +was out this afternoon--presumably drinking coffee and talking +about "fellows" with her cousin Tina. It was the day +for the monthly supper and evening-bridge of the Jolly +Seventeen, but Carol dared not go. + +She sat alone. + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE house was haunted, long before evening. Shadows slipped +down the walls and waited behind every chair. + +Did that door move? + +No. She wouldn't go to the Jolly Seventeen. She hadn't +energy enough to caper before them, to smile blandly at +Juanita's rudeness. Not today. But she did want a party. +Now! If some one would come in this afternoon, some one +who liked her--Vida or Mrs. Sam Clark or old Mrs. Champ +Perry or gentle Mrs. Dr. Westlake. Or Guy Pollock! She'd +telephone---- + +No. That wouldn't be it. They must come of themselves. + +Perhaps they would. + +Why not? + +She'd have tea ready, anyway. If they came--splendid. +If not--what did she care? She wasn't going to yield to the +village and let down; she was going to keep up a belief in the +rite of tea, to which she had always looked forward as the +symbol of a leisurely fine existence. And it would be just +as much fun, even if it was so babyish, to have tea by herself +and pretend that she was entertaining clever men. It +would! + +She turned the shining thought into action. She bustled to +the kitchen, stoked the wood-range, sang Schumann while she +boiled the kettle, warmed up raisin cookies on a newspaper +spread on the rack in the oven. She scampered up-stairs to +bring down her filmiest tea-cloth. She arranged a silver tray. +She proudly carried it into the living-room and set it on the +long cherrywood table, pushing aside a hoop of embroidery, +a volume of Conrad from the library, copies of the Saturday +Evening Post, the Literary Digest, and Kennicott's National +Geographic Magazine. + +She moved the tray back and forth and regarded the effect. +She shook her head. She busily unfolded the sewing-table +set it in the bay-window, patted the tea-cloth to smoothness, +moved the tray. "Some time I'll have a mahogany tea-table," +she said happily. + +She had brought in two cups, two plates. For herself, a +straight chair, but for the guest the big wing-chair, which she +pantingly tugged to the table. + +She had finished all the preparations she could think of. She +sat and waited. She listened for the door-bell, the telephone. +Her eagerness was stilled. Her hands drooped. + +Surely Vida Sherwin would hear the summons. + +She glanced through the bay-window. Snow was sifting over +the ridge of the Howland house like sprays of water from a +hose. The wide yards across the street were gray with moving +eddies. The black trees shivered. The roadway was gashed +with ruts of ice. + +She looked at the extra cup and plate. She looked at +the wing-chair. It was so empty. + +The tea was cold in the pot. With wearily dipping fingertip +she tested it. Yes. Quite cold. She couldn't wait any +longer. + +The cup across from her was icily clean, glisteningly empty. + +Simply absurd to wait. She poured her own cup of tea. She +sat and stared at it. What was it she was going to do now? +Oh yes; how idiotic; take a lump of sugar. + +She didn't want the beastly tea. + +She was springing up. She was on the couch, sobbing. + + + +II + + +She was thinking more sharply than she had for weeks. + +She reverted to her resolution to change the town--awaken +it, prod it, "reform" it. What if they were wolves instead +of lambs? They'd eat her all the sooner if she was meek to +them. Fight or be eaten. It was easier to change the town +completely than to conciliate it! She could not take their point +of view; it was a negative thing; an intellectual squalor; a +swamp of prejudices and fears. She would have to make them +take hers. She was not a Vincent de Paul, to govern and +mold a people. What of that? The tiniest change in their +distrust of beauty would be the beginning of the end; a seed +to sprout and some day with thickening roots to crack their +wall of mediocrity. If she could not, as she desired, do a +great thing nobly and with laughter, yet she need not be con- +tent with village nothingness. She would plant one seed in the +blank wall. + +Was she just? Was it merely a blank wall, this town which +to three thousand and more people was the center of the +universe? Hadn't she, returning from Lac-qui-Meurt, felt the +heartiness of their greetings? No. The ten thousand Gopher +Prairies had no monopoly of greetings and friendly hands. Sam +Clark was no more loyal than girl librarians she knew in St. +Paul, the people she had met in Chicago. And those others +had so much that Gopher Prairie complacently lacked--the +world of gaiety and adventure, of music and the integrity of +bronze, of remembered mists from tropic isles and Paris nights +and the walls of Bagdad, of industrial justice and a God who +spake not in doggerel hymns. + +One seed. Which seed it was did not matter. All knowledge +and freedom were one. But she had delayed so long in +finding that seed. Could she do something with this Thanatopsis +Club? Or should she make her house so charming that +it would be an influence? She'd make Kennicott like poetry. +That was it, for a beginning! She conceived so clear a picture +of their bending over large fair pages by the fire (in a non- +existent fireplace) that the spectral presences slipped away. +Doors no longer moved; curtains were not creeping shadows +but lovely dark masses in the dusk; and when Bea came home +Carol was singing at the piano which she had not touched for +many days. + +Their supper was the feast of two girls. Carol was in the +dining-room, in a frock of black satin edged with gold, and +Bea, in blue gingham and an apron, dined in the kitchen; but +the door was open between, and Carol was inquiring, "Did +you see any ducks in Dahl's window?" and Bea chanting, +"No, ma'am. Say, ve have a svell time, dis afternoon. Tina +she have coffee and knackebrod, and her fella vos dere, and +ve yoost laughed and laughed, and her fella say he vos president +and he going to make me queen of Finland, and Ay stick a +fedder in may hair and say Ay bane going to go to var--oh, +ve vos so foolish and ve LAUGH so!" + +When Carol sat at the piano again she did not think of +her husband but of the book-drugged hermit, Guy Pollock. +She wished that Pollock would come calling. + +"If a girl really kissed him, he'd creep out of his den and +be human. If Will were as literate as Guy, or Guy were as +executive as Will, I think I could endure even Gopher Prairie. +"It's so hard to mother Will. I could be maternal with +Guy. Is that what I want, something to mother, a man or +a baby or a town? I WILL have a baby. Some day. But to +have him isolated here all his receptive years---- + +"And so to bed. + +"Have I found my real level in Bea and kitchen-gossip? + +"Oh, I do miss you, Will. But it will be pleasant to turn +over in bed as often as I want to, without worrying about +waking you up. + +"Am I really this settled thing called a `married woman'? +I feel so unmarried tonight. So free. To think that there +was once a Mrs. Kennicott who let herself worry over a town +called Gopher Prairie when there was a whole world outside +it! + +"Of course Will is going to like poetry." + + + +III + + +A black February day. Clouds hewn of ponderous timber +weighing down on the earth; an irresolute dropping of snow +specks upon the trampled wastes. Gloom but no veiling of +angularity. The lines of roofs and sidewalks sharp and +inescapable. + +The second day of Kennicott's absence. + +She fled from the creepy house for a walk. It was thirty +below zero; too cold to exhilarate her. In the spaces between +houses the wind caught her. It stung, it gnawed at nose and +ears and aching cheeks, and she hastened from shelter to +shelter, catching her breath in the lee of a barn, grateful for +the protection of a billboard covered with ragged posters showing +layer under layer of paste-smeared green and streaky red. + +The grove of oaks at the end of the street suggested Indians, +hunting, snow-shoes, and she struggled past the earth-banked +cottages to the open country, to a farm and a low hill +corrugated with hard snow. In her loose nutria coat, seal +toque, virginal cheeks unmarked by lines of village jealousies, +she was as out of place on this dreary hillside as a scarlet +tanager on an ice-floe. She looked down on Gopher Prairie. +The snow, stretching without break from streets to devouring +prairie beyond, wiped out the town's pretense of being a shelter. +The houses were black specks on a white sheet. Her heart +shivered with that still loneliness as her body shivered with +the wind. + +She ran back into the huddle of streets, all the while +protesting that she wanted a city's yellow glare of shop-windows +and restaurants, or the primitive forest with hooded furs and +a rifle, or a barnyard warm and steamy, noisy with hens and +cattle, certainly not these dun houses, these yards choked with +winter ash-piles, these roads of dirty snow and clotted frozen +mud. The zest of winter was gone. Three months more, till +May, the cold might drag on, with the snow ever filthier, the +weakened body less resistent. She wondered why the good +citizens insisted on adding the chill of prejudice, why they +did not make the houses of their spirits more warm and frivolous, +like the wise chatterers of Stockholm and Moscow. + +She circled the outskirts of the town and viewed the slum +of "Swede Hollow." Wherever as many as three houses are +gathered there will be a slum of at least one house. In +Gopher Prairie, the Sam Clarks boasted, "you don't get any of +this poverty that you find in cities--always plenty of work-- +no need of charity--man got to be blame shiftless if he don't +get ahead." But now that the summer mask of leaves and +grass was gone, Carol discovered misery and dead hope. In +a shack of thin boards covered with tar-paper she saw the +washerwoman, Mrs. Steinhof, working in gray steam. Outside, +her six-year-old boy chopped wood. He had a torn jacket, +muffler of a blue like skimmed milk. His hands were covered +with red mittens through which protruded his chapped raw +knuckles. He halted to blow on them, to cry disinterestedly. + +A family of recently arrived Finns were camped in an +abandoned stable. A man of eighty was picking up lumps of coal +along the railroad. + +She did not know what to do about it. She felt that these +independent citizens, who had been taught that they belonged +to a democracy, would resent her trying to play Lady +Bountiful. + +She lost her loneliness in the activity of the village +industries--the railroad-yards with a freight-train switching, the +wheat-elevator, oil-tanks, a slaughter-house with blood-marks +on the snow, the creamery with the sleds of farmers and piles +of milk-cans, an unexplained stone hut labeled "Danger-. +Powder Stored Here." The jolly tombstone-yard, where a +utilitarian sculptor in a red calfskin overcoat whistled as he +hammered the shiniest of granite headstones. Jackson Elder's +small planing-mill, with the smell of fresh pine shavings and +the burr of circular saws. Most important, the Gopher Prairie +Flour and Milling Company, Lyman, Cass president. Its windows +were blanketed with flour-dust, but it was the most +stirring spot in town. Workmen were wheeling barrels of flour +into a box-car; a farmer sitting on sacks of wheat in a bobsled +argued with the wheat-buyer; machinery within the mill +boomed and whined, water gurgled in the ice-freed mill-race. + +The clatter was a relief to Carol after months of smug +houses. She wished that she could work in the mill; that +she did not belong to the caste of professional-man's-wife. + +She started for home, through the small slum. Before a +tar-paper shack, at a gateless gate, a man in rough brown +dogskin coat and black plush cap with lappets was watching +her. His square face was confident, his foxy mustache was +picaresque. He stood erect, his hands in his side-pockets, his +pipe puffing slowly. He was forty-five or -six, perhaps. + +"How do, Mrs. Kennicott," he drawled. + +She recalled him--the town handyman, who had repaired +their furnace at the beginning of winter. + +"Oh, how do you do," she fluttered. + +"My name 's Bjornstam. `The Red Swede' they call me. +Remember? Always thought I'd kind of like to say howdy +to you again." + +"Ye--yes---- I've been exploring the outskirts of town." + +"Yump. Fine mess. No sewage, no street cleaning, and +the Lutheran minister and the priest represent the arts and +sciences. Well, thunder, we submerged tenth down here in +Swede Hollow are no worse off than you folks. Thank God, +we don't have to go and purr at Juanity Haydock at the +Jolly Old Seventeen." + +The Carol who regarded herself as completely adaptable +was uncomfortable at being chosen as comrade by a pipe- +reeking odd-job man. Probably he was one of her husband's +patients. But she must keep her dignity. + +"Yes, even the Jolly Seventeen isn't always so exciting. +It's very cold again today, isn't it. Well----" + +Bjornstam was not respectfully valedictory. He showed no +signs of pulling a forelock. His eyebrows moved as though +they had a life of their own. With a subgrin he went on: + +"Maybe I hadn't ought to talk about Mrs. Haydock and +her Solemcholy Seventeen in that fresh way. I suppose I'd +be tickled to death if I was invited to sit in with that gang. +I'm what they call a pariah, I guess. I'm the town badman, +Mrs. Kennicott: town atheist, and I suppose I must be an +anarchist, too. Everybody who doesn't love the bankers and +the Grand Old Republican Party is an anarchist." + +Carol had unconsciously slipped from her attitude of +departure into an attitude of listening, her face full toward him, +her muff lowered. She fumbled: + +"Yes, I suppose so." Her own grudges came in a flood. "I +don't see why you shouldn't criticize the Jolly Seventeen if +you want to. They aren't sacred." + +"Oh yes, they are! The dollar-sign has chased the crucifix +clean off the map. But then, I've got no kick. I do what +I please, and I suppose I ought to let them do the same." + +"What do you mean by saying you're a pariah?" + +"I'm poor, and yet I don't decently envy the rich. I'm an +old bach. I make enough money for a stake, and then I sit +around by myself, and shake hands with myself, and have a +smoke, and read history, and I don't contribute to the wealth +of Brother Elder or Daddy Cass." + +"You---- I fancy you read a good deal." + +"Yep. In a hit-or-a-miss way. I'll tell you: I'm a lone +wolf. I trade horses, and saw wood, and work in lumber-camps +--I'm a first-rate swamper. Always wished I could go to +college. Though I s'pose I'd find it pretty slow, and they'd +probably kick me out." + +"You really are a curious person, Mr.----" + +"Bjornstam. Miles Bjornstam. Half Yank and half Swede. +Usually known as `that damn lazy big-mouthed calamity-howler +that ain't satisfied with the way we run things.' No, I ain't +curious--whatever you mean by that! I'm just a bookworm. +Probably too much reading for the amount of digestion I've +got. Probably half-baked. I'm going to get in `half-baked' +first, and beat you to it, because it's dead sure to be handed +to a radical that wears jeans!" + +They grinned together. She demanded: + +"You say that the Jolly Seventeen is stupid. What makes +you think so?" + +"Oh, trust us borers into the foundation to know about +your leisure class. Fact, Mrs. Kennicott, I'll say that far as +I can make out, the only people in this man's town that do +have any brains--I don't mean ledger-keeping brains or duck- +hunting brains or baby-spanking brains, but real imaginative +brains--are you and me and Guy Pollock and the foreman at +the flour-mill. He's a socialist, the foreman. (Don't tell +Lym Cass that! Lym would fire a socialist quicker than he +would a horse-thief!)" + +"Indeed no, I sha'n't tell him." + +"This foreman and I have some great set-to's. He's a +regular old-line party-member. Too dogmatic. Expects to +reform everything from deforestration to nosebleed by saying +phrases like `surplus value.' Like reading the prayer-book. +But same time, he's a Plato J. Aristotle compared with people +like Ezry Stowbody or Professor Mott or Julius Flickerbaugh." + +"It's interesting to hear about him." + +He dug his toe into a drift, like a schoolboy. "Rats. You +mean I talk too much. Well, I do, when I get hold of somebody +like you. You probably want to run along and keep +your nose from freezing." + +"Yes, I must go, I suppose. But tell me: Why did you +leave Miss Sherwin, of the high school, out of your list of the +town intelligentsia?" + +"I guess maybe she does belong in it. From all I can hear +she's in everything and behind everything that looks like a +reform--lot more than most folks realize. She lets Mrs. +Reverend Warren, the president of this-here Thanatopsis Club, +think she's running the works, but Miss Sherwin is the secret +boss, and nags all the easy-going dames into doing something. +But way I figure it out---- You see, I'm not interested in these +dinky reforms. Miss Sherwin's trying to repair the holes in +this barnacle-covered ship of a town by keeping busy bailing +out the water. And Pollock tries to repair it by reading poetry +to the crew! Me, I want to yank it up on the ways, and fire +the poor bum of a shoemaker that built it so it sails crooked, +and have it rebuilt right, from the keel up." + +"Yes--that--that would be better. But I must run home. +My poor nose is nearly frozen." + +"Say, you better come in and get warm, and see what an +old bach's shack is like." + +She looked doubtfully at him, at the low shanty, the yard +that was littered with cord-wood, moldy planks, a hoopless +wash-tub. She was disquieted, but Bjornstam did not give her +the opportunity to be delicate. He flung out his hand in a +welcoming gesture which assumed that she was her own +counselor, that she was not a Respectable Married Woman but fully +a human being. With a shaky, "Well, just a moment, to +warm my nose," she glanced down the street to make sure +that she was not spied on, and bolted toward the shanty. + +She remained for one hour, and never had she known a more +considerate host than the Red Swede. + +He had but one room: bare pine floor, small work-bench, +wall bunk with amazingly neat bed, frying-pan and ash- +stippled coffee-pot on the shelf behind the pot-bellied cannon- +ball stove, backwoods chairs--one constructed from half a +barrel, one from a tilted plank-and a row of books incredibly +assorted; Byron and Tennyson and Stevenson, a manual of +gas-engines, a book by Thorstein Veblen, and a spotty treatise +on "The Care, Feeding, Diseases, and Breeding of Poultry +and Cattle." + +There was but one picture--a magazine color-plate of a +steep-roofed village in the Harz Mountains which suggested +kobolds and maidens with golden hair. + +Bjornstam did not fuss over her. He suggested, "Might +throw open your coat and put your feet up on the box in front +of the stove." He tossed his dogskin coat into the bunk, +lowered himself into the barrel chair, and droned on: + +"Yeh, I'm probably a yahoo, but by gum I do keep my +independence by doing odd jobs, and that's more 'n these polite +cusses like the clerks in the banks do. When I'm rude to some +slob, it may be partly because I don't know better (and God +knows I'm not no authority on trick forks and what pants you +wear with a Prince Albert), but mostly it's because I mean +something. I'm about the only man in Johnson County that +remembers the joker in the Declaration of Independence about +Americans being supposed to have the right to `life, liberty, +and the pursuit of happiness.' + +"I meet old Ezra Stowbody on the street. He looks at +me like he wants me to remember he's a highmuckamuck and +worth two hundred thousand dollars, and he says, `Uh, Bjornquist----' + +"`Bjornstam's my name, Ezra,' I says. HE knows my name, all rightee. + +"`Well, whatever your name is,' he says, `I understand you +have a gasoline saw. I want you to come around and saw +up four cords of maple for me,' he says. + +"`So you like my looks, eh?' I says, kind of innocent. + +"`What difference does that make? Want you to saw that +wood before Saturday,' he says, real sharp. Common workman +going and getting fresh with a fifth of a million dollars +all walking around in a hand-me-down fur coat! + +"`Here's the difference it makes,' I says, just to devil him. +`How do you know I like YOUR looks?' Maybe he didn't look +sore! Nope,' I says, `thinking it all over, I don't like your +application for a loan. Take it to another bank, only there +ain't any,' I says, and I walks off on him. + +"Sure. Probably I was surly--and foolish. But I figured there +had to be ONE man in town independent enough to sass the banker!" + +He hitched out of his chair, made coffee, gave Carol a +cup, and talked on, half defiant and half apologetic, half wistful +for friendliness and half amused by her surprise at the +discovery that there was a proletarian philosophy. + +At the door, she hinted: + +"Mr. Bjornstam, if you were I, would you worry when +people thought you were affected?" + +"Huh? Kick 'em in the face! Say, if I were a sea-gull, +and all over silver, think I'd care what a pack of dirty seals +thought about my flying?" + +It was not the wind at her back, it was the thrust of +Bjornstam's scorn which carried her through town. She faced +Juanita Haydock, cocked her head at Maud Dyer's brief nod, +and came home to Bea radiant. She telephoned Vida Sherwin +to "run over this evening." She lustily played Tschaikowsky-- +the virile chords an echo of the red laughing philosopher of +the tar-paper shack. + +(When she hinted to Vida, "Isn't there a man here who +amuses himself by being irreverent to the village gods--Bjornstam, +some such a name?" the reform-leader said "Bjornstam? +Oh yes. Fixes things. He's awfully impertinent.") + + + +IV + + +Kennicott had returned at midnight. At breakfast he said +four several times that he had missed her every moment. + +On her way to market Sam Clark hailed her, "The top o' the +mornin' to yez! Going to stop and pass the time of day mit +Sam'l? Warmer, eh? What'd the doc's thermometer say it +was? Say, you folks better come round and visit with us, +one of these evenings. Don't be so dog-gone proud, staying by +yourselves." + +Champ Perry the pioneer, wheat-buyer at the elevator, +stopped her in the post-office, held her hand in his withered +paws, peered at her with faded eyes, and chuckled, "You are +so fresh and blooming, my dear. Mother was saying t'other day +that a sight of you was better 'n a dose of medicine." + +In the Bon Ton Store she found Guy Pollock tentatively +buying a modest gray scarf. "We haven't seen you for so +long," she said. "Wouldn't you like to come in and play cribbage, +some evening?" As though he meant it, Pollock begged, +"May I, really?" + +While she was purchasing two yards of malines the vocal +Raymie Wutherspoon tiptoed up to her, his long sallow face +bobbing, and he besought, "You've just got to come back to +my department and see a pair of patent leather slippers I set +aside for you." + +In a manner of more than sacerdotal reverence he unlaced +her boots, tucked her skirt about her ankles, slid on the +slippers. She took them. + +"You're a good salesman," she said. + +"I'm not a salesman at all! I just like elegant things. All +this is so inartistic." He indicated with a forlornly waving +hand the shelves of shoe-boxes, the seat of thin wood +perforated in rosettes, the display of shoe-trees and tin boxes of +blacking, the lithograph of a smirking young woman with cherry +cheeks who proclaimed in the exalted poetry of advertising, +"My tootsies never got hep to what pedal perfection was till +I got a pair of clever classy Cleopatra Shoes." + +"But sometimes," Raymie sighed, "there is a pair of dainty +little shoes like these, and I set them aside for some one who +will appreciate. When I saw these I said right away, `Wouldn't +it be nice if they fitted Mrs. Kennicott,' and I meant to speak +to you first chance I had. I haven't forgotten our jolly talks +at Mrs. Gurrey's!" + +That evening Guy Pollock came in and, though Kennicott +instantly impressed him into a cribbage game, Carol was +happy again. + + + +V + + +She did not, in recovering something of her buoyancy, forget +her determination to begin the liberalizing of Gopher Prairie +by the easy and agreeable propaganda of teaching Kennicott to +enjoy reading poetry in the lamplight. The campaign was +delayed. Twice he suggested that they call on neighbors; +once he was in the country. The fourth evening he yawned +pleasantly, stretched, and inquired, "Well, what'll we do +tonight? Shall we go to the movies?" + +"I know exactly what we're going to do. Now don't ask +questions! Come and sit down by the table. There, are +you comfy? Lean back and forget you're a practical man, +and listen to me." + +It may be that she had been influenced by the managerial +Vida Sherwin; certainly she sounded as though she was selling +culture. But she dropped it when she sat on the couch, her +chin in her hands, a volume of Yeats on her knees, and read +aloud. + +Instantly she was released from the homely comfort of a +prairie town. She was in the world of lonely things--the flutter +of twilight linnets, the aching call of gulls along a shore +to which the netted foam crept out of darkness, the island +of Aengus and the elder gods and the eternal glories that +never were, tall kings and women girdled with crusted gold, +the woful incessant chanting and the---- + +"Heh-cha-cha!" coughed Dr. Kennicott. She stopped. She +remembered that he was the sort of person who chewed tobacco. +She glared, while he uneasily petitioned, "That's great stuff. +Study it in college? I like poetry fine--James Whitcomb +Riley and some of Longfellow--this `Hiawatha.' Gosh, I wish +I could appreciate that highbrow art stuff. But I guess I'm +too old a dog to learn new tricks." + +With pity for his bewilderment, and a certain desire to +giggle, she consoled him, "Then let's try some Tennyson. +You've read him?" + +"Tennyson? You bet. Read him in school. There's that: + + And let there be no (what is it?) of farewell + When I put out to sea, + But let the---- + +Well, I don't remember all of it but---- Oh, sure! And +there's that `I met a little country boy who----' I don't +remember exactly how it goes, but the chorus ends up, `We +are seven.' " + +"Yes. Well---- Shall we try `The Idylls of the King?' +They're so full of color." + +"Go to it. Shoot." But he hastened to shelter himself +behind a cigar. + +She was not transported to Camelot. She read with an +eye cocked on him, and when she saw how much he was +suffering she ran to him, kissed his forehead, cried, "You poor +forced tube-rose that wants to be a decent turnip!" + +"Look here now, that ain't----" + +"Anyway, I sha'n't torture you any longer." + +She could not quite give up. She read Kipling, with a great +deal of emphasis: + + +There's a REGIMENT a-COMING down the + GRAND Trunk ROAD. + + +He tapped his foot to the rhythm; he looked normal and +reassured. But when he complimented her, "That was fine. +I don't know but what you can elocute just as good as Ella +Stowbody," she banged the book and suggested that they were +not too late for the nine o'clock show at the movies. + +That was her last effort to harvest the April wind, to teach +divine unhappiness by a correspondence course, to buy the +lilies of Avalon and the sunsets of Cockaigne in tin cans at +Ole Jenson's Grocery. + +But the fact is that at the motion-pictures she discovered +herself laughing as heartily as Kennicott at the humor of an +actor who stuffed spaghetti down a woman's evening frock. +For a second she loathed her laughter; mourned for the day +when on her hill by the Mississippi she had walked the battlements +with queens. But the celebrated cinema jester's conceit +of dropping toads into a soup-plate flung her into unwilling +tittering, and the afterglow faded, the dead queens fled +through darkness. + + + +VI + + +She went to the Jolly Seventeen's afternoon bridge. She +had learned the elements of the game from the Sam Clarks. +She played quietly and reasonably badly. She had no opinions +on anything more polemic than woolen union-suits, a topic on +which Mrs. Howland discoursed for five minutes. She smiled +frequently, and was the complete canary-bird in her manner +of thanking the hostess, Mrs. Dave Dyer. + +Her only anxious period was during the conference on husbands. + +The young matrons discussed the intimacies of domesticity +with a frankness and a minuteness which dismayed Carol. +Juanita Haydock communicated Harry's method of shaving, +and his interest in deer-shooting. Mrs. Gougerling reported +fully, and with some irritation, her husband's inappreciation +of liver and bacon. Maud Dyer chronicled Dave's digestive +disorders; quoted a recent bedtime controversy with him in +regard to Christian Science, socks and the sewing of buttons +upon vests; announced that she "simply wasn't going to stand +his always pawing girls when he went and got crazy-jealous if +a man just danced with her"; and rather more than sketched +Dave's varieties of kisses. + +So meekly did Carol give attention, so obviously was she at +last desirous of being one of them, that they looked on her +fondly, and encouraged her to give such details of her honeymoon +as might be of interest. She was embarrassed rather +than resentful. She deliberately misunderstood. She talked of +Kennicott's overshoes and medical ideals till they were +thoroughly bored. They regarded her as agreeable but green. + +Till the end she labored to satisfy the inquisition. She +bubbled at Juanita, the president of the club, that she wanted +to entertain them. "Only," she said, "I don't know that I +can give you any refreshments as nice as Mrs. Dyer's salad, +or that simply delicious angel's-food we had at your house, +dear." + +"Fine! We need a hostess for the seventeenth of March. +Wouldn't it be awfully original if you made it a St. Patrick's +Day bridge! I'll be tickled to death to help you with it. +I'm glad you've learned to play bridge. At first I didn't hardly +know if you were going to like Gopher Prairie. Isn't it dandy +that you've settled down to being homey with us! Maybe +we aren't as highbrow as the Cities, but we do have the daisiest +times and--oh, we go swimming in summer, and dances and-- +oh, lots of good times. If folks will just take us as we are, +I think we're a pretty good bunch!" + +"I'm sure of it. Thank you so much for the idea about +having a St. Patrick's Day bridge." + +"Oh, that's nothing. I always think the Jolly Seventeen +are so good at original ideas. If you knew these other towns +Wakamin and Joralemon and all, you'd find out and realize +that G. P. is the liveliest, smartest town in the state. Did +you know that Percy Bresnahan, the famous auto manufacturer, +came from here and---- Yes, I think that a St. Patrick's +Day party would be awfully cunning and original, and yet not +too queer or freaky or anything." + + + +CHAPTER XI + +I + +SHE had often been invited to the weekly meetings of the +Thanatopsis, the women's study club, but she had put it off. +The Thanatopsis was, Vida Sherwin promised, "such a cozy +group, and yet it puts you in touch with all the intellectual +thoughts that are going on everywhere." + +Early in March Mrs. Westlake, wife of the veteran physician, +marched into Carol's living-room like an amiable old pussy +and suggested, "My dear, you really must come to the +Thanatopsis this afternoon. Mrs. Dawson is going to be leader +and the poor soul is frightened to death. She wanted me to +get you to come. She says she's sure you will brighten up +the meeting with your knowledge of books and writings. +(English poetry is our topic today.) So shoo! Put on your +coat!" + +"English poetry? Really? I'd love to go. I didn't realize +you were reading poetry." + +"Oh, we're not so slow!" + +Mrs. Luke Dawson, wife of the richest man in town, gaped +at them piteously when they appeared. Her expensive frock +of beaver-colored satin with rows, plasters, and pendants of +solemn brown beads was intended for a woman twice her size. +She stood wringing her hands in front of nineteen folding +chairs, in her front parlor with its faded photograph of +Minnehaha Falls in 1890, its "colored enlargement" of Mr. Dawson, +its bulbous lamp painted with sepia cows and mountains and +standing on a mortuary marble column. + +She creaked, "O Mrs. Kennicott, I'm in such a fix. I'm +supposed to lead the discussion, and I wondered would you +come and help?" + +"What poet do you take up today?" demanded Carol, in +her library tone of "What book do you wish to take out?" + +"Why, the English ones." + +"Not all of them?" + +"W-why yes. We're learning all of European Literature +this year. The club gets such a nice magazine, Culture Hints, +and we follow its programs. Last year our subject was Men +and Women of the Bible, and next year we'll probably take +up Furnishings and China. My, it does make a body hustle +to keep up with all these new culture subjects, but it is +improving. So will you help us with the discussion today?" + +On her way over Carol had decided to use the Thanatopsis +as the tool with which to liberalize the town. She had +immediately conceived enormous enthusiasm; she had chanted, +"These are the real people. When the housewives, who bear +the burdens, are interested in poetry, it means something. I'll +work with them--for them--anything!" + +Her enthusiasm had become watery even before thirteen +women resolutely removed their overshoes, sat down meatily, +ate peppermints, dusted their fingers, folded their hands, +composed their lower thoughts, and invited the naked muse of +poetry to deliver her most improving message. They had +greeted Carol affectionately, and she tried to be a daughter +to them. But she felt insecure. Her chair was out in the +open, exposed to their gaze, and it was a hard-slatted, quivery, +slippery church-parlor chair, likely to collapse publicly and +without warning. It was impossible to sit on it without folding +the hands and listening piously. + +She wanted to kick the chair and run. It would make a +magnificent clatter. + +She saw that Vida Sherwin was watching her. She pinched +her wrist, as though she were a noisy child in church, and +when she was decent and cramped again, she listened. + +Mrs. Dawson opened the meeting by sighing, "I'm sure +I'm glad to see you all here today, and I understand that the +ladies have prepared a number of very interesting papers, this +is such an interesting subject, the poets, they have been an +inspiration for higher thought, in fact wasn't it Reverend +Benlick who said that some of the poets have been as much an +inspiration as a good many of the ministers, and so we shall +be glad to hear----" + +The poor lady smiled neuralgically, panted with fright, +scrabbled about the small oak table to find her eye-glasses, +and continued, "We will first have the pleasure of hearing +Mrs. Jenson on the subject `Shakespeare and Milton.' " + +Mrs. Ole Jenson said that Shakespeare was born in 1564 +and died 1616. He lived in London, England, and in Stratford +on-Avon, which many American tourists loved to visit, a lovely +town with many curios and old houses well worth examination. +Many people believed that Shakespeare was the greatest play- +wright who ever lived, also a fine poet. Not much was known +about his life, but after all that did not really make so much +difference, because they loved to read his numerous plays, +several of the best known of which she would now criticize. + +Perhaps the best known of his plays was "The Merchant of +Venice," having a beautiful love story and a fine appreciation +of a woman's brains, which a woman's club, even those who +did not care to commit themselves on the question of suffrage, +ought to appreciate. (Laughter.) Mrs. Jenson was sure that +she, for one, would love to be like Portia. The play was +about a Jew named Shylock, and he didn't want his daughter +to marry a Venice gentleman named Antonio---- + +Mrs. Leonard Warren, a slender, gray, nervous woman, +president of the Thanatopsis and wife of the Congregational +pastor, reported the birth and death dates of Byron, Scott, +Moore, Burns; and wound up: + +"Burns was quite a poor boy and he did not enjoy the +advantages we enjoy today, except for the advantages of the +fine old Scotch kirk where he heard the Word of God preached +more fearlessly than even in the finest big brick churches in +the big and so-called advanced cities of today, but he did not +have our educational advantages and Latin and the other +treasures of the mind so richly strewn before the, alas, too +ofttimes inattentive feet of our youth who do not always +sufficiently appreciate the privileges freely granted to every +American boy rich or poor. Burns had to work hard and was +sometimes led by evil companionship into low habits. But +it is morally instructive to know that he was a good student +and educated himself, in striking contrast to the loose ways +and so-called aristocratic society-life of Lord Byron, on which +I have just spoken. And certainly though the lords and earls +of his day may have looked down upon Burns as a humble +person, many of us have greatly enjoyed his pieces about the +mouse and other rustic subjects, with their message of humble +beauty--I am so sorry I have not got the time to quote some +of them." + +Mrs. George Edwin Mott gave ten minutes to Tennyson +and Browning. + +Mrs. Nat Hicks, a wry-faced, curiously sweet woman, so +awed by her betters that Carol wanted to kiss her, completed +the day's grim task by a paper on "Other Poets." The other +poets worthy of consideration were Coleridge, Wordsworth +Shelley, Gray, Mrs. Hemans, and Kipling. + +Miss Ella Stowbody obliged with a recital of "The +Recessional" and extracts from "Lalla Rookh." By request, she +gave "An Old Sweetheart of Mine" as encore. + +Gopher Prairie had finished the poets. It was ready for +the next week's labor: English Fiction and Essays. + +Mrs. Dawson besought, "Now we will have a discussion of +the papers, and I am sure we shall all enjoy hearing from one +who we hope to have as a new member, Mrs. Kennicott, who +with her splendid literary training and all should be able to +give us many pointers and--many helpful pointers." + +Carol had warned herself not to be so "beastly +supercilious." She had insisted that in the belated quest of these +work-stained women was an aspiration which ought to stir her +tears. "But they're so self-satisfied. They think they're +doing Burns a favor. They don't believe they have a `belated +quest.' They're sure that they have culture salted and hung +up." It was out of this stupor of doubt that Mrs. Dawson's +summons roused her. She was in a panic. How could she +speak without hurting them? + +Mrs. Champ Perry leaned over to stroke her hand and +whisper, "You look tired, dearie. Don't you talk unless you +want to." + +Affection flooded Carol; she was on her feet, searching for +words and courtesies: + +"The only thing in the way of suggestion---- I know +you are following a definite program, but I do wish that now +you've had such a splendid introduction, instead of going on +with some other subject next year you could return and take up +the poets more in detail. Especially actual quotations--even +though their lives are so interesting and, as Mrs. Warren said, +so morally instructive. And perhaps there are several poets +not mentioned today whom it might be worth while considering +--Keats, for instance, and Matthew Arnold and Rossetti and +Swinburne. Swinburne would be such a--well, that is, such +a contrast to life as we all enjoy it in our beautiful Middle- +west----" + +She saw that Mrs. Leonard Warren was not with her. She +captured her by innocently continuing: + +"Unless perhaps Swinburne tends to be, uh, more outspoken +than you, than we really like. What do you think, Mrs. +Warren?" + +The pastor's wife decided, "Why, you've caught my very thoughts, +Mrs. Kennicott. Of course I have never READ Swinburne, +but years ago, when he was in vogue, I remember Mr. Warren +saying that Swinburne (or was it Oscar Wilde? but anyway:) +he said that though many so-called intellectual people posed +and pretended to find beauty in Swinburne, there can never +be genuine beauty without the message from the heart. +But at the same time I do think you have an excellent +idea, and though we have talked about Furnishings and China +as the probable subject for next year, I believe that it would +be nice if the program committee would try to work in another +day entirely devoted to English poetry! In fact, Madame +Chairman, I so move you." + +When Mrs. Dawson's coffee and angel's-food had helped them +to recover from the depression caused by thoughts of Shakespeare's +death they all told Carol that it was a pleasure to +have her with them. The membership committee retired to +the sitting-room for three minutes and elected her a member. + +And she stopped being patronizing. + +She wanted to be one of them. They were so loyal and +kind. It was they who would carry out her aspiration. Her +campaign against village sloth was actually begun! On what +specific reform should she first loose her army? During the +gossip after the meeting Mrs. George Edwin Mott remarked +that the city hall seemed inadequate for the splendid modern +Gopher Prairie. Mrs. Nat Hicks timidly wished that the +young people could have free dances there--the lodge dances +were so exclusive. The city hall. That was it! Carol hurried +home. + +She had not realized that Gopher Prairie was a city. From +Kennicott she discovered that it was legally organized with a +mayor and city-council and wards. She was delighted by the +simplicity of voting one's self a metropolis. Why not? + +She was a proud and patriotic citizen, all evening. + + + +II + + +She examined the city hall, next morning. She had +remembered it only as a bleak inconspicuousness. She found it +a liver-colored frame coop half a block from Main Street. The +front was an unrelieved wall of clapboards and dirty windows. +It had an unobstructed view of a vacant lot and Nat Hicks's +tailor shop. It was larger than the carpenter shop beside it, +but not so well built. + +No one was about. She walked into the corridor. On one +side was the municipal court, like a country school; on the +other, the room of the volunteer fire company, with a Ford +hose-cart and the ornamental helmets used in parades, at +the end of the hall, a filthy two-cell jail, now empty but smelling +of ammonia and ancient sweat. The whole second story +was a large unfinished room littered with piles of folding +chairs, a lime-crusted mortar-mixing box, and the skeletons of +Fourth of July floats covered with decomposing plaster shields +and faded red, white, and blue bunting. At the end was an +abortive stage. The room was large enough for the community +dances which Mrs. Nat Hicks advocated. But Carol was after +something bigger than dances. + +In the afternoon she scampered to the public library. + +The library was open three afternoons and four evenings a +week. It was housed in an old dwelling, sufficient but +unattractive. Carol caught herself picturing pleasanter reading- +rooms, chairs for children, an art collection, a librarian young +enough to experiment. + +She berated herself, "Stop this fever of reforming everything! +I WILL be satisfied with the library! The city hall is +enough for a beginning. And it's really an excellent library. +It's--it isn't so bad. . . . Is it possible that I am to +find dishonesties and stupidity in every human activity I +encounter? In schools and business and government and everything? +Is there never any contentment, never any rest?" + +She shook her head as though she were shaking off water, +and hastened into the library, a young, light, amiable presence, +modest in unbuttoned fur coat, blue suit, fresh organdy collar, +and tan boots roughened from scuffling snow. Miss Villets +stared at her, and Carol purred, "I was so sorry not to see +you at the Thanatopsis yesterday. Vida said you might come." + +"Oh. You went to the Thanatopsis. Did you enjoy it?" + +"So much. Such good papers on the poets." Carol lied +resolutely. "But I did think they should have had you give +one of the papers on poetry!" + +"Well---- Of course I'm not one of the bunch that seem to +have the time to take and run the club, and if they prefer +to have papers on literature by other ladies who have no +literary training--after all, why should I complain? What +am I but a city employee!" + +"You're not! You're the one person that does--that does-- +oh, you do so much. Tell me, is there, uh---- Who are the +people who control the club?" + +Miss Villets emphatically stamped a date in the front of +"Frank on the Lower Mississippi" for a small flaxen boy, +glowered at him as though she were stamping a warning on +his brain, and sighed: + +"I wouldn't put myself forward or criticize any one for the +world, and Vida is one of my best friends, and such a splendid +teacher, and there is no one in town more advanced and +interested in all movements, but I must say that no matter +who the president or the committees are, Vida Sherwin seems +to be behind them all the time, and though she is always +telling me about what she is pleased to call my `fine work +in the library,' I notice that I'm not often called on for papers, +though Mrs. Lyman Cass once volunteered and told me that +she thought my paper on `The Cathedrals of England' was +the most interesting paper we had, the year we took up English +and French travel and architecture. But---- And of course +Mrs. Mott and Mrs. Warren are very important in the club, +as you might expect of the wives of the superintendent of +schools and the Congregational pastor, and indeed they are +both very cultured, but---- No, you may regard me as entirely +unimportant. I'm sure what I say doesn't matter a bit!" + +"You're much too modest, and I'm going to tell Vida so, +and, uh, I wonder if you can give me just a teeny bit of your +time and show me where the magazine files are kept?" + +She had won. She was profusely escorted to a room like a +grandmother's attic, where she discovered periodicals devoted +to house-decoration and town-planning, with a six-year file of +the National Geographic. Miss Villets blessedly left her alone. +Humming, fluttering pages with delighted fingers, Carol sat +cross-legged on the floor, the magazines in heaps about her. + +She found pictures of New England streets: the dignity of +Falmouth, the charm of Concord, Stockbridge and Farmington +and Hillhouse Avenue. The fairy-book suburb of Forest Hills +on Long Island. Devonshire cottages and Essex manors and +a Yorkshire High Street and Port Sunlight. The Arab village +of Djeddah--an intricately chased jewel-box. A town in California +which had changed itself from the barren brick fronts +and slatternly frame sheds of a Main Street to a way which +led the eye down a vista of arcades and gardens. + +Assured that she was not quite mad in her belief that a +small American town might be lovely, as well as useful in +buying wheat and selling plows, she sat brooding, her thin +fingers playing a tattoo on her cheeks. She saw in Gopher +Prairie a Georgian city hall: warm brick walls with white +shutters, a fanlight, a wide hall and curving stair. She saw it +the common home and inspiration not only of the town but +of the country about. It should contain the court-room (she +couldn't get herself to put in a jail), public library, a collection +of excellent prints, rest-room and model kitchen for farmwives, +theater, lecture room, free community ballroom, farm-bureau, +gymnasium. Forming about it and influenced by it, as +mediaeval villages gathered about the castle, she saw a new +Georgian town as graceful and beloved as Annapolis or that +bowery Alexandria to which Washington rode. + +All this the Thanatopsis Club was to accomplish with no +difficulty whatever, since its several husbands were the +controllers of business and politics. She was proud of herself for +this practical view. + +She had taken only half an hour to change a wire-fenced +potato-plot into a walled rose-garden. She hurried out to +apprize Mrs. Leonard Warren, as president of the Thanatopsis, +of the miracle which had been worked. + + + +III + + +At a quarter to three Carol had left home; at half-past four +she had created the Georgian town; at a quarter to five she +was in the dignified poverty of the Congregational parsonage, +her enthusiasm pattering upon Mrs. Leonard Warren like summer +rain upon an old gray roof; at two minutes to five a town +of demure courtyards and welcoming dormer windows had +been erected, and at two minutes past five the entire town +was as flat as Babylon. + +Erect in a black William and Mary chair against gray and +speckly-brown volumes of sermons and Biblical commentaries +and Palestine geographies upon long pine shelves, her neat +black shoes firm on a rag-rug, herself as correct and low-toned +as her background, Mrs. Warren listened without comment till +Carol was quite through, then answered delicately: + +"Yes, I think you draw a very nice picture of what might +easily come to pass--some day. I have no doubt that such +villages will be found on the prairie--some day. But if I might +make just the least little criticism: it seems to me that you +are wrong in supposing either that the city hall would be the +proper start, or that the Thanatopsis would be the right +instrument. After all, it's the churches, isn't it, that are the +real heart of the community. As you may possibly know, my +husband is prominent in Congregational circles all through the +state for his advocacy of church-union. He hopes to see all +the evangelical denominations joined in one strong body, +opposing Catholicism and Christian Science, and properly guiding +all movements that make for morality and prohibition. Here, +the combined churches could afford a splendid club-house, +maybe a stucco and half-timber building with gargoyles and +all sorts of pleasing decorations on it, which, it seems to me, +would be lots better to impress the ordinary class of people +than just a plain old-fashioned colonial house, such as you +describe. And that would be the proper center for all +educational and pleasurable activities, instead of letting them fall +into the hands of the politicians." + +"I don't suppose it will take more than thirty or forty +years for the churches to get together?" Carol said innocently. + +"Hardly that long even; things are moving so rapidly. So +it would be a mistake to make any other plans." + +Carol did not recover her zeal till two days after, when she +tried Mrs. George Edwin Mott, wife of the superintendent of +schools. + +Mrs. Mott commented, "Personally, I am terribly busy with +dressmaking and having the seamstress in the house and all, +but it would be splendid to have the other members of the +Thanatopsis take up the question. Except for one thing: First +and foremost, we must have a new schoolbuilding. Mr. Mott +says they are terribly cramped." + +Carol went to view the old building. The grades and the +high school were combined in a damp yellow-brick structure +with the narrow windows of an antiquated jail--a hulk which +expressed hatred and compulsory training. She conceded Mrs. +Mott's demand so violently that for two days she dropped her +own campaign. Then she built the school and city hall together, +as the center of the reborn town. + +She ventured to the lead-colored dwelling of Mrs. Dave Dyer. +Behind the mask of winter-stripped vines and a wide porch +only a foot above the ground, the cottage was so impersonal +that Carol could never visualize it. Nor could she remember +anything that was inside it. But Mrs. Dyer was personal +enough. With Carol, Mrs. Howland, Mrs. McGanum, and +Vida Sherwin she was a link between the Jolly Seventeen and +the serious Thanatopsis (in contrast to Juanita Haydock, who +unnecessarily boasted of being a "lowbrow" and publicly +stated that she would "see herself in jail before she'd write +any darned old club papers"). Mrs. Dyer was superfeminine +in the kimono in which she received Carol. Her skin was fine, +pale, soft, suggesting a weak voluptuousness. At afternoon- +coffees she had been rude but now she addressed Carol as +"dear," and insisted on being called Maud. Carol did not +quite know why she was uncomfortable in this talcum-powder +atmosphere, but she hastened to get into the fresh air of her +plans. + +Maud Dyer granted that the city hall wasn't "so very nice," +yet, as Dave said, there was no use doing anything about it +till they received an appropriation from the state and +combined a new city hall with a national guard armory. Dave +had given verdict, "What these mouthy youngsters that hang +around the pool-room need is universal military training. Make +men of 'em." + +Mrs. Dyer removed the new schoolbuilding from the city +hall: + +"Oh, so Mrs. Mott has got you going on her school craze! +She's been dinging at that till everybody's sick and tired. What +she really wants is a big office for her dear bald-headed Gawge +to sit around and look important in. Of course I admire +Mrs. Mott, and I'm very fond of her, she's so brainy, even +if she does try to butt in and run the Thanatopsis, but I must +say we're sick of her nagging. The old building was good +enough for us when we were kids! I hate these would-be +women politicians, don't you?" + + + +IV + + +The first week of March had given promise of spring and +stirred Carol with a thousand desires for lakes and fields and +roads. The snow was gone except for filthy woolly patches +under trees, the thermometer leaped in a day from wind-bitten +chill to itchy warmth. As soon as Carol was convinced that +even in this imprisoned North, spring could exist again, the +snow came down as abruptly as a paper storm in a theater; +the northwest gale flung it up in a half blizzard; and with +her hope of a glorified town went hope of summer meadows. + +But a week later, though the snow was everywhere in slushy +heaps, the promise was unmistakable. By the invisible hints +in air and sky and earth which had aroused her every year +through ten thousand generations she knew that spring was +coming. It was not a scorching, hard, dusty day like the +treacherous intruder of a week before, but soaked with languor, +softened with a milky light. Rivulets were hurrying in each +alley; a calling robin appeared by magic on the crab-apple +tree in the Howlands' yard. Everybody chuckled, "Looks +like winter is going," and "This 'll bring the frost out of the +roads--have the autos out pretty soon now--wonder what kind +of bass-fishing we'll get this summer--ought to be good crops +this year." + +Each evening Kennicott repeated, "We better not take off +our Heavy Underwear or the storm windows too soon--might +be 'nother spell of cold--got to be careful 'bout catching cold-- +wonder if the coal will last through?" + +The expanding forces of life within her choked the desire +for reforming. She trotted through the house, planning the +spring cleaning with Bea. When she attended her second +meeting of the Thanatopsis she said nothing about remaking +the town. She listened respectably to statistics on Dickens, +Thackeray, Jane Austen, George Eliot, Scott, Hardy, Lamb, +De Quincey, and Mrs. Humphry Ward, who, it seemed, +constituted the writers of English Fiction and Essays. + +Not till she inspected the rest-room did she again become +a fanatic. She had often glanced at the store-building which +had been turned into a refuge in which farmwives could wait +while their husbands transacted business. She had heard Vida +Sherwin and Mrs. Warren caress the virtue of the Thanatopsis +in establishing the rest-room and in sharing with the city +council the expense of maintaining it. But she had never +entered it till this March day. + +She went in impulsively; nodded at the matron, a plump +worthy widow named Nodelquist, and at a couple of farm- +women who were meekly rocking. The rest-room resembled +a second-hand store. It was furnished with discarded patent +rockers, lopsided reed chairs, a scratched pine table, a gritty +straw mat, old steel engravings of milkmaids being morally +amorous under willow-trees, faded chromos of roses and fish, +and a kerosene stove for warming lunches. The front window +was darkened by torn net curtains and by a mound of geraniums +and rubber-plants. + +While she was listening to Mrs. Nodelquist's account of how +many thousands of farmers' wives used the rest-room every +year, and how much they "appreciated the kindness of the +ladies in providing them with this lovely place, and all free," +she thought, "Kindness nothing! The kind-ladies' husbands +get the farmers' trade. This is mere commercial accommodation. +And it's horrible. It ought to be the most charming +room in town, to comfort women sick of prairie kitchens. +Certainly it ought to have a clear window, so that they can +see the metropolitan life go by. Some day I'm going to make +a better rest-room--a club-room. Why! I've already planned +that as part of my Georgian town hall!" + +So it chanced that she was plotting against the peace of the +Thanatopsis at her third meeting (which covered Scandinavian, +Russian, and Polish Literature, with remarks by Mrs. Leonard +Warren on the sinful paganism of the Russian so-called +church). Even before the entrance of the coffee and hot rolls +Carol seized on Mrs. Champ Perry, the kind and ample- +bosomed pioneer woman who gave historic dignity to the +modern matrons of the Thanatopsis. She poured out her +plans. Mrs. Perry nodded and stroked Carol's hand, but at +the end she sighed: + +"I wish I could agree with you, dearie. I'm sure you're +one of the Lord's anointed (even if we don't see you at the +Baptist Church as often as we'd like to)! But I'm afraid +you're too tender-hearted. When Champ and I came here +we teamed-it with an ox-cart from Sauk Centre to Gopher +Prairie, and there was nothing here then but a stockade and +a few soldiers and some log cabins. When we wanted salt pork +and gunpowder, we sent out a man on horseback, and probably +he was shot dead by the Injuns before he got back. We +ladies--of course we were all farmers at first--we didn't expect +any rest-room in those days. My, we'd have thought the one +they have now was simply elegant! My house was roofed +with hay and it leaked something terrible when it rained-- +only dry place was under a shelf. + +"And when the town grew up we thought the new city +hall was real fine. And I don't see any need for dance-halls. +Dancing isn't what it was, anyway. We used to dance modest, +and we had just as much fun as all these young folks do +now with their terrible Turkey Trots and hugging and all. +But if they must neglect the Lord's injunction that young girls +ought to be modest, then I guess they manage pretty well at +the K. P. Hall and the Oddfellows', even if some of tie lodges +don't always welcome a lot of these foreigners and hired +help to all their dances. And I certainly don't see any +need of a farm-bureau or this domestic science demonstration +you talk about. In my day the boys learned to farm by honest +sweating, and every gal could cook, or her ma learned her +how across her knee! Besides, ain't there a county agent at +Wakamin? He comes here once a fortnight, maybe. That's +enough monkeying with this scientific farming--Champ says +there's nothing to it anyway. + +"And as for a lecture hall--haven't we got the churches? +Good deal better to listen to a good old-fashioned sermon than +a lot of geography and books and things that nobody needs +to know--more 'n enough heathen learning right here in the +Thanatopsis. And as for trying to make a whole town in this +Colonial architecture you talk about---- I do love nice things; +to this day I run ribbons into my petticoats, even if Champ +Perry does laugh at me, the old villain! But just the same +I don't believe any of us old-timers would like to see the town +that we worked so hard to build being tore down to make a +place that wouldn't look like nothing but some Dutch story- +book and not a bit like the place we loved. And don't you think +it's sweet now? All the trees and lawns? And such comfy +houses, and hot-water heat and electric lights and telephones +and cement walks and everything? Why, I thought everybody +from the Twin Cities always said it was such a beautiful +town!" + +Carol forswore herself; declared that Gopher Prairie had +the color of Algiers and the gaiety of Mardi Gras. + +Yet the next afternoon she was pouncing on Mrs. Lyman +Cass, the hook-nosed consort of the owner of the flour-mill. + +Mrs. Cass's parlor belonged to the crammed-Victorian school, +as Mrs. Luke Dawson's belonged to the bare-Victorian. It was +furnished on two principles: First, everything must resemble +something else. A rocker had a back like a lyre, a near-leather +seat imitating tufted cloth, and arms like Scotch Presbyterian +lions; with knobs, scrolls, shields, and spear-points on +unexpected portions of the chair. The second principle of the +crammed-Victorian school was that every inch of the interior +must be filled with useless objects. + +The walls of Mrs. Cass's parlor were plastered with "hand- +painted" pictures, "buckeye" pictures, of birch-trees, news- +boys, puppies, and church-steeples on Christmas Eve; with a +plaque depicting the Exposition Building in Minneapolis, burnt- +wood portraits of Indian chiefs of no tribe in particular, a +pansy-decked poetic motto, a Yard of Roses, and the banners of +the educational institutions attended by the Casses' two sons-- +Chicopee Falls Business College and McGilllcuddy University. +One small square table contained a card-receiver of painted +china with a rim of wrought and gilded lead, a Family Bible, +Grant's Memoirs, the latest novel by Mrs. Gene Stratton +Porter, a wooden model of a Swiss chalet which was also a bank +for dimes, a polished abalone shell holding one black-headed +pin and one empty spool, a velvet pin-cushion in a gilded +metal slipper with "Souvenir of Troy, N. Y." stamped on the +toe, and an unexplained red glass dish which had warts. + +Mrs. Cass's first remark was, "I must show you all my +pretty things and art objects." + +She piped, after Carol's appeal: + +"I see. You think the New England villages and Colonial +houses are so much more cunning than these Middlewestern +towns. I'm glad you feel that way. You'll be interested to +know I was born in Vermont." + +"And don't you think we ought to try to make Gopher +Prai----" + +"My gracious no! We can't afford it. Taxes are much too +high as it is. We ought to retrench, and not let the city council +spend another cent. Uh---- Don't you think that was a grand +paper Mrs. Westlake read about Tolstoy? I was so glad +she pointed out how all his silly socialistic ideas failed." + +What Mrs. Cass said was what Kennicott said, that evening. +Not in twenty years would the council propose or Gopher +Prairie vote the funds for a new city hall. + + + +V + + +Carol had avoided exposing her plans to Vida Sherwin. She +was shy of the big-sister manner; Vida would either laugh +at her or snatch the idea and change it to suit herself. But +there was no other hope. When Vida came in to tea Carol +sketched her Utopia. + +Vida was soothing but decisive: + +"My dear, you're all off. I would like to see it: a real +gardeny place to shut out the gales. But it can't be done. +What could the clubwomen accomplish?" + +"Their husbands are the most important men in town. +They ARE the town!" + +"But the town as a separate unit is not the husband of the +Thanatopsis. If you knew the trouble we had in getting the +city council to spend the money and cover the pumping-station +with vines! Whatever you may think of Gopher Prairie +women, they're twice as progressive as the men." + +"But can't the men see the ugliness?" + +"They don't think it's ugly. And how can you prove it? +Matter of taste. Why should they like what a Boston architect likes?" + +"What they like is to sell prunes!" + +"Well, why not? Anyway, the point is that you have to +work from the inside, with what we have, rather than from +the outside, with foreign ideas. The shell ought not to be +forced on the spirit. It can't be! The bright shell has to +grow out of the spirit, and express it. That means waiting. +If we keep after the city council for another ten years they +MAY vote the bonds for a new school." + +"I refuse to believe that if they saw it the big men would +be too tight-fisted to spend a few dollars each for a building-- +think!--dancing and lectures and plays, all done co-operatively!" + +"You mention the word `co-operative' to the merchants and +they'll lynch you! The one thing they fear more than mail- +order houses is that farmers' co-operative movements may get started." + +"The secret trails that lead to scared pocket-books! Always, +in everything! And I don't have any of the fine melodrama +of fiction: the dictagraphs and speeches by torchlight. I'm +merely blocked by stupidity. Oh, I know I'm a fool. I dream +of Venice, and I live in Archangel and scold because the +Northern seas aren't tender-colored. But at least they sha'n't +keep me from loving Venice, and sometime I'll run away---- +All right. No more." + +She flung out her hands in a gesture of renunciation. + + + +VI + + +Early May; wheat springing up in blades like grass; corn +and potatoes being planted; the land humming. For two days +there had been steady rain. Even in town the roads were a +furrowed welter of mud, hideous to view and difficult to cross. +Main Street was a black swamp from curb to curb; on residence +streets the grass parking beside the walks oozed gray water. +It was prickly hot, yet the town was barren under the bleak +sky. Softened neither by snow nor by waving boughs the +houses squatted and scowled, revealed in their unkempt harshness. + +As she dragged homeward Carol looked with distaste at her +clay-loaded rubbers, the smeared hem of her skirt. She passed +Lyman Cass's pinnacled, dark-red, hulking house. She waded +a streaky yellow pool. This morass was not her home, she +insisted. Her home, and her beautiful town, existed in her +mind. They had already been created. The task was done. +What she really had been questing was some one to share them +with her. Vida would not; Kennicott could not. + +Some one to share her refuge. + +Suddenly she was thinking of Guy Pollock. + +She dismissed him. He was too cautious. She needed a +spirit as young and unreasonable as her own. And she would +never find it. Youth would never come singing. She was +beaten. + +Yet that same evening she had an idea which solved the +rebuilding of Gopher Prairie. + +Within ten minutes she was jerking the old-fashioned bell- +pull of Luke Dawson. Mrs. Dawson opened the door and +peered doubtfully about the edge of it. Carol kissed her +cheek, and frisked into the lugubrious sitting-room. + +"Well, well, you're a sight for sore eyes!" chuckled Mr. +Dawson, dropping his newspaper, pushing his spectacles back +on his forehead. + +"You seem so excited," sighed Mrs. Dawson. + +"I am! Mr. Dawson, aren't you a millionaire?" + +He cocked his head, and purred, "Well, I guess if I cashed +in on all my securities and farm-holdings and my interests in +iron on the Mesaba and in Northern timber and cut-over lands, +I could push two million dollars pretty close, and I've made +every cent of it by hard work and having the sense to not go +out and spend every----" + +"I think I want most of it from you!" + +The Dawsons glanced at each other in appreciation of the +jest; and he chirped, "You're worse than Reverend Benlick! +He don't hardly ever strike me for more than ten dollars-- +at a time!" + +"I'm not joking. I mean it! Your children in the Cities are +grown-up and well-to-do. You don't want to die and leave +your name unknown. Why not do a big, original thing? Why +not rebuild the whole town? Get a great architect, and have +him plan a town that would be suitable to the prairie. Perhaps +he'd create some entirely new form of architecture. Then tear +down all these shambling buildings----" + +Mr. Dawson had decided that she really did mean it. He +wailed, "Why, that would cost at least three or four million +dollars!" + +"But you alone, just one man, have two of those millions!" + +"Me? Spend all my hard-earned cash on building houses +for a lot of shiftless beggars that never had the sense to save +their money? Not that I've ever been mean. Mama could +always have a hired girl to do the work--when we could find +one. But her and I have worked our fingers to the bone and-- +spend it on a lot of these rascals----?" + +"Please! Don't be angry! I just mean--I mean---- Oh, +not spend all of it, of course, but if you led off the list, and +the others came in, and if they heard you talk about a more +attractive town----" + +"Why now, child, you've got a lot of notions. Besides +what's the matter with the town? Looks good to me. I've +had people that have traveled all over the world tell me time +and again that Gopher Prairie is the prettiest place in the +Middlewest. Good enough for anybody. Certainly good +enough for Mama and me. Besides! Mama and me are plan- +ning to go out to Pasadena and buy a bungalow and live +there." + + + +VII + + +She had met Miles Bjornstam on the street. For the second +of welcome encounter this workman with the bandit mustache +and the muddy overalls seemed nearer than any one else to +the credulous youth which she was seeking to fight beside her, +and she told him, as a cheerful anecdote, a little of her story. + +He grunted, "I never thought I'd be agreeing with Old Man +Dawson, the penny-pinching old land-thief--and a fine briber +he is, too. But you got the wrong slant. You aren't one of +the people--yet. You want to do something for the town. I +don't! I want the town to do something for itself. We don't +want old Dawson's money--not if it's a gift, with a string. +We'll take it away from him, because it belongs to us. You +got to get more iron and cussedness into you. Come join us +cheerful bums, and some day--when we educate ourselves and +quit being bums--we'll take things and run 'em straight." + +He had changed from her friend to a cynical man in over +alls. She could not relish the autocracy of "cheerful bums." + +She forgot him as she tramped the outskirts of town. + +She had replaced The city hall project by an entirely new +and highly exhilarating thought of how little was done for +these unpicturesque poor. + + + +VIII + + +The spring of the plains is not a reluctant virgin but brazen +and soon away. The mud roads of a few days ago are powdery +dust and the puddles beside them have hardened into lozenges +of black sleek earth like cracked patent leather. + +Carol was panting as she crept to the meeting of the +Thanatopsis program committee which was to decide the subject for +next fall and winter. + +Madam Chairman (Miss Ella Stowbody in an oyster- +colored blouse) asked if there was any new business. + +Carol rose. She suggested that the Thanatopsis ought to +help the poor of the town. She was ever so correct and modern. +She did not, she said, want charity for them, but a chance of +self-help; an employment bureau, direction in washing babies +and making pleasing stews, possibly a municipal fund for home- +building. "What do you think of my plans, Mrs. Warren?" +she concluded. + +Speaking judiciously, as one related to the church by +marriage, Mrs. Warren gave verdict: + +"I'm sure we're all heartily in accord with Mrs. Kennicott +in feeling that wherever genuine poverty is encountered, it is +not only noblesse oblige but a joy to fulfil our duty to the less +fortunate ones. But I must say it seems to me we should +lose the whole point of the thing by not regarding it as charity. +Why, that's the chief adornment of the true Christian and the +church! The Bible has laid it down for our guidance. `Faith, +Hope, and CHARITY,' it says, and, `The poor ye have with ye +always,' which indicates that there never can be anything to +these so-called scientific schemes for abolishing charity, never! +And isn't it better so? I should hate to think of a world in +which we were deprived of all the pleasure of giving. Besides, +if these shiftless folks realize they're getting charity, and not +something to which they have a right, they're so much more grateful." + +"Besides," snorted Miss Ella Stowbody, "they've been +fooling you, Mrs. Kennicott. There isn't any real poverty here. +Take that Mrs. Steinhof you speak of: I send her our washing +whenever there's too much for our hired girl--I must have +sent her ten dollars' worth the past year alone! I'm sure Papa +would never approve of a city home-building fund. Papa says +these folks are fakers. Especially all these tenant farmers +that pretend they have so much trouble getting seed and +machinery. Papa says they simply won't pay their debts. He +says he's sure he hates to foreclose mortgages, but it's the only +way to make them respect the law." + +"And then think of all the clothes we give these people!" +said Mrs. Jackson Elder. + +Carol intruded again. "Oh yes. The clothes. I was going +to speak of that. Don't you think that when we give clothes +to the poor, if we do give them old ones, we ought to mend +them first and make them as presentable as we can? Next +Christmas when the Thanatopsis makes its distribution, +wouldn't it be jolly if we got together and sewed on the clothes, +and trimmed hats, and made them----" + +"Heavens and earth, they have more time than we have! +They ought to be mighty good and grateful to get anything, +no matter what shape it's in. I know I'm not going to sit +and sew for that lazy Mrs. Vopni, with all I've got to do!" +snapped Ella Stowbody. + +They were glaring at Carol. She reflected that Mrs. Vopni, +whose husband had been killed by a train, had ten children. + +But Mrs. Mary Ellen Wilks was smiling. Mrs. Wilks was +the proprietor of Ye Art Shoppe and Magazine and Book Store, +and the reader of the small Christian Science church. She +made it all clear: + +"If this class of people had an understanding of Science and +that we are the children of God and nothing can harm us, +they wouldn't be in error and poverty." + +Mrs. Jackson Elder confirmed, "Besides, it strikes me the +club is already doing enough, with tree-planting and the anti- +fly campaign and the responsibility for the rest-room--to say +nothing of the fact that we've talked of trying to get the +railroad to put in a park at the station!" + +"I think so too!" said Madam Chairman. She glanced +uneasily at Miss Sherwin. "But what do you think, Vida?" + +Vida smiled tactfully at each of the committee, and +announced, "Well, I don't believe we'd better start anything +more right now. But it's been a privilege to hear Carol's dear +generous ideas, hasn't it! Oh! There is one thing we must +decide on at once. We must get together and oppose any move +on the part of the Minneapolis clubs to elect another State +Federation president from the Twin Cities. And this Mrs. +Edgar Potbury they're putting forward--I know there are +people who think she's a bright interesting speaker, but I +regard her as very shallow. What do you say to my writing +to the Lake Ojibawasha Club, telling them that if their district +will support Mrs. Warren for second vice-president, we'll +support their Mrs. Hagelton (and such a dear, lovely, cultivated +woman, too) for president." + +"Yes! We ought to show up those Minneapolis folks!" +Ella Stowbody said acidly. "And oh, by the way, we must +oppose this movement of Mrs. Potbury's to have the state clubs +come out definitely in favor of woman suffrage. Women +haven't any place in politics. They would lose all their daintiness +and charm if they became involved in these horried plots +and log-rolling and all this awful political stuff about scandal +and personalities and so on." + +All--save one--nodded. They interrupted the formal +business-meeting to discuss Mrs. Edgar Potbury's husband, +Mrs. Potbury's income, Mrs. Potbury's sedan, Mrs. Potbury's +residence, Mrs. Potbury's oratorical style, Mrs. Potbury's +mandarin evening coat, Mrs. Potbury's coiffure, and Mrs. Potbury's +altogether reprehensible influence on the State Federation of +Women's Clubs. + +Before the program committee adjourned they took three +minutes to decide which of the subjects suggested by the +magazine Culture Hints, Furnishings and China, or The Bible +as Literature, would be better for the coming year. There +was one annoying incident. Mrs. Dr. Kennicott interfered +and showed off again. She commented, "Don't you think +that we already get enough of the Bible in our churches and +Sunday Schools?" + +Mrs. Leonard Warren, somewhat out of order but much +more out of temper, cried, "Well upon my word! I didn't +suppose there was any one who felt that we could get enough +of the Bible! I guess if the Grand Old Book has withstood +the attacks of infidels for these two thousand years it is worth +our SLIGHT consideration!" + +"Oh, I didn't mean----" Carol begged. Inasmuch as she +did mean, it was hard to be extremely lucid. "But I wish, +instead of limiting ourselves either to the Bible, or to anecdotes +about the Brothers Adam's wigs, which Culture Hints seems +to regard as the significant point about furniture, we could +study some of the really stirring ideas that are springing up +today--whether it's chemistry or anthropology or labor problems-- +the things that are going to mean so terribly much." + +Everybody cleared her polite throat. + +Madam Chairman inquired, "Is there any other discussion? +Will some one make a motion to adopt the suggestion of Vida +Sherwin--to take up Furnishings and China?" + +It was adopted, unanimously. + +"Checkmate!" murmured Carol, as she held up her hand. + +Had she actually believed that she could plant a seed of +liberalism in the blank wall of mediocrity? How had she +fallen into the folly of trying to plant anything whatever in a +wall so smooth and sun-glazed, and so satisfying to the happy +sleepers within? + + + +CHAPTER XII + +ONE week of authentic spring, one rare sweet week of May, +one tranquil moment between the blast of winter and the charge +of summer. Daily Carol walked from town into flashing +country hysteric with new life. + +One enchanted hour when she returned to youth and a +belief in the possibility of beauty. + +She had walked northward toward the upper shore of Plover +Lake, taking to the railroad track, whose directness and +dryness make it the natural highway for pedestrians on the +plains. She stepped from tie to tie, in long strides. At each +road-crossing she had to crawl over a cattle-guard of sharpened +timbers. She walked the rails, balancing with arms extended, +cautious heel before toe. As she lost balance her body bent +over, her arms revolved wildly, and when she toppled she +laughed aloud. + +The thick grass beside the track, coarse and prickly with +many burnings, hid canary-yellow buttercups and the mauve +petals and woolly sage-green coats of the pasque flowers. The +branches of the kinnikinic brush were red and smooth as +lacquer on a saki bowl. + +She ran down the gravelly embankment, smiled at children +gathering flowers in a little basket, thrust a handful of the +soft pasque flowers into the bosom of her white blouse. Fields +of springing wheat drew her from the straight propriety of the +railroad and she crawled through the rusty barbed-wire fence. +She followed a furrow between low wheat blades and a field of +rye which showed silver lights as it flowed before the wind. +She found a pasture by the lake. So sprinkled was the pasture +with rag-baby blossoms and the cottony herb of Indian tobacco +that it spread out like a rare old Persian carpet of cream +and rose and delicate green. Under her feet the rough grass +made a pleasant crunching. Sweet winds blew from the sunny +lake beside her, and small waves sputtered on the meadowy +shore. She leaped a tiny creek bowered in pussy-willow buds. +She was nearing a frivolous grove of birch and poplar and +wild plum trees. + +The poplar foliage had the downiness of a Corot arbor; +the green and silver trunks were as candid as the birches, as +slender and lustrous as the limbs of a Pierrot. The cloudy +white blossoms of the plum trees filled the grove with a +springtime mistiness which gave an illusion of distance. + +She ran into the wood, crying out for joy of freedom regained +after winter. Choke-cherry blossoms lured her from the outer +sun-warmed spaces to depths of green stillness, where a +submarine light came through the young leaves. She walked +pensively along an abandoned road. She found a moccasin- +flower beside a lichen-covered log. At the end of the road +she saw the open acres--dipping rolling fields bright with +wheat. + +"I believe! The woodland gods still live! And out there, +the great land. It's beautiful as the mountains. What do +I care for Thanatopsises?" + +She came out on the prairie, spacious under an arch of boldly +cut clouds. Small pools glittered. Above a marsh red-winged +blackbirds chased a crow in a swift melodrama of the air. +On a hill was silhouetted a man following a drag. His horse +bent its neck and plodded, content. + +A path took her to the Corinth road, leading back to town. +Dandelions glowed in patches amidst the wild grass by the +way. A stream golloped through a concrete culvert beneath +the road. She trudged in healthy weariness. + +A man in a bumping Ford rattled up beside her, hailed, +"Give you a lift, Mrs. Kennicott?" + +"Thank you. It's awfully good of you, but I'm enjoying the +walk." + +"Great day, by golly. I seen some wheat that must of +been five inches high. Well, so long." + +She hadn't the dimmest notion who he was, but his greeting +warmed her. This countryman gave her a companionship +which she had never (whether by her fault or theirs or neither) +been able to find in the matrons and commercial lords of the +town. + +Half a mile from town, in a hollow between hazelnut bushes +and a brook, she discovered a gipsy encampment: a covered +wagon, a tent, a bunch of pegged-out horses. A broad- +shouldered man was squatted on his heels, holding a frying- +pan over a camp-fire. He looked toward her. He was Miles +Bjornstam. + +"Well, well, what you doing out here?" he roared. "Come +have a hunk o' bacon. Pete! Hey, Pete!" + +A tousled person came from behind the covered wagon. + +"Pete, here's the one honest-to-God lady in my bum town. +Come on, crawl in and set a couple minutes, Mrs. Kennicott. +I'm hiking off for all summer." + +The Red Swede staggered up, rubbed his cramped knees, +lumbered to the wire fence, held the strands apart for her. +She unconsciously smiled at him as she went through. Her +skirt caught on a barb; he carefully freed it. + +Beside this man in blue flannel shirt, baggy khaki trousers, +uneven suspenders, and vile felt hat, she was small and +exquisite. + +The surly Pete set out an upturned bucket for her. She +lounged on it, her elbows on her knees. "Where are you +going?" she asked. + +"Just starting off for the summer, horse-trading." Bjornstam +chuckled. His red mustache caught the sun. "Regular +hoboes and public benefactors we are. Take a hike like this +every once in a while. Sharks on horses. Buy 'em from +farmers and sell 'em to others. We're honest--frequently. +Great time. Camp along the road. I was wishing I had a +chance to say good-by to you before I ducked out but---- +Say, you better come along with us." + +"I'd like to." + +"While you're playing mumblety-peg with Mrs. Lym Cass, +Pete and me will be rambling across Dakota, through the +Bad Lands, into the butte country, and when fall comes, +we'll be crossing over a pass of the Big Horn Mountains, +maybe, and camp in a snow-storm, quarter of a mile right +straight up above a lake. Then in the morning we'll lie snug +in our blankets and look up through the pines at an eagle. +How'd it strike you? Heh? Eagle soaring and soaring all +day--big wide sky----" + +"Don't! Or I will go with you, and I'm afraid there might +be some slight scandal. Perhaps some day I'll do it. Good-by." + +Her hand disappeared in his blackened leather glove. From +the turn in the road she waved at him. She walked on more +soberly now, and she was lonely. + +But the wheat and grass were sleek velvet under the sun- +set; the prairie clouds were tawny gold; and she swung happily +into Main Street. + + + +II + + +Through the first days of June she drove with Kennicott on +his calls. She identified him with the virile land; she admired +him as she saw with what respect the farmers obeyed him. +She was out in the early chill, after a hasty cup of coffee, +reaching open country as the fresh sun came up in that +unspoiled world. Meadow larks called from the tops of thin +split fence-posts. The wild roses smelled clean. + +As they returned in late afternoon the low sun was a +solemnity of radial bands, like a heavenly fan of beaten gold; +the limitless circle of the grain was a green sea rimmed with +fog, and the willow wind-breaks were palmy isles. + +Before July the close heat blanketed them. The tortured +earth cracked. Farmers panted through corn-fields behind +cultivators and the sweating flanks of horses. While she waited +for Kennicott in the car, before a farmhouse, the seat burned +her fingers and her head ached with the glare on fenders and +hood. + +A black thunder-shower was followed by a dust storm which +turned the sky yellow with the hint of a coming tornado. +Impalpable black dust far-borne from Dakota covered the +inner sills of the closed windows. + +The July heat was ever more stifling. They crawled along +Main Street by day; they found it hard to sleep at night. They +brought mattresses down to the living-room, and thrashed and +turned by the open window. Ten times a night they talked of +going out to soak themselves with the hose and wade through +the dew, but they were too listless to take the trouble. On +cool evenings, when they tried to go walking, the gnats +appeared in swarms which peppered their faces and caught in +their throats. + +She wanted the Northern pines, the Eastern sea, but Kennicott +declared that it would be "kind of hard to get away, just NOW." +The Health and Improvement Committee of the Thanatopsis asked her +to take part in the anti-fly campaign, and she toiled about town +persuading householders to use the fly-traps furnished by the club, +or giving out money prizes to fly-swatting children. She was loyal +enough but not ardent, and without ever quite intending to, +she began to neglect the task as heat sucked at her strength. + +Kennicott and she motored North and spent a week with +his mother--that is, Carol spent it with his mother, while he +fished for bass. + +The great event was their purchase of a summer cottage, +down on Lake Minniemashie. + +Perhaps the most amiable feature of life in Gopher Prairie +was the summer cottages. They were merely two-room +shanties, with a seepage of broken-down chairs, peeling veneered +tables, chromos pasted on wooden walls, and inefficient kerosene +stoves. They were so thin-walled and so close together that +you could--and did--hear a baby being spanked in the fifth +cottage off. But they were set among elms and lindens on a +bluff which looked across the lake to fields of ripened wheat +sloping up to green woods. + +Here the matrons forgot social jealousies, and sat gossiping +in gingham; or, in old bathing-suits, surrounded by hysterical +children, they paddled for hours. Carol joined them; she +ducked shrieking small boys, and helped babies construct sand- +basins for unfortunate minnows. She liked Juanita Haydock +and Maud Dyer when she helped them make picnic-supper +for the men, who came motoring out from town each evening. +She was easier and more natural with them. In the debate +as to whether there should be veal loaf or poached egg on hash, +she had no chance to be heretical and oversensitive. + +They danced sometimes, in the evening; they had a minstrel +show, with Kennicott surprisingly good as end-man; always +they were encircled by children wise in the lore of woodchucks +and gophers and rafts and willow whistles. + +If they could have continued this normal barbaric life Carol +would have been the most enthusiastic citizen of Gopher +Prairie. She was relieved to be assured that she did not want +bookish conversation alone; that she did not expect the town +to become a Bohemia. She was content now. She did not +criticize. + +But in September, when the year was at its richest, custom +dictated that it was time to return to town; to remove the +children from the waste occupation of learning the earth, and +send them back to lessons about the number of potatoes which +(in a delightful world untroubled by commission-houses or +shortages in freight-cars) William sold to John. The women +who had cheerfully gone bathing all summer looked doubtful +when Carol begged, "Let's keep up an outdoor life this winter, +let's slide and skate." Their hearts shut again till spring, and +the nine months of cliques and radiators and dainty refreshments +began all over. + + + +III + + +Carol had started a salon. + +Since Kennicott, Vida Sherwin, and Guy Pollock were her +only lions, and since Kennicott would have preferred Sam +Clark to all the poets and radicals in the entire world, her +private and self-defensive clique did not get beyond one +evening dinner for Vida and Guy, on her first wedding +anniversary; and that dinner did not get beyond a controversy +regarding Raymie Wutherspoon's yearnings. + +Guy Pollock was the gentlest person she had found here. +He spoke of her new jade and cream frock naturally, not +jocosely; he held her chair for her as they sat down to dinner; +and he did not, like Kennicott, interrupt her to shout, "Oh +say, speaking of that, I heard a good story today." But Guy +was incurably hermit. He sat late and talked hard, and did +not come again. + +Then she met Champ Perry in the post-office--and decided +that in the history of the pioneers was the panacea for Gopher +Prairie, for all of America. We have lost their sturdiness, she +told herself. We must restore the last of the veterans to power +and follow them on the backward path to the integrity of +Lincoln, to the gaiety of settlers dancing in a saw-mill. + +She read in the records of the Minnesota Territorial +Pioneers that only sixty years ago, not so far back as the birth +of her own father, four cabins had composed Gopher Prairie. +The log stockade which Mrs. Champ Perry was to find when +she trekked in was built afterward by the soldiers as a defense +against the Sioux. The four cabins were inhabited by Maine +Yankees who had come up the Mississippi to St. Paul and +driven north over virgin prairie into virgin woods. They +ground their own corn; the men-folks shot ducks and pigeons +and prairie chickens; the new breakings yielded the turnip- +like rutabagas, which they ate raw and boiled and baked and +raw again. For treat they had wild plums and crab-apples and +tiny wild strawberries. + +Grasshoppers came darkening the sky, and in an hour ate +the farmwife's garden and the farmer's coat. Precious horses +painfully brought from Illinois, were drowned in bogs or +stampeded by the fear of blizzards. Snow blew through the +chinks of new-made cabins, and Eastern children, with flowery +muslin dresses, shivered all winter and in summer were red +and black with mosquito bites. Indians were everywhere; they +camped in dooryards, stalked into kitchens to demand doughnuts, +came with rifles across their backs into schoolhouses and +begged to see the pictures in the geographies. Packs of timber- +wolves treed the children; and the settlers found dens of rattle- +snakes, killed fifty, a hundred, in a day. + +Yet it was a buoyant life. Carol read enviously in the +admirable Minnesota chronicles called "Old Rail Fence Corners" +the reminiscence of Mrs. Mahlon Black, who settled in +Stillwater in 1848: + +"There was nothing to parade over in those days. We took +it as it came and had happy lives. . . . We would all +gather together and in about two minutes would be having +a good time--playing cards or dancing. . . . We used to +waltz and dance contra dances. None of these new jigs and +not wear any clothes to speak of. We covered our hides in +those days; no tight skirts like now. You could take three or +four steps inside our skirts and then not reach the edge. One +of the boys would fiddle a while and then some one would +spell him and he could get a dance. Sometimes they would +dance and fiddle too." + +She reflected that if she could not have ballrooms of gray +and rose and crystal, she wanted to be swinging across a +puncheon-floor with a dancing fiddler. This smug in-between +town, which had exchanged "Money Musk" for phonographs +grinding out ragtime, it was neither the heroic old nor the +sophisticated new. Couldn't she somehow, some yet +unimagined how, turn it back to simplicity? + +She herself knew two of the pioneers: the Perrys. Champ +Perry was the buyer at the grain-elevator. He weighed wagons +of wheat on a rough platform-scale, in the cracks of which the +kernels sprouted every spring. Between times he napped in +the dusty peace of his office. + +She called on the Perrys at their rooms above Howland & +Gould's grocery. + +When they were already old they had lost the money, +which they had invested in an elevator. They had given up +their beloved yellow brick house and moved into these rooms +over a store, which were the Gopher Prairie equivalent of a +flat. A broad stairway led from the street to the upper hall, +along which were the doors of a lawyer's office, a dentist's, +a photographer's "studio," the lodge-rooms of the Affiliated +Order of Spartans and, at the back, the Perrys' apartment. + +They received her (their first caller in a month) with aged +fluttering tenderness. Mrs. Perry confided, "My, it's a shame +we got to entertain you in such a cramped place. And there +ain't any water except that ole iron sink outside in the hall, +but still, as I say to Champ, beggars can't be choosers. 'Sides, +the brick house was too big for me to sweep, and it was way +out, and it's nice to be living down here among folks. Yes, +we're glad to be here. But---- Some day, maybe we can +have a house of our own again. We're saving up---- Oh, +dear, if we could have our own home! But these rooms are +real nice, ain't they!" + +As old people will, the world over, they had moved as much +as possible of their familiar furniture into this small space. +Carol had none of the superiority she felt toward Mrs. Lyman +Cass's plutocratic parlor. She was at home here. She noted +with tenderness all the makeshifts: the darned chair-arms, the +patent rocker covered with sleazy cretonne, the pasted strips +of paper mending the birch-bark napkin-rings labeled "Papa " +and "Mama." + +She hinted of her new enthusiasm. To find one of the +"young folks" who took them seriously, heartened the Perrys, +and she easily drew from them the principles by which Gopher +Prairie should be born again--should again become amusing +to live in. + +This was their philosophy complete. . .in the era of +aeroplanes and syndicalism: + +The Baptist Church (and, somewhat less, the Methodist, +Congregational, and Presbyterian Churches) is the perfect, the +divinely ordained standard in music, oratory, philanthropy, and +ethics. "We don't need all this new-fangled science, or this +terrible Higher Criticism that's ruining our young men in +colleges. What we need is to get back to the true Word of +God, and a good sound belief in hell, like we used to have +it preached to us." + +The Republican Party, the Grand Old Party of Blaine and +McKinley, is the agent of the Lord and of the Baptist Church +in temporal affairs. + +All socialists ought to be hanged. + +"Harold Bell Wright is a lovely writer, and he teaches such +good morals in his novels, and folks say he's made prett' near +a million dollars out of 'em." + +People who make more than ten thousand a year or less +than eight hundred are wicked. + +Europeans are still wickeder. + +It doesn't hurt any to drink a glass of beer on a warm day, +but anybody who touches wine is headed straight for hell. + +Virgins are not so virginal as they used to be + +Nobody needs drug-store ice cream; pie is good enough for +anybody. + +The farmers want too much for their wheat. + +The owners of the elevator-company expect too much for the +salaries they pay. + +There would be no more trouble or discontent in the world +if everybody worked as hard as Pa did when he cleared our +first farm. + + + +IV + + +Carol's hero-worship dwindled to polite nodding, and the +nodding dwindled to a desire to escape, and she went home +with a headache. + +Next day she saw Miles Bjornstam on the street. + +"Just back from Montana. Great summer. Pumped my +lungs chuck-full of Rocky Mountain air. Now for another +whirl at sassing the bosses of Gopher Prairie." She smiled at +him, and the Perrys faded, the pioneers faded, till they were +but daguerreotypes in a black walnut cupboard. + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +SHE tried, more from loyalty than from desire, to call upon +the Perrys on a November evening when Kennicott was away. +They were not at home. + +Like a child who has no one to play with she loitered through +the dark hall. She saw a light under an office door. She +knocked. To the person who opened she murmured, "Do you +happen to know where the Perrys are?" She realized that +it was Guy Pollock. + +"I'm awfully sorry, Mrs. Kennicott, but I don't know. +Won't you come in and wait for them?" + +"W-why----" she observed, as she reflected that in Gopher +Prairie it is not decent to call on a man; as she decided that +no, really, she wouldn't go in; and as she went in. + +"I didn't know your office was up here." + +"Yes, office, town-house, and chateau in Picardy. But you +can't see the chateau and town-house (next to the Duke of +Sutherland's). They're beyond that inner door. They are a +cot and a wash-stand and my other suit and the blue crepe tie +you said you liked." + +"You remember my saying that?" + +"Of course. I always shall. Please try this chair." + +She glanced about the rusty office--gaunt stove, shelves +of tan law-books, desk-chair filled with newspapers so long +sat upon that they were in holes and smudged to grayness. +There were only two things which suggested Guy Pollock. On +the green felt of the table-desk, between legal blanks and a +clotted inkwell, was a cloissone vase. On a swing shelf was a +row of books unfamiliar to Gopher Prairie: Mosher editions +of the poets, black and red German novels, a Charles Lamb in +crushed levant. + +Guy did not sit down. He quartered the office, a grayhound +on the scent; a grayhound with glasses tilted forward on his +thin nose, and a silky indecisive brown mustache. He had a +golf jacket of jersey, worn through at the creases in the sleeves. +She noted that he did not apologize for it, as Kennicott would +have done. + +He made conversation: "I didn't know you were a bosom +friend of the Perrys. Champ is the salt of the earth but somehow +I can't imagine him joining you in symbolic dancing, or +making improvements on the Diesel engine." + +"No. He's a dear soul, bless him, but he belongs in the +National Museum, along with General Grant's sword, and +I'm---- Oh, I suppose I'm seeking for a gospel that will +evangelize Gopher Prairie." + +"Really? Evangelize it to what?" + +"To anything that's definite. Seriousness or frivolousness or +both. I wouldn't care whether it was a laboratory or a carnival. +But it's merely safe. Tell me, Mr. Pollock, what is the +matter with Gopher Prairie?" + +"Is anything the matter with it? Isn't there perhaps +something the matter with you and me? (May I join you in the +honor of having something the matter?)" + +"(Yes, thanks.) No, I think it's the town." + +"Because they enjoy skating more than biology?" + +"But I'm not only more interested in biology than the Jolly +Seventeen, but also in skating! I'll skate with them, or +slide, or throw snowballs, just as gladly as talk with you." + +("Oh no!") + +("Yes!) But they want to stay home and embroider." + +"Perhaps. I'm not defending the town. It's merely---- +I'm a confirmed doubter of myself. (Probably I'm conceited +about my lack of conceit!) Anyway, Gopher Prairie isn't +particularly bad. It's like all villages in all countries. Most +places that have lost the smell of earth but not yet acquired +the smell of patchouli--or of factory-smoke--are just as +suspicious and righteous. I wonder if the small town isn't, with +some lovely exceptions, a social appendix? Some day these +dull market-towns may be as obsolete as monasteries. I can +imagine the farmer and his local store-manager going by +monorail, at the end of the day, into a city more charming +than any William Morris Utopia--music, a university, clubs +for loafers like me. (Lord, how I'd like to have a real club!)" + +She asked impulsively, "You, why do you stay here?" + +"I have the Village Virus." + +"It sounds dangerous." + +"It is. More dangerous than the cancer that will certainly +get me at fifty unless I stop this smoking. The Village Virus +is the germ which--it's extraordinarily like the hook-worm--it +infects ambitious people who stay too long in the provinces. +You'll find it epidemic among lawyers and doctors and ministers +and college-bred merchants--all these people who have had a +glimpse of the world that thinks and laughs, but have returned +to their swamp. I'm a perfect example. But I sha'n't pester +you with my dolors." + +"You won't. And do sit down, so I can see you." + +He dropped into the shrieking desk-chair. He looked +squarely at her; she was conscious of the pupils of his eyes; of +the fact that he was a man, and lonely. They were embarrassed. +They elaborately glanced away, and were relieved as he went +on: + +"The diagnosis of my Village Virus is simple enough. I +was born in an Ohio town about the same size as Gopher +Prairie, and much less friendly. It'd had more generations in +which to form an oligarchy of respectability. Here, a stranger +is taken in if he is correct, if he likes hunting and motoring and +God and our Senator. There, we didn't take in even our own +till we had contemptuously got used to them. It was a red- +brick Ohio town, and the trees made it damp, and it smelled of +rotten apples. The country wasn't like our lakes and prairie. +There were small stuffy corn-fields and brick-yards and greasy +oil-wells. + +"I went to a denominational college and learned that since +dictating the Bible, and hiring a perfect race of ministers to +explain it, God has never done much but creep around and try +to catch us disobeying it. From college I went to New York, +to the Columbia Law School. And for four years I lived. +Oh, I won't rhapsodize about New York. It was dirty and +noisy and breathless and ghastly expensive. But compared with +the moldy academy in which I had been smothered----! I +went to symphonies twice a week. I saw Irving and Terry +and Duse and Bernhardt, from the top gallery. I walked in +Gramercy Park. And I read, oh, everything. + +"Through a cousin I learned that Julius Flickerbaugh was +sick and needed a partner. I came here. Julius got well. +He didn't like my way of loafing five hours and then doing +my work (really not so badly) in one. We parted. + +"When I first came here I swore I'd `keep up my interests.' +Very lofty! I read Browning, and went to Minneapolis for the +theaters. I thought I was `keeping up.' But I guess the +Village Virus had me already. I was reading four copies of +cheap fiction-magazines to one poem. I'd put off the +Minneapolis trips till I simply had to go there on a lot of legal +matters. + +"A few years ago I was talking to a patent lawyer from +Chicago, and I realized that---- I'd always felt so superior +to people like Julius Flickerbaugh, but I saw that I was as +provincial and behind-the-times as Julius. (Worse! Julius +plows through the Literary Digest and the Outlook faithfully, +while I'm turning over pages of a book by Charles Flandrau +that I already know by heart.) + +"I decided to leave here. Stern resolution. Grasp the +world. Then I found that the Village Virus had me, absolute: +I didn't want to face new streets and younger men--real +competition. It was too easy to go on making out conveyances +and arguing ditching cases. So---- That's all of the biography +of a living dead man, except the diverting last chapter, the lies +about my having been `a tower of strength and legal wisdom' +which some day a preacher will spin over my lean dry body." + +He looked down at his table-desk, fingering the starry +enameled vase. + +She could not comment. She pictured herself running across +the room to pat his hair. She saw that his lips were firm, +under his soft faded mustache. She sat still and maundered, +"I know. The Village Virus. Perhaps it will get me. Some +day I'm going---- Oh, no matter. At least, I am making you +talk! Usually you have to be polite to my garrulousness, but +now I'm sitting at your feet." + +"It would be rather nice to have you literally sitting at my +feet, by a fire." + +"Would you have a fireplace for me?" + +"Naturally! Please don't snub me now! Let the old man +rave. How old are you, Carol?" + +"Twenty-six, Guy." + +"Twenty-six! I was just leaving New York, at twenty-six. +I heard Patti sing, at twenty-six. And now I'm forty-seven. I +feel like a child, yet I'm old enough to be your father. So it's +decently paternal to imagine you curled at my feet. . . . +Of course I hope it isn't, but we'll reflect the morals of Gopher +Prairie by officially announcing that it is! . . . These +standards that you and I live up to! There's one thing that's the +matter with Gopher Prairie, at least with the ruling-class +(there is a ruling-class, despite all our professions of democ- +racy). And the penalty we tribal rulers pay is that our +subjects watch us every minute. We can't get wholesomely drunk +and relax. We have to be so correct about sex morals, and +inconspicuous clothes, and doing our commercial trickery only +in the traditional ways, that none of us can live up to it, and we +become horribly hypocritical. Unavoidably. The widow-robbing +deacon of fiction can't help being hypocritical. The +widows themselves demand it! They admire his unctuousness. +And look at me. Suppose I did dare to make love to--some +exquisite married woman. I wouldn't admit it to myself. I +giggle with the most revolting salaciousness over La Vie Parisienne, +when I get hold of one in Chicago, yet I shouldn't even +try to hold your hand. I'm broken. It's the historical Anglo- +Saxon way of making life miserable. . . . Oh, my dear, I haven't +talked to anybody about myself and all our selves for years." + +"Guy! Can't we do something with the town? Really?" + +"No, we can't!" He disposed of it like a judge ruling out +an improper objection; returned to matters less uncomfortably +energetic: "Curious. Most troubles are unnecessary. We +have Nature beaten; we can make her grow wheat; we can keep +warm when she sends blizzards. So we raise the devil just +for pleasure--wars, politics, race-hatreds, labor-disputes. Here +in Gopher Prairie we've cleared the fields, and become soft, +so we make ourselves unhappy artificially, at great expense and +exertion: Methodists disliking Episcopalians, the man with +the Hudson laughing at the man with the flivver. The worst +is the commercial hatred--the grocer feeling that any man who +doesn't deal with him is robbing him. What hurts me is that +it applies to lawyers and doctors (and decidedly to their wives!) +as much as to grocers. The doctors--you know about that-- +how your husband and Westlake and Gould dislike one +another." + +"No! I won't admit it!" + +He grinned. + +"Oh, maybe once or twice, when Will has positively known +of a case where Doctor--where one of the others has continued +to call on patients longer than necessary, he has +laughed about it, but----" + +He still grinned. + +"No, REALLY! And when you say the wives of the doctors +share these jealousies---- Mrs. McGanum and I haven't any +particular crush on each other; she's so stolid. But her +mother, Mrs. Westlake--nobody could be sweeter." + +"Yes, I'm sure she's very bland. But I wouldn't tell her my +heart's secrets if I were you, my dear. I insist that there's +only one professional-man's wife in this town who doesn't +plot, and that is you, you blessed, credulous outsider!" + +"I won't be cajoled! I won't believe that medicine, the +priesthood of healing, can be turned into a penny-picking +business." + +"See here: Hasn't Kennicott ever hinted to you that you'd +better be nice to some old woman because she tells her friends +which doctor to call in? But I oughtn't to----" + +She remembered certain remarks which Kennicott had +offered regarding the Widow Bogart. She flinched, looked at +Guy beseechingly. + +He sprang up, strode to her with a nervous step, smoothed +her hand. She wondered if she ought to be offended by his +caress. Then she wondered if he liked her hat, the new +Oriental turban of rose and silver brocade. + +He dropped her hand. His elbow brushed her shoulder. He +flitted over to the desk-chair, his thin back stooped. He +picked up the cloisonne vase. Across it he peered at her +with such loneliness that she was startled. But his eyes faded +into impersonality as he talked of the jealousies of Gopher +Prairie. He stopped himself with a sharp, "Good Lord, +Carol, you're not a jury. You are within your legal rights +in refusing to be subjected to this summing-up. I'm a tedious +old fool analyzing the obvious, while you're the spirit of +rebellion. Tell me your side. What is Gopher Prairie to you?" + +"A bore!" + +"Can I help?" + +"How could you?" + +"I don't know. Perhaps by listening. I haven't done that +tonight. But normally---- Can't I be the confidant of +the old French plays, the tiring-maid with the mirror and the +loyal ears?" + +"Oh, what is there to confide? The people are savorless +and proud of it. And even if I liked you tremendously, I +couldn't talk to you without twenty old hexes watching, +whispering." + +"But you will come talk to me, once in a while?" + +"I'm not sure that I shall. I'm trying to develop my own +large capacity for dullness and contentment. I've failed at +every positive thing I've tried. I'd better `settle down,' as +they call it, and be satisfied to be--nothing." + +"Don't be cynical. It hurts me, in you. It's like blood on +the wing of a humming-bird." + +"I'm not a humming-bird. I'm a hawk; a tiny leashed +hawk, pecked to death by these large, white, flabby, wormy +hens. But I am grateful to you for confirming me in the faith. +And I'm going home!" + +"Please stay and have some coffee with me." + +"I'd like to. But they've succeeded in terrorizing me. I'm +afraid of what people might say." + +"I'm not afraid of that. I'm only afraid of what you might +say!" He stalked to her; took her unresponsive hand. +"Carol! You have been happy here tonight? (Yes. I'm +begging!)" + +She squeezed his hand quickly, then snatched hers away. +She had but little of the curiosity of the flirt, and none of the +intrigante's joy in furtiveness. If she was the naive girl, Guy +Pollock was the clumsy boy. He raced about the office; he +rammed his fists into his pockets. He stammered, "I--I--I +---- Oh, the devil! Why do I awaken from smooth dustiness +to this jagged rawness? I'll make I'm going to trot +down the hall and bring in the Dillons, and we'll all have coffee +or something." + +"The Dillons?" + +"Yes. Really quite a decent young pair--Harvey Dillon +and his wife. He's a dentist, just come to town. They live in a +room behind his office, same as I do here. They don't know +much of anybody----" + +"I've heard of them. And I've never thought to call. I'm +horribly ashamed. Do bring them----" + +She stopped, for no very clear reason, but his expression +said, her faltering admitted, that they wished they had never +mentioned the Dillons. With spurious enthusiasm he said, +"Splendid! I will." From the door he glanced at her, curled +in the peeled leather chair. He slipped out, came back with +Dr. and Mrs. Dillon. + +The four of them drank rather bad coffee which Pollock +made on a kerosene burner. They laughed, and spoke of +Minneapolis, and were tremendously tactful; and Carol +started for home, through the November wind. + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +SHE was marching home. + +"No. I couldn't fall in love with him. I like him, very +much. But he's too much of a recluse. Could I kiss him? +No! No! Guy Pollock at twenty-six I could have kissed +him then, maybe, even if I were married to some one else, and +probably I'd have been glib in persuading myself that `it wasn't +really wrong.' + +"The amazing thing is that I'm not more amazed at +myself. I, the virtuous young matron. Am I to be trusted? +If the Prince Charming came---- + +"A Gopher Prairie housewife, married a year, and yearning +for a `Prince Charming' like a bachfisch of sixteen! They +say that marriage is a magic change. But I'm not changed. +But---- + +"No! I wouldn't want to fall in love, even if the Prince did +come. I wouldn't want to hurt Will. I am fond of Will. I +am! He doesn't stir me, not any longer. But I depend on +him. He is home and children. + +"I wonder when we will begin to have children? I do +want them. + +"I wonder whether I remembered to tell Bea to have +hominy tomorrow, instead of oatmeal? She will have gone to +bed by now. Perhaps I'll be up early enough---- + +"Ever so fond of Will. I wouldn't hurt him, even if I had +to lose the mad love. If the Prince came I'd look once at him, +and run. Darn fast! Oh, Carol, you are not heroic nor +fine. You are the immutable vulgar young female. + +"But I'm not the faithless wife who enjoys confiding that +she's `misunderstood.' Oh, I'm not, I'm not! + +"Am I? + +"At least I didn't whisper to Guy about Will's faults and +his blindness to my remarkable soul. I didn't! Matter of +fact, Will probably understands me perfectly! If only--if +he would just back me up in rousing the town. + +"How many, how incredibly many wives there must be who +tingle over the first Guy Pollock who smiles at them. No! I +will not be one of that herd of yearners! The coy virgin +brides. Yet probably if the Prince were young and dared to +face life---- + +"I'm not half as well oriented as that Mrs. Dillon. So +obviously adoring her dentist! And seeing Guy only as an +eccentric fogy. + +"They weren't silk, Mrs. Dillon's stockings. They were +lisle. Her legs are nice and slim. But no nicer than mine. I +hate cotton tops on silk stockings. . . . Are my ankles getting +fat? I will NOT have fat ankles! + +"No. I am fond of Will. His work--one farmer he pulls +through diphtheria is worth all my yammering for a castle in +Spain. A castle with baths. + +"This hat is so tight. I must stretch it. Guy liked it. + +"There's the house. I'm awfully chilly. Time to get out the +fur coat. I wonder if I'll ever have a beaver coat? Nutria is +NOT the same thing! Beaver-glossy. Like to run my fingers +over it. Guy's mustache like beaver. How utterly absurd! + +"I AM, I am fond of Will, and---- Can't I ever find another +word than `fond'? + +"He's home. He'll think I was out late. + +"Why can't he ever remember to pull down the shades? Cy +Bogart and all the beastly boys peeping in. But the poor +dear, he's absent-minded about minute--minush--whatever the +word is. He has so much worry and work, while I do nothing +but jabber to Bea. + +"I MUSTN'T forget the hominy----" + +She was flying into the hall. Kennicott looked up from the +Journal of the American Medical Society. + +"Hello! What time did you get back?" she cried. + +"About nine. You been gadding. Here it is past eleven!" +Good-natured yet not quite approving. + +"Did it feel neglected?" + +"Well, you didn't remember to close the lower draft in the +furnace." + +"Oh, I'm so sorry. But I don't often forget things like +that, do I?" + +She dropped into his lap and (after he had jerked back his +head to save his eye-glasses, and removed the glasses, and +settled her in a position less cramping to his legs, and casually +cleared his throat) he kissed her amiably, and remarked: + +"Nope, I must say you're fairly good about things like that. +I wasn't kicking. I just meant I wouldn't want the fire to go +out on us. Leave that draft open and the fire might burn up +and go out on us. And the nights are beginning to get pretty +cold again. Pretty cold on my drive. I put the side-curtains +up, it was so chilly. But the generator is working all right +now." + +"Yes. It is chilly. But I feel fine after my walk." + +"Go walking?" + +"I went up to see the Perrys." By a definite act of will she +added the truth: "They weren't in. And I saw Guy Pollock. +Dropped into his office." + +"Why, you haven't been sitting and chinning with him +till eleven o'clock?" + +"Of course there were some other people there and---- +Will! What do you think of Dr. Westlake?" + +"Westlake? Why?" + +"I noticed him on the street today." + +"Was he limping? If the poor fish would have his teeth +X-rayed, I'll bet nine and a half cents he'd find an abscess +there. `Rheumatism' he calls it. Rheumatism, hell! He's +behind the times. Wonder he doesn't bleed himself I Wellllllll +----" A profound and serious yawn. "I hate to break up the +party, but it's getting late, and a doctor never knows when +he'll get routed out before morning." (She remembered that +he had given this explanation, in these words, not less than +thirty times in the year.) "I guess we better be trotting up +to bed. I've wound the clock and looked at the furnace. Did +you lock the front door when you came in?" + +They trailed up-stairs, after he had turned out the lights and +twice tested the front door to make sure it was fast. +While they talked they were preparing for bed. Carol still +sought to maintain privacy by undressing behind the screen +of the closet door. Kennicott was not so reticent. Tonight, as +every night, she was irritated by having to push the old plush +chair out of the way before she could open the closet door. +Every time she opened the door she shoved the chair. Ten +times an hour. But Kennicott liked to have the chair in the +room, and there was no place for it except in front of the +closet. + +She pushed it, felt angry, hid her anger. Kennicott was +yawning, more portentously. The room smelled stale. She +shrugged and became chatty: + +"You were speaking of Dr. Westlake. Tell me--you've +never summed him up: Is he really a good doctor?" + +"Oh yes, he's a wise old coot." + +("There! You see there is no medical rivalry. Not in my +house!" she said triumphantly to Guy Pollock.) + +She hung her silk petticoat on a closet hook, and went on, +"Dr. Westlake is so gentle and scholarly----" + +"Well, I don't know as I'd say he was such a whale of a +scholar. I've always had a suspicion he did a good deal of +four-flushing about that. He likes to have people think he +keeps up his French and Greek and Lord knows what all; and +he's always got an old Dago book lying around the sitting-room, +but I've got a hunch he reads detective stories 'bout like the +rest of us. And I don't know where he'd ever learn so dog- +gone many languages anyway! He kind of lets people assume +he went to Harvard or Berlin or Oxford or somewhere, but I +looked him up in the medical register, and he graduated from +a hick college in Pennsylvania, 'way back in 1861!" + +"But this is the important thing: Is he an honest doctor?" + +"How do you mean `honest'? Depends on what you mean." + +"Suppose you were sick. Would you call him in? Would +you let me call him in?" + +"Not if I were well enough to cuss and bite, I wouldn't! +No, SIR! I wouldn't have the old fake in the house. Makes +me tired, his everlasting palavering and soft-soaping. He's +all right for an ordinary bellyache or holding some fool woman's +hand, but I wouldn't call him in for an honest-to-God illness, +not much I wouldn't, NO--sir! You know I don't do much back- +biting, but same time---- I'll tell you, Carrrie: I've never +got over being sore at Westlake for the way he treated Mrs. +Jonderquist. Nothing the matter with her, what she really +needed was a rest, but Westlake kept calling on her and calling +on her for weeks, almost every day, and he sent her a good +big fat bill, too, you can bet! I never did forgive him for that. +Nice decent hard-working people like the Jonderquists!" + +In her batiste nightgown she was standing at the bureau +engaged in the invariable rites of wishing that she had a real +dressing-table with a triple mirror, of bending toward the +streaky glass and raising her chin to inspect a pin-head mole +on her throat, and finally of brushing her hair. In rhythm to +the strokes she went on: + +"But, Will, there isn't any of what you might call financial +rivalry between you and the partners--Westlake and McGanum +--is there?" + +He flipped into bed with a solemn back-somersault and a +ludicrous kick of his heels as he tucked his legs under the +blankets. He snorted, "Lord no! I never begrudge any man +a nickel he can get away from me--fairly." + +"But is Westlake fair? Isn't he sly?" + +"Sly is the word. He's a fox, that boy!" + +She saw Guy Pollock's grin in the mirror. She flushed. + +Kennicott, with his arms behind his head, was yawning: + +"Yump. He's smooth, too smooth. But I bet I make prett' +near as much as Westlake and McGanum both together, though +I've never wanted to grab more than my just share. If anybody +wants to go to the partners instead of to me, that's his +business. Though I must say it makes me tired when Westlake +gets hold of the Dawsons. Here Luke Dawson had been +coming to me for every toeache and headache and a lot of +little things that just wasted my time, and then when his +grandchild was here last summer and had summer-complaint, I +suppose, or something like that, probably--you know, the time +you and I drove up to Lac-qui-Meurt--why, Westlake got hold +of Ma Dawson, and scared her to death, and made her think +the kid had appendicitis, and, by golly, if he and McGanum +didn't operate, and holler their heads off about the terrible +adhesions they found, and what a regular Charley and Will +Mayo they were for classy surgery. They let on that if they'd +waited two hours more the kid would have developed peritonitis, +and God knows what all; and then they collected a nice fat +hundred and fifty dollars. And probably they'd have charged +three hundred, if they hadn't been afraid of me! I'm no hog, +but I certainly do hate to give old Luke ten dollars' worth of +advice for a dollar and a half, and then see a hundred and +fifty go glimmering. And if I can't do a better 'pendectomy +than either Westlake or McGanum, I'll eat my hat!" + +As she crept into bed she was dazzled by Guy's blazing +grin. She experimented: + +"But Westlake is cleverer than his son-in-law, don't you +think?" + +"Yes, Westlake may be old-fashioned and all that, but +he's got a certain amount of intuition, while McGanum goes +into everything bull-headed, and butts his way through like +a damn yahoo, and tries to argue his patients into having +whatever he diagnoses them as having! About the best thing +Mac can do is to stick to baby-snatching. He's just about +on a par with this bone-pounding chiropractor female, Mrs. +Mattie Gooch." + +"Mrs. Westlake and Mrs. McGanum, though--they're nice. +They've been awfully cordial to me." + +"Well, no reason why they shouldn't be, is there? Oh, +they're nice enough--though you can bet your bottom dollar +they're both plugging for their husbands all the time, trying +to get the business. And I don't know as I call it so damn +cordial in Mrs. McGanum when I holler at her on the street +and she nods back like she had a sore neck. Still, she's all +right. It's Ma Westlake that makes the mischief, pussyfooting +around all the time. But I wouldn't trust any Westlake out +of the whole lot, and while Mrs. McGanum SEEMS square +enough, you don't never want to forget that she's Westlake's +daughter. You bet!" + +"What about Dr. Gould? Don't you think he's worse than +either Westlake or McGanum? He's so cheap--drinking, and +playing pool, and always smoking cigars in such a cocky way----" + +"That's all right now! Terry Gould is a good deal of a tin- +horn sport, but he knows a lot about medicine, and don't you +forget it for one second!" + +She stared down Guy's grin, and asked more cheerfully, "Is +he honest, too?" + +"Ooooooooooo! Gosh I'm sleepy!" He burrowed beneath +the bedclothes in a luxurious stretch, and came up like a diver, +shaking his head, as he complained, "How's that? Who? +Terry Gould honest? Don't start me laughing--I'm too nice +and sleepy! I didn't say he was honest. I said he had savvy +enough to find the index in `Gray's Anatomy,' which is more +than McGanum can do! But I didn't say anything about his +being honest. He isn't. Terry is crooked as a dog's hind leg. +He's done me more than one dirty trick. He told Mrs. +Glorbach, seventeen miles out, that I wasn't up-to-date in +obstetrics. Fat lot of good it did him! She came right in +and told me! And Terry's lazy. He'd let a pneumonia patient +choke rather than interrupt a poker game." + +"Oh no. I can't believe----" + +"Well now, I'm telling you!" + +"Does he play much poker? Dr. Dillon told me that Dr. +Gould wanted him to play----" + +"Dillon told you what? Where'd you meet Dillon? He's +just come to town." + +"He and his wife were at Mr. Pollock's tonight." + +"Say, uh, what'd you think of them? Didn't Dillon strike +you as pretty light-waisted?" + +"Why no. He seemed intelligent. I'm sure he's much more +wide-awake than our dentist." + +"Well now, the old man is a good dentist. He knows his +business. And Dillon---- I wouldn't cuddle up to the Dillons +too close, if I were you. All right for Pollock, and that's none +of our business, but we---- I think I'd just give the Dillons +the glad hand and pass 'em up." + +"But why? He isn't a rival." + +"That's--all--right!" Kennicott was aggressively awake +now. "He'll work right in with Westlake and McGanum. +Matter of fact, I suspect they were largely responsible for his +locating here. They'll be sending him patients, and he'll send +all that he can get hold of to them. I don't trust anybody +that's too much hand-in-glove with Westlake. You give Dillon +a shot at some fellow that's just bought a farm here and drifts +into town to get his teeth looked at, and after Dillon gets +through with him, you'll see him edging around to Westlake +and McGanum, every time!" + +Carol reached for her blouse, which hung on a chair by +the bed. She draped it about her shoulders, and sat up studying +Kennicott, her chin in her hands. In the gray light from +the small electric bulb down the hall she could see that he was +frowning. + +"Will, this is--I must get this straight. Some one said to +me the other day that in towns like this, even more than in +cities, all the doctors hate each other, because of the +money----" + +"Who said that?" + +"It doesn't matter." + +"I'll bet a hat it was your Vida Sherwin. She's a brainy +woman, but she'd be a damn sight brainier if she kept her +mouth shut and didn't let so much of her brains ooze out +that way." + +"Will! O Will! That's horrible! Aside from the +vulgarity----Some ways, Vida is my best friend. Even if +she HAD said it. Which, as a matter of fact, she didn't." +He reared up his thick shoulders, in absurd pink and green +flannelette pajamas. He sat straight, and irritatingly snapped +his fingers, and growled: + +"Well, if she didn't say it, let's forget her. Doesn't make +any difference who said it, anyway. The point is that you +believe it. God! To think you don't understand me any +better than that! Money!" + +("This is the first real quarrel we've ever had," she was +agonizing.) + +He thrust out his long arm and snatched his wrinkly vest +from a chair. He took out a cigar, a match. He tossed the +vest on the floor. He lighted the cigar and puffed savagely. +He broke up the match and snapped the fragments at the foot- +board. + +She suddenly saw the foot-board of the bed as the foot- +stone of the grave of love. + +The room was drab-colored and ill-ventilated-Kennicott +did not "believe in opening the windows so darn wide that you +heat all outdoors." The stale air seemed never to change. In +the light from the hall they were two lumps of bedclothes +with shoulders and tousled heads attached. + +She begged, "I didn't mean to wake you up, dear. And +please don't smoke. You've been smoking so much. Please +go back to sleep. I'm sorry." + +"Being sorry 's all right, but I'm going to tell you one or +two things. This falling for anybody's say-so about medical +jealousy and competition is simply part and parcel of your +usual willingness to think the worst you possibly can of us +poor dubs in Gopher Prairie. Trouble with women like you +is, you always want to ARGUE. Can't take things the way they +are. Got to argue. Well, I'm not going to argue about this +in any way, shape, manner, or form. Trouble with you is, +you don't make any effort to appreciate us. You're so damned +superior, and think the city is such a hell of a lot finer place, +and you want us to do what YOU want, all the time----" + +"That's not true! It's I who make the effort. It's they-- +it's you--who stand back and criticize. I have to come over +to the town's opinion; I have to devote myself to their +interests. They can't even SEE my interests, to say nothing of +adopting them. I get ever so excited about their old Lake +Minniemashie and the cottages, but they simply guffaw (in +that lovely friendly way you advertise so much) if I speak +of wanting to see Taormina also." + +"Sure, Tormina, whatever that is--some nice expensive +millionaire colony, I suppose. Sure; that's the idea; champagne +taste and beer income; and make sure that we never will have +more than a beer income, too!" + +"Are you by any chance implying that I am not economical?" + +"Well, I hadn't intended to, but since you bring it up +yourself, I don't mind saying the grocery bills are about twice +what they ought to be." + +"Yes, they probably are. I'm not economical. I can't be. +Thanks to you!" + +"Where d' you get that `thanks to you'?" + +"Please don't be quite so colloquial--or shall I say VULGAR?" + +"I'll be as damn colloquial as I want to. How do you get +that `thanks to you'? Here about a year ago you jump me +for not remembering to give you money. Well, I'm reasonable. +I didn't blame you, and I SAID I was to blame. But have +I ever forgotten it since--practically?" + +"No. You haven't--practically! But that isn't it. I +ought to have an allowance. I will, too! I must have an +agreement for a regular stated amount, every month." + +"Fine idea! Of course a doctor gets a regular stated +amount! Sure! A thousand one month--and lucky if he +makes a hundred the next." + +"Very well then, a percentage. Or something else. No +matter how much you vary, you can make a rough average +for----" + +"But what's the idea? What are you trying to get at? +Mean to say I'm unreasonable? Think I'm so unreliable and +tightwad that you've got to tie me down with a contract? +By God, that hurts! I thought I'd been pretty generous and +decent, and I took a lot of pleasure--thinks I, `she'll be tickled +when I hand her over this twenty'--or fifty, or whatever it +was; and now seems you been wanting to make it a kind of +alimony. Me, like a poor fool, thinking I was liberal all the +while, and you----" + +"Please stop pitying yourself! You're having a beautiful +time feeling injured. I admit all you say. Certainly. You've +given me money both freely and amiably. Quite as if I were +your mistress!" + +"Carrie!" + +"I mean it! What was a magnificent spectacle of generosity +to you was humiliation to me. You GAVE me money--gave it +to your mistress, if she was complaisant, and then you----" + +"Carrie!" + +"(Don't interrupt me!)--then you felt you'd discharged +all obligation. Well, hereafter I'll refuse your money, as a gift. +Either I'm your partner, in charge of the household department +of our business, with a regular budget for it, or else I'm +nothing. If I'm to be a mistress, I shall choose my lovers. Oh, +I hate it--I hate it--this smirking and hoping for money--and +then not even spending it on jewels as a mistress has a right +to, but spending it on double-boilers and socks for you! +Yes indeed! You're generous! You give me a dollar, right +out--the only proviso is that I must spend it on a tie for you! +And you give it when and as you wish. How can I be anything +but uneconomical?" + +"Oh well, of course, looking at it that way----" + +"I can't shop around, can't buy in large quantities, have +to stick to stores where I have a charge account, good deal +of the time, can't plan because I don't know how much money +I can depend on. That's what I pay for your charming +sentimentalities about giving so generously. You make me----" + +"Wait! Wait! You know you're exaggerating. You never +thought about that mistress stuff till just this minute! Matter +of fact, you never have `smirked and hoped for money.' But +all the same, you may be right. You ought to run the household +as a business. I'll figure out a definite plan tomorrow, +and hereafter you'll be on a regular amount or percentage, with +your own checking account." + +"Oh, that IS decent of you!" She turned toward him, +trying to be affectionate. But his eyes were pink and unlovely +in the flare of the match with which he lighted his dead and +malodorous cigar. His head drooped, and a ridge of flesh +scattered with pale small bristles bulged out under his chin. + +She sat in abeyance till he croaked: + +"No. 'Tisn't especially decent. It's just fair. And God +knows I want to be fair. But I expect others to be fair, too. +And you're so high and mighty about people. Take Sam +Clark; best soul that ever lived, honest and loyal and a damn +good fellow----" + +("Yes, and a good shot at ducks, don't forget that!") + +("Well, and he is a good shot, too!) Sam drops around in +the evening to sit and visit, and by golly just because he +takes a dry smoke and rolls his cigar around in his mouth, and +maybe spits a few times, you look at him as if he was a hog. +Oh, you didn't know I was onto you, and I certainly hope +Sam hasn't noticed it, but I never miss it." + +"I have felt that way. Spitting--ugh! But I'm sorry you +caught my thoughts. I tried to be nice; I tried to hide them." + +"Maybe I catch a whole lot more than you think I do!" + +"Yes, perhaps you do." + +"And d' you know why Sam doesn't light his cigar when +he's here?" + +"Why?" + +"He's so darn afraid you'll be offended if he smokes. You +scare him. Every time he speaks of the weather you jump +him because he ain't talking about poetry or Gertie--Goethe? +--or some other highbrow junk. You've got him so leery he +scarcely dares to come here." + +"Oh, I AM sorry. (Though I'm sure it's you who are exaggerating now.") + +"Well now, I don't know as I am! And I can tell you one thing: +if you keep on you'll manage to drive away every friend I've got." + +"That would be horrible of me. You KNOW I don't mean +to Will, what is it about me that frightens Sam--if I +do frighten him." + +"Oh, you do, all right! 'Stead of putting his legs up on +another chair, and unbuttoning his vest, and telling a good +story or maybe kidding me about something, he sits on the +edge of his chair and tries to make conversation about politics, +and he doesn't even cuss, and Sam's never real comfortable +unless he can cuss a little!" + +"In other words, he isn't comfortable unless he can behave +like a peasant in a mud hut!" + +"Now that'll be about enough of that! You want to know +how you scare him? First you deliberately fire some question +at him that you know darn well he can't answer--any fool +could see you were experimenting with him--and then you +shock him by talking of mistresses or something, like you were +doing just now----" + +"Of course the pure Samuel never speaks of such erring +ladies in his private conversations!" + +"Not when there's ladies around! You can bet your life +on that!" + +"So the impurity lies in failing to pretend that----" + +"Now we won't go into all that--eugenics or whatever damn +fad you choose to call it. As I say, first you shock him, and +then you become so darn flighty that nobody can follow you. +Either you want to dance, or you bang the piano, or else you +get moody as the devil and don't want to talk or anything +else. If you must be temperamental, why can't you be that +way by yourself?" + +"My dear man, there's nothing I'd like better than to be +by myself occasionally! To have a room of my own! I +suppose you expect me to sit here and dream delicately and +satisfy my `temperamentality' while you wander in from the +bathroom with lather all over your face, and shout, `Seen my +brown pants?' " + +"Huh!" He did not sound impressed. He made no +answer. He turned out of bed, his feet making one solid thud +on the floor. He marched from the room, a grotesque figure +in baggy union-pajamas. She heard him drawing a drink of +water at the bathroom tap. She was furious at the +contemptuousness of his exit. She snuggled down in bed, and +looked away from him as he returned. He ignored her. As +he flumped into bed he yawned, and casually stated: + +"Well, you'll have plenty of privacy when we build a new +house. + +"When!" + +"Oh, I'll build it all right, don't you fret! But of course +I don't expect any credit for it." + +Now it was she who grunted "Huh!" and ignored him, +and felt independent and masterful as she shot up out of bed, +turned her back on him, fished a lone and petrified chocolate +out of her glove-box in the top right-hand drawer of the +bureau, gnawed at it, found that it had cocoanut filling, said +"Damn!" wished that she had not said it, so that she might +be superior to his colloquialism, and hurled the chocolate into +the wastebasket, where it made an evil and mocking clatter +among the debris of torn linen collars and toothpaste box. +Then, in great dignity and self-dramatization, she returned to +bed. + +All this time he had been talking on, embroidering his +assertion that he "didn't expect any credit." She was reflecting +that he was a rustic, that she hated him, that she had been +insane to marry him, that she had married him only because +she was tired of work, that she must get her long gloves +cleaned, that she would never do anything more for him, and +that she mustn't forget his hominy for breakfast. She was +roused to attention by his storming: + +"I'm a fool to think about a new house. By the time I +get it built you'll probably have succeeded in your plan to get +me completely in Dutch with every friend and every patient +I've got." + +She sat up with a bounce. She said coldly, "Thank you +very much for revealing your real opinion of me. If that's the +way you feel, if I'm such a hindrance to you, I can't stay +under this roof another minute. And I am perfectly well able +to earn my own living. I will go at once, and you may get a +divorce at your pleasure! What you want is a nice sweet cow +of a woman who will enjoy having your dear friends talk about +the weather and spit on the floor!" + +"Tut! Don't be a fool!" + +"You will very soon find out whether I'm a fool or not! +I mean it! Do you think I'd stay here one second after I +found out that I was injuring you? At least I have enough +sense of justice not to do that." + +"Please stop flying off at tangents, Carrie. This----" + +"Tangents? TANGENTS! Let me tell you----" + +"----isn't a theater-play; it's a serious effort to have us +get together on fundamentals. We've both been cranky, and +said a lot of things we didn't mean. I wish we were a couple o' +bloomin' poets and just talked about roses and moonshine, but +we're human. All right. Let's cut out jabbing at each other. +Let's admit we both do fool things. See here: You KNOW you +feel superior to folks. You're not as bad as I say, but you're +not as good as you say--not by a long shot! What's the reason +you're so superior? Why can't you take folks as they are?" + +Her preparations for stalking out of the Doll's House were +not yet visible. She mused: + +"I think perhaps it's my childhood." She halted. When +she went on her voice had an artificial sound, her words the +bookish quality of emotional meditation. "My father was the +tenderest man in the world, but he did feel superior to ordinary +people. Well, he was! And the Minnesota Valley---- I used +to sit there on the cliffs above Mankato for hours at a time, +my chin in my hand, looking way down the valley, wanting to +write poems. The shiny tilted roofs below me, and the river, +and beyond it the level fields in the mist, and the rim of +palisades across---- It held my thoughts in. I LIVED, in the +valley. But the prairie--all my thoughts go flying off into the +big space. Do you think it might be that?" + +"Um, well, maybe, but---- Carrie, you always talk so +much about getting all you can out of life, and not letting +the years slip by, and here you deliberately go and deprive +yourself of a lot of real good home pleasure by not enjoying +people unless they wear frock coats and trot out----" + +("Morning clothes. Oh. Sorry. Didn't mean t' interrupt +you.") + +"----to a lot of tea-parties. Take Jack Elder. You think +Jack hasn't got any ideas about anything but manufacturing +and the tariff on lumber. But do you know that Jack is +nutty about music? He'll put a grand-opera record on the +phonograph and sit and listen to it and close his eyes---- Or +you take Lym Cass. Ever realize what a well-informed man +he is?" + +"But IS he? Gopher Prairie calls anybody `well-informed' +who's been through the State Capitol and heard about Gladstone." + +"Now I'm telling you! Lym reads a lot--solid stuff-- +history. Or take Mart Mahoney, the garageman. He's got a lot +of Perry prints of famous pictures in his office. Or old Bingham +Playfair, that died here 'bout a year ago--lived seven miles +out. He was a captain in the Civil War, and knew General +Sherman, and they say he was a miner in Nevada right alongside +of Mark Twain. You'll find these characters in all these +small towns, and a pile of savvy in every single one of them, +if you just dig for it." + +"I know. And I do love them. Especially people like +Champ Perry. But I can't be so very enthusiastic over the +smug cits like Jack Elder." + +"Then I'm a smug cit, too, whatever that is." + +"No, you're a scientist. Oh, I will try and get the music +out of Mr. Elder. Only, why can't he let it COME out, instead +of being ashamed of it, and always talking about hunting dogs? +But I will try. Is it all right now?" + +"Sure. But there's one other thing. You might give me +some attention, too!" + +"That's unjust! You have everything I am!" + +"No, I haven't. You think you respect me--you always +hand out some spiel about my being so `useful.' But you +never think of me as having ambitions, just as much as you +haves----" + +"Perhaps not. I think of you as being perfectly satisfied." + +"Well, I'm not, not by a long shot! I don't want to be +a plug general practitioner all my life, like Westlake, and die +in harness because I can't get out of it, and have 'em say, +`He was a good fellow, but he couldn't save a cent.' Not that +I care a whoop what they say, after I've kicked in and can't +hear 'em, but I want to put enough money away so you and +I can be independent some day, and not have to work unless +I feel like it, and I want to have a good house--by golly, I'll +have as good a house as anybody in THIS town!--and if we +want to travel and see your Tormina or whatever it is, why +we can do it, with enough money in our jeans so we won't +have to take anything off anybody, or fret about our old age. +You never worry about what might happen if we got sick and +didn't have a good fat wad salted away, do you!" + +"I don't suppose I do." + +"Well then, I have to do it for you. And if you think for +one moment I want to be stuck in this burg all my life, and +not have a chance to travel and see the different points of +interest and all that, then you simply don't get me. I want +to have a squint at the world, much's you do. Only, I'm practical +about it. First place, I'm going to make the money-- +I'm investing in good safe farmlands. Do you understand +why now?" + +"Yes." + +"Will you try and see if you can't think of me as something +more than just a dollar-chasing roughneck?" + +"Oh, my dear, I haven't been just! I AM difficile. And +I won't call on the Dillons! And if Dr. Dillon is working +for Westlake and McGanum, I hate him!" + + + +CHAPTER XV + +THAT December she was in love with her husband. + +She romanticized herself not as a great reformer but as the +wife of a country physician. The realities of the doctor's household +were colored by her pride. + +Late at night, a step on the wooden porch, heard through +her confusion of sleep; the storm-door opened; fumbling over +the inner door-panels; the buzz of the electric bell. Kennicott +muttering "Gol darn it," but patiently creeping out of bed, +remembering to draw the covers up to keep her warm, feeling +for slippers and bathrobe, clumping down-stairs. + +From below, half-heard in her drowsiness, a colloquy in the +pidgin-German of the farmers who have forgotten the Old +Country language without learning the new: + +"Hello, Barney, wass willst du?" + +"Morgen, doctor. Die Frau ist ja awful sick. All night she +been having an awful pain in de belly." + +"How long she been this way? Wie lang, eh?" + +"I dunno, maybe two days." + +"Why didn't you come for me yesterday, instead of waking +me up out of a sound sleep? Here it is two o'clock! So spat- +warum, eh?" + +"Nun aber, I know it, but she got soch a lot vorse last +evening. I t'ought maybe all de time it go avay, but it got a lot +vorse." + +"Any fever?" + +"Vell ja, I t'ink she got fever." + +"Which side is the pain on?" + +"Huh?" + +"Das Schmertz--die Weh--which side is it on? Here?" + +"So. Right here it is." + +"Any rigidity there?" + +"Huh?" + +"Is it rigid--stiff--I mean, does the belly feel hard to the +fingers?" + +"I dunno. She ain't said yet." + +"What she been eating?" + +"Vell, I t'ink about vot ve alwis eat, maybe corn beef and +cabbage and sausage, und so weiter. Doc, sie weint immer, all +the time she holler like hell. I vish you come." + +"Well, all right, but you call me earlier, next time. Look +here, Barney, you better install a 'phone--telephone haben. +Some of you Dutchmen will be dying one of these days before +you can fetch the doctor." + +The door closing. Barney's wagon--the wheels silent in the +snow, but the wagon-body rattling. Kennicott clicking the +receiver-hook to rouse the night telephone-operator, giving a +number, waiting, cursing mildly, waiting again, and at last +growling, "Hello, Gus, this is the doctor. Say, uh, send me +up a team. Guess snow's too thick for a machine. Going +eight miles south. All right. Huh? The hell I will! Don't +you go back to sleep. Huh? Well, that's all right now, you +didn't wait so very darn long. All right, Gus; shoot her +along. By!" + +His step on the stairs; his quiet moving about the frigid +room while he dressed; his abstracted and meaningless cough. +She was supposed to be asleep; she was too exquisitely drowsy +to break the charm by speaking. On a slip of paper laid on +the bureau--she could hear the pencil grinding against the +marble slab--he wrote his destination. He went out, hungry, +chilly, unprotesting; and she, before she fell asleep again, loved +him for his sturdiness, and saw the drama of his riding by +night to the frightened household on the distant farm; pictured +children standing at a window, waiting for him. He suddenly +had in her eyes the heroism of a wireless operator on a ship +in a collision; of an explorer, fever-clawed, deserted by his +bearers, but going on--jungle--going---- + +At six, when the light faltered in as through ground glass +and bleakly identified the chairs as gray rectangles, she heard +his step on the porch; heard him at the furnace: the rattle +of shaking the grate, the slow grinding removal of ashes, the +shovel thrust into the coal-bin, the abrupt clatter of the coal +as it flew into the fire-box, the fussy regulation of drafts-the +daily sounds of a Gopher Prairie life, now first appealing to +her as something brave and enduring, many-colored and free. +She visioned the fire-box: flames turned to lemon and metallic +gold as the coal-dust sifted over them; thin twisty flutters of +purple, ghost flames which gave no light, slipping up between +the dark banked coals. + +It was luxurious in bed, and the house would be warm for +her when she rose, she reflected. What a worthless cat she +was! What were her aspirations beside his capability? + +She awoke again as he dropped into bed. + +"Seems just a few minutes ago that you started out!" + +"I've been away four hours. I've operated a woman for +appendicitis, in a Dutch kitchen. Came awful close to losing +her, too, but I pulled her through all right. Close squeak. +Barney says he shot ten rabbits last Sunday." + +He was instantly asleep--one hour of rest before he had to +be up and ready for the farmers who came in early. She +marveled that in what was to her but a night-blurred moment, +he should have been in a distant place, have taken charge of a +strange house, have slashed a woman, saved a life. + +What wonder he detested the lazy Westlake and McGanum! +How could the easy Guy Pollock understand this skill and +endurance? + +Then Kennicott was grumbling, "Seven-fifteen! Aren't you +ever going to get up for breakfast?" and he was not a hero- +scientist but a rather irritable and commonplace man who +needed a shave. They had coffee, griddle-cakes, and sausages, +and talked about Mrs. McGanum's atrocious alligator-hide +belt. Night witchery and morning disillusion were alike +forgotten in the march of realities and days. + + +II + +Familiar to the doctor's wife was the man with an injured +leg, driven in from the country on a Sunday afternoon and +brought to the house. He sat in a rocker in the back of a +lumber-wagon, his face pale from the anguish of the jolting. +His leg was thrust out before him, resting on a starch-box and +covered with a leather-bound horse-blanket. His drab +courageous wife drove the wagon, and she helped Kennicott +support him as he hobbled up the steps, into the house. + +"Fellow cut his leg with an ax--pretty bad gash--Halvor +Nelson, nine miles out," Kennicott observed. + +Carol fluttered at the back of the room, childishly excited +when she was sent to fetch towels and a basin of water. +Kennicott lifted the farmer into a chair and chuckled, "There +we are, Halvor! We'll have you out fixing fences and drinking +aquavit in a month." The farmwife sat on the couch, expressionless, +bulky in a man's dogskin coat and unplumbed layers +of jackets. The flowery silk handkerchief which she had worn +over her head now hung about her seamed neck. Her white +wool gloves lay in her lap. + +Kennicott drew from the injured leg the thick red "German +sock," the innumerous other socks of gray and white wool, then +the spiral bandage. The leg was of an unwholesome dead +white, with the black hairs feeble and thin and flattened, and +the scar a puckered line of crimson. Surely, Carol shuddered, +this was not human flesh, the rosy shining tissue of the amorous +poets. + +Kennicott examined the scar, smiled at Halvor and his wife, +chanted, "Fine, b' gosh! Couldn't be better!" + +The Nelsons looked deprecating. The farmer nodded a cue +to his wife and she mourned: + +"Vell, how much ve going to owe you, doctor?" + +"I guess it'll be---- Let's see: one drive out and two calls. +I guess it'll be about eleven dollars in all, Lena." + +"I dunno ve can pay you yoost a little w'ile, doctor." + +Kennicott lumbered over to her, patted her shoulder, roared, +"Why, Lord love you, sister, I won't worry if I never get it! +You pay me next fall, when you get your crop. . . . +Carrie! Suppose you or Bea could shake up a cup of coffee +and some cold lamb for the Nelsons? They got a long cold +drive ahead." + + +III + + +He had been gone since morning; her eyes ached with reading; +Vida Sherwin could not come to tea. She wandered +through the house, empty as the bleary street without. The +problem of "Will the doctor be home in time for supper, or +shall I sit down without him?" was important in the household. +Six was the rigid, the canonical supper-hour, but at +half-past six he had not come. Much speculation with Bea: +Had the obstetrical case taken longer than he had expected? +Had he been called somewhere else? Was the snow much +heavier out in the country, so that he should have taken a +buggy, or even a cutter, instead of the car? Here in town it +had melted a lot, but still---- + +A honking, a shout, the motor engine raced before it was +shut off. + +She hurried to the window. The car was a monster at rest +after furious adventures. The headlights blazed on the clots +of ice in the road so that the tiniest lumps gave mountainous +shadows, and the taillight cast a circle of ruby on the snow +behind. Kennicott was opening the door, crying, "Here we +are, old girl! Got stuck couple times, but we made it, by golly, +we made it, and here we be! Come on! Food! Eatin's!" + +She rushed to him, patted his fur coat, the long hairs smooth +but chilly to her fingers. She joyously summoned Bea, "All +right! He's here! We'll sit right down!" + + +IV + + +There were, to inform the doctor's wife of his successes no +clapping audiences nor book-reviews nor honorary degrees. +But there was a letter written by a German farmer recently +moved from Minnesota to Saskatchewan: + + +Dear sor, as you haf bin treading mee for a fue Weaks dis +Somer and seen wat is rong wit mee so in Regarding to dat i wont +to tank you. the Doctor heir say wat shot bee rong wit mee and +day give mee som Madsin but it diten halp mee like wat you dit. +Now day glaim dat i Woten Neet aney Madsin ad all wat you +tink? + +Well i haven ben tacking aney ting for about one & 1/2 Mont but +i dont get better so i like to heir Wat you tink about it i feel like +dis Disconfebil feeling around the Stomac after eating and dat +Pain around Heard and down the arm and about 3 to 3 1/2 Hour +after Eating i feel weeak like and dissy and a dull Hadig. Now +you gust lett mee know Wat you tink about mee, i do Wat you say. + + +V + + +She encountered Guy Pollock at the drug store. He looked +at her as though he had a right to; he spoke softly. "I +haven't see you, the last few days." + +"No. I've been out in the country with Will several times. +He's so---- Do you know that people like you and me can +never understand people like him? We're a pair of hypercritical +loafers, you and I, while he quietly goes and does +things." + +She nodded and smiled and was very busy about purchasing +boric acid. He stared after her, and slipped away. + +When she found that he was gone she was slightly disconcerted. + + +VI + + +She could--at times--agree with Kennicott that the shaving- +and-corsets familiarity of married life was not dreary vulgarity +but a wholesome frankness; that artificial reticences might +merely be irritating. She was not much disturbed when for +hours he sat about the living-room in his honest socks. But +she would not listen to his theory that "all this romance stuff +is simply moonshine--elegant when you're courting, but no +use busting yourself keeping it up all your life." + +She thought of surprises, games, to vary the days. She +knitted an astounding purple scarf, which she hid under his +supper plate. (When he discovered it he looked embarrassed, +and gasped, "Is today an anniversary or something? Gosh, +I'd forgotten it!") + +Once she filled a thermos bottle with hot coffee a corn-flakes +box with cookies just baked by Bea, and bustled to his office +at three in the afternoon. She hid her bundles in the hall and +peeped in. + +The office was shabby. Kennicott had inherited it from a +medical predecessor, and changed it only by adding a white +enameled operating-table, a sterilizer, a Roentgen-ray +apparatus, and a small portable typewriter. It was a suite of +two rooms: a waiting-room with straight chairs, shaky pine +table, and those coverless and unknown magazines which are +found only in the offices of dentists and doctors. The room +beyond, looking on Main Street, was business-office, consulting- +room, operating-room, and, in an alcove, bacteriological and +chemical laboratory. The wooden floors of both rooms were +bare; the furniture was brown and scaly. + +Waiting for the doctor were two women, as still as though +they were paralyzed, and a man in a railroad brakeman's +uniform, holding his bandaged right hand with his tanned left. +They stared at Carol. She sat modestly in a stiff chair, feeling +frivolous and out of place. + +Kennicott appeared at the inner door, ushering out +a bleached man with a trickle of wan beard, and consoling him, +"All right, Dad. Be careful about the sugar, and mind the +diet I gave you. Gut the prescription filled, and come in and +see me next week. Say, uh, better, uh, better not drink too +much beer. All right, Dad." + +His voice was artificially hearty. He looked absently at +Carol. He was a medical machine now, not a domestic machine. +"What is it, Carrie?" he droned. + +"No hurry. Just wanted to say hello." + +"Well----" + +Self-pity because he did not divine that this was a surprise +party rendered her sad and interesting to herself, and she had +the pleasure of the martyrs in saying bravely to him, "It's +nothing special. If you're busy long I'll trot home." + +While she waited she ceased to pity and began to mock +herself. For the first time she observed the waiting-room. Oh +yes, the doctor's family had to have obi panels and a wide +couch and an electric percolator, but any hole was good enough +for sick tired common people who were nothing but the one +means and excuse for the doctor's existing! No. She couldn't +blame Kennicott. He was satisfied by the shabby chairs. He +put up with them as his patients did. It was her neglected +province--she who had been going about talking of rebuilding +the whole town! + +When the patients were gone she brought in her bundles. + +"What's those?" wondered Kennicott. + +"Turn your back! Look out of the window!" + +He obeyed--not very much bored. When she cried "Now!" +a feast of cookies and small hard candies and hot coffee was +spread on the roll-top desk in the inner room. + +His broad face lightened. "That's a new one on me! Never +was more surprised in my life! And, by golly, I believe I am +hungry. Say, this is fine." + +When the first exhilaration of the surprise had declined +she demanded, "Will! I'm going to refurnish your waiting-room!" + +"What's the matter with it? It's all right." + +"It is not! It's hideous. We can afford to give your +patients a better place. And it would be good business." She +felt tremendously politic. + +"Rats! I don't worry about the business. You look here +now: As I told you---- Just because I like to tuck a few +dollars away, I'll be switched if I'll stand for your thinking +I'm nothing but a dollar-chasing----" + +"Stop it! Quick! I'm not hurting your feelings! I'm not +criticizing! I'm the adoring least one of thy harem. I just +mean----" + +Two days later, with pictures, wicker chairs, a rug, she had +made the waiting-room habitable; and Kennicott admitted, +"Does look a lot better. Never thought much about it. Guess +I need being bullied." + +She was convinced that she was gloriously content in her +career as doctor's-wife. + + +VII + + +She tried to free herself from the speculation and disillusionment +which had been twitching at her; sought to dismiss all the +opinionation of an insurgent era. She wanted to shine upon +the veal-faced bristly-bearded Lyman Cass as much as upon +Miles Bjornstam or Guy Pollock. She gave a reception for the +Thanatopsis Club. But her real acquiring of merit was in calling +upon that Mrs. Bogart whose gossipy good opinion was so +valuable to a doctor. + +Though the Bogart house was next door she had entered +it but three times. Now she put on her new moleskin cap, +which made her face small and innocent, she rubbed off the +traces of a lip-stick--and fled across the alley before her +admirable resolution should sneak away. + +The age of houses, like the age of men, has small relation +to their years. The dull-green cottage of the good Widow +Bogart was twenty years old, but it had the antiquity of Cheops, +and the smell of mummy-dust. Its neatness rebuked the +street. The two stones by the path were painted yellow; the +outhouse was so overmodestly masked with vines and lattice +that it was not concealed at all; the last iron dog remaining +in Gopher Prairie stood among whitewashed conch-shells upon +the lawn. The hallway was dismayingly scrubbed; the kitchen +was an exercise in mathematics, with problems worked out in +equidistant chairs. + +The parlor was kept for visitors. Carol suggested, "Let's +sit in the kitchen. Please don't trouble to light the parlor +stove." + +"No trouble at all! My gracious, and you coming so seldom +and all, and the kitchen is a perfect sight, I try to keep it +clean, but Cy will track mud all over it, I've spoken to +him about it a hundred times if I've spoken once, no, you +sit right there, dearie, and I'll make a fire, no trouble at all, +practically no trouble at all." + +Mrs. Bogart groaned, rubbed her joints, and repeatedly +dusted her hands while she made the fire, and when Carol tried +to help she lamented, "Oh, it doesn't matter; guess I ain't +good for much but toil and workin' anyway; seems as though +that's what a lot of folks think." + +The parlor was distinguished by an expanse of rag carpet +from which, as they entered, Mrs. Bogart hastily picked one +sad dead fly. In the center of the carpet was a rug depicting +a red Newfoundland dog, reclining in a green and yellow daisy +field and labeled "Our Friend." The parlor organ, tall and +thin, was adorned with a mirror partly circular, partly square, +and partly diamond-shaped, and with brackets holding a pot +of geraniums, a mouth-organ, and a copy of "The Oldtime +Hymnal." On the center table was a Sears-Roebuck mail-order +catalogue, a silver frame with photographs of the Baptist +Church and of an elderly clergyman, and an aluminum tray +containing a rattlesnake's rattle and a broken spectacle-lens. + +Mrs. Bogart spoke of the eloquence of the Reverend Mr. +Zitterel, the coldness of cold days, the price of poplar wood, +Dave Dyer's new hair-cut, and Cy Bogart's essential piety. +"As I said to his Sunday School teacher, Cy may be a little +wild, but that's because he's got so much better brains than a +lot of these boys, and this farmer that claims he caught Cy +stealing 'beggies, is a liar, and I ought to have the law on +him." + +Mrs. Bogart went thoroughly into the rumor that the girl +waiter at Billy's Lunch was not all she might be--or, rather, +was quite all she might be. + +"My lands, what can you expect when everybody knows +what her mother was? And if these traveling salesmen would +let her alone she would be all right, though I certainly don't +believe she ought to be allowed to think she can pull the wool +over our eyes. The sooner she's sent to the school for incorrigible +girls down at Sauk Centre, the better for all and---- +Won't you just have a cup of coffee, Carol dearie, I'm sure +you won't mind old Aunty Bogart calling you by your first +name when you think how long I've known Will, and I was +such a friend of his dear lovely mother when she lived here +and--was that fur cap expensive? But---- Don't you think +it's awful, the way folks talk in this town?" + +Mrs. Bogart hitched her chair nearer. Her large face, with +its disturbing collection of moles and lone black hairs, wrinkled +cunningly. She showed her decayed teeth in a reproving smile, +and in the confidential voice of one who scents stale bedroom +scandal she breathed: + +"I just don't see how folks can talk and act like they do. +You don't know the things that go on under cover. This +town--why it's only the religious training I've given Cy that's +kept him so innocent of--things. Just the other day---- +I never pay no attention to stories, but I heard it mighty good +and straight that Harry Haydock is carrying on with a girl +that clerks in a store down in Minneapolis, and poor Juanita +not knowing anything about it--though maybe it's the judgment +of God, because before she married Harry she acted up +with more than one boy---- Well, I don't like to say it, and +maybe I ain't up-to-date, like Cy says, but I always believed +a lady shouldn't even give names to all sorts of dreadful things, +but just the same I know there was at least one case where +Juanita and a boy--well, they were just dreadful. And-- +and---- Then there's that Ole Jenson the grocer, that thinks +he's so plaguey smart, and I know he made up to a farmer's +wife and---- And this awful man Bjornstam that does chores, +and Nat Hicks and----" + +There was, it seemed, no person in town who was not living a +life of shame except Mrs. Bogart, and naturally she resented +it. + +She knew. She had always happened to be there. Once, +she whispered, she was going by when an indiscreet window- +shade had been left up a couple of inches. Once she had +noticed a man and woman holding hands, and right at a +Methodist sociable! + +"Another thing---- Heaven knows I never want to start +trouble, but I can't help what I see from my back steps, +and I notice your hired girl Bea carrying on with the grocery +boys and all----" + +"Mrs. Bogart! I'd trust Bea as I would myself!" + +"Oh, dearie, you don't understand me! I'm sure she's a +good girl. I mean she's green, and I hope that none of these +horrid young men that there are around town will get her into +trouble! It's their parents' fault, letting them run wild and +hear evil things. If I had my way there wouldn't be none of +them, not boys nor girls neither, allowed to know anything +about--about things till they was married. It's terrible the +bald way that some folks talk. It just shows and gives away +what awful thoughts they got inside them, and there's nothing +can cure them except coming right to God and kneeling down +like I do at prayer-meeting every Wednesday evening, and +saying, `O God, I would be a miserable sinner except for thy +grace.' + +"I'd make every last one of these brats go to Sunday School +and learn to think about nice things 'stead of about cigarettes +and goings-on--and these dances they have at the lodges are +the worst thing that ever happened to this town, lot of young +men squeezing girls and finding out---- Oh, it's dreadful. +I've told the mayor he ought to put a stop to them and---- +There was one boy in this town, I don't want to be suspicious +or uncharitable but----" + +It was half an hour before Carol escaped. + +She stopped on her own porch and thought viciously: + +"If that woman is on the side of the angels, then I have +no choice; I must be on the side of the devil. But--isn't she +like me? She too wants to `reform the town'! She too +criticizes everybody! She too thinks the men are vulgar and +limited! AM I LIKE HER? This is ghastly!" + +That evening she did not merely consent to play cribbage +with Kennicott; she urged him to play; and she worked up +a hectic interest in land-deals and Sam Clark. + + +VIII + + +In courtship days Kennicott had shown her a photograph of +Nels Erdstrom's baby and log cabin, but she had never seen +the Erdstroms. They had become merely "patients of the +doctor." Kennicott telephoned her on a mid-December afternoon, +"Want to throw your coat on and drive out to Erdstrom's +with me? Fairly warm. Nels got the jaundice." + +"Oh yes!" She hastened to put on woolen stockings, high +boots, sweater, muffler, cap, mittens. + +The snow was too thick and the ruts frozen too hard for +the motor. They drove out in a clumsy high carriage. Tucked +over them was a blue woolen cover, prickly to her wrists, and +outside of it a buffalo robe, humble and moth-eaten now, used +ever since the bison herds had streaked the prairie a few miles +to the west. + +The scattered houses between which they passed in town +were small and desolate in contrast to the expanse of huge +snowy yards and wide street. They crossed the railroad tracks, +and instantly were in the farm country. The big piebald +horses snorted clouds of steam, and started to trot. The +carriage squeaked in rhythm. Kennicott drove with clucks +of "There boy, take it easy!" He was thinking. He paid no +attention to Carol. Yet it was he who commented, "Pretty +nice, over there," as they approached an oak-grove where +shifty winter sunlight quivered in the hollow between two +snow-drifts. + +They drove from the natural prairie to a cleared district +which twenty years ago had been forest. The country seemed +to stretch unchanging to the North Pole: low hill, brush- +scraggly bottom, reedy creek, muskrat mound, fields with +frozen brown clods thrust up through the snow. + +Her ears and nose were pinched; her breath frosted her +collar; her fingers ached. + +"Getting colder," she said. + +"Yup." + +That was all their conversation for three miles. Yet she +was happy. + +They reached Nels Erdstrom's at four, and with a throb +she recognized the courageous venture which had lured her +to Gopher Prairie: the cleared fields, furrows among stumps, +a log cabin chinked with mud and roofed with dry hay. But +Nels had prospered. He used the log cabin as a barn; and +a new house reared up, a proud, unwise, Gopher Prairie house, +the more naked and ungraceful in its glossy white paint and +pink trimmings. Every tree had been cut down. The house +was so unsheltered, so battered by the wind, so bleakly thrust +out into the harsh clearing, that Carol shivered. But they +were welcomed warmly enough in the kitchen, with its crisp +new plaster, its black and nickel range, its cream separator +in a corner. + +Mrs. Erdstrom begged her to sit in the parlor, where there +was a phonograph and an oak and leather davenport, the +prairie farmer's proofs of social progress, but she dropped down +by the kitchen stove and insisted, "Please don't mind me." +When Mrs. Erdstrom had followed the doctor out of the room +Carol glanced in a friendly way at the grained pine cupboard, +the framed Lutheran Konfirmations Attest, the traces of fried +eggs and sausages on the dining table against the wall, and a +jewel among calendars, presenting not only a lithographic +young woman with cherry lips, and a Swedish advertisement +of Axel Egge's grocery, but also a thermometer and a match- +holder. + +She saw that a boy of four or five was staring at her from +the hall, a boy in gingham shirt and faded corduroy trousers, +but large-eyed, firm-mouthed, wide-browed. He vanished, then +peeped in again, biting his knuckles, turning his shoulder toward +her in shyness. + +Didn't she remember--what was it?--Kennicott sitting beside +her at Fort Snelling, urging, "See how scared that baby +is. Needs some woman like you." + +Magic had fluttered about her then--magic of sunset and +cool air and the curiosity of lovers. She held out her hands as +much to that sanctity as to the boy. + +He edged into the room, doubtfully sucking his thumb. + +"Hello," she said. "What's your name?" + +"Hee, hee, hee!" + +"You're quite right. I agree with you. Silly people like +me always ask children their names." + +"Hee, hee, hee!" + +"Come here and I'll tell you the story of--well, I don't +know what it will be about, but it will have a slim heroine +and a Prince Charming." + +He stood stoically while she spun nonsense. His giggling +ceased. She was winning him. Then the telephone bell--two +long rings, one short. + +Mrs. Erdstrom galloped into the room, shrieked into the +transmitter, "Vell? Yes, yes, dis is Erdstrom's place! Heh? +Oh, you vant de doctor?" + +Kennicott appeared, growled into the telephone: + +"Well, what do you want? Oh, hello Dave; what do you +want? Which Morgenroth's? Adolph's? All right. +Amputation? Yuh, I see. Say, Dave, get Gus to harness up and +take my surgical kit down there--and have him take some +chloroform. I'll go straight down from here. May not get +home tonight. You can get me at Adolph's. Huh? No, Carrie +can give the anesthetic, I guess. G'-by. Huh? No; tell me +about that tomorrow--too damn many people always listening +in on this farmers' line." + +He turned to Carol. "Adolph Morgenroth, farmer ten miles +southwest of town, got his arm crushed-fixing his cow-shed +and a post caved in on him--smashed him up pretty bad-- +may have to amputate, Dave Dyer says. Afraid we'll have +to go right from here. Darn sorry to drag you clear down +there with me----" + +"Please do. Don't mind me a bit." + +"Think you could give the anesthetic? Usually have my +driver do it." + +"If you'll tell me how." + +"All right. Say, did you hear me putting one over on these +goats that are always rubbering in on party-wires? I hope +they heard me! Well. . . . Now, Bessie, don't you worry +about Nels. He's getting along all right. Tomorrow you or +one of the neighbors drive in and get this prescription filled +at Dyer's. Give him a teaspoonful every four hours. Good- +by. Hel-lo! Here's the little fellow! My Lord, Bessie, it +ain't possible this is the fellow that used to be so sickly? Why, +say, he's a great big strapping Svenska now--going to be bigger +'n his daddy!" + +Kennicott's bluffness made the child squirm with a delight +which Carol could not evoke. It was a humble wife who +followed the busy doctor out to the carriage, and her ambition +was not to play Rachmaninoff better, nor to build town halls, +but to chuckle at babies. + +The sunset was merely a flush of rose on a dome of silver, +with oak twigs and thin poplar branches against it, but a silo +on the horizon changed from a red tank to a tower of violet +misted over with gray. The purple road vanished, and without +lights, in the darkness of a world destroyed, they swayed on-- +toward nothing. + +It was a bumpy cold way to the Morgenroth farm, and +she was asleep when they arrived. + +Here was no glaring new house with a proud phonograph, +but a low whitewashed kitchen smelling of cream and cabbage. +Adolph Morgenroth was lying on a couch in the rarely used +dining-room. His heavy work-scarred wife was shaking her +hands in anxiety. + +Carol felt that Kennicott would do something magnificent +and startling. But he was casual. He greeted the man, "Well, +well, Adolph, have to fix you up, eh?" Quietly, to the wife, +"Hat die drug store my schwartze bag hier geschickt? So-- +schon. Wie viel Uhr ist 's? Sieben? Nun, lassen uns ein +wenig supper zuerst haben. Got any of that good beer left-- +giebt 's noch Bier?" + +He had supped in four minutes. His coat off, his sleeves +rolled up, he was scrubbing his hands in a tin basin in the +sink, using the bar of yellow kitchen soap. + +Carol had not dared to look into the farther room while +she labored over the supper of beer, rye bread, moist cornbeef +and cabbage, set on the kitchen table. The man in there +was groaning. In her one glance she had seen that his blue +flannel shirt was open at a corded tobacco-brown neck, the +hollows of which were sprinkled with thin black and gray hairs. +He was covered with a sheet, like a corpse, and outside the +sheet was his right arm, wrapped in towels stained with blood. + +But Kennicott strode into the other room gaily, and she +followed him. With surprising delicacy in his large fingers +he unwrapped the towels and revealed an arm which, below +the elbow, was a mass of blood and raw flesh. The man bellowed. +The room grew thick about her; she was very seasick; +she fled to a chair in the kitchen. Through the haze of nausea +she heard Kennicott grumbling, "Afraid it will have to come +off, Adolph. What did you do? Fall on a reaper blade? +We'll fix it right up. Carrie! CAROL!" + +She couldn't--she couldn't get up. Then she was up, her +knees like water, her stomach revolving a thousand times a +second, her eyes filmed, her ears full of roaring. She couldn't +reach the dining-room. She was going to faint. Then she +was in the dining-room, leaning against the wall, trying to +smile, flushing hot and cold along her chest and sides, while +Kennicott mumbled, "Say, help Mrs. Morgenroth and me +carry him in on the kitchen table. No, first go out and shove +those two tables together, and put a blanket on them and a +clean sheet." + +It was salvation to push the heavy tables, to scrub them, +to be exact in placing the sheet. Her head cleared; she was +able to look calmly in at her husband and the farmwife while +they undressed the wailing man, got him into a clean nightgown, +and washed his arm. Kennicott came to lay out his instruments. +She realized that, with no hospital facilities, yet with +no worry about it, her husband--HER HUSBAND--was going to +perform a surgical operation, that miraculous boldness of which +one read in stories about famous surgeons. + +She helped them to move Adolph into the kitchen. The +man was in such a funk that he would not use his legs. He +was heavy, and smelled of sweat and the stable. But she put +her arm about his waist, her sleek head by his chest; she +tugged at him; she clicked her tongue in imitation of Kennicott's +cheerful noises. + +When Adolph was on the table Kennicott laid a hemispheric +steel and cotton frame on his face; suggested to Carol, "Now +you sit here at his head and keep the ether dripping--about +this fast, see? I'll watch his breathing. Look who's here! +Real anesthetist! Ochsner hasn't got a better one! Class, +eh? . . . Now, now, Adolph, take it easy. This won't hurt +you a bit. Put you all nice and asleep and it won't hurt a +bit. Schweig' mal! Bald schlaft man grat wie ein Kind. So! +So! Bald geht's besser!" + +As she let the ether drip, nervously trying to keep the +rhythm that Kennicott had indicated, Carol stared at her husband +with the abandon of hero-worship. + +He shook his head. "Bad light--bad light. Here, Mrs. +Morgenroth, you stand right here and hold this lamp. Hier, +und dieses--dieses lamp halten--so!" + +By that streaky glimmer he worked, swiftly, at ease. The +room was still. Carol tried to look at him, yet not look at the +seeping blood, the crimson slash, the vicious scalpel. The +ether fumes were sweet, choking. Her head seemed to be +floating away from her body. Her arm was feeble. + +It was not the blood but the grating of the surgical saw on +the living bone that broke her, and she knew that she had +been fighting off nausea, that she was beaten. She was lost +in dizziness. She heard Kennicott's voice + +"Sick? Trot outdoors couple minutes. Adolph will stay +under now." + +She was fumbling at a door-knob which whirled in insulting +circles; she was on the stoop, gasping, forcing air into her +chest, her head clearing. As she returned she caught the scene +as a whole: the cavernous kitchen, two milk-cans a leaden +patch by the wall, hams dangling from a beam, bats of light +at the stove door, and in the center, illuminated by a small +glass lamp held by a frightened stout woman, Dr. Kennicott +bending over a body which was humped under a sheet--the +surgeon, his bare arms daubed with blood, his hands, in pale- +yellow rubber gloves, loosening the tourniquet, his face without +emotion save when he threw up his head and clucked at the +farmwife, "Hold that light steady just a second more--noch +blos esn wenig." + +"He speaks a vulgar, common, incorrect German of life +and death and birth and the soil. I read the French and +German of sentimental lovers and Christmas garlands. And +I thought that it was I who had the culture!" she worshiped +as she returned to her place. + +After a time he snapped, "That's enough. Don't give him +any more ether." He was concentrated on tying an artery. +His gruffness seemed heroic to her. + +As he shaped the flap of flesh she murmured, "Oh, you ARE +wonderful!" + +He was surprised. "Why, this is a cinch. Now if it had +been like last week---- Get me some more water. Now last +week I had a case with an ooze in the peritoneal cavity, and +by golly if it wasn't a stomach ulcer that I hadn't suspected +and---- There. Say, I certainly am sleepy. Let's turn in +here. Too late to drive home. And tastes to me like a storm +coming." + + +IX + + +They slept on a feather bed with their fur coats over them; +in the morning they broke ice in the pitcher--the vast flowered +and gilt pitcher. + +Kennicott's storm had not come. When they set out it was +hazy and growing warmer. After a mile she saw that he was +studying a dark cloud in the north. He urged the horses to +the run. But she forgot his unusual haste in wonder at the +tragic landscape. The pale snow, the prickles of old stubble, +and the clumps of ragged brush faded into a gray obscurity. +Under the hillocks were cold shadows. The willows about a +farmhouse were agitated by the rising wind, and the patches of +bare wood where the bark had peeled away were white as the +flesh of a leper. The snowy slews were of a harsh flatness. +The whole land was cruel, and a climbing cloud of slate-edged +blackness dominated the sky. + +"Guess we're about in for a blizzard," speculated Kennicott +"We can make Ben McGonegal's, anyway." + +"Blizzard? Really? Why---- But still we used to think +they were fun when I was a girl. Daddy had to stay home +from court, and we'd stand at the window and watch the +snow." + +"Not much fun on the prairie. Get lost. Freeze to death. +Take no chances." He chirruped at the horses. They were +flying now, the carriage rocking on the hard ruts. + +The whole air suddenly crystallized into large damp flakes. +The horses and the buffalo robe were covered with snow; her +face was wet; the thin butt of the whip held a white ridge. +The air became colder. The snowflakes were harder; they +shot in level lines, clawing at her face. + +She could not see a hundred feet ahead. + +Kennicott was stern. He bent forward, the reins firm in his +coonskin gauntlets. She was certain that he would get through. +He always got through things. + +Save for his presence, the world and all normal living +disappeared. They were lost in the boiling snow. He leaned close +to bawl, "Letting the horses have their heads. They'll get us +home." + +With a terrifying bump they were off the road, slanting with +two wheels in the ditch, but instantly they were jerked back +as the horses fled on. She gasped. She tried to, and did not, +feel brave as she pulled the woolen robe up about her chin. + +They were passing something like a dark wall on the right. +"I know that barn!" he yelped. He pulled at the reins. +Peeping from the covers she saw his teeth pinch his lower lip, +saw him scowl as he slackened and sawed and jerked sharply +again at the racing horses. + +They stopped. + +"Farmhouse there. Put robe around you and come on," he +cried. + +It was like diving into icy water to climb out of the carriage, +but on the ground she smiled at him, her face little and childish +and pink above the buffalo robe over her shoulders. In a +swirl of flakes which scratched at their eyes like a maniac +darkness, he unbuckled the harness. He turned and plodded +back, a ponderous furry figure, holding the horses' bridles, +Carol's hand dragging at his sleeve. + +They came to the cloudy bulk of a barn whose outer wall was +directly upon the road. Feeling along it, he found a gate, led +them into a yard, into the barn. The interior was warm. It +stunned them with its languid quiet. + +He carefully drove the horses into stalls. + +Her toes were coals of pain. "Let's run for the house," she +said. + +"Can't. Not yet. Might never find it. Might get lost ten +feet away from it. Sit over in this stall, near the horses. +We'll rush for the house when the blizzard lifts." + +"I'm so stiff! I can't walk!" + +He carried her into the stall, stripped off her overshoes and +boots, stopping to blow on his purple fingers as he fumbled +at her laces. He rubbed her feet, and covered her with the +buffalo robe and horse-blankets from the pile on the feed-box. +She was drowsy, hemmed in by the storm. She sighed: + +"You're so strong and yet so skilful and not afraid of +blood or storm or----" + +"Used to it. Only thing that's bothered me was the chance +the ether fumes might explode, last night." + +"I don't understand." + +"Why, Dave, the darn fool, sent me ether, instead of chloroform +like I told him, and you know ether fumes are mighty +inflammable, especially with that lamp right by the table. But +I had to operate, of course--wound chuck-full of barnyard +filth that way." + +"You knew all the time that---- Both you and I might +have been blown up? You knew it while you were operating?" + +"Sure. Didn't you? Why, what's the matter?" + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +KENNICOTT was heavily pleased by her Christmas presents, +and he gave her a diamond bar-pin. But she could not persuade +herself that he was much interested in the rites of the morning, +in the tree she had decorated, the three stockings she had +hung, the ribbons and gilt seals and hidden messages. He +said only: + +"Nice way to fix things, all right. What do you say we +go down to Jack Elder's and have a game of five hundred this +afternoon?" + +She remembered her father's Christmas fantasies: the sacred +old rag doll at the top of the tree, the score of cheap presents, +the punch and carols, the roast chestnuts by the fire, and the +gravity with which the judge opened the children's scrawly +notes and took cognizance of demands for sled-rides, for opinions +upon the existence of Santa Claus. She remembered him +reading out a long indictment of himself for being a sentimentalist, +against the peace and dignity of the State of Minnesota. +She remembered his thin legs twinkling before their sled---- + +She muttered unsteadily, "Must run up and put on my shoes +--slippers so cold." In the not very romantic solitude of the +locked bathroom she sat on the slippery edge of the tub and +wept. + + +II + + +Kennicott had five hobbies: medicine, land-investment, Carol, +motoring, and hunting. It is not certain in what order he +preferred them. Solid though his enthusiasms were in the matter +of medicine--his admiration of this city surgeon, his +condemnation of that for tricky ways of persuading country +practitioners to bring in surgical patients, his indignation about +fee-splitting, his pride in a new X-ray apparatus--none of +these beatified him as did motoring. + +He nursed his two-year-old Buick even in winter, when it +was stored in the stable-garage behind the house. He filled +the grease-cups, varnished a fender, removed from beneath the +back seat the debris of gloves, copper washers, crumpled maps, +dust, and greasy rags. Winter noons he wandered out and +stared owlishly at the car. He became excited over a fabulous +"trip we might take next summer." He galloped to the station, +brought home railway maps, and traced motor-routes from +Gopher Prairie to Winnipeg or Des Moines or Grand Marais, +thinking aloud and expecting her to be effusive about such +academic questions as "Now I wonder if we could stop at +Baraboo and break the jump from La Crosse to Chicago?" + +To him motoring was a faith not to be questioned, a high- +church cult, with electric sparks for candles, and piston-rings +possessing the sanctity of altar-vessels. His liturgy was +composed of intoned and metrical road-comments: "They say +there's a pretty good hike from Duluth to International Falls." + +Hunting was equally a devotion, full of metaphysical +concepts veiled from Carol. All winter he read sporting- +catalogues, and thought about remarkable past shots: " 'Member +that time when I got two ducks on a long chance, just at +sunset?" At least once a month he drew his favorite repeating +shotgun, his "pump gun," from its wrapper of greased +canton flannel; he oiled the trigger, and spent silent ecstatic +moments aiming at the ceiling. Sunday mornings Carol heard +him trudging up to the attic and there, an hour later, she +found him turning over boots, wooden duck-decoys, lunch- +boxes, or reflectively squinting at old shells, rubbing their +brass caps with his sleeve and shaking his head as he thought +about their uselessness. + +He kept the loading-tools he had used as a boy: a capper +for shot-gun shells, a mold for lead bullets. When once, in a +housewifely frenzy for getting rid of things, she raged, "Why +don't you give these away?" he solemnly defended them, +"Well, you can't tell; they might come in handy some day." + +She flushed. She wondered if he was thinking of the child +they would have when, as he put it, they were "sure they +could afford one." + +Mysteriously aching, nebulously sad, she slipped away, half- +convinced but only half-convinced that it was horrible and +unnatural, this postponement of release of mother-affection, this +sacrifice to her opinionation and to his cautious desire for +prosperity. + +"But it would be worse if he were like Sam Clark-- +insisted on having children," she considered; then, +"If Will were the Prince, wouldn't I DEMAND his child?" + +Kennicott's land-deals were both financial advancement and +favorite game. Driving through the country, he noticed which +farms had good crops; he heard the news about the restless +farmer who was "thinking about selling out here and pulling +his freight for Alberta." He asked the veterinarian about the +value of different breeds of stock; he inquired of Lyman Cass +whether or not Einar Gyseldson really had had a yield of forty +bushels of wheat to the acre. He was always consulting Julius +Flickerbaugh, who handled more real estate than law, and more law +than justice. He studied township maps, and read notices of auctions. + +Thus he was able to buy a quarter-section of land for one +hundred and fifty dollars an acre, and to sell it in a year or +two, after installing a cement floor in the barn and running +water in the house, for one hundred and eighty or even two +hundred. + +He spoke of these details to Sam Clark. . .rather often. + +In all his games, cars and guns and land, he expected Carol +to take an interest. But he did not give her the facts which +might have created interest. He talked only of the obvious and +tedious aspects; never of his aspirations in finance, nor of the +mechanical principles of motors. + +This month of romance she was eager to understand his +hobbies. She shivered in the garage while he spent half an hour +in deciding whether to put alcohol or patent non-freezing liquid +into the radiator, or to drain out the water entirely. "Or no, +then I wouldn't want to take her out if it turned warm-- +still, of course, I could fill the radiator again--wouldn't take +so awful long--just take a few pails of water--still, if it turned +cold on me again before I drained it---- Course there's some +people that put in kerosene, but they say it rots the hose- +connections and---- Where did I put that lug-wrench?" + +It was at this point that she gave up being a motorist and +retired to the house. + +In their new intimacy he was more communicative about his +practise; he informed her, with the invariable warning not to +tell, that Mrs. Sunderquist had another baby coming, that the +"hired girl at Howland's was in trouble." But when she asked +technical questions he did not know how to answer; when she +inquired, "Exactly what is the method of taking out the +tonsils?" he yawned, "Tonsilectomy? Why you just---- If +there's pus, you operate. Just take 'em out. Seen the +newspaper? What the devil did Bea do with it?" + +She did not try again. + + +III + + +They had gone to the "movies." The movies were almost +as vital to Kennicott and the other solid citizens of Gopher +Prairie as land-speculation and guns and automobiles. + +The feature film portrayed a brave young Yankee who +conquered a South American republic. He turned the natives from +their barbarous habits of singing and laughing to the vigorous +sanity, the Pep and Punch and Go, of the North; he taught +them to work in factories, to wear Klassy Kollege Klothes, and +to shout, "Oh, you baby doll, watch me gather in the mazuma." +He changed nature itself. A mountain which had borne nothing +but lilies and cedars and loafing clouds was by his Hustle +so inspirited that it broke out in long wooden sheds, and piles +of iron ore to be converted into steamers to carry iron ore +to be converted into steamers to carry iron ore. + +The intellectual tension induced by the master film was +relieved by a livelier, more lyric and less philosophical drama: +Mack Schnarken and the Bathing Suit Babes in a comedy of +manners entitled "Right on the Coco." Mr. Schnarken was at +various high moments a cook, a life-guard, a burlesque actor, +and a sculptor. There was a hotel hallway up which policemen +charged, only to be stunned by plaster busts hurled upon them +from the innumerous doors. If the plot lacked lucidity, the +dual motif of legs and pie was clear and sure. Bathing and +modeling were equally sound occasions for legs; the wedding- +scene was but an approach to the thunderous climax when Mr. +Schnarken slipped a piece of custard pie into the clergyman's +rear pocket. + +The audience in the Rosebud Movie Palace squealed and +wiped their eyes; they scrambled under the seats for overshoes, +mittens, and mufflers, while the screen announced that +next week Mr. Schnarken might be seen in a new, riproaring, +extra-special superfeature of the Clean Comedy Corporation +entitled, "Under Mollie's Bed." + +"I'm glad," said Carol to Kennicott as they stooped before +the northwest gale which was torturing the barren street, "that +this is a moral country. We don't allow any of these beastly +frank novels." + +"Yump. Vice Society and Postal Department won't stand +for them. The American people don't like filth." + +"Yes. It's fine. I'm glad we have such dainty romances as +`Right on the Coco' instead." + +"Say what in heck do you think you're trying to do? Kid +me?" + +He was silent. She awaited his anger. She meditated upon +his gutter patois, the Boeotian dialect characteristic of Gopher +Prairie. He laughed puzzlingly. When they came into the +glow of the house he laughed again. He condescended: + +"I've got to hand it to you. You're consistent, all right. +I'd of thought that after getting this look-in at a lot of good +decent farmers, you'd get over this high-art stuff, but you +hang right on." + +"Well----" To herself: "He takes advantage of my trying +to be good." + +"Tell you, Carrie: There's just three classes of people: +folks that haven't got any ideas at all; and cranks that kick +about everything; and Regular Guys, the fellows with stick- +tuitiveness, that boost and get the world's work done." + +"Then I'm probably a crank." She smiled negligently. + +"No. I won't admit it. You do like to talk, but at a +show-down you'd prefer Sam Clark to any damn long-haired +artist." + +"Oh--well----" + +"Oh well!" mockingly. "My, we're just going to change +everything, aren't we! Going to tell fellows that have been +making movies for ten years how to direct 'em; and tell +architects how to build towns; and make the magazines publish +nothing but a lot of highbrow stories about old maids, and +about wives that don't know what they want. Oh, we're +a terror! . . . Come on now, Carrie; come out of it; +wake up! You've got a fine nerve, kicking about a movie +because it shows a few legs! Why, you're always touting these +Greek dancers, or whatever they are, that don't even wear a +shimmy!" + +"But, dear, the trouble with that film--it wasn't that it +got in so many legs, but that it giggled coyly and promised +to show more of them, and then didn't keep the promise. It +was Peeping Tom's idea of humor." + +"I don't get you. Look here now----" + +She lay awake, while he rumbled with sleep + +"I must go on. My `crank ideas;' he calls them. I thought +that adoring him, watching him operate, would be enough. It +isn't. Not after the first thrill. + +"I don't want to hurt him. But I must go on. + +"It isn't enough, to stand by while he fills an automobile +radiator and chucks me bits of information. + +"If I stood by and admired him long enough, I would be +content. I would become a `nice little woman.' The Village +Virus. Already---- I'm not reading anything. I haven't +touched the piano for a week. I'm letting the days drown in +worship of `a good deal, ten plunks more per acre.' I won't! +I won't succumb! + +"How? I've failed at everything: the Thanatopsis, +parties, pioneers, city hall, Guy and Vida. But---- It doesn't +MATTER! I'm not trying to `reform the town' now. I'm not +trying to organize Browning Clubs, and sit in clean white +kids yearning up at lecturers with ribbony eyeglasses. I am +trying to save my soul. + +"Will Kennicott, asleep there, trusting me, thinking he holds +me. And I'm leaving him. All of me left him when he laughed +at me. It wasn't enough for him that I admired him; I must +change myself and grow like him. He takes advantage. No +more. It's finished. I will go on." + + +IV + + +Her violin lay on top of the upright piano. She picked it +up. Since she had last touched it the dried strings had snapped, +and upon it lay a gold and crimson cigar-band. + + +V + + +She longed to see Guy Pollock, for the confirming of the +brethren in the faith. But Kennicott's dominance was heavy +upon her. She could not determine whether she was checked +by fear or him, or by inertia--by dislike of the emotional labor +of the "scenes" which would be involved in asserting +independence. She was like the revolutionist at fifty: not afraid +of death, but bored by the probability of bad steaks and bad +breaths and sitting up all night on windy barricades. + +The second evening after the movies she impulsively +summoned Vida Sherwin and Guy to the house for pop-corn and +cider. In the living-room Vida and Kennicott debated "the +value of manual training in grades below the eighth," while +Carol sat beside Guy at the dining table, buttering pop-corn. +She was quickened by the speculation in his eyes. She +murmured: + +"Guy, do you want to help me?" + +"My dear! How?" + +"I don't know!" + +He waited. + +"I think I want you to help me find out what has made the +darkness of the women. Gray darkness and shadowy trees. +We're all in it, ten million women, young married women with +good prosperous husbands, and business women in linen collars, +and grandmothers that gad out to teas, and wives of under- +paid miners, and farmwives who really like to make butter and +go to church. What is it we want--and need? Will Kennicott +there would say that we need lots of children and hard work. +But it isn't that. There's the same discontent in women with +eight children and one more coming--always one more coming! +And you find it in stenographers and wives who scrub, just +as much as in girl college-graduates who wonder how they can +escape their kind parents. What do we want?" + +"Essentially, I think, you are like myself, Carol; you want +to go back to an age of tranquillity and charming manners. +You want to enthrone good taste again." + +"Just good taste? Fastidious people? Oh--no! I believe +all of us want the same things--we're all together, +the industrial workers and the women and the farmers and the +negro race and the Asiatic colonies, and even a few of the +Respectables. It's all the same revolt, in all the classes that +have waited and taken advice. I think perhaps we want a +more conscious life. We're tired of drudging and sleeping and +dying. We're tired of seeing just a few people able to be +individualists. We're tired of always deferring hope till the next +generation. We're tired of hearing the politicians and priests +and cautious reformers (and the husbands!) coax us, `Be +calm! Be patient! Wait! We have the plans for a Utopia +already made; just give us a bit more time and we'll produce +it; trust us; we're wiser than you.' For ten thousand years +they've said that. We want our Utopia NOW--and we're going +to try our hands at it. All we want is--everything for all of +us! For every housewife and every longshoreman and every +Hindu nationalist and every teacher. We want everything. +We shatn't get it. So we shatn't ever be content----" + +She wondered why he was wincing. He broke in: + +"See here, my dear, I certainly hope you don't class yourself +with a lot of trouble-making labor-leaders! Democracy +is all right theoretically, and I'll admit there are industrial +injustices, but I'd rather have them than see the world reduced +to a dead level of mediocrity. I refuse to believe that you +have anything in common with a lot of laboring men rowing +for bigger wages so that they can buy wretched flivvers and +hideous player-pianos and----" + +At this second, in Buenos Ayres, a newspaper editor broke +his routine of being bored by exchanges to assert, "Any +injustice is better than seeing the world reduced to a gray level +of scientific dullness." At this second a clerk standing at +the bar of a New York saloon stopped milling his secret fear +of his nagging office-manager long enough to growl at the +chauffeur beside him, "Aw, you socialists make me sick! I'm +an individualist. I ain't going to be nagged by no bureaus +and take orders off labor-leaders. And mean to say a hobo's +as good as you and me?" + +At this second Carol realized that for all Guy's love of dead +elegances his timidity was as depressing to her as the bulkiness +of Sam Clark. She realized that he was not a mystery, as she +had excitedly believed; not a romantic messenger from the +World Outside on whom she could count for escape. He +belonged to Gopher Prairie, absolutely. She was snatched back +from a dream of far countries, and found herself on Main +Street. + +He was completing his protest, "You don't want to be +mixed up in all this orgy of meaningless discontent?" + +She soothed him. "No, I don't. I'm not heroic. I'm +scared by all the fighting that's going on in the world. I +want nobility and adventure, but perhaps I want still more to +curl on the hearth with some one I love." + +"Would you----" + +He did not finish it. He picked up a handful of pop-corn, +let it run through his fingers, looked at her wistfully. + +With the loneliness of one who has put away a possible love +Carol saw that he was a stranger. She saw that he had never +been anything but a frame on which she had hung shining +garments. If she had let him diffidently make love to her, it was +not because she cared, but because she did not care, because +it did not matter. + +She smiled at him with the exasperating tactfulness of a +woman checking a flirtation; a smile like an airy pat on the +arm. She sighed, "You're a dear to let me tell you my imaginary +troubles." She bounced up, and trilled, "Shall we take +the pop-corn in to them now?" + +Guy looked after her desolately. + +While she teased Vida and Kennicott she was repeating, "I +must go on." + + +VI + + +Miles Bjornstam, the pariah "Red Swede," had brought +his circular saw and portable gasoline engine to the house, to +cut the cords of poplar for the kitchen range. Kennicott had +given the order; Carol knew nothing of it till she heard the +ringing of the saw, and glanced out to see Bjornstam, in +black leather jacket and enormous ragged purple mittens, pressing +sticks against the whirling blade, and flinging the stove- +lengths to one side. The red irritable motor kept up a red +irritable "tip-tip-tip-tip-tip-tip." The whine of the saw rose +till it simulated the shriek of a fire-alarm whistle at night, +but always at the end it gave a lively metallic clang, and in +the stillness she heard the flump of the cut stick falling on the +pile. + +She threw a motor robe over her, ran out. Bjornstam +welcomed her, "Well, well, well! Here's old Miles, fresh as ever. +Well say, that's all right; he ain't even begun to be cheeky yet; +next summer he's going to take you out on his horse-trading +trip, clear into Idaho." + +"Yes, and I may go!" + +"How's tricks? Crazy about the town yet?" + +"No, but I probably shall be, some day." + +"Don't let 'em get you. Kick 'em in the face!" + +He shouted at her while he worked. The pile of stove- +wood grew astonishingly. The pale bark of the poplar sticks +was mottled with lichens of sage-green and dusty gray; the +newly sawed ends were fresh-colored, with the agreeable +roughness of a woolen muffler. To the sterile winter air the +wood gave a scent of March sap. + +Kennicott telephoned that he was going into the country. +Bjornstam had not finished his work at noon, and she invited +him to have dinner with Bea in the kitchen. She wished that +she were independent enough to dine with these her guests. +She considered their friendliness, she sneered at "social +distinctions," she raged at her own taboos--and she continued to +regard them as retainers and herself as a lady. She sat in +the dining-room and listened through the door to Bjornstam's +booming and Bea's giggles. She was the more absurd to herself +in that, after the rite of dining alone, she could go out to +the kitchen, lean against the sink, and talk to them. + +They were attracted to each other; a Swedish Othello and +Desdemona, more useful and amiable than their prototypes. +Bjornstam told his scapes: selling horses in a Montana mining- +camp, breaking a log-jam, being impertinent to a "two- +fisted" millionaire lumberman. Bea gurgled "Oh my!" and +kept his coffee cup filled. + +He took a long time to finish the wood. He had frequently +to go into the kitchen to get warm. Carol heard him confiding +to Bea, "You're a darn nice Swede girl. I guess if +I had a woman like you I wouldn't be such a sorehead. Gosh, +your kitchen is clean; makes an old bach feel sloppy. Say, +that's nice hair you got. Huh? Me fresh? Saaaay, girl, if +I ever do get fresh, you'll know it. Why, I could pick you up +with one finger, and hold you in the air long enough to read +Robert J. Ingersoll clean through. Ingersoll? Oh, he's a +religious writer. Sure. You'd like him fine." + +When he drove off he waved to Bea; and Carol, lonely at the +window above, was envious of their pastoral. + +"And I---- But I will go on." + + +CHAPTER XVII + +I + +THEY were driving down the lake to the cottages that moonlit +January night, twenty of them in the bob-sled. They sang +"Toy Land" and "Seeing Nelly Home"; they leaped from the +low back of the sled to race over the slippery snow ruts; and +when they were tired they climbed on the runners for a lift. +The moon-tipped flakes kicked up by the horses settled over the +revelers and dripped down their necks, but they laughed, yelped, +beat their leather mittens against their chests. The harness +rattled, the sleigh-bells were frantic, Jack Elder's setter sprang +beside the horses, barking. + +For a time Carol raced with them. The cold air gave +fictive power. She felt that she could run on all night, leap +twenty feet at a stride. But the excess of energy tired her, and +she was glad to snuggle under the comforters which covered the +hay in the sled-box. + +In the midst of the babel she found enchanted quietude. + +Along the road the shadows from oak-branches were inked +on the snow like bars of music. Then the sled came out on the +surface of Lake Minniemashie. Across the thick ice was a +veritable road, a short-cut for farmers. On the glaring +expanse of the lake-levels of hard crust, flashes of green ice +blown clear, chains of drifts ribbed like the sea-beach--the +moonlight was overwhelming. It stormed on the snow, it +turned the woods ashore into crystals of fire. The night was +tropical and voluptuous. In that drugged magic there was no +difference between heavy heat and insinuating cold. + +Carol was dream-strayed. The turbulent voices, even Guy +Pollock being connotative beside her, were nothing. She +repeated: + + Deep on the convent-roof the snows + Are sparkling to the moon. + + +The words and the light blurred into one vast indefinite +happiness, and she believed that some great thing was coming +to her. She withdrew from the clamor into a worship of +incomprehensible gods. The night expanded, she was conscious +of the universe, and all mysteries stooped down to her. + +She was jarred out of her ecstasy as the bob-sled bumped up +the steep road to the bluff where stood the cottages. + +They dismounted at Jack Elder's shack. The interior walls +of unpainted boards, which had been grateful in August, were +forbidding in the chill. In fur coats and mufflers tied over +caps they were a strange company, bears and walruses talking. +Jack Elder lighted the shavings waiting in the belly of a +cast-iron stove which was like an enlarged bean-pot. They +piled their wraps high on a rocker, and cheered the rocker as +it solemnly tipped over backward. + +Mrs. Elder and Mrs. Sam Clark made coffee in an enormous +blackened tin pot; Vida Sherwin and Mrs. McGanum unpacked +doughnuts and gingerbread; Mrs. Dave Dyer warmed up "hot +dogs"--frankfurters in rolls; Dr. Terry Gould, after announcing, +"Ladies and gents, prepare to be shocked; shock line +forms on the right," produced a bottle of bourbon whisky. + +The others danced, muttering "Ouch!" as their frosted feet +struck the pine planks. Carol had lost her dream. Harry +Haydock lifted her by the waist and swung her. She laughed. +The gravity of the people who stood apart and talked made +her the more impatient for frolic. + +Kennicott, Sam Clark, Jackson Elder, young Dr. McGanum, +and James Madison Howland, teetering on their toes near the +stove, conversed with the sedate pomposity of the commercialist. +In details the men were unlike, yet they said the same things +in the same hearty monotonous voices. You had to look at +them to see which was speaking. + +"Well, we made pretty good time coming up," from one-- +any one. + +"Yump, we hit it up after we struck the good going on the +lake." + +"Seems kind of slow though, after driving an auto." + +"Yump, it does, at that. Say, how'd you make out with +that Sphinx tire you got?" + +"Seems to hold out fine. Still, I don't know's I like it any +better than the Roadeater Cord." + +"Yump, nothing better than a Roadeater. Especially the +cord. The cord's lots better than the fabric." + +"Yump, you said something---- Roadeater's a good tire." + +"Say, how'd you come out with Pete Garsheim on his +payments?" + +"He's paying up pretty good. That's a nice piece of land +he's got." + +"Yump, that's a dandy farm." + +"Yump, Pete's got a good place there." + +They glided from these serious topics into the jocose insults +which are the wit of Main Street. Sam Clark was particularly +apt at them. "What's this wild-eyed sale of summer caps +you think you're trying to pull off?" he clamored at Harry +Haydock. "Did you steal 'em, or are you just overcharging us, +as usual? . . . Oh say, speaking about caps, d'I ever tell +you the good one I've got on Will? The doc thinks he's a +pretty good driver, fact, he thinks he's almost got human +intelligence, but one time he had his machine out in the rain, +and the poor fish, he hadn't put on chains, and thinks I----" + +Carol had heard the story rather often. She fled back +to the dancers, and at Dave Dyer's masterstroke of dropping an +icicle down Mrs. McGanum's back she applauded hysterically. + +They sat on the floor, devouring the food. The men giggled +amiably as they passed the whisky bottle, and laughed, +"There's a real sport!" when Juanita Haydock took a sip. +Carol tried to follow; she believed that she desired to be drunk +and riotous; but the whisky choked her and as she saw Kennicott +frown she handed the bottle on repentantly. Somewhat +too late she remembered that she had given up domesticity and +repentance. + +"Let's play charades!" said Raymie Wutherspoon. + +"Oh yes, do let us," said Ella Stowbody. + +"That's the caper," sanctioned Harry Haydock. + +They interpreted the word "making" as May and King. +The crown was a red flannel mitten cocked on Sam Clark's +broad pink bald head. They forgot they were respectable. +They made-believe. Carol was stimulated to cry: + +"Let's form a dramatic club and give a play! Shall we? +It's been so much fun tonight!" + +They looked affable. + +"Sure," observed Sam Clark loyally. + +"Oh, do let us! I think it would be lovely to present +`Romeo and Juliet'!" yearned Ella Stowbody. + +"Be a whale of a lot of fun," Dr. Terry Gould granted. + +"But if we did," Carol cautioned, "it would be awfully +silly to have amateur theatricals. We ought to paint our own +scenery and everything, and really do something fine. There'd +be a lot of hard work. Would you--would we all be punctual +at rehearsals, do you suppose?" + +"You bet!" "Sure." "That's the idea." "Fellow ought +to be prompt at rehearsals," they all agreed. + +"Then let's meet next week and form the Gopher Prairie +Dramatic Association!" Carol sang. + +She drove home loving these friends who raced through moonlit +snow, had Bohemian parties, and were about to create beauty +in the theater. Everything was solved. She would be an authentic +part of the town, yet escape the coma of the Village +Virus. . . . She would be free of Kennicott again, without +hurting him, without his knowing. + +She had triumphed. + +The moon was small and high now, and unheeding. + + +II + + +Though they had all been certain that they longed for the +privilege of attending committee meetings and rehearsals, the +dramatic association as definitely formed consisted only of +Kennicott, Carol, Guy Pollock, Vida Sherwin, Ella Stowbody, +the Harry Haydocks, the Dave Dyers, Raymie Wutherspoon, +Dr. Terry Gould, and four new candidates: flirtatious Rita +Simons, Dr. and Mrs. Harvey Dillon and Myrtle Cass, an uncomely +but intense girl of nineteen. Of these fifteen only seven came +to the first meeting. The rest telephoned their unparalleled +regrets and engagements and illnesses, and announced that +they would be present at all other meetings through eternity. + +Carol was made president and director. + +She had added the Dillons. Despite Kennicott's apprehension +the dentist and his wife had not been taken up by the +Westlakes but had remained as definitely outside really smart +society as Willis Woodford, who was teller, bookkeeper, and +janitor in Stowbody's bank. Carol had noted Mrs. Dillon +dragging past the house during a bridge of the Jolly Seventeen, +looking in with pathetic lips at the splendor of the accepted. +She impulsively invited the Dillons to the dramatic association +meeting, and when Kennicott was brusque to them she was +unusually cordial, and felt virtuous. + +That self-approval balanced her disappointment at the small- +ness of the meeting, and her embarrassment during Raymie +Wutherspoon's repetitions of "The stage needs uplifting," and +"I believe that there are great lessons in some plays." + +Ella Stowbody, who was a professional, having studied +elocution in Milwaukee, disapproved of Carol's enthusiasm for +recent plays. Miss Stowbody expressed the fundamental principle +of the American drama: the only way to be artistic is to +present Shakespeare. As no one listened to her she sat back +and looked like Lady Macbeth. + + +III + + +The Little Theaters, which were to give piquancy to American +drama three or four years later, were only in embryo. But +of this fast coming revolt Carol had premonitions. She knew +from some lost magazine article that in Dublin were innovators +called The Irish Players. She knew confusedly that a man +named Gordon Craig had painted scenery--or had he written +plays? She felt that in the turbulence of the drama she was +discovering a history more important than the commonplace +chronicles which dealt with senators and their pompous puerilities. +She had a sensation of familiarity; a dream of sitting +in a Brussels cafe and going afterward to a tiny gay theater +under a cathedral wall. + +The advertisement in the Minneapolis paper leaped from +the page to her eyes: + + The Cosmos School of Music, Oratory, and + Dramatic Art announces a program of four + one-act plays by Schnitzler, Shaw, Yeats, ard + Lord Dunsany. + + +She had to be there! She begged Kennicott to "run down +to the Cities" with her. + +"Well, I don't know. Be fun to take in a show, but why +the deuce do you want to see those darn foreign plays, given +by a lot of amateurs? Why don't you wait for a regular play, +later on? There's going to be some corkers coming: `Lottie +of Two-Gun Rancho,' and `Cops and Crooks'--real Broadway +stuff, with the New York casts. What's this junk you +want to see? Hm. `How He Lied to Her Husband.' That +doesn't listen so bad. Sounds racy. And, uh, well, I could +go to the motor show, I suppose. I'd like to see this new +Hup roadster. Well----" + +She never knew which attraction made him decide. + +She had four days of delightful worry--over the hole in +her one good silk petticoat, the loss of a string of beads from +her chiffon and brown velvet frock, the catsup stain on her best +georgette crepe blouse. She wailed, "I haven't a single solitary +thing that's fit to be seen in," and enjoyed herself very much +indeed. + +Kennicott went about casually letting people know that he +was "going to run down to the Cities and see some shows." + +As the train plodded through the gray prairie, on a windless +day with the smoke from the engine clinging to the fields in +giant cotton-rolls, in a low and writhing wall which shut off +the snowy fields, she did not look out of the window. She +closed her eyes and hummed, and did not know that she was +humming. + +She was the young poet attacking fame and Paris. + +In the Minneapolis station the crowd of lumberjacks, +farmers, and Swedish families with innumerous children and +grandparents and paper parcels, their foggy crowding and their +clamor confused her. She felt rustic in this once familiar city, +after a year and a half of Gopher Prairie. She was certain +that Kennicott was taking the wrong trolley-car. By dusk, the +liquor warehouses, Hebraic clothing-shops, and lodging- +houses on lower Hennepin Avenue were smoky, hideous, ill- +tempered. She was battered by the noise and shuttling of the +rush-hour traffic. When a clerk in an overcoat too closely +fitted at the waist stared at her, she moved nearer to Kennicott's +arm. The clerk was flippant and urban. He was a superior +person, used to this tumult. Was he laughing at her? + +For a moment she wanted the secure quiet of Gopher +Prairie. + +In the hotel-lobby she was self-conscious. She was not +used to hotels; she remembered with jealousy how often +Juanita Haydock talked of the famous hotels in Chicago. She +could not face the traveling salesmen, baronial in large leather +chairs. She wanted people to believe that her husband and +she were accustomed to luxury and chill elegance; she was +faintly angry at him for the vulgar way in which, after signing +the register "Dr. W. P. Kennicott & wife," he bellowed at +the clerk, "Got a nice room with bath for us, old man?" +She gazed about haughtily, but as she discovered that no one +was interested in her she felt foolish, and ashamed of her +irritation. + +She asserted, "This silly lobby is too florid," and +simultaneously she admired it: the onyx columns with gilt capitals, the +crown-embroidered velvet curtains at the restaurant door, the +silk-roped alcove where pretty girls perpetually waited for +mysterious men, the two-pound boxes of candy and the variety +of magazines at the news-stand. The hidden orchestra was +lively. She saw a man who looked like a European diplomat, +in a loose top-coat and a Homburg hat. A woman with a +broadtail coat, a heavy lace veil, pearl earrings, and a close +black hat entered the restaurant. "Heavens! That's the +first really smart woman I've seen in a year!" Carol exulted. +She felt metropolitan. + +But as she followed Kennicott to the elevator the coat- +check girl, a confident young woman, with cheeks powdered +like lime, and a blouse low and thin and furiously crimson, +inspected her, and under that supercilious glance Carol was +shy again. She unconsciously waited for the bellboy to precede +her into the elevator. When he snorted "Go ahead!" she was +mortified. He thought she was a hayseed, she worried. + +The moment she was in their room, with the bellboy safely +out of the way, she looked critically at Kennicott. For the +first time in months she really saw him. + +His clothes were too heavy and provincial. His decent +gray suit, made by Nat Hicks of Gopher Prairie, might have +been of sheet iron; it had no distinction of cut, no easy grace +like the diplomat's Burberry. His black shoes were blunt and +not well polished. His scarf was a stupid brown. He needed +a shave. + +But she forgot her doubt as she realized the ingenuities of +the room. She ran about, turning on the taps of the bathtub, +which gushed instead of dribbling like the taps at home, +snatching the new wash-rag out of its envelope of oiled +paper, trying the rose-shaded light between the twin beds, +pulling out the drawers of the kidney-shaped walnut desk to +examine the engraved stationery, planning to write on it to +every one she knew, admiring the claret-colored velvet armchair +and the blue rug, testing the ice-water tap, and squealing +happily when the water really did come out cold. She flung +her arms about Kennicott, kissed him. + +"Like it, old lady?" + +"It's adorable. It's so amusing. I love you for bringing me. +You really are a dear!" + +He looked blankly indulgent, and yawned, and condescended, +"That's a pretty slick arrangement on the radiator, so you can +adjust it at any temperature you want. Must take a big +furnace to run this place. Gosh, I hope Bea remembers to +turn off the drafts tonight." + +Under the glass cover of the dressing-table was a menu with +the most enchanting dishes: breast of guinea hen De Vitresse, +pommes de terre a la Russe, meringue Chantilly, gateaux +Bruxelles. + +"Oh, let's---- I'm going to have a hot bath, and put on my +new hat with the wool flowers, and let's go down and eat for +hours, and we'll have a cocktail!" she chanted. + +While Kennicott labored over ordering it was annoying to +see him permit the waiter to be impertinent, but as the cocktail +elevated her to a bridge among colored stars, as the +oysters came in--not canned oysters in the Gopher Prairie +fashion, but on the half-shell--she cried, "If you only knew +how wonderful it is not to have had to plan this dinner, and +order it at the butcher's and fuss and think about it, and then +watch Bea cook it! I feel so free. And to have new kinds of +food, and different patterns of dishes and linen, and not worry +about whether the pudding is being spoiled! Oh, this is a +great moment for me!" + + +IV + + +They had all the experiences of provincials in a metropolis. +After breakfast Carol bustled to a hair-dresser's, bought gloves +and a blouse, and importantly met Kennicott in front of an +optician's, in accordance with plans laid down, revised, and +verified. They admired the diamonds and furs and frosty +silverware and mahogany chairs and polished morocco sewing- +boxes in shop-windows, and were abashed by the throngs in the +department-stores, and were bullied by a clerk into buying too +many shirts for Kennicott, and gaped at the "clever novelty +perfumes--just in from New York." Carol got three books +on the theater, and spent an exultant hour in warning herself +that she could not afford this rajah-silk frock, in thinking how +envious it would make Juanita Haydock, in closing her eyes, +and buying it. Kennicott went from shop to shop, earnestly +hunting down a felt-covered device to keep the windshield of +his car clear of rain. + +They dined extravagantly at their hotel at night, and next +morning sneaked round the corner to economize at a Childs' +Restaurant. They were tired by three in the afternoon, and +dozed at the motion-pictures and said they wished they were +back in Gopher Prairie--and by eleven in the evening they were +again so lively that they went to a Chinese restaurant that was +frequented by clerks and their sweethearts on pay-days. They +sat at a teak and marble table eating Eggs Fooyung, and +listened to a brassy automatic piano, and were altogether +cosmopolitan. + +On the street they met people from home--the McGanums. +They laughed, shook hands repeatedly, and exclaimed, "Well, +this is quite a coincidence!" They asked when the McGanums +had come down, and begged for news of the town they had +left two days before. Whatever the McGanums were at home, +here they stood out as so superior to all the undistinguishable +strangers absurdly hurrying past that the Kennicotts held +them as long as they could. The McGanums said good-by +as though they were going to Tibet instead of to the station +to catch No. 7 north. + +They explored Minneapolis. Kennicott was conversational +and technical regarding gluten and cockle-cylinders and No. +I Hard, when they were shown through the gray stone hulks +and new cement elevators of the largest flour-mills in the world. +They looked across Loring Park and the Parade to the towers +of St. Mark's and the Procathedral, and the red roofs of +houses climbing Kenwood Hill. They drove about the chain +of garden-circled lakes, and viewed the houses of the millers +and lumbermen and real estate peers--the potentates of the +expanding city. They surveyed the small eccentric bungalows +with pergolas, the houses of pebbledash and tapestry brick +with sleeping-porches above sun-parlors, and one vast incredible +chateau fronting the Lake of the Isles. They tramped through +a shining-new section of apartment-houses; not the tall bleak +apartments of Eastern cities but low structures of cheerful +yellow brick, in which each flat had its glass-enclosed porch +with swinging couch and scarlet cushions and Russian brass +bowls. Between a waste of tracks and a raw gouged hill they +found poverty in staggering shanties. + +They saw miles of the city which they had never known in +their days of absorption in college. They were distinguished +explorers, and they remarked, in great mutual esteem, "I bet +Harry Haydock's never seen the City like this! Why, he'd +never have sense enough to study the machinery in the mills, +or go through all these outlying districts. Wonder folks in +Gopher Prairie wouldn't use their legs and explore, the way we +do!" + +They had two meals with Carol's sister, and were bored, and +felt that intimacy which beatifies married people when they +suddenly admit that they equally dislike a relative of either +of them. + +So it was with affection but also with weariness that they +approached the evening on which Carol was to see the plays at +the dramatic school. Kennicott suggested not going. "So darn +tired from all this walking; don't know but what we better +turn in early and get rested up." It was only from duty that +Carol dragged him and herself out of the warm hotel, into a +stinking trolley, up the brownstone steps of the converted +residence which lugubriously housed the dramatic school. + + +V + + +They were in a long whitewashed hall with a clumsy draw- +curtain across the front. The folding chairs were filled with +people who looked washed and ironed: parents of the pupils, +girl students, dutiful teachers. + +"Strikes me it's going to be punk. If the first play isn't +good, let's beat it," said Kennicott hopefully. + +"All right," she yawned. With hazy eyes she tried to read +the lists of characters, which were hidden among lifeless +advertisements of pianos, music-dealers, restaurants, candy. + +She regarded the Schnitzler play with no vast interest. The +actors moved and spoke stiffly. Just as its cynicism was +beginning to rouse her village-dulled frivolity, it was over. + +"Don't think a whale of a lot of that. How about taking +a sneak?" petitioned Kennicott. + +"Oh, let's try the next one, `How He Lied to Her +Husband.' " + +The Shaw conceit amused her, and perplexed Kennicott: + +"Strikes me it's darn fresh. Thought it would be racy. +Don't know as I think much of a play where a husband +actually claims he wants a fellow to make love to his wife. +No husband ever did that! Shall we shake a leg?" + +"I want to see this Yeats thing, `Land of Heart's Desire.' +I used to love it in college." She was awake now, and urgent. +"I know you didn't care so much for Yeats when I read him +aloud to you, but you just see if you don't adore him on +the stage." + +Most of the cast were as unwieldy as oak chairs marching, +and the setting was an arty arrangement of batik scarfs and +heavy tables, but Maire Bruin was slim as Carol, and larger- +eyed, and her voice was a morning bell. In her, Carol lived, +and on her lifting voice was transported from this sleepy small- +town husband and all the rows of polite parents to the stilly +loft of a thatched cottage where in a green dimness, beside a +window caressed by linden branches, she bent over a chronicle +of twilight women and the ancient gods. + +"Well--gosh--nice kid played that girl--good-looker," said +Kennicott. "Want to stay for the last piece? Heh?" + +She shivered. She did not answer. + +The curtain was again drawn aside. On the stage they +saw nothing but long green curtains and a leather chair. Two +young men in brown robes like furniture-covers were gesturing +vacuously and droning cryptic sentences full of repetitions. + +It was Carol's first hearing of Dunsany. She sympathized +with the restless Kennicott as he felt in his pocket for a cigar +and unhappily put it back. + +Without understanding when or how, without a tangible +change in the stilted intoning of the stage-puppets, she was +conscious of another time and place. + +Stately and aloof among vainglorious tiring-maids, a queen +in robes that murmured on the marble floor, she trod the +gallery of a crumbling palace. In the courtyard, elephants +trumpeted, and swart men with beards dyed crimson stood with +blood-stained hands folded upon their hilts, guarding the +caravan from El Sharnak, the camels with Tyrian stuffs of +topaz and cinnabar. Beyond the turrets of the outer wall the +jungle glared and shrieked, and the sun was furious above +drenched orchids. A youth came striding through the steel- +bossed doors, the sword-bitten doors that were higher than ten +tall men. He was in flexible mail, and under the rim of his +planished morion were amorous curls. His hand was out to +her; before she touched it she could feel its warmth---- + +"Gosh all hemlock! What the dickens is all this stuff about, Carrie?" + +She was no Syrian queen. She was Mrs. Dr. Kennicott. +She fell with a jolt into a whitewashed hall and sat looking +at two scared girls and a young man in wrinkled tights. + +Kennicott fondly rambled as they left the hall: + +"What the deuce did that last spiel mean? Couldn't make +head or tail of it. If that's highbrow drama, give me a cow- +puncher movie, every time! Thank God, that's over, and we +can get to bed. Wonder if we wouldn't make time by walking +over to Nicollet to take a car? One thing I will say for that +dump: they had it warm enough. Must have a big hot-air +furnace, I guess. Wonder how much coal it takes to run 'em +through the winter?" + +In the car he affectionately patted her knee, and he was for +a second the striding youth in armor; then he was Doc +Kennicott of Gopher Prairie, and she was recaptured by Main +Street. Never, not all her life, would she behold jungles and +the tombs of kings. There were strange things in the world, +they really existed; but she would never see them. + +She would recreate them in plays! + +She would make the dramatic association understand her +aspiration. They would, surely they would---- + +She looked doubtfully at the impenetrable reality of yawning +trolley conductor and sleepy passengers and placards advertising +soap and underwear. + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +I + +SHE hurried to the first meeting of the play-reading committee. +Her jungle romance had faded, but she retained a religious +fervor, a surge of half-formed thought about the creation of +beauty by suggestion. + +A Dunsany play would be too difficult for the Gopher Prairie +association. She would let them compromise on Shaw--on +"Androcles and the Lion," which had just been published. + +The committee was composed of Carol, Vida Sherwin, Guy +Pollock, Raymie Wutherspoon, and Juanita Haydock. They +were exalted by the picture of themselves as being +simultaneously business-like and artistic. They were entertained +by Vida in the parlor of Mrs. Elisha Gurrey's boarding-house, +with its steel engraving of Grant at Appomattox, its basket of +stereoscopic views, and its mysterious stains on the gritty +carpet. + +Vida was an advocate of culture-buying and efficiency- +systems. She hinted that they ought to have (as at the +committee-meetings of the Thanatopsis) a "regular order of +business," and "the reading of the minutes," but as there +were no minutes to read, and as no one knew exactly what was +the regular order of the business of being literary, they had +to give up efficiency. + +Carol, as chairman, said politely, "Have you any ideas about +what play we'd better give first?" She waited for them to +look abashed and vacant, so that she might suggest +"Androcles." + +Guy Pollock answered with disconcerting readiness, "I'll +tell you: since we're going to try to do something artistic, +and not simply fool around, I believe we ought to give something +classic. How about `The School for Scandal'?" + +"Why---- Don't you think that has been done a good deal?" + +"Yes, perhaps it has." + +Carol was ready to say, "How about Bernard Shaw?" when +he treacherously went on, "How would it be then to give a +Greek drama--say `Oedipus Tyrannus'?" + +"Why, I don't believe----" + +Vida Sherwin intruded, "I'm sure that would be too hard +for us. Now I've brought something that I think would be +awfully jolly." + +She held out, and Carol incredulously took, a thin gray +pamphlet entitled "McGinerty's Mother-in-law." It was the +sort of farce which is advertised in "school entertainment" +catalogues as: + + +Riproaring knock-out, 5 m. 3 f., time 2 hrs., interior set, popular +with churches and all high-class occasions. + + +Carol glanced from the scabrous object to Vida, and realized +that she was not joking. + +"But this is--this is--why, it's just a---- Why, Vida, I +thought you appreciated--well--appreciated art." + +Vida snorted, "Oh. Art. Oh yes. I do like art. It's +very nice. But after all, what does it matter what kind of +play we give as long as we get the association started? The +thing that matters is something that none of you have spoken +of, that is: what are we going to do with the money, if we +make any? I think it would be awfully nice if we presented +the high school with a full set of Stoddard's travel-lectures!" + +Carol moaned, "Oh, but Vida dear, do forgive me but this +farce---- Now what I'd like us to give is something +distinguished. Say Shaw's `Androcles.' Have any of you read +it?" + +"Yes. Good play," said Guy Pollock. + +Then Raymie Wutherspoon astoundingly spoke up: + +"So have I. I read through all the plays in the public +library, so's to be ready for this meeting. And---- But I +don't believe you grasp the irreligious ideas in this `Androcles,' +Mrs. Kennicott. I guess the feminine mind is too innocent to +understand all these immoral writers. I'm sure I don't want +to criticize Bernard Shaw; I understand he is very popular +with the highbrows in Minneapolis; but just the same---- As +far as I can make out, he's downright improper! The things +he SAYS---- Well, it would be a very risky thing for our +young folks to see. It seems to me that a play that doesn't +leave a nice taste in the mouth and that hasn't any message +is nothing but--nothing but---- Well, whatever it may be, +it isn't art. So---- Now I've found a play that is clean, and +there's some awfully funny scenes in it, too. I laughed out +loud, reading it. It's called `His Mother's Heart,' and it's +about a young man in college who gets in with a lot of free- +thinkers and boozers and everything, but in the end his mother's +influence----" + +Juanita Haydock broke in with a derisive, "Oh rats, Raymie! +Can the mother's influence! I say let's give something with +some class to it. I bet we could get the rights to `The Girl +from Kankakee,' and that's a real show. It ran for eleven +months in New York!" + +"That would be lots of fun, if it wouldn't cost too much," +reflected Vida. + +Carol's was the only vote cast against "The Girl from +Kankakee." + + +II + + +She disliked "The Girl from Kankakee" even more than +she had expected. It narrated the success of a farm-lassie in +clearing her brother of a charge of forgery. She became secretary +to a New York millionaire and social counselor to his +wife; and after a well-conceived speech on the discomfort of +having money, she married his son. + +There was also a humorous office-boy. + +Carol discerned that both Juanita Haydock and Ella +Stowbody wanted the lead. She let Juanita have it. Juanita kissed +her and in the exuberant manner of a new star presented to +the executive committee her theory, "What we want in a play +is humor and pep. There's where American playwrights put it +all over these darn old European glooms." + +As selected by Carol and confirmed by the committee, the +persons of the play were: + +John Grimm, a millionaire . . . . Guy Pollock +His wife. . . . . . . . . Miss Vida Sherwin +His son . . . . . . . . . Dr. Harvey Dillon +His business rival. . . . . Raymond T. Wutherspoon +Friend of Mrs. Grimm . . . . . . Miss Ella Stowbody +The girl from Kankakee . . . . . Mrs. Harold C. Haydock +Her brother. . . . . . . . . . Dr. Terence Gould +Her mother . . . . . . . . . . Mrs. David Dyer +Stenographer . . . . . . . Miss Rita Simons +Office-boy . . . . . . . . . . Miss Myrtle Cass +Maid in the Grimms' home . . Mrs. W. P. Kennicott + Direction of Mrs. Kennicott + + +Among the minor lamentations was Maud Dyer's "Well of +course I suppose I look old enough to be Juanita's mother, +even if Juanita is eight months older than I am, but I don't +know as I care to have everybody noticing it and----" + +Carol pleaded, "Oh, my DEAR! You two look exactly the +same age. I chose you because you have such a darling +complexion, and you know with powder and a white wig, anybody +looks twice her age, and I want the mother to be sweet, no +matter who else is." + +Ella Stowbody, the professional, perceiving that it was because +of a conspiracy of jealousy that she had been given a small part, +alternated between lofty amusement and Christian patience. + +Carol hinted that the play would be improved by cutting, +but as every actor except Vida and Guy and herself wailed +at the loss of a single line, she was defeated. She told herself +that, after all, a great deal could be done with direction and +settings. + +Sam Clark had boastfully written about the dramatic +association to his schoolmate, Percy Bresnahan, president of the +Velvet Motor Company of Boston. Bresnahan sent a check +for a hundred dollars; Sam added twenty-five and brought the +fund to Carol, fondly crying, "There! That'll give you a +start for putting the thing across swell!" + +She rented the second floor of the city hall for two months. +All through the spring the association thrilled to its own talent +in that dismal room. They cleared out the bunting, ballot- +boxes, handbills, legless chairs. They attacked the stage. +It was a simple-minded stage. It was raised above the floor, +and it did have a movable curtain, painted with the +advertisement of a druggist dead these ten years, but otherwise it +might not have been recognized as a stage. There were two +dressing-rooms, one for men, one for women, on either side. +The dressing-room doors were also the stage-entrances, opening +from the house, and many a citizen of Gopher Prairie had for +his first glimpse of romance the bare shoulders of the leading +woman. + +There were three sets of scenery: a woodland, a Poor +Interior, and a Rich Interior, the last also useful for railway +stations, offices, and as a background for the Swedish Quartette +from Chicago. There were three gradations of lighting: full +on, half on, and entirely off. + +This was the only theater in Gopher Prairie. It was known +as the "op'ra house." Once, strolling companies had used +it for performances of "The Two Orphans," and "Nellie the +Beautiful Cloak Model," and "Othello" with specialties +between acts, but now the motion-pictures had ousted the gipsy +drama. + +Carol intended to be furiously modern in constructing the +office-set, the drawing-room for Mr. Grimm, and the Humble +Home near Kankakee. It was the first time that any one in +Gopher Prairie had been so revolutionary as to use enclosed +scenes with continuous side-walls. The rooms in the op'ra house +sets had separate wing-pieces for sides, which simplified +dramaturgy, as the villain could always get out of the hero's way by +walking out through the wall. + +The inhabitants of the Humble Home were supposed to be +amiable and intelligent. Carol planned for them a simple set +with warm color. She could see the beginning of the play: +all dark save the high settles and the solid wooden table +between them, which were to be illuminated by a ray from +offstage. The high light was a polished copper pot filled with +primroses. Less clearly she sketched the Grimm drawing-room +as a series of cool high white arches. + +As to how she was to produce these effects she had no +notion. + +She discovered that, despite the enthusiastic young writers, +the drama was not half so native and close to the soil as motor +cars and telephones. She discovered that simple arts require +sophisticated training. She discovered that to produce one +perfect stage-picture would be as difficult as to turn all of +Gopher Prairie into a Georgian garden. + +She read all she could find regarding staging, she bought +paint and light wood; she borrowed furniture and drapes +unscrupulously; she made Kennicott turn carpenter. She +collided with the problem of lighting. Against the protest of +Kennicott and Vida she mortgaged the association by sending +to Minneapolis for a baby spotlight, a strip light, a dimming +device, and blue and amber bulbs; and with the gloating +rapture of a born painter first turned loose among colors, she +spent absorbed evenings in grouping, dimming-painting with +lights. + +Only Kennicott, Guy, and Vida helped her. They speculated +as to how flats could be lashed together to form a wall; they +hung crocus-yellow curtains at the windows; they blacked the +sheet-iron stove; they put on aprons and swept. The rest +of the association dropped into the theater every evening, and +were literary and superior. They had borrowed Carol's +manuals of play-production and had become extremely stagey +in vocabulary. + +Juanita Haydock, Rita Simons, and Raymie Wutherspoon +sat on a sawhorse, watching Carol try to get the right position +for a picture on the wall in the first scene. + +"I don't want to hand myself anything but I believe I'll +give a swell performance in this first act," confided Juanita. +"I wish Carol wasn't so bossy though. She doesn't understand +clothes. I want to wear, oh, a dandy dress I have-- +all scarlet--and I said to her, `When I enter wouldn't it +knock their eyes out if I just stood there at the door in this +straight scarlet thing?' But she wouldn't let me." + +Young Rita agreed, "She's so much taken up with her old +details and carpentering and everything that she can't see the +picture as a whole. Now I thought it would be lovely if we +had an office-scene like the one in `Little, But Oh My!' +Because I SAW that, in Duluth. But she simply wouldn't listen +at all." + +Juanita sighed, "I wanted to give one speech like Ethel +Barrymore would, if she was in a play like this. (Harry +and I heard her one time in Minneapolis--we had dandy seats, +in the orchestra--I just know I could imitate her.) Carol +didn't pay any attention to my suggestion. I don't want to +criticize but I guess Ethel knows more about acting than +Carol does!" + +"Say, do you think Carol has the right dope about using a +strip light behind the fireplace in the second act? I told +her I thought we ought to use a bunch," offered Raymie. +"And I suggested it would be lovely if we used a cyclorama +outside the window in the first act, and what do you think +she said? `Yes, and it would be lovely to have Eleanora +Duse play the lead,' she said, `and aside from the fact that +it's evening in the first act, you're a great technician,' she +said. I must say I think she was pretty sarcastic. I've been +reading up, and I know I could build a cyclorama, if she didn't +want to run everything." + +"Yes, and another thing, I think the entrance in the first +act ought to be L. U. E., not L. 3 E.," from Juanita. + +"And why does she just use plain white tormenters?" + +"What's a tormenter?" blurted Rita Simons. + +The savants stared at her ignorance. + + +III + + +Carol did not resent their criticisms, she didn't very much +resent their sudden knowledge, so long as they let her make +pictures. It was at rehearsals that the quarrrels broke. No +one understood that rehearsals were as real engagements as +bridge-games or sociables at the Episcopal Church. They gaily +came in half an hour late, or they vociferously came in ten +minutes early, and they were so hurt that they whispered +about resigning when Carol protested. They telephoned, "I +don't think I'd better come out; afraid the dampness might +start my toothache," or "Guess can't make it tonight; Dave +wants me to sit in on a poker game." + +When, after a month of labor, as many as nine-elevenths +of the cast were often present at a rehearsal; when most of +them had learned their parts and some of them spoke like +human beings, Carol had a new shock in the realization that +Guy Pollock and herself were very bad actors, and that +Raymie Wutherspoon was a surprisingly good one. For all her +visions she could not control her voice, and she was bored by +the fiftieth repetition of her few lines as maid. Guy pulled +his soft mustache, looked self-conscious, and turned Mr. Grimm +into a limp dummy. But Raymie, as the villain, had no +repressions. The tilt of his head was full of character; his drawl +was admirably vicious. + +There was an evening when Carol hoped she was going to +make a play; a rehearsal during which Guy stopped looking +abashed. + +From that evening the play declined. + +They were weary. "We know our parts well enough now; +what's the use of getting sick of them?" they complained. +They began to skylark; to play with the sacred lights; to +giggle when Carol was trying to make the sentimental Myrtle +Cass into a humorous office-boy; to act everything but "The +Girl from Kankakee." After loafing through his proper part +Dr. Terry Gould had great applause for his burlesque of +"Hamlet." Even Raymie lost his simple faith, and tried to +show that he could do a vaudeville shuffle. + +Carol turned on the company. "See here, I want this +nonsense to stop. We've simply got to get down to work." + +Juanita Haydock led the mutiny: "Look here, Carol, don't +be so bossy. After all, we're doing this play principally +for the fun of it, and if we have fun out of a lot of monkey- +shines, why then----" + +"Ye-es," feebly. + +"You said one time that folks in G. P. didn't get enough +fun out of life. And now we are having a circus, you want +us to stop!" + +Carol answered slowly: "I wonder if I can explain what +I mean? It's the difference between looking at the comic +page and looking at Manet. I want fun out of this, of course. +Only---- I don't think it would be less fun, but more, to produce +as perfect a play as we can." She was curiously exalted; +her voice was strained; she stared not at the company but at the +grotesques scrawled on the backs of wing-pieces by forgotten +stage-hands. "I wonder if you can understand the `fun' of +making a beautiful thing, the pride and satisfaction of it, and +the holiness!" + +The company glanced doubtfully at one another. In Gopher +Prairie it is not good form to be holy except at a church, +between ten-thirty and twelve on Sunday. + +"But if we want to do it, we've got to work; we must +have self-discipline." + +They were at once amused and embarrassed. They did not +want to affront this mad woman. They backed off and tried to +rehearse. Carol did not hear Juanita, in front, protesting to +Maud Dyer, "If she calls it fun and holiness to sweat over +her darned old play-well, I don't!" + + +IV + + +Carol attended the only professional play which came to +Gopher Prairie that spring. It was a "tent show, presenting +snappy new dramas under canvas." The hard-working actors +doubled in brass, and took tickets; and between acts sang +about the moon in June, and sold Dr. Wintergreen's Surefire +Tonic for Ills of the Heart, Lungs, Kidneys, and Bowels. They +presented "Sunbonnet Nell: A Dramatic Comedy of the +Ozarks," with J. Witherbee Boothby wringing the soul by +his resonant "Yuh ain't done right by mah little gal, Mr. +City Man, but yer a-goin' to find that back in these-yere hills +there's honest folks and good shots!" + +The audience, on planks beneath the patched tent, admired +Mr. Boothby's beard and long rifle; stamped their feet in +the dust at the spectacle of his heroism; shouted when the +comedian aped the City Lady's use of a lorgnon by looking +through a doughnut stuck on a fork; wept visibly over Mr. +Boothby's Little Gal Nell, who was also Mr. Boothby's legal +wife Pearl, and when the curtain went down, listened respectfully +to Mr. Boothby's lecture on Dr. Wintergreen's Tonic as +a cure for tape-worms, which he illustrated by horrible pallid +objects curled in bottles of yellowing alcohol. + +Carol shook her head. "Juanita is right. I'm a fool. +Holiness of the drama! Bernard Shaw! The only trouble +with `The Girl from Kankakee' is that it's too subtle for +Gopher Prairie!" + +She sought faith in spacious banal phrases, taken from books: +"the instinctive nobility of simple souls," "need only the +opportunity, to appreciate fine things," and "sturdy exponents +of democracy." But these optimisms did not sound so loud +as the laughter of the audience at the funny-man's line, "Yes, +by heckelum, I'm a smart fella." She wanted to give up the +play, the dramatic association, the town. As she came out of +the tent and walked with Kennicott down the dusty spring +street, she peered at this straggling wooden village and felt +that she could not possibly stay here through all of tomorrow. + +It was Miles Bjornstam who gave her strength--he and the +fact that every seat for "The Girl from Kankakee" had been +sold. + +Bjornstam was "keeping company" with Bea. Every night +he was sitting on the back steps. Once when Carol appeared +he grumbled, "Hope you're going to give this burg one good +show. If you don't, reckon nobody ever will." + + +V + + +It was the great night; it was the night of the play. The +two dressing-rooms were swirling with actors, panting, twitchy +pale. Del Snafflin the barber, who was as much a professional +as Ella, having once gone on in a mob scene at a stock- +company performance in Minneapolis, was making them up, +and showing his scorn for amateurs with, "Stand still! For +the love o' Mike, how do you expect me to get your eyelids +dark if you keep a-wigglin'?" The actors were beseeching, +"Hey, Del, put some red in my nostrils--you put some in +Rita's--gee, you didn't hardly do anything to my face." + +They were enormously theatric. They examined Del's makeup +box, they sniffed the scent of grease-paint, every minute +they ran out to peep through the hole in the curtain, they +came back to inspect their wigs and costumes, they read on +the whitewashed walls of the dressing-rooms the pencil +inscriptions: "The Flora Flanders Comedy Company," and +"This is a bum theater," and felt that they were companions +of these vanished troupers. + +Carol, smart in maid's uniform, coaxed the temporary stage- +hands to finish setting the first act, wailed at Kennicott, the +electrician, "Now for heaven's sake remember the change in +cue for the ambers in Act Two," slipped out to ask Dave Dyer, +the ticket-taker, if he could get some more chairs, warned the +frightened Myrtle Cass to be sure to upset the waste-basket +when John Grimm called, "Here you, Reddy." + +Del Snafflin's orchestra of piano, violin, and cornet began to +tune up and every one behind the magic line of the proscenic +arch was frightened into paralysis. Carol wavered to the +hole in the curtain. There were so many people out there, +staring so hard---- + +In the second row she saw Miles Bjornstam, not with Bea +but alone. He really wanted to see the play! It was a good +omen. Who could tell? Perhaps this evening would convert +Gopher Prairie to conscious beauty. + +She darted into the women's dressing-room, roused Maud +Dyer from her fainting panic, pushed her to the wings, and +ordered the curtain up. + +It rose doubtfully, it staggered and trembled, but it did get +up without catching--this time. Then she realized that +Kennicott had forgotten to turn off the houselights. Some +one out front was giggling. + +She galloped round to the left wing, herself pulled the +switch, looked so ferociously at Kennicott that he quaked, +and fled back. + +Mrs. Dyer was creeping out on the half-darkened stage. +The play was begun. + +And with that instant Carol realized that it was a bad play +abominably acted. + +Encouraging them with lying smiles, she watched her work +go to pieces. The settings seemed flimsy, the lighting +commonplace. She watched Guy Pollock stammer and twist his +mustache when he should have been a bullying magnate; Vida +Sherwin, as Grimm's timid wife, chatter at the audience as +though they were her class in high-school English; Juanita, +in the leading role, defy Mr. Grimm as though she were +repeating a list of things she had to buy at the grocery this +morning; Ella Stowbody remark "I'd like a cup of tea" as +though she were reciting "Curfew Shall Not Ring Tonight"; +and Dr. Gould, making love to Rita Simons, squeak, "My-- +my--you--are--a--won'erful--girl ." + +Myrtle Cass, as the office-boy, was so much pleased by the +applause of her relatives, then so much agitated by the +remarks of Cy Bogart, in the back row, in reference to her +wearing trousers, that she could hardly be got off the stage. +Only Raymie was so unsociable as to devote himself entirely +to acting. + +That she was right in her opinion of the play Carol was +certain when Miles Bjornstam went out after the first act, +and did not come back. + + +VI + + +Between the second and third acts she called the company +together, and supplicated, "I want to know something, before +we have a chance to separate. Whether we're doing well or +badly tonight, it is a beginning. But will we take it as merely +a beginning? How many of you will pledge yourselves to +start in with me, right away, tomorrow, and plan for another +play, to be given in September?" + +They stared at her; they nodded at Juanita's protest: "I +think one's enough for a while. It's going elegant tonight, but +another play---- Seems to me it'll be time enough to talk +about that next fall. Carol! I hope you don't mean to hint +and suggest we're not doing fine tonight? I'm sure the +applause shows the audience think it's just dandy!" + +Then Carol knew how completely she had failed. + +As the audience seeped out she heard B. J. Gougerling the +banker say to Howland the grocer, "Well, I think the folks +did splendid; just as good as professionals. But I don't care +much for these plays. What I like is a good movie, with +auto accidents and hold-ups, and some git to it, and not all +this talky-talk." + +Then Carol knew how certain she was to fail again. + +She wearily did not blame them, company nor audience. +Herself she blamed for trying to carve intaglios in good +wholesome jack-pine. + +"It's the worst defeat of all. I'm beaten. By Main Street. +`I must go on.' But I can't!" + +She was not vastly encouraged by the Gopher Prairie +Dauntless: + +. . .would be impossible to distinguish among the actors when +all gave such fine account of themselves in difficult roles of this +well-known New York stage play. Guy Pollock as the old millionaire +could not have been bettered for his fine impersonation of +the gruff old millionaire; Mrs. Harry Haydock as the young lady +from the West who so easily showed the New York four-flushers +where they got off was a vision of loveliness and with fine stage +presence. Miss Vida Sherwin the ever popular teacher in our +high school pleased as Mrs. Grimm, Dr. Gould was well suited in +the role of young lover-girls you better look out, remember the +doc is a bachelor. The local Four Hundred also report that he +is a great hand at shaking the light fantastic tootsies in the +dance. As the stenographer Rita Simons was pretty as a picture, +and Miss Ella Stowbody's long and intensive study of the drama +and kindred arts in Eastern schools was seen in the fine finish +of her part. + +. . .to no one is greater credit to be given than to Mrs. Will +Kennicott on whose capable shoulders fell the burden of directing. + + +"So kindly," Carol mused, "so well meant, so neighborly-- +and so confoundedly untrue. Is it really my failure, or theirs?" + +She sought to be sensible; she elaborately explained to +herself that it was hysterical to condemn Gopher Prairie because +it did not foam over the drama. Its justification was in its +service as a market-town for farmers. How bravely and generously +it did its work, forwarding the bread of the world, feeding +and healing the farmers! + +Then, on the corner below her husband's office, she heard +a farmer holding forth: + +"Sure. Course I was beaten. The shipper and the grocers +here wouldn't pay us a decent price for our potatoes, even +though folks in the cities were howling for 'em. So we says, +well, we'll get a truck and ship 'em right down to Minneapolis. +But the commission merchants there were in cahoots with the +local shipper here; they said they wouldn't pay us a cent +more than he would, not even if they was nearer to the +market. Well, we found we could get higher prices in Chicago, +but when we tried to get freight cars to ship there, the +railroads wouldn't let us have 'em--even though they had cars +standing empty right here in the yards. There you got it-- +good market, and these towns keeping us from it. Gus, that's +the way these towns work all the time. They pay what they +want to for our wheat, but we pay what they want us to +for their clothes. Stowbody and Dawson foreclose every mortgage +they can, and put in tenant farmers. The Dauntless lies +to us about the Nonpartisan League, the lawyers sting us, +the machinery-dealers hate to carry us over bad years, and +then their daughters put on swell dresses and look at us as +if we were a bunch of hoboes. Man, I'd like to burn this +town!" + +Kennicott observed, "There's that old crank Wes Brannigan +shooting off his mouth again. Gosh, but he loves to hear himself +talk! They ought to run that fellow out of town!" + + +VII + + +She felt old and detached through high-school commencement +week, which is the fete of youth in Gopher Prairie; +through baccalaureate sermon, senior Parade, junior +entertainment, commencement address by an Iowa clergyman who +asserted that he believed in the virtue of virtuousness, and +the procession of Decoration Day, when the few Civil War +veterans followed Champ Perry, in his rusty forage-cap, along +the spring-powdered road to the cemetery. She met Guy; she +found that she had nothing to say to him. Her head ached +in an aimless way. When Kennicott rejoiced, "We'll have a +great time this summer; move down to the lake early and +wear old clothes and act natural," she smiled, but her smile +creaked. + +In the prairie heat she trudged along unchanging ways, +talked about nothing to tepid people, and reflected that she +might never escape from them. + +She was startled to find that she was using the word +"escape." + +Then, for three years which passed like one curt paragraph, +she ceased to find anything interesting save the Bjornstams +and her baby. + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +I + +IN three years of exile from herself Carol had certain +experiences chronicled as important by the Dauntless, or discussed +by the Jolly Seventeen, but the event unchronicled, undiscussed, +and supremely controlling, was her slow admission of longing +to find her own people. + + +II + + +Bea and Miles Bjornstam were married in June, a month +after "The Girl from Kankakee." Miles had turned respectable. +He had renounced his criticisms of state and society; +he had given up roving as horse-trader, and wearing red +mackinaws in lumber-camps; he had gone to work as engineer +in Jackson Elder's planing-mill; he was to be seen upon the +streets endeavoring to be neighborly with suspicious men whom +he had taunted for years. + +Carol was the patroness and manager of the wedding. +Juanita Haydock mocked, "You're a chump to let a good hired +girl like Bea go. Besides! How do you know it's a good +thing, her marrying a sassy bum like this awful Red Swede +person? Get wise! Chase the man off with a mop, and hold +onto your Svenska while the holding's good. Huh? Me go to +their Scandahoofian wedding? Not a chance!" + +The other matrons echoed Juanita. Carol was dismayed by +the casualness of their cruelty, but she persisted. Miles had +exclaimed to her, "Jack Elder says maybe he'll come to the +wedding! Gee, it would be nice to have Bea meet the Boss +as a reg'lar married lady. Some day I'll be so well off that +Bea can play with Mrs. Elder--and you! Watch us!" + +There was an uneasy knot of only nine guests at the service +in the unpainted Lutheran Church--Carol, Kennicott, Guy +Pollock, and the Champ Perrys, all brought by Carol; Bea's +frightened rustic parents, her cousin Tina, and Pete, Miles's +ex-partner in horse-trading, a surly, hairy man who had bought +a black suit and come twelve hundred miles from Spokane for +the event. + +Miles continuously glanced back at the church door. Jackson +Elder did not appear. The door did not once open after +the awkward entrance of the first guests. Miles's hand closed +on Bea's arm. + +He had, with Carol's help, made his shanty over into a +cottage with white curtains and a canary and a chintz chair. + +Carol coaxed the powerful matrons to call on Bea. +They half scoffed, half promised to go. + +Bea's successor was the oldish, broad, silent Oscarina, who +was suspicious of her frivolous mistress for a month, so that +Juanita Haydock was able to crow, "There, smarty, I told you +you'd run into the Domestic Problem!" But Oscarina adopted +Carol as a daughter, and with her as faithful to the kitchen as +Bea had been, there was nothing changed in Carol's life. + + +III + + +She was unexpectedly appointed to the town library-board +by Ole Jenson, the new mayor. The other members were +Dr. Westlake, Lyman Cass, Julius Flickerbaugh the attorney, +Guy Pollock, and Martin Mahoney, former livery-stable keeper +and now owner of a garage. She was delighted. She went to +the first meeting rather condescendingly, regarding herself as +the only one besides Guy who knew anything about books +or library methods. She was planning to revolutionize the +whole system. + +Her condescension was ruined and her humility wholesomely +increased when she found the board, in the shabby room on the +second floor of the house which had been converted into the +library, not discussing the weather and longing to play checkers, +but talking about books. She discovered that amiable old +Dr. Westlake read everything in verse and "light fiction"; +that Lyman Cass, the veal-faced, bristly-bearded owner of the +mill, had tramped through Gibbon, Hume, Grote, Prescott, +and the other thick historians; that he could repeat pages +from them--and did. When Dr. Westlake whispered to her, +"Yes, Lym is a very well-informed man, but he's modest about +it," she felt uninformed and immodest, and scolded at herself +that she had missed the human potentialities in this vast +Gopher Prairie. When Dr. Westlake quoted the "Paradiso," +"Don Quixote," "Wilhelm Meister," and the Koran, she +reflected that no one she knew, not even her father, had read +all four. + +She came diffidently to the second meeting of the board. She +did not plan to revolutionize anything. She hoped that the +wise elders might be so tolerant as to listen to her suggestions +about changing the shelving of the juveniles. + +Yet after four sessions of the library-board she was where +she had been before the first session. She had found that for +all their pride in being reading men, Westlake and Cass and +even Guy had no conception of making the library familiar +to the whole town. They used it, they passed resolutions +about it, and they left it as dead as Moses. Only the Henty +books and the Elsie books and the latest optimisms by moral +female novelists and virile clergymen were in general demand, +and the board themselves were interested only in old, stilted +volumes. They had no tenderness for the noisiness of youth +discovering great literature. + +If she was egotistic about her tiny learning, they were at +least as much so regarding theirs. And for all their talk of +the need of additional library-tax none of them was willing +to risk censure by battling for it, though they now had so +small a fund that, after paying for rent, heat, light, and Miss +Villets's salary, they had only a hundred dollars a year for the +purchase of books. + +The Incident of the Seventeen Cents killed her none too +enduring interest. + +She had come to the board-meeting singing with a plan. +She had made a list of thirty European novels of the past ten +years, with twenty important books on psychology, education, +and economics which the library lacked. She had made +Kennicott promise to give fifteen dollars. If each of the +board would contribute the same, they could have the books. + +Lym Cass looked alarmed, scratched himself, and protested, +"I think it would be a bad precedent for the board-members +to contribute money--uh--not that I mind, but it wouldn't be +fair--establish precedent. Gracious! They don't pay us a +cent for our services! Certainly can't expect us to pay for the +privilege of serving!" + +Only Guy looked sympathetic, and he stroked the pine table +and said nothing. + +The rest of the meeting they gave to a bellicose investigation +of the fact that there was seventeen cents less than there should +be in the Fund. Miss Villets was summoned; she spent half +an hour in explosively defending herself; the seventeen cents +were gnawed over, penny by penny; and Carol, glancing at +the carefully inscribed list which had been so lovely and exciting +an hour before, was silent, and sorry for Miss Villets, and +sorrier for herself. + +She was reasonably regular in attendance till her two years +were up and Vida Sherwin was appointed to the board in her +place, but she did not try to be revolutionary. In the plodding +course of her life there was nothing changed, and nothing +new. + + +IV + + +Kennicott made an excellent land-deal, but as he told her +none of the details, she was not greatly exalted or agitated. +What did agitate her was his announcement, half whispered and +half blurted, half tender and half coldly medical, that they +"ought to have a baby, now they could afford it." They had +so long agreed that "perhaps it would be just as well not to +have any children for a while yet," that childlessness had come +to be natural. Now, she feared and longed and did not know; +she hesitatingly assented, and wished that she had not assented. + +As there appeared no change in their drowsy relations, she +forgot all about it, and life was planless. + + +V + + +Idling on the porch of their summer cottage at the lake, +on afternoons when Kennicott was in town, when the water +was glazed and the whole air languid, she pictured a hundred +escapes: Fifth Avenue in a snow-storm, with limousines, +golden shops, a cathedral spire. A reed hut on fantastic piles +above the mud of a jungle river. A suite in Paris, immense +high grave rooms, with lambrequins and a balcony. The +Enchanted Mesa. An ancient stone mill in Maryland, at the turn +of the road, between rocky brook and abrupt hills. An upland +moor of sheep and flitting cool sunlight. A clanging dock where +steel cranes unloaded steamers from Buenos Ayres and Tsing- +tao. A Munich concert-hall, and a famous 'cellist playing-- +playing to her. + +One scene had a persistent witchery: + +She stood on a terrace overlooking a boulevard by the warm +sea. She was certain, though she had no reason for it, that the +place was Mentone. Along the drive below her swept barouches, +with a mechanical tlot-tlot, tlot-tlot, tlot-tlot, and great cars +with polished black hoods and engines quiet as the sigh of an +old man. In them were women erect, slender, enameled, and +expressionless as marionettes, their small hands upon parasols, +their unchanging eyes always forward, ignoring the men beside +them, tall men with gray hair and distinguished faces. Beyond +the drive were painted sea and painted sands, and blue +and yellow pavilions. Nothing moved except the gliding +carriages, and the people were small and wooden, spots in a +picture drenched with gold and hard bright blues. There was +no sound of sea or winds; no softness of whispers nor of +falling petals; nothing but yellow and cobalt and staring light, +and the never-changing tlot-tlot, tlot-tlot---- + +She startled. She whimpered. It was the rapid ticking of +the clock which had hypnotized her into hearing the steady +hoofs. No aching color of the sea and pride of supercilious +people, but the reality of a round-bellied nickel alarm-clock on +a shelf against a fuzzy unplaned pine wall, with a stiff +gray wash-rag hanging above it and a kerosene-stove standing +below. + +A thousand dreams governed by the fiction she had read, +drawn from the pictures she had envied, absorbed her drowsy +lake afternoons, but always in the midst of them Kennicott +came out from town, drew on khaki trousers which were +plastered with dry fish-scales, asked, "Enjoying yourself?" +and did not listen to her answer. + +And nothing was changed, and there was no reason to believe +that there ever would be change. + + +VI + + +Trains! + +At the lake cottage she missed the passing of the trains. She +realized that in town she had depended upon them for assurance +that there remained a world beyond. + +The railroad was more than a means of transportation to +Gopher Prairie. It was a new god; a monster of steel limbs, +oak ribs, flesh of gravel, and a stupendous hunger for freight; +a deity created by man that he might keep himself respectful to +Property, as elsewhere he had elevated and served as tribal +gods the mines, cotton-mills, motor-factories, colleges, army. + +The East remembered generations when there had been no +railroad, and had no awe of it; but here the railroads had +been before time was. The towns had been staked out on barren +prairie as convenient points for future train-halts; and back +in 1860 and 1870 there had been much profit, much opportunity +to found aristocratic families, in the possession of advance +knowledge as to where the towns would arise. + +If a town was in disfavor, the railroad could ignore it, cut +it off from commerce, slay it. To Gopher Prairie the +tracks were eternal verities, and boards of railroad directors +an omnipotence. The smallest boy or the most secluded +grandam could tell you whether No. 32 had a hot-box last +Tuesday, whether No. 7 was going to put on an extra day- +coach; and the name of the president of the road was familiar +to every breakfast table. + +Even in this new era of motors the citizens went down to +the station to see the trains go through. It was their +romance; their only mystery besides mass at the Catholic +Church; and from the trains came lords of the outer world-- +traveling salesmen with piping on their waistcoats, and visiting +cousins from Milwaukee. + +Gopher Prairie had once been a "division-point." The +roundhouse and repair-shops were gone, but two conductors +still retained residence, and they were persons of distinction, +men who traveled and talked to strangers, who wore uniforms +with brass buttons, and knew all about these crooked games +of con-men. They were a special caste, neither above nor below +the Haydocks, but apart, artists and adventurers. + +The night telegraph-operator at the railroad station was the +most melodramatic figure in town: awake at three in the +morning, alone in a room hectic with clatter of the telegraph +key. All night he "talked" to operators twenty, fifty, a +hundred miles away. It was always to be expected that he would +be held up by robbers. He never was, but round him was a +suggestion of masked faces at the window, revolvers, cords +binding him to a chair, his struggle to crawl to the key before +he fainted. + +During blizzards everything about the railroad was +melodramatic. There were days when the town was completely +shut off, when they had no mail, no express, no fresh meat, +no newspapers. At last the rotary snow-plow came through, +bucking the drifts, sending up a geyser, and the way to the +Outside was open again. The brakemen, in mufflers and fur +caps, running along the tops of ice-coated freight-cars; the +engineers scratching frost from the cab windows and looking +out, inscrutable, self-contained, pilots of the prairie sea--they +were heroism, they were to Carol the daring of the quest in a +world of groceries and sermons. + +To the small boys the railroad was a familiar playground. +They climbed the iron ladders on the sides of the box-cars; +built fires behind piles of old ties; waved to favorite brakemen. +But to Carol it was magic. + +She was motoring with Kennicott, the car lumping through +darkness, the lights showing mud-puddles and ragged weeds +by the road. A train coming! A rapid chuck-a-chuck, chuck- +a-chuck, chuck-a-chuck. It was hurling past--the Pacific +Flyer, an arrow of golden flame. Light from the fire-box +splashed the under side of the trailing smoke. Instantly the +vision was gone; Carol was back in the long darkness; and +Kennicott was giving his version of that fire and wonder: +"No. 19. Must be 'bout ten minutes late." + +In town, she listened from bed to the express whistling in +the cut a mile north. Uuuuuuu!--faint, nervous, distrait, +horn of the free night riders journeying to the tall towns where +were laughter and banners and the sound of bells--Uuuuu! +Uuuuu!--the world going by--Uuuuuuu!--fainter, more wistful, gone. + +Down here there were no trains. The stillness was very +great. The prairie encircled the lake, lay round her, raw, +dusty, thick. Only the train could cut it. Some day she would +take a train; and that would be a great taking. + + +VII + + +She turned to the Chautauqua as she had turned to the +dramatic association, to the library-board. + +Besides the permanent Mother Chautauqua, in New York, +there are, all over these States, commercial Chautauqua +companies which send out to every smallest town troupes of +lecturers and "entertainers" to give a week of culture under +canvas. Living in Minneapolis, Carol had never encountered +the ambulant Chautauqua, and the announcement of its com- +ing to Gopher Prairie gave her hope that others might be +doing the vague things which she had attempted. She pictured +a condensed university course brought to the people. +Mornings when she came in from the lake with Kennicott she +saw placards in every shop-window, and strung on a cord +across Main Street, a line of pennants alternately worded +"The Boland Chautauqua COMING!" and "A solid week +of inspiration and enjoyment!" But she was disappointed +when she saw the program. It did not seem to be a tabloid +university; it did not seem to be any kind of a university; it +seemed to be a combination of vaudeville performance Y. M. C. A. +lecture, and the graduation exercises of an elocution class. + +She took her doubt to Kennicott. He insisted, "Well, maybe +it won't be so awful darn intellectual, the way you and I +might like it, but it's a whole lot better than nothing." Vida +Sherwin added, "They have some splendid speakers. If the +people don't carry off so much actual information, they do get +a lot of new ideas, and that's what counts." + +During the Chautauqua Carol attended three evening +meetings, two afternoon meetings, and one in the morning. She was +impressed by the audience: the sallow women in skirts and +blouses, eager to be made to think, the men in vests and shirt- +sleeves, eager to be allowed to laugh, and the wriggling children, +eager to sneak away. She liked the plain benches, the portable +stage under its red marquee, the great tent over all, shadowy +above strings of incandescent bulbs at night and by day casting +an amber radiance on the patient crowd. The scent of dust +and trampled grass and sun-baked wood gave her an illusion +of Syrian caravans; she forgot the speakers while she listened +to noises outside the tent: two farmers talking hoarsely, a +wagon creaking down Main Street, the crow of a rooster. She +was content. But it was the contentment of the lost hunter +stopping to rest. + +For from the Chautauqua itself she got nothing but wind +and chaff and heavy laughter, the laughter of yokels at old +jokes, a mirthless and primitive sound like the cries of beasts +on a farm. + +These were the several instructors in the condensed +university's seven-day course: + +Nine lecturers, four of them ex-ministers, and one an ex- +congressman, all of them delivering "inspirational addresses." +The only facts or opinions which Carol derived from them +were: Lincoln was a celebrated president of the United States, +but in his youth extremely poor. James J. Hill was the best- +known railroad-man of the West, and in his youth extremely +poor. Honesty and courtesy in business are preferable to +boorishness and exposed trickery, but this is not to be taken +personally, since all persons in Gopher Prairie are known to +be honest and courteous. London is a large city. A +distinguished statesman once taught Sunday School. + +Four "entertainers" who told Jewish stories, Irish stories, +German stories, Chinese stories, and Tennessee mountaineer +stories, most of which Carol had heard. + +A "lady elocutionist" who recited Kipling and imitated +children. + +A lecturer with motion-pictures of an Andean exploration; +excellent pictures and a halting narrative. + +Three brass-bands, a company of six opera-singers, a +Hawaiian sextette, and four youths who played saxophones and +guitars disguised as wash-boards. The most applauded pieces +were those, such as the "Lucia" inevitability, which the +audience had heard most often. + +The local superintendent, who remained through the week +while the other enlighteners went to other Chautauquas for +their daily performances. The superintendent was a bookish, +underfed man who worked hard at rousing artificial enthusiasm, +at trying to make the audience cheer by dividing them into +competitive squads and telling them that they were intelligent +and made splendid communal noises. He gave most of the +morning lectures, droning with equal unhappy facility about +poetry, the Holy Land, and the injustice to employers in any +system of profit-sharing. + +The final item was a man who neither lectured, inspired, nor +entertained; a plain little man with his hands in his pockets. +All the other speakers had confessed, "I cannot keep from +telling the citizens of your beautiful city that none of the +talent on this circuit have found a more charming spot or +more enterprising and hospitable people." But the little man +suggested that the architecture of Gopher Prairie was haphazard, +and that it was sottish to let the lake-front be monopolized +by the cinder-heaped wall of the railroad embankment. +Afterward the audience grumbled, "Maybe that guy's got the +right dope, but what's the use of looking on the dark side of +things all the time? New ideas are first-rate, but not all this +criticism. Enough trouble in life without looking for it!" + +Thus the Chautauqua, as Carol saw it. After it, the town +felt proud and educated. + + +VIII + + +Two weeks later the Great War smote Europe. + +For a month Gopher Prairie had the delight of shuddering, +then, as the war settled down to a business of trench-fighting, +they forgot. + +When Carol talked about the Balkans, and the possibility +of a German revolution, Kennicott yawned, "Oh yes, it's a +great old scrap, but it's none of our business. Folks out here +are too busy growing corn to monkey with any fool war that +those foreigners want to get themselves into." + +It was Miles Bjornstam who said, "I can't figure it out. I'm +opposed to wars, but still, seems like Germany has got to be +licked because them Junkers stands in the way of progress." + +She was calling on Miles and Bea, early in autumn. They +had received her with cries, with dusting of chairs, and a +running to fetch water for coffee. Miles stood and beamed at +her. He fell often and joyously into his old irreverence about +the lords of Gopher Prairie, but always--with a certain +difficulty--he added something decorous and appreciative. + +"Lots of people have come to see you, haven't they?" Carol hinted. + +"Why, Bea's cousin Tina comes in right along, and the +foreman at the mill, and---- Oh, we have good times. Say, +take a look at that Bea! Wouldn't you think she was a +canary-bird, to listen to her, and to see that Scandahoofian tow- +head of hers? But say, know what she is? She's a mother +hen! Way she fusses over me--way she makes old Miles wear +a necktie! Hate to spoil her by letting her hear it, but she's +one pretty darn nice--nice---- Hell! What do we care if +none of the dirty snobs come and call? We've got each other." + +Carol worried about their struggle, but she forgot it in the +stress of sickness and fear. For that autumn she knew that +a baby was coming, that at last life promised to be interesting +in the peril of the great change. + + + +CHAPTER XX + +I + +THE baby was coming. Each morning she was nauseated, +chilly, bedraggled, and certain that she would never again be +attractive; each twilight she was afraid. She did not feel +exalted, but unkempt and furious. The period of daily sickness +crawled into an endless time of boredom. It became +difficult for her to move about, and she raged that she, who +had been slim and light-footed, should have to lean on a +stick, and be heartily commented upon by street gossips. She +was encircled by greasy eyes. Every matron hinted, "Now +that you're going to be a mother, dearie, you'll get over all +these ideas of yours and settle down." She felt that willy-nilly +she was being initiated into the assembly of housekeepers; with +the baby for hostage, she would never escape; presently she +would be drinking coffee and rocking and talking about +diapers. + +"I could stand fighting them. I'm used to that. But this +being taken in, being taken as a matter of course, I can't +stand it--and I must stand it!" + +She alternately detested herself for not appreciating the +kindly women, and detested them for their advice: lugubrious +hints as to how much she would suffer in labor, details of +baby-hygiene based on long experience and total misunderstanding, +superstitious cautions about the things she must eat +and read and look at in prenatal care for the baby's soul, and +always a pest of simpering baby-talk. Mrs. Champ Perry +bustled in to lend "Ben Hur," as a preventive of future infant +immorality. The Widow Bogart appeared trailing pinkish +exclamations, "And how is our lovely 'ittle muzzy today! My, +ain't it just like they always say: being in a Family Way does +make the girlie so lovely, just like a Madonna. Tell me--" +Her whisper was tinged with salaciousness--"does oo feel the +dear itsy one stirring, the pledge of love? I remember with +Cy, of course he was so big----" + +"I do not look lovely, Mrs. Bogart. My complexion is +rotten, and my hair is coming out, and I look like a potato-bag, +and I think my arches are falling, and he isn't a pledge of +love, and I'm afraid he WILL look like us, and I don't believe +in mother-devotion, and the whole business is a confounded +nuisance of a biological process," remarked Carol. + +Then the baby was born, without unusual difficulty: a boy +with straight back and strong legs. The first day she hated +him for the tides of pain and hopeless fear he had caused; +she resented his raw ugliness. After that she loved him with +all the devotion and instinct at which she had scoffed. She +marveled at the perfection of the miniature hands as noisily as +did Kennicott, she was overwhelmed by the trust with which +the baby turned to her; passion for him grew with each +unpoetic irritating thing she had to do for him. + +He was named Hugh, for her father. + +Hugh developed into a thin healthy child with a large head +and straight delicate hair of a faint brown. He was thoughtful +and casual--a Kennicott. + +For two years nothing else existed. She did not, as the +cynical matrons had prophesied, "give up worrying about the +world and other folks' babies soon as she got one of her own +to fight for." The barbarity of that willingness to sacrifice other +children so that one child might have too much was impossible +to her. But she would sacrifice herself. She understood +consecration--she who answered Kennicott's hints about having +Hugh christened: "I refuse to insult my baby and myself by +asking an ignorant young man in a frock coat to sanction him, +to permit me to have him! I refuse to subject him to any +devil-chasing rites! If I didn't give my baby--MY BABY-- +enough sanctification in those nine hours of hell, then he +can't get any more out of the Reverend Mr. Zitterel!" + +"Well, Baptists hardly ever christen kids. I was kind of +thinking more about Reverend Warren," said Kennicott. + +Hugh was her reason for living, promise of accomplishment +in the future, shrine of adoration--and a diverting toy. "I +thought I'd be a dilettante mother, but I'm as dismayingly +natural as Mrs. Bogart," she boasted. + +For two--years Carol was a part of the town; as much one +of Our Young Mothers as Mrs. McGanum. Her opinionation +seemed dead; she had no apparent desire for escape; her brooding +centered on Hugh. While she wondered at the pearl texture +of his ear she exulted, "I feel like an old woman, with a skin +like sandpaper, beside him, and I'm glad of it! He is perfect. +He shall have everything. He sha'n't always stay here in +Gopher Prairie. . . . I wonder which is really the best, +Harvard or Yale or Oxford?" + + +II + + +The people who hemmed her in had been brilliantly +reinforced by Mr. and Mrs. Whittier N. Smail--Kennicott's Uncle +Whittier and Aunt Bessie. + +The true Main Streetite defines a relative as a person to +whose house you go uninvited, to stay as long as you like. If +you hear that Lym Cass on his journey East has spent all +his time "visiting" in Oyster Center, it does not mean that he +prefers that village to the rest of New England, but that he +has relatives there. It does not mean that he has written to +the relatives these many years, nor that they have ever given +signs of a desire to look upon him. But "you wouldn't expect +a man to go and spend good money at a hotel in Boston, +when his own third cousins live right in the same state, would you?" + +When the Smails sold their creamery in North Dakota they +visited Mr. Smail's sister, Kennicott's mother, at Lac-qui- +Meurt, then plodded on to Gopher Prairie to stay with their +nephew. They appeared unannounced, before the baby was +born, took their welcome for granted, and immediately began +to complain of the fact that their room faced north. + +Uncle Whittier and Aunt Bessie assumed that it was their +privilege as relatives to laugh at Carol, and their duty as +Christians to let her know how absurd her "notions" were. +They objected to the food, to Oscarina's lack of friendliness, +to the wind, the rain, and the immodesty of Carol's maternity +gowns. They were strong and enduring; for an hour at a +time they could go on heaving questions about her father's +income, about her theology, and about the reason why she had +not put on her rubbers when she had gone across the street. +For fussy discussion they had a rich, full genius, and their +example developed in Kennicott a tendency to the same form +of affectionate flaying. + +If Carol was so indiscreet as to murmur that she had a +small headache, instantly the two Smails and Kennicott were +at it. Every five minutes, every time she sat down or rose or +spoke to Oscarina, they twanged, "Is your head better now? +Where does it hurt? Don't you keep hartshorn in the house? +Didn't you walk too far today? Have you tried hartshorn? +Don't you keep some in the house so it will be handy? Does +it feel better now? How does it feel? Do your eyes hurt, +too? What time do you usually get to bed? As late as THAT? +Well! How does it feel now?" + +In her presence Uncle Whittier snorted at Kennicott, "Carol +get these headaches often? Huh? Be better for her if she +didn't go gadding around to all these bridge-whist parties, and +took some care of herself once in a while!" + +They kept it up, commenting, questioning, commenting, +questioning, till her determination broke and she bleated, "For +heaven's SAKE, don't dis-CUSS it! My head 's all RIGHT!" + +She listened to the Smails and Kennicott trying to determine +by dialectics whether the copy of the Dauntless, which +Aunt Bessie wanted to send to her sister in Alberta, ought to +have two or four cents postage on it. Carol would have taken +it to the drug store and weighed it, but then she was a +dreamer, while they were practical people (as they frequently +admitted). So they sought to evolve the postal rate from their +inner consciousnesses, which, combined with entire frankness +in thinking aloud, was their method of settling all problems. + +The Smails did not "believe in all this nonsense" about +privacy and reticence. When Carol left a letter from her +sister on the table, she was astounded to hear from Uncle +Whittier, "I see your sister says her husband is doing fine. +You ought to go see her oftener. I asked Will and he says +you don't go see her very often. My! You ought to go see +her oftener!" + +If Carol was writing a letter to a classmate, or planning the +week's menus, she could be certain that Aunt Bessie would +pop in and titter, "Now don't let me disturb you, I just +wanted to see where you were, don't stop, I'm not going to stay +only a second. I just wondered if you could possibly have +thought that I didn't eat the onions this noon because I didn't +think they were properly cooked, but that wasn't the reason +at all, it wasn't because I didn't think they were well cooked, +I'm sure that everything in your house is always very dainty +and nice, though I do think that Oscarina is careless about +some things, she doesn't appreciate the big wages you pay her, +and she is so cranky, all these Swedes are so cranky, I don't +really see why you have a Swede, but---- But that wasn't +it, I didn't eat them not because I didn't think they weren't +cooked proper, it was just--I find that onions don't agree with +me, it's very strange, ever since I had an attack of biliousness +one time, I have found that onions, either fried onions or +raw ones, and Whittier does love raw onions with vinegar +and sugar on them----" + +It was pure affection. + +Carol was discovering that the one thing that can be more +disconcerting than intelligent hatred is demanding love. + +She supposed that she was being gracefully dull and +standardized in the Smails' presence, but they scented the heretic, +and with forward-stooping delight they sat and tried to drag +out her ludicrous concepts for their amusement. They were +like the Sunday-afternoon mob starting at monkeys in the +Zoo, poking fingers arid making faces and giggling at the +resentment of the more dignified race. + +With a loose-lipped, superior, village smile Uncle Whittier +hinted, "What's this I hear about your thinking Gopher +Prairie ought to be all tore down and rebuilt, Carrie? I don't +know where folks get these new-fangled ideas. Lots of farmers +in Dakota getting 'em these days. About co-operation. Think +they can run stores better 'n storekeepers! Huh!" + +"Whit and I didn't need no co-operation as long as we was +farming!" triumphed Aunt Bessie. "Carrie, tell your old +auntie now: don't you ever go to church on Sunday? You do +go sometimes? But you ought to go every Sunday! When you're +as old as I am, you'll learn that no matter how smart folks +think they are, God knows a whole lot more than they do, and then +you'll realize and be glad to go and listen to your pastor!" + +In the manner of one who has just beheld a two-headed calf +they repeated that they had "never HEARD such funny ideas!" +They were staggered to learn that a real tangible person, +living in Minnesota, and married to their own flesh-and-blood +relation, could apparently believe that divorce may not +always be immoral; that illegitimate children do not +bear any special and guaranteed form of curse; that there +are ethical authorities outside of the Hebrew Bible; that men +have drunk wine yet not died in the gutter; that the capitalistic +system of distribution and the Baptist wedding-ceremony +were not known in the Garden of Eden; that mushrooms are +as edible as corn-beef hash; that the word "dude" is no +longer frequently used; that there are Ministers of the Gospel +who accept evolution; that some persons of apparent intelligence +and business ability do not always vote the Republican ticket +straight; that it is not a universal custom to wear scratchy +flannels next the skin in winter; that a violin is not inherently +more immoral than a chapel organ; that some poets do not have +long hair; and that Jews are not always pedlers or pants- +makers. + +"Where does she get all them the'ries?" marveled Uncle +Whittier Smail; while Aunt Bessie inquired, "Do you suppose +there's many folks got notions like hers? My! If there are," +and her tone settled the fact that there were not, "I just don't +know what the world's coming to!" + +Patiently--more or less--Carol awaited the exquisite day +when they would announce departure. After three weeks Uncle +Whittier remarked, "We kinda like Gopher Prairie. Guess +maybe we'll stay here. We'd been wondering what we'd do, +now we've sold the creamery and my farms. So I had a talk +with Ole Jenson about his grocery, and I guess I'll buy him out +and storekeep for a while." + +He did. + +Carol rebelled. Kennicott soothed her: "Oh, we won't see +much of them. They'll have their own house." + +She resolved to be so chilly that they would stay away. But +she had no talent for conscious insolence. They found a house, +but Carol was never safe from their appearance with a hearty, +"Thought we'd drop in this evening and keep you from being +lonely. Why, you ain't had them curtains washed yet!" +Invariably, whenever she was touched by the realization that +it was they who were lonely, they wrecked her pitying affection +by comments--questions--comments--advice. + +They immediately became friendly with all of their own +race, with the Luke Dawsons, the Deacon Piersons, and Mrs. +Bogart; and brought them along in the evening. Aunt Bessie +was a bridge over whom the older women, bearing gifts of +counsel and the ignorance of experience, poured into Carol's +island of reserve. Aunt Bessie urged the good Widow Bogart, +"Drop in and see Carrie real often. Young folks today don't +understand housekeeping like we do." + +Mrs. Bogart showed herself perfectly willing to be an +associate relative. + +Carol was thinking up protective insults when Kennicott's +mother came down to stay with Brother Whittier for two +months. Carol was fond of Mrs. Kennicott. She could not +carry out her insults. + +She felt trapped. + +She had been kidnaped by the town. She was Aunt Bessie's +niece, and she was to be a mother. She was expected, she +almost expected herself, to sit forever talking of babies, cooks, +embroidery stitches, the price of potatoes, and the tastes of +husbands in the matter of spinach. + +She found a refuge in the Jolly Seventeen. She suddenly +understood that they could be depended upon to laugh with +her at Mrs. Bogart, and she now saw Juanita Haydock's gossip +not as vulgarity but as gaiety and remarkable analysis. + +Her life had changed, even before Hugh appeared. She +looked forward to the next bridge of the Jolly Seventeen, and +the security of whispering with her dear friends Maud Dyer +and Juanita and Mrs. McGanum. + +She was part of the town. Its philosophy and its feuds +dominated her. + + +III + + +She was no longer irritated by the cooing of the matrons, +nor by their opinion that diet didn't matter so long as the +Little Ones had plenty of lace and moist kisses, but she +concluded that in the care of babies as in politics, intelligence +was superior to quotations about pansies. She liked best to +talk about Hugh to Kennicott, Vida, and the Bjornstams. She +was happily domestic when Kennicott sat by her on the floor, +to watch baby make faces. She was delighted when Miles, +speaking as one man to another, admonished Hugh, "I wouldn't +stand them skirts if I was you. Come on. Join the union +and strike. Make 'em give you pants." + +As a parent, Kennicott was moved to establish the first +child-welfare week held in Gopher Prairie. Carol helped him +weigh babies and examine their throats, and she wrote out +the diets for mute German and Scandinavian mothers. + +The aristocracy of Gopher Prairie, even the wives of the +rival doctors, took part, and for several days there was +community spirit and much uplift. But this reign of love was +overthrown when the prize for Best Baby was awarded not to +decent parents but to Bea and Miles Bjornstam! The good +matrons glared at Olaf Bjornstam, with his blue eyes, his +honey-colored hair, and magnificent back, and they remarked, +"Well, Mrs. Kennicott, maybe that Swede brat is as healthy as +your husband says he is, but let me tell you I hate to think +of the future that awaits any boy with a hired girl for a +mother and an awful irreligious socialist for a pa!" + +She raged, but so violent was the current of their +respectability, so persistent was Aunt Bessie in running to her with +their blabber, that she was embarrassed when she took Hugh +to play with Olaf. She hated herself for it, but she hoped +that no one saw her go into the Bjornstam shanty. She hated +herself and the town's indifferent cruelty when she saw Bea's +radiant devotion to both babies alike; when she saw Miles +staring at them wistfully. + +He had saved money, had quit Elder's planing-mill and +started a dairy on a vacant lot near his shack. He was +proud of his three cows and sixty chickens, and got up nights +to nurse them. + +"I'll be a big farmer before you can bat an eye! I tell +you that young fellow Olaf is going to go East to college along +with the Haydock kids. Uh---- Lots of folks dropping in to +chin with Bea and me now. Say! Ma Bogart come in one +day! She was---- I liked the old lady fine. And the mill +foreman comes in right along. Oh, we got lots of friends. +You bet!" + + +IV + + +Though the town seemed to Carol to change no more than the +surrounding fields, there was a constant shifting, these three +years. The citizen of the prairie drifts always westward. It +may be because he is the heir of ancient migrations--and it +may be because he finds within his own spirit so little +adventure that he is driven to seek it by changing his horizon. +The towns remain unvaried, yet the individual faces alter +like classes in college. The Gopher Prairie jeweler sells out, +for no discernible reason, and moves on to Alberta or the +state of Washington, to open a shop precisely like his former +one, in a town precisely like the one he has left. There is, +except among professional men and the wealthy, small +permanence either of residence or occupation. A man becomes +farmer, grocer, town policeman, garageman, restaurant-owner, +postmaster, insurance-agent, and farmer all over again, and the +community more or less patiently suffers from his lack of +knowledge in each of his experiments. + +Ole Jenson the grocer and Dahl the butcher moved on to +South Dakota and Idaho. Luke and Mrs. Dawson picked up +ten thousand acres of prairie soil, in the magic portable form +of a small check book, and went to Pasadena, to a bungalow +and sunshine and cafeterias. Chet Dashaway sold his furniture +and undertaking business and wandered to Los Angeles, where, +the Dauntless reported, "Our good friend Chester has accepted +a fine position with a real-estate firm, and his wife has in the +charming social circles of the Queen City of the Southwestland +that same popularity which she enjoyed in our own society +sets." + +Rita Simons was married to Terry Gould, and rivaled Juanita +Haydock as the gayest of the Young Married Set. But Juanita +also acquired merit. Harry's father died, Harry became senior +partner in the Bon Ton Store, and Juanita was more acidulous +and shrewd and cackling than ever. She bought an evening +frock, and exposed her collar-bone to the wonder of the Jolly +Seventeen, and talked of moving to Minneapolis. + +To defend her position against the new Mrs. Terry Gould +she sought to attach Carol to her faction by giggling that +"SOME folks might call Rita innocent, but I've got a hunch +that she isn't half as ignorant of things as brides are supposed +to be--and of course Terry isn't one-two-three as a doctor +alongside of your husband." + +Carol herself would gladly have followed Mr. Ole Jenson, +and migrated even to another Main Street; flight from familiar +tedium to new tedium would have for a time the outer look +and promise of adventure. She hinted to Kennicott of the +probable medical advantages of Montana and Oregon. She +knew that he was satisfied with Gopher Prairie, but it gave +her vicarious hope to think of going, to ask for railroad folders +at the station, to trace the maps with a restless forefinger. + +Yet to the casual eye she was not discontented, she was +not an abnormal and distressing traitor to the faith of Main +Street. + +The settled citizen believes that the rebel is constantly in a +stew of complaining and, hearing of a Carol Kennicott, he +gasps, "What an awful person! She must be a Holy Terror +to live with! Glad MY folks are satisfied with things way +they are!" Actually, it was not so much as five minutes a +day that Carol devoted to lonely desires. It is probable that +the agitated citizen has within his circle at least one inarticulate +rebel with aspirations as wayward as Carol's. + +The presence of the baby had made her take Gopher Prairie +and the brown house seriously, as natural places of residence. +She pleased Kennicott by being friendly with the complacent +maturity of Mrs. Clark and Mrs. Elder, and when she had +often enough been in conference upon the Elders' new Cadillac +car, or the job which the oldest Clark boy had taken in the +office of the flour-mill, these topics became important, things +to follow up day by day. + +With nine-tenths of her emotion concentrated upon Hugh, +she did not criticize shops, streets, acquaintances. . . +this year or two. She hurried to Uncle Whittier's store for +a package of corn-flakes, she abstractedly listened to Uncle +Whittier's denunciation of Martin Mahoney for asserting that +the wind last Tuesday had been south and not southwest, she +came back along streets that held no surprises nor the startling +faces of strangers. Thinking of Hugh's teething all the +way, she did not reflect that this store, these drab blocks, made +up all her background. She did her work, and she triumphed +over winning from the Clarks at five hundred. + +The most considerable event of the two years after the +birth of Hugh occurred when Vida Sherwin resigned from the +high school and was married. Carol was her attendant, and +as the wedding was at the Episcopal Church, all the women +wore new kid slippers and long white kid gloves, and looked +refined. + +For years Carol had been little sister to Vida, and had never +in the least known to what degree Vida loved her and hated +her and in curious strained ways was bound to her. + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +I + +GRAY steel that seems unmoving because it spins so fast in the +balanced fly-wheel, gray snow in an avenue of elms, gray dawn +with the sun behind it--this was the gray of Vida Sherwin's +life at thirty-six. + +She was small and active and sallow; her yellow hair was +faded, and looked dry; her blue silk blouses and modest +lace collars and high black shoes and sailor hats were as literal +and uncharming as a schoolroom desk; but her eyes determined +her appearance, revealed her as a personage and a force, +indicated her faith in the goodness and purpose of everything. +They were blue, and they were never still; they expressed +amusement, pity, enthusiasm. If she had been seen in sleep, +with the wrinkles beside her eyes stilled and the creased lids +hiding the radiant irises, she would have lost her potency. + +She was born in a hill-smothered Wisconsin village where +her father was a prosy minister; she labored through a +sanctimonious college; she taught for two years in an iron-range +town of blurry-faced Tatars and Montenegrins, and wastes of +ore, and when she came to Gopher Prairie, its trees and the +shining spaciousness of the wheat prairie made her certain +that she was in paradise. + +She admitted to her fellow-teachers that the schoolbuilding +was slightly damp, but she insisted that the rooms were +"arranged so conveniently--and then that bust of President +McKinley at the head of the stairs, it's a lovely art-work, and +isn't it an inspiration to have the brave, honest, martyr +president to think about!" She taught French, English, and +history, and the Sophomore Latin class, which dealt in matters +of a metaphysical nature called Indirect Discourse and the +Ablative Absolute. Each year she was reconvinced that the +pupils were beginning to learn more quickly. She spent four +winters in building up the Debating Society, and when the +debate really was lively one Friday afternoon, and the speakers +of pieces did not forget their lines, she felt rewarded. + +She lived an engrossed useful life, and seemed as cool and +simple as an apple. But secretly she was creeping among fears, +longing, and guilt. She knew what it was, but she dared not +name it. She hated even the sound of the word "sex." When +she dreamed of being a woman of the harem, with great white +warm limbs, she awoke to shudder, defenseless in the dusk of +her room. She prayed to Jesus, always to the Son of God, +offering him the terrible power of her adoration, addressing him +as the eternal lover, growing passionate, exalted, large, as she +contemplated his splendor. Thus she mounted to endurance +and surcease. + +By day, rattling about in many activities, she was able to +ridicule her blazing nights of darkness. With spurious +cheerfulness she announced everywhere, "I guess I'm a born +spinster," and "No one will ever marry a plain schoolma'am like +me," and "You men, great big noisy bothersome creatures, +we women wouldn't have you round the place, dirtying up nice +clean rooms, if it wasn't that you have to be petted and +guided. We just ought to say `Scat!' to all of you!" + +But when a man held her close at a dance, even when +"Professor" George Edwin Mott patted her hand paternally +as they considered the naughtinesses of Cy Bogart, she quivered, +and reflected how superior she was to have kept her +virginity. + +In the autumn of 1911, a year before Dr. Will Kennicott +was married, Vida was his partner at a five-hundred tournament. +She was thirty-four then; Kennicott about thirty-six. +To her he was a superb, boyish, diverting creature; all the +heroic qualities in a manly magnificent body. They had +been helping the hostess to serve the Waldorf salad and coffee +and gingerbread. They were in the kitchen, side by side on +a bench, while the others ponderously supped in the room +beyond. + +Kennicott was masculine and experimental. He stroked +Vida's hand, he put his arm carelessly about her shoulder. + +"Don't!" she said sharply. + +"You're a cunning thing," he offered, patting the back of +her shoulder in an exploratory manner. + +While she strained away, she longed to move nearer to him. +He bent over, looked at her knowingly. She glanced down at +his left hand as it touched her knee. She sprang up, started +noisily and needlessly to wash the dishes. He helped her. He +was too lazy to adventure further--and too used to women in +his profession. She was grateful for the impersonality of his +talk. It enabled her to gain control. She knew that she had +skirted wild thoughts. + +A month after, on a sleighing-party, under the buffalo robes +in the bob-sled, he whispered, "You pretend to be a grown-up +schoolteacher, but you're nothing but a kiddie." His arm +was about her. She resisted. + +"Don't you like the poor lonely bachelor?" he yammered in +a fatuous way. + +"No, I don't! You don't care for me in the least. You're +just practising on me." + +"You're so mean! I'm terribly fond of you." + +"I'm not of you. And I'm not going to let myself be fond +of you, either." + +He persistently drew her toward him. She clutched his arm. +Then she threw off the robe, climbed out of the sled, raced after +it with Harry Haydock. At the dance which followed the +sleigh-ride Kennicott was devoted to the watery prettiness of +Maud Dyer, and Vida was noisily interested in getting up a +Virginia Reel. Without seeming to watch Kennicott, she knew +that he did not once look at her. + +That was all of her first love-affair. + +He gave no sign of remembering that he was "terribly fond." +She waited for him; she reveled in longing, and in a sense of +guilt because she longed. She told herself that she did not +want part of him; unless he gave her all his devotion she would +never let him touch her; and when she found that she was +probably lying, she burned with scorn. She fought it out in +prayer. She knelt in a pink flannel nightgown, her thin +hair down her back, her forehead as full of horror as a mask +of tragedy, while she identified her love for the Son of God +with her love for a mortal, and wondered if any other woman +had ever been so sacrilegious. She wanted to be a nun +and observe perpetual adoration. She bought a rosary, but +she had been so bitterly reared as a Protestant that she could +not bring herself to use it. + +Yet none of her intimates in the school and in the boarding- +house knew of her abyss of passion. They said she was "so +optimistic." + +When she heard that Kennicott was to marry a girl, pretty, +young, and imposingly from the Cities, Vida despaired. She +congratulated Kennicott; carelessly ascertained from him the +hour of marriage. At that hour, sitting in her room, Vida +pictured the wedding in St. Paul. Full of an ecstasy which +horrified her, she followed Kennicott and the girl who had stolen +her place, followed them to the train, through the evening, +the night. + +She was relieved when she had worked out a belief that she +wasn't really shameful, that there was a mystical relation +between herself and Carol, so that she was vicariously yet +veritably with Kennicott, and had the right to be. + +She saw Carol during the first five minutes in Gopher Prairie. +She stared at the passing motor, at Kennicott and the girl +beside him. In that fog world of transference of emotion Vida +had no normal jealousy but a conviction that, since through +Carol she had received Kennicott's love, then Carol was a part +of her, an astral self, a heightened and more beloved self. +She was glad of the girl's charm, of the smooth black hair, +the airy head and young shoulders. But she was suddenly +angry. Carol glanced at her for a quarter-second, but looked +past her, at an old roadside barn. If she had made the great +sacrifice, at least she expected gratitude and recognition, Vida +raged, while her conscious schoolroom mind fussily begged +her to control this insanity. + +During her first call half of her wanted to welcome a fellow +reader of books; the other half itched to find out whether +Carol knew anything about Kennicott's former interest in +herself. She discovered that Carol was not aware that he had +ever touched another woman's hand. Carol was an amusing, +naive, curiously learned child. While Vida was most actively +describing the glories of the Thanatopsis, and complimenting +this librarian on her training as a worker, she was fancying +that this girl was the child born of herself and Kennicott; and +out of that symbolizing she had a comfort she had not known +for months. + +When she came home, after supper with the Kennicotts and +Guy Pollock, she had a sudden and rather pleasant backsliding +from devotion. She bustled into her room, she slammed her +hat on the bed, and chattered, "I don't CARE! I'm a lot like +her--except a few years older. I'm light and quick, too, and +I can talk just as well as she can, and I'm sure---- Men are +such fools. I'd be ten times as sweet to make love to as that +dreamy baby. And I AM as good-looking!" + +But as she sat on the bed and stared at her thin thighs, +defiance oozed away. She mourned: + +"No. I'm not. Dear God, how we fool ourselves! I pretend +I'm `spiritual.' I pretend my legs are graceful. They +aren't. They're skinny. Old-maidish. I hate it! I hate that +impertinent young woman! A selfish cat, taking his love +for granted. . . . No, she's adorable. . . . I don't +think she ought to be so friendly with Guy Pollock." + +For a year Vida loved Carol, longed to and did not pry into +the details of her relations with Kennicotts enjoyed her spirit +of play as expressed in childish tea-parties, and, with the +mystic bond between them forgotten, was healthily vexed by +Carol's assumption that she was a sociological messiah come +to save Gopher Prairie. This last facet of Vida's thought was +the one which, after a year, was most often turned to the +light. In a testy way she brooded, "These people that want +to change everything all of a sudden without doing any work, +make me tired! Here I have to go and work for four years, +picking out the pupils for debates, and drilling them, and +nagging at them to get them to look up references, and begging +them to choose their own subjects--four years, to get up a +couple of good debates! And she comes rushing in, and expects +in one year to change the whole town into a lollypop paradise +with everybody stopping everything else to grow tulips and +drink tea. And it's a comfy homey old town, too!" + +She had such an outburst after each of Carol's campaigns-- +for better Thanatopsis programs, for Shavian plays, for more +human schools--but she never betrayed herself, and always she +was penitent. + +Vida was, and always would be, a reformer, a liberal. She +believed that details could excitingly be altered, but that +things-in-general were comely and kind and immutable. Carol +was, without understanding or accepting it, a revolutionist, a +radical, and therefore possessed of "constructive ideas," which +only the destroyer can have, since the reformer believes that +all the essential constructing has already been done. After +years of intimacy it was this unexpressed opposition more than +the fancied loss of Kennicott's love which held Vida irritably +fascinated. + +But the birth of Hugh revived the transcendental emotion. +She was indignant that Carol should not be utterly fulfilled in +having borne Kennicott's child. She admitted that Carol +seemed to have affection and immaculate care for the baby, +but she began to identify herself now with Kennicott, and in +this phase to feel that she had endured quite too much from +Carol's instability. + +She recalled certain other women who had come from +the Outside and had not appreciated Gopher Prairie. She +remembered the rector's wife who had been chilly to callers +and who was rumored throughout the town to have said, +"Re-ah-ly I cawn't endure this bucolic heartiness in the +responses." The woman was positively known to have worn +handkerchiefs in her bodice as padding--oh, the town had +simply roared at her. Of course the rector and she were +got rid of in a few months. + +Then there was the mysterious woman with the dyed hair +and penciled eyebrows, who wore tight English dresses, like +basques, who smelled of stale musk, who flirted with the men +and got them to advance money for her expenses in a lawsuit, +who laughed at Vida's reading at a school-entertainment, +and went off owing a hotel-bill and the three hundred dollars +she had borrowed. + +Vida insisted that she loved Carol, but with some satisfaction +she compared her to these traducers of the town. + + +II + + +Vida had enjoyed Raymie Wutherspoon's singing in the +Episcopal choir; she had thoroughly reviewed the weather with +him at Methodist sociables and in the Bon Ton. But she did +not really know him till she moved to Mrs. Gurrey's boarding- +house. It was five years after her affair with Kennicott. She +was thirty-nine, Raymie perhaps a year younger. + +She said to him, and sincerely, "My! You can do anything, +with your brains and tact and that heavenly voice. You were +so good in `The Girl from Kankakee.' You made me feel +terribly stupid. If you'd gone on the stage, I believe you'd +be just as good as anybody in Minneapolis. But still, I'm not +sorry you stuck to business. It's such a constructive career." + +"Do you really think so?" yearned Raymie, across the +apple-sauce. + +It was the first time that either of them had found a +dependable intellectual companionship. They looked down on +Willis Woodford the bank-clerk, and his anxious babycentric +wife, the silent Lyman Casses, the slangy traveling man, and +the rest of Mrs. Gurrey's unenlightened guests. They sat +opposite, and they sat late. They were exhilarated to find that +they agreed in confession of faith: + +"People like Sam Clark and Harry Haydock aren't earnest +about music and pictures and eloquent sermons and really +refined movies, but then, on the other hand, people like Carol +Kennicott put too much stress on all this art. Folks ought +to appreciate lovely things, but just the same, they got to be +practical and--they got to look at things in a practical way." + +Smiling, passing each other the pressed-glass pickle-dish, +seeing Mrs. Gurrey's linty supper-cloth irradiated by the light +of intimacy, Vida and Raymie talked about Carol's rose-colored +turban, Carol's sweetness, Carol's new low shoes, Carol's erroneous +theory that there was no need of strict discipline in school, +Carol's amiability in the Bon Ton, Carol's flow of wild ideas, +which, honestly, just simply made you nervous trying to keep +track of them; + +About the lovely display of gents' shirts in the Bon Ton +window as dressed by Raymie, about Raymie's offertory last +Sunday, the fact that there weren't any of these new solos as +nice as "Jerusalem the Golden," and the way Raymie stood +up to Juanita Haydock when she came into the store and +tried to run things and he as much as told her that she was +so anxious to have folks think she was smart and bright that +she said things she didn't mean, and anyway, Raymie was +running the shoe-department, and if Juanita, or Harry either, +didn't like the way he ran things, they could go get another +man; + +About Vida's new jabot which made her look thirty-two +(Vida's estimate) or twenty-two (Raymie's estimate), Vida's +plan to have the high-school Debating Society give a playlet, +and the difficulty of keeping the younger boys well behaved +on the playground when a big lubber like Cy Bogart acted +up so; + +About the picture post-card which Mrs. Dawson had sent to +Mrs. Cass from Pasadena, showing roses growing right outdoors +in February, the change in time on No. 4, the reckless +way Dr. Gould always drove his auto, the reckless way almost +all these people drove their autos, the fallacy of supposing +that these socialists could carry on a government for as much +as six months if they ever did have a chance to try out their +theories, and the crazy way in which Carol jumped from +subject to subject. + +Vida had once beheld Raymie as a thin man with spectacles, +mournful drawn-out face, and colorless stiff hair. Now she +noted that his jaw was square, that his long hands moved +quickly and were bleached in a refined manner, and that his +trusting eyes indicated that he had "led a clean life." She +began to call him "Ray," and to bounce in defense of his +unselfishness and thoughtfulness every time Juanita Haydock +or Rita Gould giggled about him at the Jolly Seventeen. + +On a Sunday afternoon of late autumn they walked down +to Lake Minniemashie. Ray said that he would like to see +the ocean; it must be a grand sight; it must be much grander +than a lake, even a great big lake. Vida had seen it, she +stated modestly; she had seen it on a summer trip to Cape +Cod. + +"Have you been clear to Cape Cod? Massachusetts? I +knew you'd traveled, but I never realized you'd been that +far!" + +Made taller and younger by his interest she poured out, "Oh +my yes. It was a wonderful trip. So many points of interest +through Massachusetts--historical. There's Lexington where +we turned back the redcoats, and Longfellow's home at +Cambridge, and Cape Cod--just everything--fishermen and whale- +ships and sand-dunes and everything." + +She wished that she had a little cane to carry. He broke +off a willow branch. + +"My, you're strong!" she said. + +"No, not very. I wish there was a Y. M. C. A. here, so I +could take up regular exercise. I used to think I could do +pretty good acrobatics, if I had a chance." + +"I'm sure you could. You're unusually lithe, for a large man." + +"Oh no, not so very. But I wish we had a Y. M. It would +be dandy to have lectures and everything, and I'd like to take +a class in improving the memory--I believe a fellow ought +to go on educating himself and improving his mind even if he is +in business, don't you, Vida--I guess I'm kind of fresh to call +you `Vida'!" + +"I've been calling you `Ray' for weeks!" + +He wondered why she sounded tart. + +He helped her down the bank to the edge of the lake but +dropped her hand abruptly, and as they sat on a willow log +and he brushed her sleeve, he delicately moved over and +murmured, "Oh, excuse me--accident." + +She stared at the mud-browned chilly water, the floating +gray reeds. + +"You look so thoughtful," he said. + +She threw out her hands. "I am! Will you kindly tell +me what's the use of--anything! Oh, don't mind me. I'm +a moody old hen. Tell me about your plan for getting a +partnership in the Bon Ton. I do think you're right: Harry +Haydock and that mean old Simons ought to give you one." + +He hymned the old unhappy wars in which he had been +Achilles and the mellifluous Nestor, yet gone his righteous ways +unheeded by the cruel kings. . . . "Why, if I've told +'em once, I've told 'em a dozen times to get in a side-line of +light-weight pants for gents' summer wear, and of course here +they go and let a cheap kike like Rifkin beat them to it +and grab the trade right off 'em, and then Harry said-- +you know how Harry is, maybe he don't mean to be grouchy, +but he's such a sore-head----" + +He gave her a hand to rise. "If you don't MIND. I think +a fellow is awful if a lady goes on a walk with him and she +can't trust him and he tries to flirt with her and all." + +"I'm sure you're highly trustworthy!" she snapped, and +she sprang up without his aid. Then, smiling excessively, +"Uh--don't you think Carol sometimes fails to appreciate Dr. +Will's ability?" + + +III + + +Ray habitually asked her about his window-trimming, the +display of the new shoes, the best music for the entertainment +at the Eastern Star, and (though he was recognized as a +professional authority on what the town called "gents' +furnishings") about his own clothes. She persuaded him not to wear +the small bow ties which made him look like an elongated +Sunday School scholar. Once she burst out: + +"Ray, I could shake you! Do you know you're too +apologetic? You always appreciate other people too much. You +fuss over Carol Kennicott when she has some crazy theory that +we all ought to turn anarchists or live on figs and nuts or +something. And you listen when Harry Haydock tries to show +off and talk about turnovers and credits and things you know +lots better than he does. Look folks in the eye! Glare at +'em! Talk deep! You're the smartest man in town, if you +only knew it. You ARE!" + +He could not believe it. He kept coming back to her for +confirmation. He practised glaring and talking deep, but he +circuitously hinted to Vida that when he had tried to look +Harry Haydock in the eye, Harry had inquired, "What's the +matter with you, Raymie? Got a pain?" But afterward +Harry had asked about Kantbeatum socks in a manner which, +Ray felt, was somehow different from his former condescension. + +They were sitting on the squat yellow satin settee in the +boarding-house parlor. As Ray reannounced that he simply +wouldn't stand it many more years if Harry didn't give him a +partnership, his gesticulating hand touched Vida's shoulders. + +"Oh, excuse me!" he pleaded. + +"It's all right. Well, I think I must be running up to my +room. Headache," she said briefly. + + +IV + + +Ray and she had stopped in at Dyer's for a hot chocolate +on their way home from the movies, that March evening. Vida +speculated, "Do you know that I may not be here next year?" + +"What do you mean?" + +With her fragile narrow nails she smoothed the glass slab +which formed the top of the round table at which they sat. +She peeped through the glass at the perfume-boxes of black and +gold and citron in the hollow table. She looked about at +shelves of red rubber water-bottles, pale yellow sponges, wash- +rags with blue borders, hair-brushes of polished cherry backs. +She shook her head like a nervous medium coming out of a +trance, stared at him unhappily, demanded: + +"Why should I stay here? And I must make up my mind. +Now. Time to renew our teaching-contracts for next year. +I think I'll go teach in some other town. Everybody here is +tired of me. I might as well go. Before folks come out and +SAY they're tired of me. I have to decide tonight. I might as +well---- Oh, no matter. Come. Let's skip. It's late." + +She sprang up, ignoring his wail of "Vida! Wait! Sit +down! Gosh! I'm flabbergasted! Gee! Vida!" She +marched out. While he was paying his check she got ahead. +He ran after her, blubbering, "Vida! Wait!" In the shade +of the lilacs in front of the Gougerling house he came up with +her, stayed her flight by a hand on her shoulder. + +"Oh, don't! Don't! What does it matter?" she begged. +She was sobbing, her soft wrinkly lids soaked with tears. +"Who cares for my affection or help? I might as well drift +on, forgotten. O Ray, please don't hold me. Let me go. +I'll just decide not to renew my contract here, and--and +drift--way off----" + +His hand was steady on her shoulder. She dropped her +head, rubbed the back of his hand with her cheek. + +They were married in June. + + +V + + +They took the Ole Jenson house. "It's small," said Vida, +"but it's got the dearest vegetable garden, and I love having +time to get near to Nature for once." + +Though she became Vida Wutherspoon technically, and +though she certainly had no ideals about the independence of +keeping her name, she continued to be known as Vida Sherwin. + +She had resigned from the school, but she kept up one class +in English. She bustled about on every committee of the +Thanatopsis; she was always popping into the rest-room to +make Mrs. Nodelquist sweep the floor; she was appointed to +the library-board to succeed Carol; she taught the Senior +Girls' Class in the Episcopal Sunday School, and tried to revive +the King's Daughters. She exploded into self-confidence and +happiness; her draining thoughts were by marriage turned +into energy. She became daily and visibly more plump, and +though she chattered as eagerly, she was less obviously admiring +of marital bliss, less sentimental about babies, sharper in +demanding that the entire town share her reforms--the purchase +of a park, the compulsory cleaning of back-yards. + +She penned Harry Haydock at his desk in the Bon Ton; +she interrupted his joking; she told him that it was Ray who +had built up the shoe-department and men's department; she +demanded that he be made a partner. Before Harry could +answer she threatened that Ray and she would start a rival +shop. "I'll clerk behind the counter myself, and a Certain +Party is all ready to put up the money." + +She rather wondered who the Certain Party was. + +Ray was made a one-sixth partner. + +He became a glorified floor-walker, greeting the men with +new poise, no longer coyly subservient to pretty women. +When he was not affectionately coercing people into buying +things they did not need, he stood at the back of the store, +glowing, abstracted, feeling masculine as he recalled the +tempestuous surprises of love revealed by Vida. + +The only remnant of Vida's identification of herself with +Carol was a jealousy when she saw Kennicott and Ray together, +and reflected that some people might suppose that +Kennicott was his superior. She was sure that Carol thought +so, and she wanted to shriek, "You needn't try to gloat! I +wouldn't have your pokey old husband. He hasn't one single +bit of Ray's spiritual nobility." + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +I + +THE greatest mystery about a human being is not his reaction +to sex or praise, but the manner in which he contrives to put +in twenty-four hours a day. It is this which puzzles the long- +shoreman about the clerk, the Londoner about the bushman. +It was this which puzzled Carol in regard to the married Vida. +Carol herself had the baby, a larger house to care for, all the +telephone calls for Kennicott when he was away; and she +read everything, while Vida was satisfied with newspaper headlines. + +But after detached brown years in boarding-houses, Vida +was hungry for housework, for the most pottering detail of it. +She had no maid, nor wanted one. She cooked, baked, swept, +washed supper-cloths, with the triumph of a chemist in a new +laboratory. To her the hearth was veritably the altar. When +she went shopping she hugged the cans of soup, and she +bought a mop or a side of bacon as though she were preparing +for a reception. She knelt beside a bean sprout and crooned, +"I raised this with my own hands--I brought this new life +into the world." + +"I love her for being so happy," Carol brooded. "I ought +to be that way. I worship the baby, but the housework---- +Oh, I suppose I'm fortunate; so much better off than farm- +women on a new clearing, or people in a slum." + +It has not yet been recorded that any human being has +gained a very large or permanent contentment from meditation +upon the fact that he is better off than others. + +In Carol's own twenty-four hours a day she got up, dressed +the baby, had breakfast, talked to Oscarina about the day's +shopping, put the baby on the porch to play, went. to the +butcher's to choose between steak and pork chops, bathed the +baby, nailed up a shelf, had dinner, put the baby to bed for a +nap, paid the iceman, read for an hour, took the baby +out for a walk, called on Vida, had supper, put the baby to +bed, darned socks, listened to Kennicott's yawning comment +on what a fool Dr. McGanum was to try to use that cheap +X-ray outfit of his on an epithelioma, repaired a frock, drowsily +heard Kennicott stoke the furnace, tried to read a page of +Thorstein Veblen--and the day was gone. + +Except when Hugh was vigorously naughty, or whiney, or +laughing, or saying "I like my chair" with thrilling +maturity, she was always enfeebled by loneliness. She no longer +felt superior about that misfortune. She would gladly have +been converted to Vida's satisfaction in Gopher Prairie and +mopping the floor. + + +II + + +Carol drove through an astonishing number of books from +the public library and from city shops. Kennicott was at +first uncomfortable over her disconcerting habit of buying +them. A book was a book, and if you had several thousand +of them right here in the library, free, why the dickens should +you spend your good money? After worrying about it for +two or three years, he decided that this was one of the Funny +Ideas which she had caught as a librarian and from which +she would never entirely recover. + +The authors whom she read were most of them frightfully +annoyed by the Vida Sherwins. They were young American +sociologists, young English realists, Russian horrorists; Anatole +France, Rolland, Nexo, Wells, Shaw, Key, Edgar Lee Masters, +Theodore Dreiser, Sherwood Anderson, Henry Mencken, and +all the other subversive philosophers and artists whom women +were consulting everywhere, in batik-curtained studios in +New York, in Kansas farmhouses, San Francisco drawing- +rooms, Alabama schools for negroes. From them she got +the same confused desire which the million other women +felt; the same determination to be class-conscious without +discovering the class of which she was to be conscious. + +Certainly her reading precipitated her observations of Main +Street, of Gopher Prairie and of the several adjacent Gopher +Prairies which she had seen on drives with Kennicott. In +her fluid thought certain convictions appeared, jaggedly, a +fragment of an impression at a time, while she was going to +sleep, or manicuring her nails, or waiting for Kennicott. + +These convictions she presented to Vida Sherwin--Vida +Wutherspoon--beside a radiator, over a bowl of not very good +walnuts and pecans from Uncle Whittier's grocery, on an +evening when both Kennicott and Raymie had gone out of +town with the other officers of the Ancient and Affiliated Order +of Spartans, to inaugurate a new chapter at Wakamin. Vida +had come to the house for the night. She helped in putting +Hugh to bed, sputtering the while about his soft skin. Then +they talked till midnight. + +What Carol said that evening, what she was passionately +thinking, was also emerging in the minds of women in ten +thousand Gopher Prairies. Her formulations were not pat +solutions but visions of a tragic futility. She did not utter +them so compactly that they can be given in her words; they +were roughened with "Well, you see" and "if you get what +I mean" and "I don't know that I'm making myself clear." +But they were definite enough, and indignant enough. + + +III + + +In reading popular stories and seeing plays, asserted Carol, +she had found only two traditions of the American small town. +The first tradition, repeated in scores of magazines every month, +is that the American village remains the one sure abode of +friendship, honesty, and clean sweet marriageable girls. Therefore +all men who succeed in painting in Paris or in finance in +New York at last become weary of smart women, return +to their native towns, assert that cities are vicious, marry +their childhood sweethearts and, presumably, joyously abide +in those towns until death. + +The other tradition is that the significant features of all +villages are whiskers, iron dogs upon lawns, gold bricks, +checkers, jars of gilded cat-tails, and shrewd comic old men +who are known as "hicks" and who ejaculate "Waal I swan." +This altogether admirable tradition rules the vaudeville stage, +facetious illustrators, and syndicated newspaper humor, but +out of actual life it passed forty years ago. Carol's small +town thinks not in hoss-swapping but in cheap motor cars, +telephones, ready-made clothes, silos, alfalfa, kodaks, phonographs, +leather-upholstered Morris chairs, bridge-prizes, oil- +stocks, motion-pictures, land-deals, unread sets of Mark +Twain, and a chaste version of national politics. + +With such a small-town life a Kennicott or a Champ Perry +is content, but there are also hundreds of thousands, par- +ticularly women and young men, who are not at all content. +The more intelligent young people (and the fortunate widows!) +flee to the cities with agility and, despite the fictional +tradition, resolutely stay there, seldom returning even for +holidays. The most protesting patriots of the towns leave them +in old age, if they can afford it, and go to live in California +or in the cities. + +The reason, Carol insisted, is not a whiskered rusticity. It +is nothing so amusing! + +It is an unimaginatively standardized background, a +sluggishness of speech and manners, a rigid ruling of the spirit +by the desire to appear respectable. It is contentment. . . +the contentment of the quiet dead, who are scornful of the +living for their restless walking. It is negation canonized +as the one positive virtue. It is the prohibition of happiness. +It is slavery self-sought and self-defended. It is dullness +made God. + +A savorless people, gulping tasteless food, and sitting +afterward, coatless and thoughtless, in rocking-chairs prickly with +inane decorations, listening to mechanical music, saying +mechanical things about the excellence of Ford automobiles, and +viewing themselves as the greatest race in the world. + + +IV + + +She had inquired as to the effect of this dominating +dullness upon foreigners. She remembered the feeble exotic +quality to be found in the first-generation Scandinavians; she +recalled the Norwegian Fair at the Lutheran Church, to +which Bea had taken her. There, in the bondestue, the replica +of a Norse farm kitchen, pale women in scarlet jackets +embroidered with gold thread and colored beads, in black skirts +with a line of blue, green-striped aprons, and ridged caps very +pretty to set off a fresh face, had served rommegrod og lefse-- +sweet cakes and sour milk pudding spiced with cinnamon. +For the first time in Gopher Prairie Carol had found novelty. +She had reveled in the mild foreignness of it. + +But she saw these Scandinavian women zealously exchanging +their spiced puddings and red jackets for fried pork chops +and congealed white blouses, trading the ancient Christmas +hymns of the fjords for "She's My Jazzland Cutie," being +Americanized into uniformity, and in less than a generation +losing in the grayness whatever pleasant new customs they +might have added to the life of the town. Their sons finished +the process. In ready-made clothes and ready-made high- +school phrases they sank into propriety, and the sound American +customs had absorbed without one trace of pollution +another alien invasion. + +And along with these foreigners, she felt herself being ironed +into glossy mediocrity, and she rebelled, in fear. + +The respectability of the Gopher Prairies, said Carol, is +reinforced by vows of poverty and chastity in the matter of +knowledge. Except for half a dozen in each town the citizens +are proud of that achievement of ignorance which it is so easy +to come by. To be "intellectual" or "artistic" or, in their +own word, to be "highbrow," is to be priggish and of dubious +virtue. + +Large experiments in politics and in co-operative distribution, +ventures requiring knowledge, courage, and imagination, do +originate in the West and Middlewest, but they are not of +the towns, they are of the farmers. If these heresies are +supported by the townsmen it is only by occasional teachers +doctors, lawyers, the labor unions, and workmen like Miles +Bjornstam, who are punished by being mocked as "cranks," +as "half-baked parlor socialists." The editor and the rector +preach at them. The cloud of serene ignorance submerges +them in unhappiness and futility. + + +V + + +Here Vida observed, "Yes--well---- Do you know, I've +always thought that Ray would have made a wonderful rector. +He has what I call an essentially religious soul. My! He'd +have read the service beautifully! I suppose it's too late now, +but as I tell him, he can also serve the world by selling shoes +and---- I wonder if we oughtn't to have family-prayers?" + + +VI + + +Doubtless all small towns, in all countries, in all ages, +Carol admitted, have a tendency to be not only dull but +mean, bitter, infested with curiosity. In France or Tibet quite +as much as in Wyoming or Indiana these timidities are +inherent in isolation. + +But a village in a country which is taking pains to become +altogether standardized and pure, which aspires to succeed +Victorian England as the chief mediocrity of the world, is no +longer merely provincial, no longer downy and restful in its +leaf-shadowed ignorance. It is a force seeking to dominate +the earth, to drain the hills and sea of color, to set Dante at +boosting Gopher Prairie, and to dress the high gods in +Klassy Kollege Klothes. Sure of itself, it bullies other civilizations, +as a traveling salesman in a brown derby conquers the +wisdom of China and tacks advertisements of cigarettes over +arches for centuries dedicate to the sayings of Confucius. + +Such a society functions admirably in the large production +of cheap automobiles, dollar watches, and safety razors. But +it is not satisfied until the entire world also admits that the +end and joyous purpose of living is to ride in flivvers, to make +advertising-pictures of dollar watches, and in the twilight to +sit talking not of love and courage but of the convenience +of safety razors. + +And such a society, such a nation, is determined by the +Gopher Prairies. The greatest manufacturer is but a busier +Sam Clark, and all the rotund senators and presidents are +village lawyers and bankers grown nine feet tall. + +Though a Gopher Prairie regards itself as a part of the Great +World, compares itself to Rome and Vienna, it will not acquire +the scientific spirit, the international mind, which would make +it great. It picks at information which will visibly procure +money or social distinction. Its conception of a community +ideal is not the grand manner, the noble aspiration, the fine +aristocratic pride, but cheap labor for the kitchen and rapid +increase in the price of land. It plays at cards on greasy oil- +cloth in a shanty, and does not know that prophets are walking +and talking on the terrace. + +If all the provincials were as kindly as Champ Perry and +Sam Clark there would be no reason for desiring the town +to seek great traditions. It is the Harry Haydocks, the Dave +Dyers, the Jackson Elders, small busy men crushingly powerful +in their common purpose, viewing themselves as men of the +world but keeping themselves men of the cash-register and +the comic film, who make the town a sterile oligarchy. + + +VII + + +She had sought to be definite in analyzing the surface +ugliness of the Gopher Prairies. She asserted that it is a matter +of universal similarity; of flimsiness of construction, so that +the towns resemble frontier camps; of neglect of natural +advantages, so that the hills are covered with brush, the lakes +shut off by railroads, and the creeks lined with dumping- +grounds; of depressing sobriety of color; rectangularity of +buildings; and excessive breadth and straightness of the gashed +streets, so that there is no escape from gales and from sight +of the grim sweep of land, nor any windings to coax the +loiterer along, while the breadth which would be majestic in +an avenue of palaces makes the low shabby shops creeping +down the typical Main Street the more mean by comparison. + +The universal similarity--that is the physical expression of +the philosophy of dull safety. Nine-tenths of the American +towns are so alike that it is the completest boredom to wander +from one to another. Always, west of Pittsburg, and often, +east of it, there is the same lumber yard, the same railroad +station, the same Ford garage, the same creamery, the same +box-like houses and two-story shops. The new, more conscious +houses are alike in their very attempts at diversity: the same +bungalows, the same square houses of stucco or tapestry brick. +The shops show the same standardized, nationally advertised +wares; the newspapers of sections three thousand miles apart +have the same "syndicated features"; the boy in Arkansas +displays just such a flamboyant ready-made suit as is found +on just such a boy in Delaware, both of them iterate the same +slang phrases from the same sporting-pages, and if one of them +is in college and the other is a barber, no one may surmise which +is which. + +If Kennicott were snatched from Gopher Prairie and +instantly conveyed to a town leagues away, he would not realize +it. He would go down apparently the same Main Street +(almost certainly it would be called Main Street); in the +same drug store he would see the same young man serving +the same ice-cream soda to the same young woman with the +same magazines and phonograph records under her arm. Not +till he had climbed to his office and found another sign on +the door, another Dr. Kennicott inside, would he understand +that something curious had presumably happened. + +Finally, behind all her comments, Carol saw the fact that the +prairie towns no more exist to serve the farmers who are +their reason of existence than do the great capitals; they +exist to fatten on the farmers, to provide for the townsmen +large motors and social preferment; and, unlike the capitals, +they do not give to the district in return for usury a stately +and permanent center, but only this ragged camp. It is a +"parasitic Greek civilization"--minus the civilization. + +"There we are then," said Carol. "The remedy? Is +there any? Criticism, perhaps, for the beginning of the +beginning. Oh, there's nothing that attacks the Tribal God +Mediocrity that doesn't help a little. . .and probably +there's nothing that helps very much. Perhaps some day the +farmers will build and own their market-towns. (Think of +the club they could have!) But I'm afraid I haven't any +`reform program.' Not any more! The trouble is spiritual, +and no League or Party can enact a preference for gardens +rather than dumping-grounds. . . . There's my confession. WELL?" + +"In other words, all you want is perfection?" + +"Yes! Why not?" + +"How you hate this place! How can you expect to do +anything with it if you haven't any sympathy?" + +"But I have! And affection. Or else I wouldn't fume +so. I've learned that Gopher Prairie isn't just an eruption +on the prairie, as I thought first, but as large as New York. +In New York I wouldn't know more than forty or fifty people, +and I know that many here. Go on! Say what you're +thinking." + +"Well, my dear, if I DID take all your notions seriously, +it would be pretty discouraging. Imagine how a person +would feel, after working hard for years and helping to build +up a nice town, to have you airily flit in and simply say +`Rotten!' Think that's fair?" + +"Why not? It must be just as discouraging for the Gopher +Prairieite to see Venice and make comparisons." + +"It would not! I imagine gondolas are kind of nice to +ride in, but we've got better bath-rooms! But---- My dear, +you're not the only person in this town who has done some +thinking for herself, although (pardon my rudeness) I'm +afraid you think so. I'll admit we lack some things. Maybe +our theater isn't as good as shows in Paris. All right! I don't +want to see any foreign culture suddenly forced on us--whether +it's street-planning or table-manners or crazy communistic +ideas." + +Vida sketched what she termed "practical things that will +make a happier and prettier town, but that do belong to our +life, that actually are being done." Of the Thanatopsis Club +she spoke; of the rest-room, the fight against mosquitos, the +campaign for more gardens and shade-trees and sewers-- +matters not fantastic and nebulous and distant, but immediate +and sure. + +Carol's answer was fantastic and nebulous enough: + +"Yes. . . . Yes. . . . I know. They're good. +But if I could put through all those reforms at once, I'd still +want startling, exotic things. Life is comfortable and clean +enough here already. And so secure. What it needs is to be +less secure, more eager. The civic improvements which I'd +like the Thanatopsis to advocate are Strindberg plays, and +classic dancers--exquisite legs beneath tulle--and (I can see +him so clearly!) a thick, black-bearded, cynical Frenchman +who would sit about and drink and sing opera and tell bawdy +stories and laugh at our proprieties and quote Rabelais and +not be ashamed to kiss my hand!" + +"Huh! Not sure about the rest of it but I guess that's +what you and all the other discontented young women really +want: some stranger kissing your hand!" At Carol's gasp, +the old squirrel-like Vida darted out and cried, "Oh, my dear, +don't take that too seriously. I just meant----" + +"I know. You just meant it. Go on. Be good for my +soul. Isn't it funny: here we all are--me trying to be good +for Gopher Prairie's soul, and Gopher Prairie trying to be +good for my soul. What are my other sins?" + +"Oh, there's plenty of them. Possibly some day we shall +have your fat cynical Frenchman (horrible, sneering, tobacco- +stained object, ruining his brains and his digestion with vile +liquor!) but, thank heaven, for a while we'll manage to keep +busy with our lawns and pavements! You see, these things +really are coming! The Thanatopsis is getting somewhere. +And you----" Her tone italicized the words--"to my great +disappointment, are doing less, not more, than the people +you laugh at! Sam Clark, on the school-board, is working +for better school ventilation. Ella Stowbody (whose elocuting +you always think is so absurd) has persuaded the railroad +to share the expense of a parked space at the station, to +do away with that vacant lot. + +"You sneer so easily. I'm sorry, but I do think there's +something essentially cheap in your attitude. Especially about +religion. + +"If you must know, you're not a sound reformer at all. +You're an impossibilist. And you give up too easily. You +gave up on the new city hall, the anti-fly campaign, club papers, +the library-board, the dramatic association--just because we +didn't graduate into Ibsen the very first thing. You want +perfection all at once. Do you know what the finest thing you've +done is--aside from bringing Hugh into the world? It was +the help you gave Dr. Will during baby-welfare week. You +didn't demand that each baby be a philosopher and artist +before you weighed him, as you do with the rest of us. + +"And now I'm afraid perhaps I'll hurt you. We're going +to have a new schoolbuilding in this town--in just a few +years--and we'll have it without one bit of help or interest +from you! + +"Professor Mott and I and some others have been dinging +away at the moneyed men for years. We didn't call on +you because you would never stand the pound-pound-pounding +year after year without one bit of encouragement. And we've +won! I've got the promise of everybody who counts that +just as soon as war-conditions permit, they'll vote the bonds +for the schoolhouse. And we'll have a wonderful building-- +lovely brown brick, with big windows, and agricultural and +manual-training departments. When we get it, that'll be my +answer to all your theories!" + +"I'm glad. And I'm ashamed I haven't had any part in +getting it. But---- Please don't think I'm unsympathetic +if I ask one question: Will the teachers in the hygienic new +building go on informing the children that Persia is a yellow +spot on the map, and `Caesar' the title of a book of +grammatical puzzles?" + + +VIII + + +Vida was indignant; Carol was apologetic; they talked for +another hour, the eternal Mary and Martha--an immoralist +Mary and a reformist Martha. It was Vida who conquered. + +The fact that she had been left out of the campaign for the +new schoolbuilding disconcerted Carol. She laid her dreams +of perfection aside. When Vida asked her to take charge of +a group of Camp Fire Girls, she obeyed, and had definite +pleasure out of the Indian dances and ritual and costumes. She +went more regularly to the Thanatopsis. With Vida as lieutenant +and unofficial commander she campaigned for a village +nurse to attend poor families, raised the fund herself, saw to +it that the nurse was young and strong and amiable and +intelligent. + +Yet all the while she beheld the burly cynical Frenchman +and the diaphanous dancers as clearly as the child sees its +air-born playmates; she relished the Camp Fire Girls not +because, in Vida's words, "this Scout training will help so +much to make them Good Wives," but because she hoped +that the Sioux dances would bring subversive color into their +dinginess. + +She helped Ella Stowbody to set out plants in the tiny +triangular park at the railroad station; she squatted in the +dirt, with a small curved trowel and the most decorous of +gardening gauntlets; she talked to Ella about the public- +spiritedness of fuchsias and cannas; and she felt that she was +scrubbing a temple deserted by the gods and empty even of +incense and the sound of chanting. Passengers looking from +trains saw her as a village woman of fading prettiness, +incorruptible virtue, and no abnormalities; the baggageman +heard her say, "Oh yes, I do think it will be a good example +for the children"; and all the while she saw herself running +garlanded through the streets of Babylon. + +Planting led her to botanizing. She never got much farther +than recognizing the tiger lily and the wild rose, but she +rediscovered Hugh. "What does the buttercup say, mummy?" +he cried, his hand full of straggly grasses, his cheek gilded with +pollen. She knelt to embrace him; she affirmed that he made +life more than full; she was altogether reconciled. . .for an hour. + +But she awoke at night to hovering death. She crept away +from the hump of bedding that was Kennicott; tiptoed into +the bathroom and, by the mirror in the door of the medicine- +cabinet, examined her pallid face. + +Wasn't she growing visibly older in ratio as Vida grew +plumper and younger? Wasn't her nose sharper? Wasn't +her neck granulated? She stared and choked. She was only +thirty. But the five years since her marriage--had they not +gone by as hastily and stupidly as though she had been under +ether; would time not slink past till death? She pounded her +fist on the cool enameled rim of the bathtub and raged mutely +against the indifferent gods: + +"I don't care! I won't endure it! They lie so--Vida +and Will and Aunt Bessie--they tell me I ought to be satisfied +with Hugh and a good home and planting seven nasturtiums +in a station garden! I am I! When I die the world will be +annihilated, as far as I'm concerned. I am I! I'm not +content to leave the sea and the ivory towers to others. I +want them for me! Damn Vida! Damn all of them! Do +they think they can make me believe that a display of potatoes +at Howland & Gould's is enough beauty and strangeness?" + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +I + +WHEN America entered the Great European War, Vida sent +Raymie off to an officers' training-camp--less than a year after +her wedding. Raymie was diligent and rather strong. He +came out a first lieutenant of infantry, and was one of the +earliest sent abroad. + +Carol grew definitely afraid of Vida as Vida transferred +the passion which had been released in marriage to the cause +of the war; as she lost all tolerance. When Carol was touched +by the desire for heroism in Raymie and tried tactfully to +express it, Vida made her feel like an impertinent child. + +By enlistment and draft, the sons of Lyman Cass, Nat +Hicks, Sam Clark joined the army. But most of the soldiers +were the sons of German and Swedish farmers unknown to +Carol. Dr. Terry Gould and Dr. McGanum became captains +in the medical corps, and were stationed at camps in Iowa and +Georgia. They were the only officers, besides Raymie, from +the Gopher Prairie district. Kennicott wanted to go with +them, but the several doctors of the town forgot medical +rivalry and, meeting in council, decided that he would do +better to wait and keep the town well till he should be needed. +Kennicott was forty-two now; the only youngish doctor left +in a radius of eighteen miles. Old Dr. Westlake, who loved +comfort like a cat, protestingly rolled out at night for country +calls, and hunted through his collar-box for his G. A. R. button. + +Carol did not quite know what she thought about Kennicott's +going. Certainly she was no Spartan wife. She knew that +he wanted to go; she knew that this longing was always in +him, behind his unchanged trudging and remarks about the +weather. She felt for him an admiring affection--and she +was sorry that she had nothing more than affection. + +Cy Bogart was the spectacular warrior of the town. Cy +was no longer the weedy boy who had sat in the loft speculating +about Carol's egotism and the mysteries of generation. +He was nineteen now, tall, broad, busy, the "town sport," +famous for his ability to drink beer, to shake dice, to tell +undesirable stories, and, from his post in front of Dyer's drug +store, to embarrass the girls by "jollying" them as they passed. +His face was at once peach-bloomed and pimply. + +Cy was to be heard publishing it abroad that if he couldn't +get the Widow Bogart's permission to enlist, he'd run away +and enlist without it. He shouted that he "hated every dirty +Hun; by gosh, if he could just poke a bayonet into one big +fat Heinie and learn him some decency and democracy, he'd +die happy." Cy got much reputation by whipping a farmboy +named Adolph Pochbauer for being a "damn hyphenated +German." . . . This was the younger Pochbauer, who was +killed in the Argonne, while he was trying to bring the body +of his Yankee captain back to the lines. At this time Cy Bogart +was still dwelling in Gopher Prairie and planning to go to +war. + + +II + + +Everywhere Carol heard that the war was going to bring +a basic change in psychology, to purify and uplift everything +from marital relations to national politics, and she tried to +exult in it. Only she did not find it. She saw the women who +made bandages for the Red Cross giving up bridge, and +laughing at having to do without sugar, but over the surgical- +dressings they did not speak of God and the souls of men, +but of Miles Bjornstam's impudence, of Terry Gould's scandalous +carryings-on with a farmer's daughter four years ago, +of cooking cabbage, and of altering blouses. Their references +to the war touched atrocities only. She herself was +punctual, and efficient at making dressings, but she could not, +like Mrs. Lyman Cass and Mrs. Bogart, fill the dressings +with hate for enemies. + +When she protested to Vida, "The young do the work while +these old ones sit around and interrupt us and gag with hate +because they're too feeble to do anything but hate," then +Vida turned on her: + +"If you can't be reverent, at least don't be so pert and +opinionated, now when men and women are dying. Some of +us--we have given up so much, and we're glad to. At least +we expect that you others sha'n't try to be witty at our +expense." + +There was weeping. + +Carol did desire to see the Prussian autocracy defeated; +she did persuade herself that there were no autocracies save +that of Prussia; she did thrill to motion-pictures of troops +embarking in New York; and she was uncomfortable when she +met Miles Bjornstam on the street and he croaked: + +"How's tricks? Things going fine with me; got two new +cows. Well, have you become a patriot? Eh? Sure, they'll +bring democracy--the democracy of death. Yes, sure, in every +war since the Garden of Eden the workmen have gone out to +fight each other for perfectly good reasons--handed to them +by their bosses. Now me, I'm wise. I'm so wise that I know +I don't know anything about the war." + +It was not a thought of the war that remained with her +after Miles's declamation but a perception that she and Vida +and all of the good-intentioners who wanted to "do something +for the common people" were insignificant, because the +"common people" were able to do things for themselves, +and highly likely to, as soon as they learned the fact. The +conception of millions of workmen like Miles taking control +frightened her, and she scuttled rapidly away from the thought +of a time when she might no longer retain the position of +Lady Bountiful to the Bjornstams and Beas and Oscarinas +whom she loved--and patronized. + + +III + + +It was in June, two months after America's entrance into +the war, that the momentous event happened--the visit of +the great Percy Bresnahan, the millionaire president of the +Velvet Motor Car Company of Boston, the one native son +who was always to be mentioned to strangers. + +For two weeks there were rumors. Sam Clark cried to +Kennicott, "Say, I hear Perce Bresnahan is coming! By +golly it'll be great to see the old scout, eh?" Finally the +Dauntless printed, on the front page with a No. 1 head, a letter +from Bresnahan to Jackson Elder: + +DEAR JACK: + +Well, Jack, I find I can make it. I'm to go to Washington as a +dollar a year man for the government, in the aviation motor section, +and tell them how much I don't know about carburetors. But before +I start in being a hero I want to shoot out and catch me a big black +bass and cuss out you and Sam Clark and Harry Haydock and Will +Kennicott and the rest of you pirates. I'll land in G. P. on June 7, +on No. 7 from Mpls. Shake a day-day. Tell Bert Tybee to save +me a glass of beer. + +Sincerely yours, + +Perce. + + + +All members of the social, financial, scientific, literary, and +sporting sets were at No. 7 to meet Bresnahan; Mrs. Lyman +Cass was beside Del Snafflin the barber, and Juanita Haydock +almost cordial to Miss Villets the librarian. Carol saw Bresnahan +laughing down at them from the train vestibule--big, +immaculate, overjawed, with the eye of an executive. In the +voice of the professional Good Fellow he bellowed, "Howdy, +folks!" As she was introduced to him (not he to her) Bresnahan +looked into her eyes, and his hand-shake was warm, unhurried. + +He declined the offers of motors; he walked off, his arm +about the shoulder of Nat Hicks the sporting tailor, with the +elegant Harry Haydock carrying one of his enormous pale +leather bags, Del Snafflin the other, Jack Elder bearing an +overcoat, and Julius Flickerbaugh the fishing-tackle. Carol +noted that though Bresnahan wore spats and a stick, no small +boy jeered. She decided, "I must have Will get a double- +breasted blue coat and a wing collar and a dotted bow-tie +like his." + +That evening, when Kennicott was trimming the grass along +the walk with sheep-shears, Bresnahan rolled up, alone. He +was now in corduroy trousers, khaki shirt open at the throat, +a white boating hat, and marvelous canvas-and-leather shoes +"On the job there, old Will! Say, my Lord, this is living, to +come back and get into a regular man-sized pair of pants. +They can talk all they want to about the city, but my idea +of a good time is to loaf around and see you boys and catch +a gamey bass!" + +He hustled up the walk and blared at Carol, "Where's that +little fellow? I hear you've got one fine big he-boy that you're +holding out on me!" + +"He's gone to bed," rather briefly. + +"I know. And rules are rules, these days. Kids get routed +through the shop like a motor. But look here, sister; I'm +one great hand at busting rules. Come on now, let Uncle +Perce have a look at him. Please now, sister?" + +He put his arm about her waist; it was a large, strong, +sophisticated arm, and very agreeable; he grinned at her with +a devastating knowingness, while Kennicott glowed inanely. +She flushed; she was alarmed by the ease with which the +big-city man invaded her guarded personality. She was glad, +in retreat, to scamper ahead of the two men up-stairs to the +hall-room in which Hugh slept. All the way Kennicott +muttered, "Well, well, say, gee whittakers but it's good to have +you back, certainly is good to see you!" + +Hugh lay on his stomach, making an earnest business of +sleeping. He burrowed his eyes in the dwarf blue pillow to +escape the electric light, then sat up abruptly, small and frail +in his woolly nightdrawers, his floss of brown hair wild, the +pillow clutched to his breast. He wailed. He stared at the +stranger, in a manner of patient dismissal. He explained +confidentially to Carol, "Daddy wouldn't let it be morning +yet. What does the pillow say?" + +Bresnahan dropped his arm caressingly on Carol's shoulder; +he pronounced, "My Lord, you're a lucky girl to have a fine +young husk like that. I figure Will knew what he was doing +when he persuaded you to take a chance on an old bum like +him! They tell me you come from St. Paul. We're going to +get you to come to Boston some day." He leaned over the +bed. "Young man, you're the slickest sight I've seen this +side of Boston. With your permission, may we present you +with a slight token of our regard and appreciation of your +long service?" + +He held out a red rubber Pierrot. Hugh remarked, "Gimme +it," hid it under the bedclothes, and stared at Bresnahan +as though he had never seen the man before. + +For once Carol permitted herself the spiritual luxury of +not asking "Why, Hugh dear, what do you say when some +one gives you a present?" The great man was apparently +waiting. They stood in inane suspense till Bresnahan led +them out, rumbling, "How about planning a fishing-trip, +Will?" + +He remained for half an hour. Always he told Carol what +a charming person she was; always he looked at her knowingly. + +"Yes. He probably would make a woman fall in love with +him. But it wouldn't last a week. I'd get tired of his +confounded buoyancy. His hypocrisy. He's a spiritual bully. +He makes me rude to him in self-defense. Oh yes, he is glad +to be here. He does like us. He's so good an actor that he +convinces his own self. . . . I'd HATE him in Boston. +He'd have all the obvious big-city things. Limousines. +Discreet evening-clothes. Order a clever dinner at a smart +restaurant. Drawing-room decorated by the best firm--but the +pictures giving him away. I'd rather talk to Guy Pollock in +his dusty office. . . . How I lie! His arm coaxed my +shoulder and his eyes dared me not to admire him. I'd be +afraid of him. I hate him! . . . Oh, the inconceivable +egotistic imagination of women! All this stew of analysss. +about a man, a good, decent, friendly, efficient man, because he +was kind to me, as Will's wife!" + + +IV + + +The Kennicotts, the Elders, the Clarks, and Bresnahan went +fishing at Red Squaw Lake. They drove forty miles to the lake +in Elder's new Cadillac. There was much laughter and bustle +at the start, much storing of lunch-baskets and jointed poles, +much inquiry as to whether it would really bother Carol to +sit with her feet up on a roll of shawls. When they were +ready to go Mrs. Clark lamented, "Oh, Sam, I forgot my +magazine," and Bresnahan bullied, "Come on now, if you +women think you're going to be literary, you can't go with +us tough guys!" Every one laughed a great deal, and as +they drove on Mrs. Clark explained that though probably she +would not have read it, still, she might have wanted to, while +the other girls had a nap in the afternoon, and she was right +in the middle of a serial--it was an awfully exciting story-- +it seems that this girl was a Turkish dancer (only she was +really the daughter of an American lady and a Russian prince) +and men kept running after her, just disgustingly, but she +remained pure, and there was a scene---- + +While the men floated on the lake, casting for black bass, +the women prepared lunch and yawned. Carol was a little +resentful of the manner in which the men assumed that they +did not care to fish. "I don't want to go with them, but +I would like the privilege of refusing." + +The lunch was long and pleasant. It was a background +for the talk of the great man come home, hints of cities and +large imperative affairs and famous people, jocosely modest +admissions that, yes, their friend Perce was doing about as +well as most of these "Boston swells that think so much of +themselves because they come from rich old families and went +to college and everything. Believe me, it's us new business men +that are running Beantown today, and not a lot of fussy old +bucks snoozing in their clubs!" + +Carol realized that he was not one of the sons of Gopher +Prairie who, if they do not actually starve in the East, are +invariably spoken of as "highly successful"; and she found +behind his too incessant flattery a genuine affection for his +mates. It was in the matter of the war that he most favored +and thrilled them. Dropping his voice while they bent nearer +(there was no one within two miles to overhear), he disclosed +the fact that in both Boston and Washington he'd been getting +a lot of inside stuff on the war--right straight from +headquarters--he was in touch with some men--couldn't name +them but they were darn high up in both the War and State +Departments--and he would say--only for Pete's sake they +mustn't breathe one word of this; it was strictly on the Q.T. +and not generally known outside of Washington--but just +between ourselves--and they could take this for gospel--Spain +had finally decided to join the Entente allies in the Grand +Scrap. Yes, sir, there'd be two million fully equipped Spanish +soldiers fighting with us in France in one month now. Some +surprise for Germany, all right! + +"How about the prospects for revolution in Germany?" +reverently asked Kennicott. + +The authority grunted, "Nothing to it. The one thing you +can bet on is that no matter what happens to the German +people, win or lose, they'll stick by the Kaiser till hell freezes +over. I got that absolutely straight, from a fellow who's on +the inside of the inside in Washington. No, sir! I don't +pretend to know much about international affairs but one thing +you can put down as settled is that Germany will be a Hohenzollern +empire for the next forty years. At that, I don't know +as it's so bad. The Kaiser and the Junkers keep a firm hand +on a lot of these red agitators who'd be worse than a king if +they could get control." + +"I'm terribly interested in this uprising that overthrew +the Czar in Russia," suggested Carol. She had finally been +conquered by the man's wizard knowledge of affairs. + +Kennicott apologized for her: "Carrie's nuts about this +Russian revolution. Is there much to it, Perce?" + +"There is not!" Bresnahan said flatly. "I can speak by +the book there. Carol, honey, I'm surprised to find you talking +like a New York Russian Jew, or one of these long-hairs! I +can tell you, only you don't need to let every one in on it, +this is confidential, I got it from a man who's close to the +State Department, but as a matter of fact the Czar will be back +in power before the end of the year. You read a lot about +his retiring and about his being killed, but I know he's got a +big army back of him, and he'll show these damn agitators, +lazy beggars hunting for a soft berth bossing the poor goats +that fall for 'em, he'll show 'em where they get off!" + +Carol was sorry to hear that the Czar was coming back, +but she said nothing. The others had looked vacant at the +mention of a country so far away as Russia. Now they edged +in and asked Bresnahan what he thought about the Packard +car, investments in Texas oil-wells, the comparative merits of +young men born in Minnesota and in Massachusetts, the question +of prohibition, the future cost of motor tires, and wasn't +it true that American aviators put it all over these Frenchmen? + +They were glad to find that he agreed with them on every +point. + +As she heard Bresnahan announce, "We're perfectly willing +to talk to any committee the men may choose, but we're not +going to stand for some outside agitator butting in and telling +us how we're going to run our plant!" Carol remembered +that Jackson Elder (now meekly receiving New Ideas) had +said the same thing in the same words. + +While Sam Clark was digging up from his memory a long +and immensely detailed story of the crushing things he had +said to a Pullman porter, named George, Bresnahan hugged +his knees and rocked and watched Carol. She wondered if he +did not understand the laboriousness of the smile with which +she listened to Kennicott's account of the "good one he had +on Carrie," that marital, coyly improper, ten-times-told tale +of how she had forgotten to attend to Hugh because she was +"all het up pounding the box"--which may be translated as +"eagerly playing the piano." She was certain that Bresnahan +saw through her when she pretended not to hear Kennicott's +invitation to join a game of cribbage. She feared the comments +he might make; she was irritated by her fear. + +She was equally irritated, when the motor returned through +Gopher Prairie, to find that she was proud of sharing in +Bresnahan's kudos as people waved, and Juanita Haydock +leaned from a window. She said to herself, "As though I +cared whether I'm seen with this fat phonograph!" and +simultaneously, "Everybody has noticed how much Will and +I are playing with Mr. Bresnahan." + +The town was full of his stories, his friendliness, his memory +for names, his clothes, his trout-flies, his generosity. He had +given a hundred dollars to Father Klubok the priest, and a +hundred to the Reverend Mr. Zitterel the Baptist minister, +for Americanization work. + +At the Bon Ton, Carol heard Nat Hicks the tailor exulting: + +"Old Perce certainly pulled a good one on this fellow +Bjornstam that always is shooting off his mouth. He's +supposed to of settled down since he got married, but Lord, +those fellows that think they know it all, they never change. +Well, the Red Swede got the grand razz handed to him, all +right. He had the nerve to breeze up to Perce, at Dave Dyer's, +and he said, he said to Perce, `I've always wanted to look +at a man that was so useful that folks would pay him a million +dollars for existing,' and Perce gave him the once-over and +come right back, `Have, eh?' he says. `Well,' he says, `I've +been looking for a man so useful sweeping floors that I could +pay him four dollars a day. Want the job, my friend?' Ha, +ha, ha! Say, you know how lippy Bjornstam is? Well for +once he didn't have a thing to say. He tried to get fresh, +and tell what a rotten town this is, and Perce come right +back at him, `If you don't like this country, you better get +out of it and go back to Germany, where you belong!' Say, +maybe us fellows didn't give Bjornstam the horse-laugh though! +Oh, Perce is the white-haired boy in this burg, all rightee!" + + +V + + +Bresnahan had borrowed Jackson Elder's motor; he stopped +at the Kennicotts'; he bawled at Carol, rocking with Hugh +en the porch, "Better come for a ride." + +She wanted to snub him. "Thanks so much, but I'm being +maternal." + +"Bring him along! Bring him along!" Bresnahan was +out of the seat, stalking up the sidewalk, and the rest of her +protests and dignities were feeble. + +She did not bring Hugh along. + +Bresnahan was silent for a mile, in words, But he looked +at her as though he meant her to know that he understood +everything she thought. + +She observed how deep was his chest. + +"Lovely fields over there," he said. + +"You really like them? There's no profit in them." + +He chuckled. "Sister, you can't get away with it. I'm +onto you. You consider me a big bluff. Well, maybe I am. +But so are you, my dear--and pretty enough so that I'd +try to make love to you, if I weren't afraid you'd slap me." + +"Mr. Bresnahan, do you talk that way to your' wife's +friends? And do you call them `sister'?" + +"As a matter of fact, I do! And I make 'em like it. +Score two!" But his chuckle was not so rotund, and he was +very attentive to the ammeter. + +In a moment he was cautiously attacking: "That's a wonderful +boy, Will Kennicott. Great work these country practitioners +are doing. The other day, in Washington, I was +talking to a big scientific shark, a professor in Johns Hopkins +medical school, and he was saying that no one has ever +sufficiently appreciated the general practitioner and the +sympathy and help he gives folks. These crack specialists, the +young scientific fellows, they're so cocksure and so wrapped +up in their laboratories that they miss the human element. +Except in the case of a few freak diseases that no respectable +human being would waste his time having, it's the old doc +that keeps a community well, mind and body. And strikes me +that Will is one of the steadiest and clearest-headed counter +practitioners I've ever met. Eh?" + +"I'm sure he is. He's a servant of reality." + +"Come again? Um. Yes. All of that, whatever that is. . . . +Say, child, you don't care a whole lot for Gopher Prairie, +if I'm not mistaken." + +"Nope." + +"There's where you're missing a big chance. There's nothing +to these cities. Believe me, I KNOW! This is a good town, +as they go. You're lucky to be here. I wish I could shy on!" + +"Very well, why don't you?" + +"Huh? Why--Lord--can't get away fr----" + +"You don't have to stay. I do! So I want to change it. +Do you know that men like you, prominent men, do quite a +reasonable amount of harm by insisting that your native towns +and native states are perfect? It's you who encourage the +denizens not to change. They quote you, and go on believing +that they live in paradise, and----" She clenched her fist. +"The incredible dullness of it!" + +"Suppose you were right. Even so, don't you think you +waste a lot of thundering on one poor scared little town? +Kind of mean!" + +"I tell you it's dull. DULL!" + +"The folks don't find it dull. These couples like the +Haydocks have a high old time; dances and cards----" + +"They don't. They're bored. Almost every one here is. +Vacuousness and bad manners and spiteful gossip--that's what +I hate." + +"Those things--course they're here. So are they in Boston! +And every place else! Why, the faults you find in this town +are simply human nature, and never will be changed." + +"Perhaps. But in a Boston all the good Carols (I'll admit +I have no faults) can find one another and play. But here-- +I'm alone, in a stale pool--except as it's stirred by the great +Mr. Bresnahan!" + +"My Lord, to hear you tell it, a fellow 'd think that all +the denizens, as you impolitely call 'em, are so confoundedly +unhappy that it's a wonder they don't all up and commit +suicide. But they seem to struggle along somehow!" + +"They don't know what they miss. And anybody can +endure anything. Look at men in mines and in prisons." + +He drew up on the south shore of Lake Minniemashie. +He glanced across the reeds reflected on the water, the quiver +of wavelets like crumpled tinfoil, the distant shores patched +with dark woods, silvery oats and deep yellow wheat. He +patted her hand. "Sis---- Carol, you're a darling girl, but +you're difficult. Know what I think?" + +"Yes." + +"Humph. Maybe you do, but---- My humble (not too +humble!) opinion is that you like to be different. You like +to think you're peculiar. Why, if you knew how many tens +of thousands of women, especially in New York, say just what +you do, you'd lose all the fun of thinking you're a lone genius +and you'd be on the band-wagon whooping it up for Gopher +Prairie and a good decent family life. There's always about +a million young women just out of college who want to teach +their grandmothers how to suck eggs." + +"How proud you are of that homely rustic metaphor! You +use it at `banquets' and directors' meetings, and boast of +your climb from a humble homestead." + +"Huh! You may have my number. I'm not telling. But +look here: You're so prejudiced against Gopher Prairie that +you overshoot the mark; you antagonize those who might be +inclined to agree with you in some particulars but---- Great +guns, the town can't be all wrong!" + +"No, it isn't. But it could be. Let me tell you a fable. +Imagine a cavewoman complaining to her mate. She doesn't +like one single thing; she hates the damp cave, the rats +running over her bare legs, the stiff skin garments, the eating +of half-raw meat, her husband's bushy face, the constant +battles, and the worship of the spirits who will hoodoo her +unless she gives the priests her best claw necklace. Her man +protests, `But it can't all be wrong!' and he thinks he has +reduced her to absurdity. Now you assume that a world +which produces a Percy Bresnahan and a Velvet Motor Company +must be civilized. It is? Aren't we only about half-way +along in barbarism? I suggest Mrs. Bogart as a test. And +we'll continue in barbarism just as long as people as nearly +intelligent as you continue to defend things as they are +because they are." + +"You're a fair spieler, child. But, by golly, I'd like to see +you try to design a new manifold, or run a factory and keep +a lot of your fellow reds from Czech-slovenski-magyar- +godknowswheria on the job! You'd drop your theories so +darn quick! I'm not any defender of things as they are. +Sure. They're rotten. Only I'm sensible." + +He preached his gospel: love of outdoors, Playing the Game, +loyalty to friends. She had the neophyte's shock of discovery +that, outside of tracts, conservatives do not tremble and find +no answer when an iconoclast turns on them, but retort with +agility and confusing statistics. + +He was so much the man, the worker, the friend, that she +liked him when she most tried to stand out against him; he +was so much the successful executive that she did not want +him to despise her. His manner of sneering at what he called +"parlor socialists" (though the phrase was not overwhelmingly +new) had a power which made her wish to placate his +company of well-fed, speed-loving administrators. When he +demanded, "Would you like to associate with nothing but a +lot of turkey-necked, horn-spectacled nuts that have +adenoids and need a hair-cut, and that spend all their time kicking +about `conditions' and never do a lick of work?" she said, +"No, but just the same----" When he asserted, "Even if +your cavewoman was right in knocking the whole works, I +bet some red-blooded Regular Fellow, some real He-man, +found her a nice dry cave, and not any whining criticizing +radical," she wriggled her head feebly, between a nod and a +shake. + +His large hands, sensual lips, easy voice supported his self- +confidence. He made her feel young and soft--as Kennicott +had once made her feel. She had nothing to say when he +bent his powerful head and experimented, "My dear, I'm +sorry I'm going away from this town. You'd be a darling +child to play with. You ARE pretty! Some day in Boston +I'll show you how we buy a lunch. Well, hang it, got to be +starting back." + +The only answer to his gospel of beef which she could find, +when she was home, was a wail of "But just the same----" + +She did not see him again before he departed for Washington. + +His eyes remained. His glances at her lips and hair and +shoulders had revealed to her that she was not a wife-and- +mother alone, but a girl; that there still were men in the +world, as there had been in college days. + +That admiration led her to study Kennicott, to tear at the +shroud of intimacy, to perceive the strangeness of the most +familiar. + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +I + +ALL that midsummer month Carol was sensitive to Kennicott. +She recalled a hundred grotesqueries: her comic dismay at +his having chewed tobacco, the evening when she had tried +to read poetry to him; matters which had seemed to vanish +with no trace or sequence. Always she repeated that he had +been heroically patient in his desire to join the army. She +made much of her consoling affection for him in little things. +She liked the homeliness of his tinkering about the house; his +strength and handiness as he tightened the hinges of a shutter; +his boyishness when he ran to her to be comforted because he +had found rust in the barrel of his pump-gun. But at the +highest he was to her another Hugh, without the glamor of +Hugh's unknown future. + +There was, late in June, a day of heat-lightning. + +Because of the work imposed by the absence of the other +doctors the Kennicotts had not moved to the lake cottage +but remained in town, dusty and irritable. In the afternoon, +when she went to Oleson & McGuire's (formerly Dahl & +Oleson's), Carol was vexed by the assumption of the youthful +clerk, recently come from the farm, that he had to be +neighborly and rude. He was no more brusquely familiar than +a dozen other clerks of the town, but her nerves were heat- +scorched. + +When she asked for codfish, for supper, he grunted, "What +d'you want that darned old dry stuff for?" + +"I like it!" + +"Punk! Guess the doc can afford something better than +that. Try some of the new wienies we got in. Swell. The +Haydocks use 'em." + +She exploded. "My dear young man, it is not your duty to +instruct me in housekeeping, and it doesn't particularly +concern me what the Haydocks condescend to approve!" + +He was hurt. He hastily wrapped up the leprous fragment +of fish; he gaped as she trailed out. She lamented, "I +shouldn't have spoken so. He didn't mean anything. He +doesn't know when he is being rude." + +Her repentance was not proof against Uncle Whittier when +she stopped in at his grocery for salt and a package of +safety matches. Uncle Whittier, in a shirt collarless and soaked +with sweat in a brown streak down his back, was whining +at a clerk, "Come on now, get a hustle on and lug that pound +cake up to Mis' Cass's. Some folks in this town think a +storekeeper ain't got nothing to do but chase out 'phone- +orders. . . . Hello, Carrie. That dress you got on looks +kind of low in the neck to me. May be decent and modest-- +I suppose I'm old-fashioned--but I never thought much of +showing the whole town a woman's bust! Hee, hee, hee! +. . . . Afternoon, Mrs. Hicks. Sage? Just out of it. +Lemme sell you some other spices. Heh?" Uncle Whittier was +nasally indignant "CERTAINLY! Got PLENTY other spices jus' +good as sage for any purp'se whatever! What's the matter +with--well, with allspice?" When Mrs. Hicks had gone, he +raged, "Some folks don't know what they want!" + +"Sweating sanctimonious bully--my husband's uncle!" +thought Carol. + +She crept into Dave Dyer's. Dave held up his arms with, +"Don't shoot! I surrender!" She smiled, but it occurred to +her that for nearly five years Dave had kept up this game of +pretending that she threatened his life. + +As she went dragging through the prickly-hot street she +reflected that a citizen of Gopher Prairie does not have jests-- +he has a jest. Every cold morning for five winters Lyman Cass +had remarked, "Fair to middlin' chilly--get worse before it +gets better." Fifty times had Ezra Stowbody informed the +public that Carol had once asked, "Shall I indorse this check +on the back?" Fifty times had Sam Clark called to her, +"Where'd you steal that hat?" Fifty times had the mention +of Barney Cahoon, the town drayman, like a nickel in a slot +produced from Kennicott the apocryphal story of Barney's +directing a minister, "Come down to the depot and get your +case of religious books--they're leaking!" + +She came home by the unvarying route. She knew every +house-front, every street-crossing, every billboard, every tree, +every dog. She knew every blackened banana-skin and empty +cigarette-box in the gutters. She knew every greeting. When +Jim Howland stopped and gaped at her there was no possibility +that he was about to confide anything but his grudging, "Well, +haryuh t'day?" + +All her future life, this same red-labeled bread-crate in +front of the bakery, this same thimble-shaped crack in the +sidewalk a quarter of a block beyond Stowbody's granite hitching- +post---- + +She silently handed her purchases to the silent Oscarina. +She sat on the porch, rocking, fanning, twitchy with Hugh's +whining. + +Kennicott came home, grumbled, "What the devil is the kid +yapping about?" + +"I guess you can stand it ten minutes if I can stand it all +day!" + +He came to supper in his shirt sleeves, his vest partly open, +revealing discolored suspenders. + +"Why don't you put on your nice Palm Beach suit, and take +off that hideous vest?" she complained. + +"Too much trouble. Too hot to go up-stairs." + +She realized that for perhaps a year she had not definitely +looked at her husband. She regarded his table-manners. He +violently chased fragments of fish about his plate with a knife +and licked the knife after gobbling them. She was slightly +sick. She asserted, "I'm ridiculous. What do these things +matter! Don't be so simple!" But she knew that to her they +did matter, these solecisms and mixed tenses of the table. + +She realized that they found little to say; that, incredibly, +they were like the talked-out couples whom she had pitied at +restaurants. + +Bresnahan would have spouted in a lively, exciting, +unreliable manner. . . . + +She realized that Kennicott's clothes were seldom pressed. +His coat was wrinkled; his trousers would flap at the knees +when he arose. His shoes were unblacked, and they were of +an elderly shapelessness. He refused to wear soft hats; +cleaved to a hard derby, as a symbol of virility and +prosperity; and sometimes he forgot to take it off in the house. +She peeped at his cuffs. They were frayed in prickles of +starched linen. She had turned them once; she clipped them +every week; but when she had begged him to throw the +shirt away, last Sunday morning at the crisis of the weekly +bath, he had uneasily protested, "Oh, it'll wear quite a while +yet." + +He was shaved (by himself or more socially by Del Snafflin) +only three times a week. This morning had not been one of +the three times. + +Yet he was vain of his new turn-down collars and sleek ties; +he often spoke of the "sloppy dressing" of Dr. McGanum; +and he laughed at old men who wore detachable cuffs or +Gladstone collars. + +Carol did not care much for the creamed codfish that +evening. + +She noted that his nails were jagged and ill-shaped from +his habit of cutting them with a pocket-knife and despising +a nail-file as effeminate and urban. That they were invariably +clean, that his were the scoured fingers of the surgeon, made +his stubborn untidiness the more jarring. They were wise +hands, kind hands, but they were not the hands of love. + +She remembered him in the days of courtship. He had tried +to please her, then, had touched her by sheepishly wearing +a colored band on his straw hat. Was it possible that those +days of fumbling for each other were gone so completely? +He had read books, to impress her; had said (she recalled it +ironically) that she was to point out his every fault; had +insisted once, as they sat in the secret place beneath the walls +of Fort Snelling---- + +She shut the door on her thoughts. That was sacred ground. +But it WAS a shame that---- + +She nervously pushed away her cake and stewed apricots. + +After supper, when they had been driven in from the porch +by mosquitos, when Kennicott had for the two-hundredth +time in five years commented, "We must have a new screen +on the porch--lets all the bugs in," they sat reading, and she +noted, and detested herself for noting, and noted again his +habitual awkwardness. He slumped down in one chair, his +legs up on another, and he explored the recesses of his left +ear with the end of his little finger--she could hear the +faint smack--he kept it up--he kept it up---- + +He blurted, "Oh. Forgot tell you. Some of the fellows coming +in to play poker this evening. Suppose we could have some +crackers and cheese and beer?" + +She nodded. + +"He might have mentioned it before. Oh well, it's his +house." + +The poker-party straggled in: Sam Clark, Jack Elder, +Dave Dyer, Jim Howland. To her they mechanically said, +" 'Devenin'," but to Kennicott, in a heroic male manner, +"Well, well, shall we start playing? Got a hunch I'm going +to lick somebody real bad." No one suggested that she join +them. She told herself that it was her own fault, because +she was not more friendly; but she remembered that they +never asked Mrs. Sam Clark to play. + +Bresnahan would have asked her. + +She sat in the living-room, glancing across the hall at the +men as they humped over the dining table. + +They were in shirt sleeves; smoking, chewing, spitting +incessantly; lowering their voices for a moment so that she +did not hear what they said and afterward giggling hoarsely; +using over and over the canonical phrases: "Three to dole," +"I raise you a finif," "Come on now, ante up; what do you +think this is, a pink tea?" The cigar-smoke was acrid and +pervasive. The firmness with which the men mouthed their +cigars made the lower part of their faces expressionless, heavy, +unappealing. They were like politicians cynically dividing +appointments. + +How could they understand her world? + +Did that faint and delicate world exist? Was she a fool? +She doubted her world, doubted herself, and was sick in the +acid, smoke-stained air. + +She slipped back into brooding upon the habituality of the +house. + +Kennicott was as fixed in routine as an isolated old man. +At first he had amorously deceived himself into liking her +experiments with food--the one medium in which she could +express imagination--but now he wanted only his round of +favorite dishes: steak, roast beef, boiled pig's-feet, oatmeal, +baked apples. Because at some more flexible period he had advanced +from oranges to grape-fruit he considered himself an epicure. + +During their first autumn she had smiled over his affection +for his hunting-coat, but now that the leather had come +unstitched in dribbles of pale yellow thread, and tatters of +canvas, smeared with dirt of the fields and grease from gun- +cleaning, hung in a border of rags, she hated the thing. + +Wasn't her whole life like that hunting-coat? + +She knew every nick and brown spot on each piece of the +set of china purchased by Kennicott's mother in 1895--discreet +china with a pattern of washed-out forget-me-nots, rimmed +with blurred gold: the gravy-boat, in a saucer which did not +match, the solemn and evangelical covered vegetable-dishes, +the two platters. + +Twenty times had Kennicott sighed over the fact that Bea +had broken the other platter--the medium-sized one. + +The kitchen. + +Damp black iron sink, damp whitey-yellow drain-board with +shreds of discolored wood which from long scrubbing were +as soft as cotton thread, warped table, alarm clock, stove +bravely blackened by Oscarina but an abomination in its +loose doors and broken drafts and oven that never would keep +an even heat. + +Carol had done her best by the kitchen: painted it white, +put up curtains, replaced a six-year-old calendar by a color +print. She had hoped for tiling, and a kerosene range for +summer cooking, but Kennicott always postponed these expenses. + +She was better acquainted with the utensils in the kitchen +than with Vida Sherwin or Guy Pollock. The can-opener, +whose soft gray metal handle was twisted from some ancient +effort to pry open a window, was more pertinent to her than +all the cathedrals in Europe; and more significant than the +future of Asia was the never-settled weekly question as to +whether the small kitchen knife with the unpainted handle or +the second-best buckhorn carving-knife was better for cutting +up cold chicken for Sunday supper. + + +II + + +She was ignored by the males till midnight. Her husband +called, "Suppose we could have some eats, Carrie?" As she +passed through the dining-room the men smiled on her, belly- +smiles. None of them noticed her while she was serving the +crackers and cheese and sardines and beer. They were +determining the exact psychology of Dave Dyer in standing +pat, two hours before. + +When they were gone she said to Kennicott, "Your friends +have the manners of a barroom. They expect me to wait on +them like a servant. They're not so much interested in me as +they would be in a waiter, because they don't have to tip me. +Unfortunately! Well, good night." + +So rarely did she nag in this petty, hot-weather fashion +that he was astonished rather than angry. "Hey! Wait! +What's the idea? I must say I don't get you. The boys---- +Barroom? Why, Perce Bresnahan was saying there isn't a +finer bunch of royal good fellows anywhere than just the +crowd that were here tonight!" + +They stood in the lower hall. He was too shocked to go on +with his duties of locking the front door and winding his +watch and the clock. + +"Bresnahan! I'm sick of him!" She meant nothing in +particular. + +"Why, Carrie, he's one of the biggest men in the country! +Boston just eats out of his hand!" + +"I wonder if it does? How do we know but that in Boston, +among well-bred people, he may be regarded as an absolute +lout? The way he calls women `Sister,' and the way----" + +"Now look here! That'll do! Of course I know you don't +mean it--you're simply hot and tired, and trying to work +off your peeve on me. But just the same, I won't stand your +jumping on Perce. You---- It's just like your attitude +toward the war-so darn afraid that America will become +militaristic----" + +"But you are the pure patriot!" + +"By God, I am!" + +"Yes, I heard you talking to Sam Clark tonight about ways +of avoiding the income tax!" + +He had recovered enough to lock the door; he clumped +up-stairs ahead of her, growling, "You don't know what you're +talking about. I'm perfectly willing to pay my full tax--fact, +I'm in favor of the income tax--even though I do think it's +a penalty on frugality and enterprise--fact, it's an unjust, +darn-fool tax. But just the same, I'll pay it. Only, I'm not +idiot enough to pay more than the government makes me pay, +and Sam and I were just figuring out whether all automobile +expenses oughn't to be exemptions. I'll take a lot off you, +Carrie, but I don't propose for one second to stand your saying +I'm not patriotic. You know mighty well and good that +I've tried to get away and join the army. And at the beginning +of the whole fracas I said--I've said right along--that we +ought to have entered the war the minute Germany invaded +Belgium. You don't get me at all. You can't appreciate +a man's work. You're abnormal. You've fussed so much +with these fool novels and books and all this highbrow +junk---- You like to argue!" + +It ended, a quarter of an hour later, in his calling her a +"neurotic" before he turned away and pretended to sleep. + +For the first time they had failed to make peace. + +"There are two races of people, only two, and they live side +by side. His calls mine `neurotic'; mine calls his `stupid.' +We'll never understand each other, never; and it's madness +for us to debate--to lie together in a hot bed in a creepy +room--enemies, yoked." + + +III + + +It clarified in her the longing for a place of her own. + +"While it's so hot, I think I'll sleep in the spare room," she +said next day. + +"Not a bad idea." He was cheerful and kindly. + +The room was filled with a lumbering double bed and a +cheap pine bureau. She stored the bed in the attic; replaced +it by a cot which, with a denim cover, made a couch by +day; put in a dressing-table, a rocker transformed by a cretonne +cover; had Miles Bjornstam build book-shelves. + +Kennicott slowly understood that she meant to keep up +her seclusion. In his queries, "Changing the whole room?" +"Putting your books in there?" she caught his dismay. But +it was so easy, once her door was closed, to shut out his worry. +That hurt her--the ease of forgetting him. + +Aunt Bessie Smail sleuthed out this anarchy. She yammered, +"Why, Carrie, you ain't going to sleep all alone by yourself? +I don't believe in that. Married folks should have the +same room, of course! Don't go getting silly notions. +No telling what a thing like that might lead to. Suppose I +up and told your Uncle Whit that I wanted a room of my own!" + +Carol spoke of recipes for corn-pudding. + +But from Mrs. Dr. Westlake she drew encouragement. She +had made an afternoon call on Mrs. Westlake. She was for +the first time invited up-stairs, and found the suave old +woman sewing in a white and mahogany room with a small +bed. + +"Oh, do you have your own royal apartments, and the +doctor his?" Carol hinted. + +"Indeed I do! The doctor says it's bad enough to have to +stand my temper at meals. Do----" Mrs. Westlake looked +at her sharply. "Why, don't you do the same thing?" + +"I've been thinking about it." Carol laughed in an +embarrassed way. "Then you wouldn't regard me as a complete +hussy if I wanted to be by myself now and then?" + +"Why, child, every woman ought to get off by herself and +turn over her thoughts--about children, and God, and how +bad her complexion is, and the way men don't really understand +her, and how much work she finds to do in the house, +and how much patience it takes to endure some things in a +man's love." + +"Yes!" Carol said it in a gasp, her hands twisted +together. She wanted to confess not only her hatred for the +Aunt Bessies but her covert irritation toward those she best +loved: her alienation from Kennicott, her disappointment in +Guy Pollock, her uneasiness in the presence of Vida. She had +enough self-control to confine herself to, "Yes. Men! The dear +blundering souls, we do have to get off and laugh at them." + +"Of course we do. Not that you have to laugh at Dr. +Kennicott so much, but MY man, heavens, now there's a +rare old bird! Reading story-books when he ought to be tending +to business! `Marcus Westlake,' I say to him, `you're a +romantic old fool.' And does he get angry? He does not! +He chuckles and says, `Yes, my beloved, folks do say that +married people grow to resemble each other!' Drat him!" +Mrs. Westlake laughed comfortably. + +After such a disclosure what could Carol do but return +the courtesy by remarking that as for Kennicott, he wasn't +romantic enough--the darling. Before she left she had babbled +to Mrs. Westlake her dislike for Aunt Bessie, the fact that +Kennicott's income was now more than five thousand a year, +her view of the reason why Vida had married Raymie (which +included some thoroughly insincere praise of Raymie's "kind +heart"), her opinion of the library-board, just what Kennicott +had said about Mrs. Carthal's diabetes, and what Kennicott +thought of the several surgeons in the Cities. + +She went home soothed by confession, inspirited by finding +a new friend. + + +IV + + +The tragicomedy of the "domestic situation." + +Oscarina went back home to help on the farm, and Carol had +a succession of maids, with gaps between. The lack of servants +was becoming one of the most cramping problems of the prairie +town. Increasingly the farmers' daughters rebelled against +village dullness, and against the unchanged attitude of the +Juanitas toward "hired girls." They went off to city kitchens, +or to city shops and factories, that they might be free and +even human after hours. + +The Jolly Seventeen were delighted at Carol's desertion by +the loyal Oscarina. They reminded her that she had said, "I +don't have any trouble with maids; see how Oscarina stays on." + +Between incumbencies of Finn maids from the North Woods, +Germans from the prairies, occasional Swedes and Norwegians +and Icelanders, Carol did her own work--and endured Aunt +Bessie's skittering in to tell her how to dampen a broom for +fluffy dust, how to sugar doughnuts, how to stuff a goose. +Carol was deft, and won shy praise from Kennicott, but as her +shoulder blades began to sting, she wondered how many +millions of women had lied to themselves during the death- +rimmed years through which they had pretended to enjoy the +puerile methods persisting in housework. + +She doubted the convenience and, as a natural sequent, the +sanctity of the monogamous and separate home which she had +regarded as the basis of all decent life. + +She considered her doubts vicious. She refused to remember +how many of the women of the Jolly Seventeen nagged their +husbands and were nagged by them. + +She energetically did not whine to Kennicott. But her eyes +ached; she was not the girl in breeches and a flannel shirt who +had cooked over a camp-fire in the Colorado mountains five +years ago. Her ambition was to get to bed at nine; her +strongest emotion was resentment over rising at half-past six +to care for Hugh. The back of her neck ached as she got out +of bed. She was cynical about the joys of a simple laborious +life. She understood why workmen and workmen's wives are +not grateful to their kind employers. + +At mid-morning, when she was momentarily free from the +ache in her neck and back, she was glad of the reality of +work. The hours were living and nimble. But she had no +desire to read the eloquent little newspaper essays in praise of +labor which are daily written by the white-browed journalistic +prophets. She felt independent and (though she hid it) +a bit surly. + +In cleaning the house she pondered upon the maid's-room. +It was a slant-roofed, small-windowed hole above the kitchen, +oppressive in summer, frigid in winter. She saw that while +she had been considering herself an unusually good mistress, +she had been permitting her friends Bea and Oscarina to live +in a sty. She complained to Kennicott. "What's the matter +with it?" he growled, as they stood on the perilous stairs +dodging up from the kitchen. She commented upon the sloping +roof of unplastered boards stained in brown rings by the +rain, the uneven floor, the cot and its tumbled discouraged- +looking quilts, the broken rocker, the distorting mirror. + +"Maybe it ain't any Hotel Radisson parlor, but still, it's +so much better than anything these hired girls are accustomed +to at home that they think it's fine. Seems foolish to spend +money when they wouldn't appreciate it." + +But that night he drawled, with the casualness of a man who +wishes to be surprising and delightful, "Carrie, don't know +but what we might begin to think about building a new +house, one of these days. How'd you like that?" + +"W-why----" + +"I'm getting to the point now where I feel we can afford +one--and a corker! I'll show this burg something like a real +house! We'll put one over on Sam and Harry! Make folks +sit up an' take notice!" + +"Yes," she said. + +He did not go on. + +Daily he returned to the subject of the new house, but as +to time and mode he was indefinite. At first she believed. +She babbled of a low stone house with lattice windows and +tulip-beds, of colonial brick, of a white frame cottage with +green shutters and dormer windows. To her enthusiasms he +answered, "Well, ye-es, might be worth thinking about. +Remember where I put my pipe?" When she pressed him he +fidgeted, "I don't know; seems to me those kind of houses you +speak of have been overdone." + +It proved that what he wanted was a house exactly like +Sam Clark's, which was exactly like every third new house in +every town in the country: a square, yellow stolidity with im- +maculate clapboards, a broad screened porch, tidy grass-plots, +and concrete walks; a house resembling the mind of a +merchant who votes the party ticket straight and goes to church +once a month and owns a good car. + +He admitted, "Well, yes, maybe it isn't so darn artistic +but---- Matter of fact, though, I don't want a place just like +Sam's. Maybe I would cut off that fool tower he's got, and +I think probably it would look better painted a nice cream +color. That yellow on Sam's house is too kind of flashy. +Then there's another kind of house that's mighty nice and +substantial-looking, with shingles, in a nice brown stain, +instead of clapboards--seen some in Minneapolis. You're way +off your base when you say I only like one kind of house!" + +Uncle Whittier and Aunt Bessie came in one evening when +Carol was sleepily advocating a rose-garden cottage. + +"You've had a lot of experience with housekeeping, aunty, +and don't you think," Kennicott appealed, "that it would be +sensible to have a nice square house, and pay more attention +to getting a crackajack furnace than to all this architecture +and doodads?" + +Aunt Bessie worked her lips as though they were an elastic +band. "Why of course! I know how it is with young folks +like you, Carrie; you want towers and bay-windows and pianos +and heaven knows what all, but the thing to get is closets and +a good furnace and a handy place to hang out the washing, and +the rest don't matter." + +Uncle Whittier dribbled a little, put his face near to Carol's, +and sputtered, "Course it don't! What d'you care what folks +think about the outside of your house? It's the inside you're +living in. None of my business, but I must say you young +folks that'd rather have cakes than potatoes get me riled." + +She reached her room before she became savage. Below, +dreadfully near, she could hear the broom-swish of Aunt +Bessie's voice, and the mop-pounding of Uncle Whittier's +grumble. She had a reasonless dread that they would +intrude on her, then a fear that she would yield to Gopher +Prairie's conception of duty toward an Aunt Bessie and go +down-stairs to be "nice." She felt the demand for standardized +behavior coming in waves from all the citizens who sat +in their sitting-rooms watching her with respectable eyes, +waiting, demanding, unyielding. She snarled, "Oh, all right, +I'll go!" She powdered her nose, straightened her collar, +and coldly marched down-stairs. The three elders ignored +her. They had advanced from the new house to agreeable +general fussing. Aunt Bessie was saying, in a tone like the +munching of dry toast: + +"I do think Mr. Stowbody ought to have had the rain-pipe +fixed at our store right away. I went to see him on Tuesday +morning before ten, no, it was couple minutes after ten, but +anyway, it was long before noon--I know because I went right +from the bank to the meat market to get some steak--my! I +think it's outrageous, the prices Oleson & McGuire charge for +their meat, and it isn't as if they gave you a good cut either +but just any old thing, and I had time to get it, and I +stopped in at Mrs. Bogart's to ask about her rheumatism----" + +Carol was watching Uncle Whittier. She knew from his +taut expression that he was not listening to Aunt Bessie but +herding his own thoughts, and that he would interrupt her +bluntly. He did: + +"Will, where c'n I get an extra pair of pants for this coat +and vest? D' want to pay too much." + +"Well, guess Nat Hicks could make you up a pair. But +if I were you, I'd drop into Ike Rifkin's--his prices are lower +than the Bon Ton's." + +"Humph. Got the new stove in your office yet?" + +"No, been looking at some at Sam Clark's but----" + +"Well, y' ought get 't in. Don't do to put off getting a +stove all summer, and then have it come cold on you in the +fall." + +Carol smiled upon them ingratiatingly. "Do you dears +mind if I slip up to bed? I'm rather tired--cleaned the +upstairs today." + +She retreated. She was certain that they were discussing +her, and foully forgiving her. She lay awake till she heard the +distant creak of a bed which indicated that Kennicott had +retired. Then she felt safe. + +It was Kennicott who brought up the matter of the Smails +at breakfast. With no visible connection he said, "Uncle +Whit is kind of clumsy, but just the same, he's a pretty wise +old coot. He's certainly making good with the store." + +Carol smiled, and Kennicott was pleased that she had come +to her senses. "As Whit says, after all the first thing is to +have the inside of a house right, and darn the people on the +outside looking in!" + +It seemed settled that the house was to be a sound example +of the Sam Clark school. + +Kennicott made much of erecting it entirely for her and the +baby. He spoke of closets for her frocks, and "a comfy sewing- +room." But when he drew on a leaf from an old account- +book (he was a paper-saver and a string-picker) the plans for +the garage, he gave much more attention to a cement floor +and a work-bench and a gasoline-tank than he had to sewing- +rooms. + +She sat back and was afraid. + +In the present rookery there were odd things--a step up +from the hall to the dining-room, a picturesqueness in the shed +and bedraggled lilac bush. But the new place would be smooth, +standardized, fixed. It was probable, now that Kennicott was +past forty, and settled, that this would be the last venture +he would ever make in building. So long as she stayed in this +ark, she would always have a possibility of change, but once +she was in the new house, there she would sit for all the rest +of her life--there she would die. Desperately she wanted to +put it off, against the chance of miracles. While Kennicott +was chattering about a patent swing-door for the garage she +saw the swing-doors of a prison. + +She never voluntarily returned to the project. Aggrieved, +Kennicott stopped drawing plans, and in ten days the new +house was forgotten. + + +V + + +Every year since their marriage Carol had longed for a trip +through the East. Every year Kennicott had talked of +attending the American Medical Association convention, "and +then afterwards we could do the East up brown. I know New +York clean through--spent pretty near a week there--but I +would like to see New England and all these historic places +and have some sea-food." He talked of it from February to +May, and in May he invariably decided that coming confinement- +cases or land-deals would prevent his "getting away from +home-base for very long THIS year--and no sense going till we +can do it right." + +The weariness of dish-washing had increased her desire to +go. She pictured herself looking at Emerson's manse, bathing +in a surf of jade and ivory, wearing a trottoir and a summer +fur, meeting an aristocratic Stranger. In the spring Kennicott +had pathetically volunteered, "S'pose you'd like to get in a +good long tour this summer, but with Gould and Mac away +and so many patients depending on me, don't see how I can +make it. By golly, I feel like a tightwad though, not taking +you." Through all this restless July after she had tasted +Bresnahan's disturbing flavor of travel and gaiety, she wanted to go, +but she said nothing. They spoke of and postponed a trip +to the Twin Cities. When she suggested, as though it were a +tremendous joke, "I think baby and I might up and leave you, +and run off to Cape Cod by ourselves!" his only reaction was +"Golly, don't know but what you may almost have to do +that, if we don't get in a trip next year." + +Toward the end of July he proposed, "Say, the Beavers are +holding a convention in Joralemon, street fair and everything. +We might go down tomorrow. And I'd like to see Dr. Calibree +about some business. Put in the whole day. Might help +some to make up for our trip. Fine fellow, Dr. Calibree." + +Joralemon was a prairie town of the size of Gopher Prairie. + +Their motor was out of order, and there was no passenger- +train at an early hour. They went down by freight-train, +after the weighty and conversational business of leaving Hugh +with Aunt Bessie. Carol was exultant over this irregular +jaunting. It was the first unusual thing, except the glance of +Bresnahan, that had happened since the weaning of Hugh. +They rode in the caboose, the small red cupola-topped car +jerked along at the end of the train. It was a roving shanty, +the cabin of a land schooner, with black oilcloth seats along +the side, and for desk, a pine board to be let down on hinges. +Kennicott played seven-up with the conductor and two brakemen. +Carol liked the blue silk kerchiefs about the brakemen's +throats; she liked their welcome to her, and their air of +friendly independence. Since there were no sweating passengers +crammed in beside her, she reveled in the train's slowness. She +was part of these lakes and tawny wheat-fields. She liked the +smell of hot earth and clean grease; and the leisurely chug-a- +chug, chug-a-chug of the trucks was a song of contentment in +the sun. + +She pretended that she was going to the Rockies. When +they reached Joralemon she was radiant with holiday-making. + +Her eagerness began to lessen the moment they stopped at +a red frame station exactly like the one they had just left +at Gopher Prairie, and Kennicott yawned, "Right on time. +Just in time for dinner at the Calibrees'. I 'phoned the doctor +from G. P. that we'd be here. `We'll catch the freight that +gets in before twelve,' I told him. He said he'd meet us at the +depot and take us right up to the house for dinner. Calibree +is a good man, and you'll find his wife is a mighty brainy +little woman, bright as a dollar. By golly, there he is." + +Dr. Calibree was a squat, clean-shaven, conscientious-looking +man of forty. He was curiously like his own brown-painted +motor car, with eye-glasses for windshield. "Want you to +meet my wife, doctor--Carrie, make you 'quainted with Dr. +Calibree," said Kennicott. Calibree bowed quietly and shook +her hand, but before he had finished shaking it he was +concentrating upon Kennicott with, "Nice to see you, doctor. +Say, don't let me forget to ask you about what you did in that +exopthalmic goiter case--that Bohemian woman at Wahkeenyan." + +The two men, on the front seat of the car, chanted goiters +and ignored her. She did not know it. She was trying to feed +her illusion of adventure by staring at unfamiliar houses. . . +drab cottages, artificial stone bungalows, square painty stolidities +with immaculate clapboards and broad screened porches +and tidy grass-plots. + +Calibree handed her over to his wife, a thick woman who +called her "dearie," and asked if she was hot and, visibly +searching for conversation, produced, "Let's see, you and the +doctor have a Little One, haven't you?" At dinner Mrs. Calibree +served the corned beef and cabbage and looked steamy, +looked like the steamy leaves of cabbage. The men were +oblivious of their wives as they gave the social passwords of +Main Street, the orthodox opinions on weather, crops, and +motor cars, then flung away restraint and gyrated in the +debauch of shop-talk. Stroking his chin, drawling in the ecstasy +of being erudite, Kennicott inquired, "Say, doctor, what +success have you had with thyroid for treatment of pains in the +legs before child-birth?" + +Carol did not resent their assumption that she was too +ignorant to be admitted to masculine mysteries. She was used to +it. But the cabbage and Mrs. Calibree's monotonous "I don't +know what we're coming to with all this difficulty getting hired +girls" were gumming her eyes with drowsiness. She sought +to clear them by appealing to Calibree, in a manner of exag- +gerated liveliness, "Doctor, have the medical societies in +Minnesota ever advocated legislation for help to nursing mothers?" + +Calibree slowly revolved toward her. "Uh--I've never-- +uh--never looked into it. I don't believe much in getting +mixed up in politics." He turned squarely from her and, peering +earnestly at Kennicott, resumed, "Doctor, what's been your +experience with unilateral pyelonephritis? Buckburn of Baltimore +advocates decapsulation and nephrotomy, but seems to +me----" + +Not till after two did they rise. In the lee of the stonily +mature trio Carol proceeded to the street fair which added +mundane gaiety to the annual rites of the United and Fraternal +Order of Beavers. Beavers, human Beavers, were everywhere: +thirty-second degree Beavers in gray sack suits and decent +derbies, more flippant Beavers in crash summer coats and straw +hats, rustic Beavers in shirt sleeves and frayed suspenders; +but whatever his caste-symbols, every Beaver was distinguished +by an enormous shrimp-colored ribbon lettered in silver, "Sir +Knight and Brother, U. F. O. B., Annual State Convention." +On the motherly shirtwaist of each of their wives was a badge +"Sir Knight's Lady." The Duluth delegation had brought their +famous Beaver amateur band, in Zouave costumes of green +velvet jacket, blue trousers, and scarlet fez. The strange +thing was that beneath their scarlet pride the Zouaves' faces +remained those of American business-men, pink, smooth, eye- +glassed; and as they stood playing in a circle, at the corner +of Main Street and Second, as they tootled on fifes or with +swelling cheeks blew into cornets, their eyes remained as +owlish as though they were sitting at desks under the sign +"This Is My Busy Day." + +Carol had supposed that the Beavers were average citizens +organized for the purposes of getting cheap life-insurance and +playing poker at the lodge-rooms every second Wednesday, but +she saw a large poster which proclaimed: + + + +BEAVERS +U. F. O. B. + +The greatest influence for good citizenship in the +country. The jolliest aggregation of red-blooded, +open-handed, hustle-em-up good fellows in the world. +Joralemon welcomes you to her hospitable city. + + + +Kennicott read the poster and to Calibree admired, "Strong +lodge, the Beavers. Never joined. Don't know but what I will," + +Calibree adumbrated, "They're a good bunch. Good strong +lodge. See that fellow there that's playing the snare drum? +He's the smartest wholesale grocer in Duluth, they say. Guess +it would be worth joining. Oh say, are you doing much +insurance examining?" + +They went on to the street fair. + +Lining one block of Main Street were the "attractions"-- +two hot-dog stands, a lemonade and pop-corn stand, a merry- +go-round, and booths in which balls might be thrown at rag +dolls, if one wished to throw balls at rag dolls. The dignified +delegates were shy of the booths, but country boys with brickred +necks and pale-blue ties and bright-yellow shoes, who had +brought sweethearts into town in somewhat dusty and listed +Fords, were wolfing sandwiches, drinking strawberry pop out of +bottles, and riding the revolving crimson and gold horses. They +shrieked and giggled; peanut-roasters whistled; the merry-go- +round pounded out monotonous music; the barkers bawled, +"Here's your chance--here's your chance--come on here, boy-- +come on here--give that girl a good time--give her a swell +time--here's your chance to win a genuwine gold watch for +five cents, half a dime, the twentieth part of a dollah!" The +prairie sun jabbed the unshaded street with shafts that were +like poisonous thorns the tinny cornices above the brick stores +were glaring; the dull breeze scattered dust on sweaty Beavers +who crawled along in tight scorching new shoes, up two blocks +and back, up two blocks and back, wondering what to do next, +working at having a good time. + +Carol's head ached as she trailed behind the unsmiling Calibrees +along the block of booths. She chirruped at Kennicott, "Let's be wild! +Let's ride on the merry-go-round and grab a gold ring!" + +Kennicott considered it, and mumbled to Calibree, "Think you folks +would like to stop and try a ride on the merry-go-round?" + +Calibree considered it, and mumbled to his wife, "Think +you'd like to stop and try a ride on the merry-go-round?" + +Mrs. Calibree smiled in a washed-out manner, and sighed, +"Oh no, I don't believe I care to much, but you folks go ahead +and try it." + +Calibree stated to Kennicott, "No, I don't believe we care +to a whole lot, but you folks go ahead and try it." + +Kennicott summarized the whole case against wildness: +"Let's try it some other time, Carrie." + +She gave it up. She looked at the town. She saw that in +adventuring from Main Street, Gopher Prairie, to Main Street, +Joralemon, she had not stirred. There were the same two- +story brick groceries with lodge-signs above the awnings; the +same one-story wooden millinery shop; the same fire-brick +garages; the same prairie at the open end of the wide street; +the same people wondering whether the levity of eating a hot- +dog sandwich would break their taboos. + +They reached Gopher Prairie at nine in the evening. + +"You look kind of hot," said Kennicott. + +"Yes." + +"Joralemon is an enterprising town, don't you think so?" +She broke. "No! I think it's an ash-heap." + +"Why, Carrie!" + +He worried over it for a week. While he ground his plate +with his knife as he energetically pursued fragments of bacon, +he peeped at her. + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +"CARRIE'S all right. She's finicky, but she'll get over it. But +I wish she'd hurry up about it! What she can't understand +is that a fellow practising medicine in a small town like this +has got to cut out the highbrow stuff, and not spend all his +time going to concerts and shining his shoes. (Not but what +he might be just as good at all these intellectual and art +things as some other folks, if he had the time for it!)" Dr. +Will Kennicott was brooding in his office, during a free moment +toward the end of the summer afternoon. He hunched down +in his tilted desk-chair, undid a button of his shirt, glanced +at the state news in the back of the Journal of the American +Medical Association, dropped the magazine, leaned back with +his right thumb hooked in the arm-hole of his vest and his +left thumb stroking the back of his hair. + +"By golly, she's taking an awful big chance, though. You'd +expect her to learn by and by that I won't be a parlor lizard. +She says we try to `make her over.' Well, she's always trying +to make me over, from a perfectly good M. D. into a damn +poet with a socialist necktie! She'd have a fit if she knew +how many women would be willing to cuddle up to Friend Will +and comfort him, if he'd give 'em the chance! There's +still a few dames that think the old man isn't so darn +unattractive! I'm glad I've ducked all that woman-game since +I've been married but---- Be switched if sometimes I don't +feel tempted to shine up to some girl that has sense enough +to take life as it is; some frau that doesn't want to talk +Longfellow all the time, but just hold my hand and say, `You +look all in, honey. Take it easy, and don't try to talk.' + +"Carrie thinks she's such a whale at analyzing folks. Giving +the town the once-over. Telling us where we get off. Why, +she'd simply turn up her toes and croak if she found out how +much she doesn't know about the high old times a wise guy +could have in this burg on the Q.T., if he wasn't faithful to +his wife. But I am. At that, no matter what faults she's +got, there's nobody here, no, nor in Minn'aplus either, that's +as nice-looking and square and bright as Carrie. She ought +to of been an artist or a writer or one of those things. But +once she took a shot at living here, she ought to stick by it. +Pretty---- Lord yes. But cold. She simply doesn't know +what passion is. She simply hasn't got an I--dea how hard +it is for a full-blooded man to go on pretending to be satisfied +with just being endured. It gets awful tiresome, having to +feel like a criminal just because I'm normal. She's getting +so she doesn't even care for my kissing her. Well---- + +"I guess I can weather it, same as I did earning my way +through school and getting started in practise. But I wonder +how long I can stand being an outsider in my own home?" + +He sat up at the entrance of Mrs. Dave Dyer. She slumped +into a chair and gasped with the heat. He chuckled, "Well, +well, Maud, this is fine. Where's the subscription-list? What +cause do I get robbed for, this trip?" + +"I haven't any subscription-list, Will. I want to see you +professionally." + +"And you a Christian Scientist? Have you given that up? +What next? New Thought or Spiritualism?" + +"No, I have not given it up!" + +"Strikes me it's kind of a knock on the sisterhood, your +coming to see a doctor!" + +"No, it isn't. It's just that my faith isn't strong enough +yet. So there now! And besides, you ARE kind of consoling, +Will. I mean as a man, not just as a doctor. You're so strong +and placid." + +He sat on the edge of his desk, coatless, his vest swinging +open with the thick gold line of his watch-chain across the +gap, his hands in his trousers pockets, his big arms bent and +easy. As she purred he cocked an interested eye. Maud +Dyer was neurotic, religiocentric, faded; her emotions were +moist, and her figure was unsystematic--splendid thighs and +arms, with thick ankles, and a body that was bulgy in the +wrong places. But her milky skin was delicious, her eyes were +alive, her chestnut hair shone, and there was a tender slope +from her ears to the shadowy place below her jaw. + +With unusual solicitude he uttered his stock phrase, "Well, +what seems to be the matter, Maud?" + +"I've got such a backache all the time. I'm afraid the +organic trouble that you treated me for is coming back." + +"Any definite signs of it?" + +"N-no, but I think you'd better examine me." + +"Nope. Don't believe it's necessary, Maud. To be honest, +between old friends, I think your troubles are mostly imaginary. +I can't really advise you to have an examination." + +She flushed, looked out of the window. He was conscious +that his voice was not impersonal and even. + +She turned quickly. "Will, you always say my troubles +are imaginary. Why can't you be scientific? I've been reading +an article about these new nerve-specialists, and they claim +that lots of `imaginary' ailments, yes, and lots of real pain, +too, are what they call psychoses, and they order a change in +a woman's way of living so she can get on a higher plane----" + +"Wait! Wait! Whoa-up! Wait now! Don't mix up +your Christian Science and your psychology! They're two +entirely different fads! You'll be mixing in socialism next! +You're as bad as Carrie, with your `psychoses.' Why, Good +Lord, Maud, I could talk about neuroses and psychoses and +inhibitions and repressions and complexes just as well as any +damn specialist, if I got paid for it, if I was in the city and +had the nerve to charge the fees that those fellows do. If a +specialist stung you for a hundred-dollar consultation-fee and +told you to go to New York to duck Dave's nagging, you'd +do it, to save the hundred dollars! But you know me--I'm +your neighbor--you see me mowing the lawn--you figure I'm +just a plug general practitioner. If I said, `Go to New York,' +Dave and you would laugh your heads off and say, `Look at +the airs Will is putting on. What does he think he is?' + +"As a matter of fact, you're right. You have a perfectly +well-developed case of repression of sex instinct, and it raises +the old Ned with your body. What you need is to get away +from Dave and travel, yes, and go to every dog-gone kind of +New Thought and Bahai and Swami and Hooptedoodle meeting +you can find. I know it, well 's you do. But how can +I advise it? Dave would be up here taking my hide off. +I'm willing to be family physician and priest and lawyer and +plumber and wet-nurse, but I draw the line at making Dave +loosen up on money. Too hard a job in weather like this! +So, savvy, my dear? Believe it will rain if this heat +keeps----" + +"But, Will, he'd never give it to me on my say-so. He'd +never let me go away. You know how Dave is: so jolly and +liberal in society, and oh, just LOVES to match quarters, and such +a perfect sport if he loses! But at home he pinches a nickel +till the buffalo drips blood. I have to nag him for every +single dollar." + +"Sure, I know, but it's your fight, honey. Keep after him. +He'd simply resent my butting in." + +He crossed over and patted her shoulder. Outside the window, +beyond the fly-screen that was opaque with dust and +cottonwood lint, Main Street was hushed except for the +impatient throb of a standing motor car. She took his firm +hand, pressed his knuckles against her cheek. + +"O Will, Dave is so mean and little and noisy--the shrimp! +You're so calm. When he's cutting up at parties I see you +standing back and watching him--the way a mastiff watches +a terrier." + +He fought for professional dignity with, "Dave 's not a +bad fellow." + +Lingeringly she released his hand. "Will, drop round by +the house this evening and scold me. Make me be good and +sensible. And I'm so lonely." + +"If I did, Dave would be there, and we'd have to play cards. +It's his evening off from the store." + +"No. The clerk just got called to Corinth--mother sick. +Dave will be in the store till midnight. Oh, come on over. +There's some lovely beer on the ice, and we can sit and talk +and be all cool and lazy. That wouldn't be wrong of us, WOULD it!" + +"No, no, course it wouldn't be wrong. But still, oughtn't +to----" He saw Carol, slim black and ivory, cool, scornful +of intrigue. + +"All right. But I'll be so lonely." + +Her throat seemed young, above her loose blouse of muslin +and machine-lace. + +"Tell you, Maud: I'll drop in just for a minute, if I happen +to be called down that way." + +"If you'd like," demurely. "O Will, I just want comfort. +I know you're all married, and my, such a proud papa, and of +course now---- If I could just sit near you in the dusk, and +be quiet, and forget Dave! You WILL come?" + +"Sure I will!" + +"I'll expect you. I'll be lonely if you don't come! Good-by." + +He cursed himself: "Darned fool, what 'd I promise to go +for? I'll have to keep my promise, or she'll feel hurt. She's +a good, decent, affectionate girl, and Dave's a cheap skate, +all right. She's got more life to her than Carol has. All my +fault, anyway. Why can't I be more cagey, like Calibree and +McGanum and the rest of the doctors? Oh, I am, but Maud's +such a demanding idiot. Deliberately bamboozling me into +going up there tonight. Matter of principle: ought not to +let her get away with it. I won't go. I'll call her up and +tell her I won't go. Me, with Carrie at home, finest little +woman in the world, and a messy-minded female like Maud +Dyer--no, SIR! Though there's no need of hurting her feelings. +I may just drop in for a second, to tell her I can't stay. All +my fault anyway; ought never to have started in and jollied +Maud along in the old days. If it's my fault, I've got no +right to punish Maud. I could just drop in for a second and +then pretend I had a country call and beat it. Damn nuisance, +though, having to fake up excuses. Lord, why can't the women +let you alone? Just because once or twice, seven hundred +million years ago, you were a poor fool, why can't they let +you forget it? Maud's own fault. I'll stay strictly away. +Take Carrie to the movies, and forget Maud. . . . But it +would be kind of hot at the movies tonight." + +He fled from himself. He rammed on his hat, threw his +coat over his arm, banged the door, locked it, tramped +downstairs. "I won't go!" he said sturdily and, as he said it, +he would have given a good deal to know whether he was +going. + +He was refreshed, as always, by the familiar windows and +faces. It restored his soul to have Sam Clark trustingly +bellow, "Better come down to the lake this evening and have a +swim, doc. Ain't you going to open your cottage at all, this +summer? By golly, we miss you." He noted the progress +on the new garage. He had triumphed in the laying of every +course of bricks; in them he had seen the growth of the town. +His pride was ushered back to its throne by the respectfulness +of Oley Sundquist: "Evenin', doc! The woman is a lot +better. That was swell medicine you gave her." He was +calmed by the mechanicalness of the tasks at home: burning +the gray web of a tent-worm on the wild cherry tree, sealing +with gum a cut in the right front tire of the car, sprinkling +the road before the house. The hose was cool to his hands. +As the bright arrows fell with a faint puttering sound, a +crescent of blackness was formed in the gray dust. + +Dave Dyer came along. + +"Where going, Dave?" + +"Down to the store. Just had supper." + +"But Thursday 's your night off." + +"Sure, but Pete went home. His mother 's supposed to +be sick. Gosh, these clerks you get nowadays--overpay 'em +and then they won't work!" + +"That's tough, Dave. You'll have to work clear up till +twelve, then." + +"Yup. Better drop in and have a cigar, if you're downtown. + +"Well, I may, at that. May have to go down and see Mrs. +Champ Perry. She's ailing. So long, Dave." + +Kennicott had not yet entered the house. He was +conscious that Carol was near him, that she was important, that +he was afraid of her disapproval; but he was content to be +alone. When he had finished sprinkling he strolled into the +house, up to the baby's room, and cried to Hugh, "Story- +time for the old man, eh?" + +Carol was in a low chair, framed and haloed by the window +behind her, an image in pale gold. The baby curled in her +lap, his head on her arm, listening with gravity while she +sang from Gene Field: + + 'Tis little Luddy-Dud in the morning-- + 'Tis little Luddy-Dud at night: + And all day long + 'Tis the same dear song + Of that growing, crowing, knowing little sprite. + + +Kennicott was enchanted. + +"Maud Dyer? I should say not!" + +When the current maid bawled up-stairs, "Supper on de +table!" Kennicott was upon his back, flapping his hands in +the earnest effort to be a seal, thrilled by the strength with +which his son kicked him. He slipped his arm about Carol's +shoulder; he went down to supper rejoicing that he was cleansed +of perilous stuff. While Carol was putting the baby to bed +he sat on the front steps. Nat Hicks, tailor and roue, came +to sit beside him. Between waves of his hand as he drove +off mosquitos, Nat whispered, "Say, doc, you don't feel like +imagining you're a bacheldore again, and coming out for a Time +tonight, do you?" + +"As how?" + +"You know this new dressmaker, Mrs. Swiftwaite?--swell +dame with blondine hair? Well, she's a pretty good goer. +Me and Harry Haydock are going to take her and that fat +wren that works in the Bon Ton--nice kid, too--on an auto +ride tonight. Maybe we'll drive down to that farm Harry +bought. We're taking some beer, and some of the smoothest +rye you ever laid tongue to. I'm not predicting none, but +if we don't have a picnic, I'll miss my guess." + +"Go to it. No skin off my ear, Nat. Think I want to +be fifth wheel in the coach?" + +"No, but look here: The little Swiftwaite has a friend with +her from Winona, dandy looker and some gay bird, and Harry +and me thought maybe you'd like to sneak off for one evening." + +"No--no----" + +"Rats now, doc, forget your everlasting dignity. You used +to be a pretty good sport yourself, when you were foot-free." + +It may have been the fact that Mrs. Swiftwaite's friend +remained to Kennicott an ill-told rumor, it may have been +Carol's voice, wistful in the pallid evening as she sang to +Hugh, it may have been natural and commendable virtue, but +certainly he was positive: + +"Nope. I'm married for keeps. Don't pretend to be any +saint. Like to get out and raise Cain and shoot a few drinks. +But a fellow owes a duty---- Straight now, won't you feel +like a sneak when you come back to the missus after your +jamboree?" + +"Me? My moral in life is, `What they don't know won't hurt +'em none.' The way to handle wives, like the fellow says, +is to catch 'em early, treat 'em rough, and tell 'em nothing!" + +"Well, that's your business, I suppose. But I can't get +away with it. Besides that--way I figure it, this illicit love- +making is the one game that you always lose at. If you do +lose, you feel foolish; and if you win, as soon as you find out +how little it is that you've been scheming for, why then you +lose worse than ever. Nature stinging us, as usual. But at +that, I guess a lot of wives in this burg would be surprised if +they knew everything that goes on behind their backs, eh, Nattie?" + +"WOULD they! Say, boy! If the good wives knew what +some of the boys get away with when they go down to the +Cities, why, they'd throw a fit! Sure you won't come, doc? +Think of getting all cooled off by a good long drive, and then the +lov-e-ly Swiftwaite's white hand mixing you a good stiff highball!" + +"Nope. Nope. Sorry. Guess I won't," grumbled Kennicott. + +He was glad that Nat showed signs of going. But he was +restless. He heard Carol on the stairs. "Come have a seat-- +have the whole earth!" he shouted jovially. + +She did not answer his joviality. She sat on the porch, +rocked silently, then sighed, "So many mosquitos out here. +You haven't had the screen fixed." + +As though he was testing her he said quietly, "Head aching again?" + +"Oh, not much, but---- This maid is SO slow to learn. +I have to show her everything. I had to clean most of the +silver myself. And Hugh was so bad all afternoon. He +whined so. Poor soul, he was hot, but he did wear me out." + +"Uh---- You usually want to get out. Like to walk down +to the lake shore? (The girl can stay home.) Or go to +the movies? Come on, let's go to the movies! Or shall we +jump in the car and run out to Sam's, for a swim?" + +"If you don't mind, dear, I'm afraid I'm rather tired." + +"Why don't you sleep down-stairs tonight, on the couch? +Be cooler. I'm going to bring down my mattress. Come on! +Keep the old man company. Can't tell--I might get scared of +burglars. Lettin' little fellow like me stay all alone by +himself!" + +"It's sweet of you to think of it, but I like my own room +so much. But you go ahead and do it, dear. Why don't +you sleep on the couch, instead of putting your mattress on +the floor? Well I believe I'll run in and read for just +a second--want to look at the last Vogue--and then perhaps +I'll go by-by. Unless you want me, dear? Of course if +there's anything you really WANT me for?" + +"No. No. . . . Matter of fact, I really ought to run +down and see Mrs. Champ Perry. She's ailing. So you skip +in and---- May drop in at the drug store. If I'm not home +when you get sleepy, don't wait up for me." + +He kissed her, rambled off, nodded to Jim Howland, stopped +indifferently to speak to Mrs. Terry Gould. But his heart +was racing, his stomach was constricted. He walked more +slowly. He reached Dave Dyer's yard. He glanced in. On +the porch, sheltered by a wild-grape vine, was the figure of a +woman in white. He heard the swing-couch creak as she +sat up abruptly, peered, then leaned back and pretended +to relax. + +"Be nice to have some cool beer. Just drop in for a second," +he insisted, as he opened the Dyer gate. + + +II + + +Mrs. Bogart was calling upon Carol, protected by Aunt +Bessie Smail. + +"Have you heard about this awful woman that's supposed +to have come here to do dressmaking--a Mrs. Swiftwaite-- +awful peroxide blonde?" moaned Mrs. Bogart. "They say +there's some of the awfullest goings-on at her house--mere +boys and old gray-headed rips sneaking in there evenings +and drinking licker and every kind of goings-on. We women +can't never realize the carnal thoughts in the hearts of men. +I tell you, even though I been acquainted with Will Kennicott +almost since he was a mere boy, seems like, I wouldn't trust +even him! Who knows what designin' women might tempt +him! Especially a doctor, with women rushin' in to see him +at his office and all! You know I never hint around, but +haven't you felt that----" + +Carol was furious. "I don't pretend that Will has no +faults. But one thing I do know: He's as simple-hearted +about what you call `goings-on' as a babe. And if he ever +were such a sad dog as to look at another woman, I certainly +hope he'd have spirit enough to do the tempting, and not be +coaxed into it, as in your depressing picture!" + +"Why, what a wicked thing to say, Carrie!" from Aunt +Bessie. + +"No, I mean it! Oh, of course, I don't mean it! But---- +I know every thought in his head so well that he couldn't +hide anything even if he wanted to. Now this morning---- +He was out late, last night; he had to go see Mrs. Perry, +who is ailing, and then fix a man's hand, and this morning +he was so quiet and thoughtful at breakfast and----" She +leaned forward, breathed dramatically to the two perched +harpies, "What do you suppose he was thinking of?" + +"What?" trembled Mrs. Bogart. + +"Whether the grass needs cutting, probably! There, there! +Don't mind my naughtiness. I have some fresh-made raisin +cookies for you." + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +CAROL'S liveliest interest was in her walks with the baby. +Hugh wanted to know what the box-elder tree said, and what +the Ford garage said, and what the big cloud said, and she +told him, with a feeling that she was not in the least making +up stories, but discovering the souls of things. They had an +especial fondness for the hitching-post in front of the mill. +It was a brown post, stout and agreeable; the smooth leg +of it held the sunlight, while its neck, grooved by hitching- +straps, tickled one's fingers. Carol had never been awake +to the earth except as a show of changing color and great +satisfying masses; she had lived in people and in ideas about +having ideas; but Hugh's questions made her attentive to the +comedies of sparrows, robins, blue jays, yellowhammers; she +regained her pleasure in the arching flight of swallows, and +added to it a solicitude about their nests and family squabbles. + +She forgot her seasons of boredom. She said to Hugh, +"We're two fat disreputable old minstrels roaming round the +world," and he echoed her, "Roamin' round--roamin' round." + +The high adventure, the secret place to which they both +fled joyously, was the house of Miles and Bea and Olaf Bjornstam. + +Kennicott steadily disapproved of the Bjornstams. He +protested, "What do you want to talk to that crank for?" He +hinted that a former "Swede hired girl" was low company +for the son of Dr. Will Kennicott. She did not explain. She +did not quite understand it herself; did not know that in the +Bjornstams she found her friends, her club, her sympathy +and her ration of blessed cynicism. For a time the gossip of +Juanita Haydock and the Jolly Seventeen had been a refuge +from the droning of Aunt Bessie, but the relief had not +continued. The young matrons made her nervous. They talked +so loud, always so loud. They filled a room with clashing +cackle; their jests and gags they repeated nine times over. +Unconsciously, she had discarded the Jolly Seventeen, Guy +Pollock, Vida, and every one save Mrs. Dr. Westlake and the +friends whom she did not clearly know as friends--the Bjornstams. + +To Hugh, the Red Swede was the most heroic and powerful +person in the world. With unrestrained adoration he trotted +after while Miles fed the cows, chased his one pig--an animal +of lax and migratory instincts--or dramatically slaughtered a +chicken. And to Hugh, Olaf was lord among mortal men, less +stalwart than the old monarch, King Miles, but more understanding +of the relations and values of things, of small sticks, +lone playing-cards, and irretrievably injured hoops. + +Carol saw, though she did not admit, that Olaf was not +only more beautiful than her own dark child, but more gracious. +Olaf was a Norse chieftain: straight, sunny-haired, large- +limbed, resplendently amiable to his subjects. Hugh was a +vulgarian; a bustling business man. It was Hugh that bounced +and said "Let's play"; Olaf that opened luminous blue eyes +and agreed "All right," in condescending gentleness. If Hugh +batted him--and Hugh did bat him--Olaf was unafraid but +shocked. In magnificent solitude he marched toward the +house, while Hugh bewailed his sin and the overclouding of +august favor. + +The two friends played with an imperial chariot which +Miles had made out of a starch-box and four red spools; +together they stuck switches into a mouse-hole, with vast +satisfaction though entirely without known results. + +Bea, the chubby and humming Bea, impartially gave cookies +and scoldings to both children, and if Carol refused a cup of +coffee and a wafer of buttered knackebrod, she was desolated. + +Miles had done well with his dairy. He had six cows, +two hundred chickens, a cream separator, a Ford truck. In the +spring he had built a two-room addition to his shack. That +illustrious building was to Hugh a carnival. Uncle Miles did +the most spectacular, unexpected things: ran up the ladder; +stood on the ridge-pole, waving a hammer and singing something +about "To arms, my citizens"; nailed shingles faster +than Aunt Bessie could iron handkerchiefs; and lifted a two- +by-six with Hugh riding on one end and Olaf on the other. +Uncle Miles's most ecstatic trick was to make figures not on +paper but right on a new pine board, with the broadest softest +pencil in the world. There was a thing worth seeing! + +The tools! In his office Father had tools fascinating in their +shininess and curious shapes, but they were sharp, they were +something called sterized, and they distinctly were not for +boys to touch. In fact it was a good dodge to volunteer "I +must not touch," when you looked at the tools on the glass +shelves in Father's office. But Uncle Miles, who was a person +altogether superior to Father, let you handle all his kit except +the saws. There was a hammer with a silver head; there was a +metal thing like a big L; there was a magic instrument, very +precious, made out of costly red wood and gold, with a tube +which contained a drop--no, it wasn't a drop, it was a nothing, +which lived in the water, but the nothing LOOKED like a drop, +and it ran in a frightened way up and down the tube, no +matter how cautiously you tilted the magic instrument. And +there were nails, very different and clever--big valiant spikes, +middle-sized ones which were not very interesting, and shingle- +nails much jollier than the fussed-up fairies in the yellow +book. + + +II + + +While he had worked on the addition Miles had talked +frankly to Carol. He admitted now that so long as he stayed +in Gopher Prairie he would remain a pariah. Bea's Lutheran +friends were as much offended by his agnostic gibes as the +merchants by his radicalism. "And I can't seem to keep my +mouth shut. I think I'm being a baa-lamb, and not springing +any theories wilder than `c-a-t spells cat,' but when folks +have gone, I re'lize I've been stepping on their pet religious +corns. Oh, the mill foreman keeps dropping in, and that Danish +shoemaker, and one fellow from Elder's factory, and a few +Svenskas, but you know Bea: big good-hearted wench like +her wants a lot of folks around--likes to fuss over 'em--never +satisfied unless she tiring herself out making coffee for somebody. + +"Once she kidnapped me and drug me to the Methodist +Church. I goes in, pious as Widow Bogart, and sits still +and never cracks a smile while the preacher is favoring us +with his misinformation on evolution. But afterwards, when +the old stalwarts were pumphandling everybody at the door +and calling 'em `Brother' and `Sister,' they let me sail right +by with nary a clinch. They figure I'm the town badman. +Always will be, I guess. It'll have to be Olaf who goes on. +`And sometimes---- Blamed if I don't feel like coming out and +saying, `I've been conservative. Nothing to it. Now I'm +going to start something in these rotten one-horse lumber- +camps west of town.' But Bea's got me hypnotized. Lord, Mrs. +Kennicott, do you re'lize what a jolly, square, faithful woman +she is? And I love Olaf---- Oh well, I won't go and get +sentimental on you. + +"Course I've had thoughts of pulling up stakes and going +West. Maybe if they didn't know it beforehand, they wouldn't +find out I'd ever been guilty of trying to think for myself. +But--oh, I've worked hard, and built up this dairy business, +and I hate to start all over again, and move Bea and the kid +into another one-room shack. That's how they get us! +Encourage us to be thrifty and own our own houses, and then, +by golly, they've got us; they know we won't dare risk +everything by committing lez--what is it? lez majesty?--I +mean they know we won't be hinting around that if we had +a co-operative bank, we could get along without Stowbody. +Well---- As long as I can sit and play pinochle with Bea, +and tell whoppers to Olaf about his daddy's adventures in the +woods, and how he snared a wapaloosie and knew Paul Bunyan, +why, I don't mind being a bum. It's just for them that +I mind. Say! Say! Don't whisper a word to Bea, but when +I get this addition done, I'm going to buy her a phonograph!" + +He did. + +While she was busy with the activities her work-hungry +muscles found--washing, ironing, mending, baking, dusting, +preserving, plucking a chicken, painting the sink; tasks which, +because she was Miles's full partner, were exciting and creative +--Bea listened to the phonograph records with rapture like +that of cattle in a warm stable. The addition gave her a +kitchen with a bedroom above. The original one-room shack +was now a living-room, with the phonograph, a genuine leather- +upholstered golden-oak rocker, and a picture of Governor John +Johnson. + +In late July Carol went to the Bjornstams' desirous of a +chance to express her opinion of Beavers and Calibrees and +Joralemons. She found Olaf abed, restless from a slight fever, +and Bea flushed and dizzy but trying to keep up her work. +She lured Miles aside and worried: + +"They don't look at all well. What's the matter?" + +"Their stomachs are out of whack. I wanted to call in +Doc Kennicott, but Bea thinks the doc doesn't like us-- +she thinks maybe he's sore because you come down here. But +I'm getting worried." + +"I'm going to call the doctor at once." + +She yearned over Olaf. His lambent eyes were stupid, he +moaned, he rubbed his forehead. + +"Have they been eating something that's been bad for +them?" she fluttered to Miles. + +"Might be bum water. I'll tell you: We used to get our +water at Oscar Eklund's place, over across the street, but +Oscar kept dinging at me, and hinting I was a tightwad not +to dig a well of my own. One time he said, `Sure, you +socialists are great on divvying up other folks' money--and +water!' I knew if he kept it up there'd be a fuss, and I +ain't safe to have around, once a fuss starts; I'm likely to +forget myself and let loose with a punch in the snoot. I +offered to pay Oscar but he refused--he'd rather have the +chance to kid me. So I starts getting water down at Mrs. +Fageros's, in the hollow there, and I don't believe it's real +good. Figuring to dig my own well this fall." + +One scarlet word was before Carol's eyes while she listened +She fled to Kennicott's office. He gravely heard her out; +nodded, said, "Be right over." + +He examined Bea and Olaf. He shook his head. "Yes. +Looks to me like typhoid." + +"Golly, I've seen typhoid in lumber-camps," groaned Miles, +all the strength dripping out of him. "Have they got it +very bad?" + +"Oh, we'll take good care of them," said Kennicott, and +for the first time in their acquaintance he smiled on Miles +and clapped his shoulder. + +"Won't you need a nurse?" demanded Carol. + +"Why----" To Miles, Kennicott hinted, "Couldn't you +get Bea's cousin, Tina?" + +"She's down at the old folks', in the country." + +"Then let me do it!" Carol insisted. "They need some +one to cook for them, and isn't it good to give them sponge +baths, in typhoid?" + +"Yes. All right." Kennicott was automatic; he was the +official, the physician. "I guess probably it would be hard to +get a nurse here in town just now. Mrs. Stiver is busy with +an obstetrical case, and that town nurse of yours is off on +vacation, ain't she? All right, Bjornstam can spell you at +night." + +All week, from eight each morning till midnight, Carol fed +them, bathed them, smoothed sheets, took temperatures. +Miles refused to let her cook. Terrified, pallid, noiseless in +stocking feet, he did the kitchen work and the sweeping, his +big red hands awkwardly careful. Kennicott came in three +times a day, unchangingly tender and hopeful in the sick- +room, evenly polite to Miles. + +Carol understood how great was her love for her friends. +It bore her through; it made her arm steady and tireless to +bathe them. What exhausted her was the sight of Bea and +Olaf turned into flaccid invalids, uncomfortably flushed after +taking food, begging for the healing of sleep at night. + +During the second week Olaf's powerful legs were flabby. +Spots of a viciously delicate pink came out on his chest and +back. His cheeks sank. He looked frightened. His tongue +was brown and revolting. His confident voice dwindled to a +bewildered murmur, ceaseless and racking. + +Bea had stayed on her feet too long at the beginning. The +moment Kennicott had ordered her to bed she had begun to +collapse. One early evening she startled them by screaming, +in an intense abdominal pain, and within half an hour she was +in a delirium. Till dawn Carol was with her, and not all of +Bea's groping through the blackness of half-delirious pain +was so pitiful to Carol as the way in which Miles silently +peered into the room from the top of the narrow stairs. Carol +slept three hours next morning, and ran back. Bea was altogether +delirious but she muttered nothing save, "Olaf--ve +have such a good time----" + +At ten, while Carol was preparing an ice-bag in the kitchen, +Miles answered a knock. At the front door she saw +Vida Sherwin, Maud Dyer, and Mrs. Zitterel, wife of the +Baptist pastor. They were carrying grapes, and women's- +magazines, magazines with high-colored pictures and optimistic +fiction. + +"We just heard your wife was sick. We've come to see +if there isn't something we can do," chirruped Vida. + +Miles looked steadily at the three women. "You're too +late. You can't do nothing now. Bea's always kind of hoped +that you folks would come see her. She wanted to have a +chance and be friends. She used to sit waiting for somebody +to knock. I've seen her sitting here, waiting. Now---- Oh, +you ain't worth God-damning." He shut the door. + +All day Carol watched Olaf's strength oozing. He was +emaciated. His ribs were grim clear lines, his skin was +clammy, his pulse was feeble but terrifyingly rapid. It beat-- +beat--beat in a drum-roll of death. Late that afternoon +he sobbed, and died. + +Bea did not know it. She was delirious. Next morning, +when she went, she did not know that Olaf would no longer +swing his lath sword on the door-step, no longer rule his +subjects of the cattle-yard; that Miles's son would not go +East to college. + +Miles, Carol, Kennicott were silent. They washed the bodies +together, their eyes veiled. + +"Go home now and sleep. You're pretty tired. I can't ever +pay you back for what you done," Miles whispered to Carol. + +"Yes. But I'll be back here tomorrow. Go with you to +the funeral," she said laboriously. + +When the time for the funeral came, Carol was in bed, +collapsed. She assumed that neighbors would go. They had +not told her that word of Miles's rebuff to Vida had spread +through town, a cyclonic fury. + +It was only by chance that, leaning on her elbow in bed, +she glanced through the window and saw the funeral of Bea +and Olaf. There was no music, no carriages. There was only +Miles Bjornstam, in his black wedding-suit, walking quite +alone, head down, behind the shabby hearse that bore the +bodies of his wife and baby. + +An hour after, Hugh came into her room crying, and when +she said as cheerily as she could, "What is it, dear?" he +besought, "Mummy, I want to go play with Olaf." + +That afternoon Juanita Haydock dropped in to brighten +Carol. She said, "Too bad about this Bea that was your +hired girl. But I don't waste any sympathy on that man of +hers. Everybody says he drank too much, and treated his +family awful, and that's how they got sick." + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +I + +A LETTER from Raymie Wutherspoon, in France, said that he +had been sent to the front, been slightly wounded, been made +a captain. From Vida's pride Carol sought to draw a stimulant +to rouse her from depression. + +Miles had sold his dairy. He had several thousand dollars. +To Carol he said good-by with a mumbled word, a harsh +hand-shake, "Going to buy a farm in northern Alberta--far +off from folks as I can get." He turned sharply away, but +he did not walk with his former spring. His shoulders seemed +old. + +It was said that before he went he cursed the town. +There was talk of arresting him, of riding him on a rail. It +was rumored that at the station old Champ Perry rebuked +him, "You better not come back here. We've got respect for +your dead, but we haven't got any for a blasphemer and a +traitor that won't do anything for his country and only bought +one Liberty Bond." + +Some of the people who had been at the station declared that +Miles made some dreadful seditious retort: something about +loving German workmen more than American bankers; but +others asserted that he couldn't find one word with which to +answer the veteran; that he merely sneaked up on the platform +of the train. He must have felt guilty, everybody agreed, +for as the train left town, a farmer saw him standing in the +vestibule and looking out. + +His house--with the addition which he had built four +months ago--was very near the track on which his train passed. + +When Carol went there, for the last time, she found Olaf's +chariot with its red spool wheels standing in the sunny corner +beside the stable. She wondered if a quick eye could have +noticed it from a train. + +That day and that week she went reluctantly to Red Cross +work; she stitched and packed silently, while Vida read the war +bulletins. And she said nothing at all when Kennicott com- +mented, "From what Champ says, I guess Bjornstam was a +bad egg, after all. In spite of Bea, don't know but what the +citizens' committee ought to have forced him to be patriotic-- +let on like they could send him to jail if he didn't volunteer and +come through for bonds and the Y. M. C. A. They've worked +that stunt fine with all these German farmers." + + +II + + +She found no inspiration but she did find a dependable +kindness in Mrs. Westlake, and at last she yielded to the old +woman's receptivity and had relief in sobbing the story of +Bea. + +Guy Pollock she often met on the street, but he was merely +a pleasant voice which said things about Charles Lamb and +sunsets. + +Her most positive experience was the revelation of Mrs. +Flickerbaugh, the tall, thin, twitchy wife of the attorney. +Carol encountered her at the drug store. + +"Walking?" snapped Mrs. Flickerbaugh. + +"Why, yes." + +"Humph. Guess you're the only female in this town that +retains the use of her legs. Come home and have a cup o' +tea with me." + +Because she had nothing else to do, Carol went. But she +was uncomfortable in the presence of the amused stares which +Mrs. Flickerbaugh's raiment drew. Today, in reeking early +August, she wore a man's cap, a skinny fur like a dead cat, +a necklace of imitation pearls, a scabrous satin blouse, and a +thick cloth skirt hiked up in front. + +"Come in. Sit down. Stick the baby in that rocker. Hope +you don't mind the house looking like a rat's nest. You don't +like this town. Neither do I," said Mrs. Flickerbaugh. + +"Why----" + +"Course you don't!" + +"Well then, I don't! But I'm sure that some day I'll find +some solution. Probably I'm a hexagonal peg. Solution: find +the hexagonal hole." Carol was very brisk. + +"How do you know you ever will find it?" + +"There's Mrs. Westlake. She's naturally a big-city woman-- +she ought to have a lovely old house in Philadelphia or Boston +--but she escapes by being absorbed in reading." + +"You be satisfied to never do anything but read?" + +"No, but Heavens, one can't go on hating a town +always!" + +"Why not? I can! I've hated it for thirty-two years. I'll +die here--and I'll hate it till I die. I ought to have been a +business woman. I had a good deal of talent for tending to +figures. All gone now. Some folks think I'm crazy. Guess +I am. Sit and grouch. Go to church and sing hymns. Folks +think I'm religious. Tut! Trying to forget washing and +ironing and mending socks. Want an office of my own, and +sell things. Julius never hear of it. Too late." + +Carol sat on the gritty couch, and sank into fear. Could +this drabness of life keep up forever, then? Would she some +day so despise herself and her neighbors that she too would +walk Main Street an old skinny eccentric woman in a mangy +cat's-fur? As she crept home she felt that the trap had +finally closed. She went into the house, a frail small woman, +still winsome but hopeless of eye as she staggered with the +weight of the drowsy boy in her arms. + +She sat alone on the porch, that evening. It seemed that +Kennicott had to make a professional call on Mrs. Dave +Dyer. + +Under the stilly boughs and the black gauze of dusk the +street was meshed in silence. There was but the hum of +motor tires crunching the road, the creak of a rocker on the +Howlands' porch, the slap of a hand attacking a mosquito, a +heat-weary conversation starting and dying, the precise rhythm +of crickets, the thud of moths against the screen--sounds that +were a distilled silence. It was a street beyond the end of the +world, beyond the boundaries of hope. Though she should sit +here forever, no brave procession, no one who was interesting, +would be coming by. It was tediousness made tangible, a +street builded of lassitude and of futility. + +Myrtle Cass appeared, with Cy Bogart. She giggled and +bounced when Cy tickled her ear in village love. They strolled +with the half-dancing gait of lovers, kicking their feet out +sideways or shuffling a dragging jig, and the concrete walk sounded +to the broken two-four rhythm. Their voices had a dusky +turbulence. Suddenly, to the woman rocking on the porch of +the doctor's house, the night came alive, and she felt that +everywhere in the darkness panted an ardent quest which she +was missing as she sank back to wait for---- There must be +something. + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +IT WAS at a supper of the Jolly Seventeen in August that +Carol heard of "Elizabeth," from Mrs. Dave Dyer. + +Carol was fond of Maud Dyer, because she had been particularly +agreeable lately; had obviously repented of the nervous +distaste which she had once shown. Maud patted her hand +when they met, and asked about Hugh. + +Kennicott said that he was "kind of sorry for the girl, +some ways; she's too darn emotional, but still, Dave is sort +of mean to her." He was polite to poor Maud when they +all went down to the cottages for a swim. Carol was proud of +that sympathy in him, and now she took pains to sit with their +new friend. + +Mrs. Dyer was bubbling, "Oh, have you folks heard about +this young fellow that's just come to town that the boys call +`Elizabeth'? He's working in Nat Hicks's tailor shop. I bet +he doesn't make eighteen a week, but my! isn't he the perfect +lady though! He talks so refined, and oh, the lugs he puts on +--belted coat, and pique collar with a gold pin, and socks +to match his necktie, and honest--you won't believe this, but +I got it straight--this fellow, you know he's staying at Mrs. +Gurrey's punk old boarding-house, and they say he asked Mrs. +Gurrey if he ought to put on a dress-suit for supper! Imagine! +Can you beat that? And him nothing but a Swede tailor--Erik +Valborg his name is. But he used to be in a tailor shop +in Minneapolis (they do say he's a smart needle-pusher, at +that) and he tries to let on that he's a regular city fellow. +They say he tries to make people think he's a poet--carries +books around and pretends to read 'em. Myrtle Cass says +she met him at a dance, and he was mooning around all +over the place, and he asked her did she like flowers and +poetry and music and everything; he spieled like he was a +regular United States Senator; and Myrtle--she's a devil, that +girl, ha! ha!--she kidded him along, and got him going, and +honest, what d'you think he said? He said he didn't find any +intellectual companionship in this town. Can you BEAT it? +Imagine! And him a Swede tailor! My! And they say he's +the most awful mollycoddle--looks just like a girl. The boys +call him `Elizabeth,' and they stop him and ask about the +books he lets on to have read, and he goes and tells them, +and they take it all in and jolly him terribly, and he never gets +onto the fact they're kidding him. Oh, I think it's just TOO funny!" + +The Jolly Seventeen laughed, and Carol laughed with them. +Mrs. Jack Elder added that this Erik Valborg had confided +to Mrs. Gurrey that he would "love to design clothes for +women." Imagine! Mrs. Harvey Dillon had had a glimpse +of him, but honestly, she'd thought he was awfully handsome. +This was instantly controverted by Mrs. B. J. Gougerling, +wife of the banker. Mrs. Gougerling had had, she reported, +a good look at this Valborg fellow. She and B. J. +had been motoring, and passed "Elizabeth" out by McGruder's +Bridge. He was wearing the awfullest clothes, with the waist +pinched in like a girl's. He was sitting on a rock doing +nothing, but when he heard the Gougerling car coming he +snatched a book out of his pocket, and as they went by he +pretended to be reading it, to show off. And he wasn't really +good-looking--just kind of soft, as B. J. had pointed out. + +When the husbands came they joined in the expose. "My +name is Elizabeth. I'm the celebrated musical tailor. The +skirts fall for me by the thou. Do I get some more veal +loaf?" merrily shrieked Dave Dyer. He had some admirable +stories about the tricks the town youngsters had played on +Valborg. They had dropped a decaying perch into his pocket. +They had pinned on his back a sign, "I'm the prize boob, +kick me." + +Glad of any laughter, Carol joined the frolic, and surprised +them by crying, "Dave, I do think you're the dearest thing +since you got your hair cut!" That was an excellent sally. +Everybody applauded. Kennicott looked proud. + +She decided that sometime she really must go out of her +way to pass Hicks's shop and see this freak. + + +II + + +She was at Sunday morning service at the Baptist Church, +in a solemn row with her husband, Hugh, Uncle Whittier, +Aunt Bessie. + +Despite Aunt Bessie's nagging the Kennicotts rarely +attended church. The doctor asserted, "Sure, religion is a fine +influence--got to have it to keep the lower classes in order-- +fact, it's the only thing that appeals to a lot of those fellows +and makes 'em respect the rights of property. And I guess this +theology is O.K.; lot of wise old coots figured it all out, and +they knew more about it than we do." He believed in the +Christian religion, and never thought about it, he believed +in the church, and seldom went near it; he was shocked by +Carol's lack of faith, and wasn't quite sure what was the +nature of the faith that she lacked. + +Carol herself was an uneasy and dodging agnostic. + +When she ventured to Sunday School and heard the teachers +droning that the genealogy of Shamsherai was a valuable +ethical problem for children to think about; when she +experimented with Wednesday prayer-meeting and listened to +store-keeping elders giving their unvarying weekly testimony +in primitive erotic symbols and such gory Chaldean phrases +as "washed in the blood of the lamb" and "a vengeful God"; +when Mrs. Bogart boasted that through his boyhood she had +made Cy confess nightly upon the basis of the Ten +Commandments; then Carol was dismayed to find the Christian +religion, in America, in the twentieth century, as abnormal as +Zoroastrianism--without the splendor. But when she went +to church suppers and felt the friendliness, saw the gaiety with +which the sisters served cold ham and scalloped potatoes; +when Mrs. Champ Perry cried to her, on an afternoon call, +"My dear, if you just knew how happy it makes you to come +into abiding grace," then Carol found the humanness behind +the sanguinary and alien theology. Always she perceived that +the churches--Methodist, Baptist, Congregational, Catholic, +all of them--which had seemed so unimportant to the judge's +home in her childhood, so isolated from the city struggle in +St. Paul, were still, in Gopher Prairie, the strongest of the +forces compelling respectability. + +This August Sunday she had been tempted by the announcement +that the Reverend Edmund Zitterel would preach on the +topic "America, Face Your Problems!" With the great war, +workmen in every nation showing a desire to control industries, +Russia hinting a leftward revolution against Kerensky, +woman suffrage coming, there seemed to be plenty of problems +for the Reverend Mr. Zitterel to call on America to face. +Carol gathered her family and trotted off behind Uncle +Whittier. + +The congregation faced the heat with informality. Men +with highly plastered hair, so painfully shaved that their faces +looked sore, removed their coats, sighed, and unbuttoned two +buttons of their uncreased Sunday vests. Large-bosomed, +white-bloused, hot-necked, spectacled matrons--the Mothers +in Israel, pioneers and friends of Mrs. Champ Perry--waved +their palm-leaf fans in a steady rhythm. Abashed boys slunk +into the rear pews and giggled, while milky little girls, up front +with their mothers, self-consciously kept from turning around. + +The church was half barn and half Gopher Prairie parlor. +The streaky brown wallpaper was broken in its dismal sweep +only by framed texts, "Come unto Me" and "The Lord is +My Shepherd," by a list of hymns, and by a crimson and +green diagram, staggeringly drawn upon hemp-colored paper, +indicating the alarming ease with which a young man may +descend from Palaces of Pleasure and the House of Pride to +Eternal Damnation. But the varnished oak pews and the new +red carpet and the three large chairs on the platform, behind +the bare reading-stand, were all of a rocking-chair comfort. + +Carol was civic and neighborly and commendable today. +She beamed and bowed. She trolled out with the others the +hymn: + + How pleasant 'tis on Sabbath morn + To gather in the church + And there I'll have no carnal thoughts, + Nor sin shall me besmirch. + + +With a rustle of starched linen skirts and stiff shirt-fronts, +the congregation sat down, and gave heed to the Reverend +Mr. Zitterel. The priest was a thin, swart, intense young +man with a bang. He wore a black sack suit and a lilac tie. +He smote the enormous Bible on the reading-stand, vociferated, +"Come, let us reason together," delivered a prayer informing +Almighty God of the news of the past week, and began to +reason. + +It proved that the only problems which America had to +face were Mormonism and Prohibition: + +"Don't let any of these self-conceited fellows that are +always trying to stir up trouble deceive you with the belief +that there's anything to all these smart-aleck movements to +let the unions and the Farmers' Nonpartisan League kill all +our initiative and enterprise by fixing wages and prices. There +isn't any movement that amounts to a whoop without it's got +a moral background. And let me tell you that while folks +are fussing about what they call `economics' and `socialism' +and `science' and a lot of things that are nothing in the world +but a disguise for atheism, the Old Satan is busy spreading +his secret net and tentacles out there in Utah, under his guise +of Joe Smith or Brigham Young or whoever their leaders +happen to be today, it doesn't make any difference, and they're +making game of the Old Bible that has led this American +people through its manifold trials and tribulations to its firm +position as the fulfilment of the prophecies and the recognized +leader of all nations. `Sit thou on my right hand till I make +thine enemies the footstool of my feet,' said the Lord of Hosts, +Acts II, the thirty-fourth verse--and let me tell you right now, +you got to get up a good deal earlier in the morning than you +get up even when you're going fishing, if you want to be +smarter than the Lord, who has shown us the straight and narrow +way, and he that passeth therefrom is in eternal peril and, +to return to this vital and terrible subject of Mormonism--and +as I say, it is terrible to realize how little attention is given +to this evil right here in our midst and on our very doorstep, +as it were--it's a shame and a disgrace that the Congress of +these United States spends all its time talking about +inconsequential financial matters that ought to be left to the Treasury +Department, as I understand it, instead of arising in their +might and passing a law that any one admitting he is a Mormon +shall simply be deported and as it were kicked out of this +free country in which we haven't got any room for polygamy +and the tyrannies of Satan. + +"And, to digress for a moment, especially as there are more +of them in this state than there are Mormons, though you +never can tell what will happen with this vain generation of +young girls, that think more about wearing silk stockings than +about minding their mothers and learning to bake a good loaf +of bread, and many of them listening to these sneaking Mormon +missionaries--and I actually heard one of them talking right +out on a street-corner in Duluth, a few years ago, and the +officers of the law not protesting--but still, as they are a smaller +but more immediate problem, let me stop for just a moment +to pay my respects to these Seventh-Day Adventists. Not that +they are immoral, I don't mean, but when a body of men +go on insisting that Saturday is the Sabbath, after Christ himself +has clearly indicated the new dispensation, then I think +the legislature ought to step in----" + +At this point Carol awoke. + +She got through three more minutes by studying the face +of a girl in the pew across: a sensitive unhappy girl whose +longing poured out with intimidating self-revelation as she +worshiped Mr. Zitterel. Carol wondered who the girl was. She +had seen her at church suppers. She considered how many +of the three thousand people in the town she did not know; +to how many of them the Thanatopsis and the Jolly Seventeen +were icy social peaks; how many of them might be toiling +through boredom thicker than her own--with greater courage. + +She examined her nails. She read two hymns. She got some +satisfaction out of rubbing an itching knuckle. She pillowed +on her shoulder the head of the baby who, after killing time +in the same manner as his mother, was so fortunate as to +fall asleep. She read the introduction, title-page, and +acknowledgment of copyrights, in the hymnal. She tried to evolve +a philosophy which would explain why Kennicott could never +tie his scarf so that it would reach the top of the gap in his +turn-down collar. + +There were no other diversions to be found in the pew. +She glanced back at the congregation. She thought that it +would be amiable to bow to Mrs. Champ Perry. + +Her slow turning head stopped, galvanized. + +Across the aisle, two rows back, was a strange young man +who shone among the cud-chewing citizens like a visitant from +the sun-amber curls, low forehead, fine nose, chin smooth +but not raw from Sabbath shaving. His lips startled her. The +lips of men in Gopher Prairie are flat in the face, straight and +grudging. The stranger's mouth was arched, the upper lip +short. He wore a brown jersey coat, a delft-blue bow, a white +silk shirt, white flannel trousers. He suggested the ocean +beach, a tennis court, anything but the sun-blistered utility +of Main Street. + +A visitor from Minneapolis, here for business? No. He +wasn't a business man. He was a poet. Keats was in his face, +and Shelley, and Arthur Upson, whom she had once seen in +Minneapolis. He was at once too sensitive and too sophisticated +to touch business as she knew it in Gopher Prairie. + +With restrained amusement he was analyzing the noisy Mr. +Zitterel. Carol was ashamed to have this spy from the Great +World hear the pastor's maundering. She felt responsible for +the town. She resented his gaping at their private rites. +She flushed, turned away. But she continued to feel his +presence. + +How could she meet him? She must! For an hour of talk. +He was all that she was hungry for. She could not let +him get away without a word--and she would have to. She +pictured, and ridiculed, herself as walking up to him and +remarking, "I am sick with the Village Virus. Will you please +tell me what people are saying and playing in New York?" +She pictured, and groaned over, the expression of Kennicott +if she should say, "Why wouldn't it be reasonable for you, my +soul, to ask that complete stranger in the brown jersey coat to +come to supper tonight?" + +She brooded, not looking back. She warned herself that +she was probably exaggerating; that no young man could have +all these exalted qualities. Wasn't he too obviously smart, +too glossy-new? Like a movie actor. Probably he was a +traveling salesman who sang tenor and fancied himself in +imitations of Newport clothes and spoke of "the swellest +business proposition that ever came down the pike." In a +panic she peered at him. No! This was no hustling salesman, +this boy with the curving Grecian lips and the serious eyes. + +She rose after the service, carefully taking Kennicott's arm +and smiling at him in a mute assertion that she was devoted +to him no matter what happened. She followed the Mystery's +soft brown jersey shoulders out of the church. + +Fatty Hicks, the shrill and puffy son of Nat, flapped his +hand at the beautiful stranger and jeered, "How's the kid? +All dolled up like a plush horse today, ain't we!" + +Carol was exceeding sick. Her herald from the outside +was Erik Valborg, "Elizabeth." Apprentice tailor! Gasoline +and hot goose! Mending dirty jackets! Respectfully holding +a tape-measure about a paunch! + +And yet, she insisted, this boy was also himself. + + +III + + +They had Sunday dinner with the Smails, in a dining-room +which centered about a fruit and flower piece and a crayon- +enlargement of Uncle Whittier. Carol did not heed Aunt +Bessie's fussing in regard to Mrs. Robert B. Schminke's bead +necklace and Whittier's error in putting on the striped pants, +day like this. She did not taste the shreds of roast pork. She +said vacuously: + +"Uh--Will, I wonder if that young man in the white flannel +trousers, at church this morning, was this Valborg person that +they're all talking about?" + +"Yump. That's him. Wasn't that the darudest get-up he +had on!" Kennicott scratched at a white smear on his hard +gray sleeve. + +"It wasn't so bad. I wonder where he comes from? He +seems to have lived in cities a good deal. Is he from the +East?" + +"The East? Him? Why, he comes from a farm right up +north here, just this side of Jefferson. I know his father +slightly--Adolph Valborg--typical cranky old Swede farmer." + +"Oh, really?" blandly. + +"Believe he has lived in Minneapolis for quite some time, +though. Learned his trade there. And I will say he's bright, +some ways. Reads a lot. Pollock says he takes more books +out of the library than anybody else in town. Huh! He's +kind of like you in that!" + +The Smails and Kennicott laughed very much at this sly +jest. Uncle Whittier seized the conversation. "That fellow +that's working for Hicks? Milksop, that's what he is. Makes +me tired to see a young fellow that ought to be in the war, +or anyway out in the fields earning his living honest, like +I done when I was young, doing a woman's work and then +come out and dress up like a show-actor! Why, when I was +his age----" + +Carol reflected that the carving-knife would make an +excellent dagger with which to kill Uncle Whittier. It would +slide in easily. The headlines would be terrible + +Kennicott said judiciously, "Oh, I don't want to be unjust +to him. I believe he took his physical examination for military +service. Got varicose veins--not bad, but enough to disqualify +him. Though I will say he doesn't look like a fellow that +would be so awful darn crazy to poke his bayonet into a +Hun's guts." + +"Will! PLEASE!" + +"Well, he don't. Looks soft to me. And they say he told +Del Snafflin, when he was getting a hair-cut on Saturday, that +he wished he could play the piano." + +"Isn't it wonderful how much we all know about one another +in a town like this," said Carol innocently. + +Kennicott was suspicious, but Aunt Bessie, serving the floating +island pudding, agreed, "Yes, it is wonderful. Folks can +get away with all sorts of meannesses and sins in these +terrible cities, but they can't here. I was noticing this tailor +fellow this morning, and when Mrs. Riggs offered to share her +hymn-book with him, he shook his head, and all the while we +was singing he just stood there like a bump on a log and never +opened his mouth. Everybody says he's got an idea that he's got +so much better manners and all than what the rest of us have, +but if that's what he calls good manners, I want to know!" + +Carol again studied the carving-knife. Blood on the whiteness +of a tablecloth might be gorgeous. + +Then: + +"Fool! Neurotic impossibilist! Telling yourself orchard +fairy-tales--at thirty. . . . Dear Lord, am I really THIRTY? +That boy can't be more than twenty-five." + + +IV + + +She went calling. + +Boarding with the Widow Bogart was Fern Mullins, a girl +of twenty-two who was to be teacher of English, French, and +gymnastics in the high school this coming session. Fern +Mullins had come to town early, for the six-weeks normal +course for country teachers. Carol had noticed her on the +street, had heard almost as much about her as about Erik +Valborg. She was tall, weedy, pretty, and incurably rakish. +Whether she wore a low middy collar or dressed reticently +for school in a black suit with a high-necked blouse, she was +airy, flippant. "She looks like an absolute totty," said all +the Mrs. Sam Clarks, disapprovingly, and all the Juanita +Haydocks, enviously. + +That Sunday evening, sitting in baggy canvas lawn-chairs +beside the house, the Kennicotts saw Fern laughing with Cy +Bogart who, though still a junior in high school, was now +a lump of a man, only two or three years younger than Fern. +Cy had to go downtown for weighty matters connected with the +pool-parlor. Fern drooped on the Bogart porch, her chin in +her hands. + +"She looks lonely," said Kennicott. + +"She does, poor soul. I believe I'll go over and speak to +her. I was introduced to her at Dave's but I haven't called." +Carol was slipping across the lawn, a white figure in the +dimness, faintly brushing the dewy grass. She was thinking of +Erik and of the fact that her feet were wet, and she was casual +in her greeting: "Hello! The doctor and I wondered if you +were lonely." + +Resentfully, "I am!" + +Carol concentrated on her. "My dear, you sound so! I +know how it is. I used to be tired when I was on the job-- +I was a librarian. What was your college? I was Blodgett." + +More interestedly, "I went to the U." Fern meant the +University of Minnesota. + +"You must have had a splendid time. Blodgett was a bit +dull." + +"Where were you a librarian?" challengingly. + +"St. Paul--the main library." + +"Honest? Oh dear, I wish I was back in the Cities! This +is my first year of teaching, and I'm scared stiff. I did have +the best time in college: dramatics and basket-ball and fussing +and dancing--I'm simply crazy about dancing. And here, +except when I have the kids in gymnasium class, or when I'm +chaperoning the basket-ball team on a trip out-of-town, I won't +dare to move above a whisper. I guess they don't care much +if you put any pep into teaching or not, as long as you look +like a Good Influence out of school-hours--and that means +never doing anything you want to. This normal course is +bad enough, but the regular school will be FIERCE! If it wasn't +too late to get a job in the Cities, I swear I'd resign here. +I bet I won't dare to go to a single dance all winter. If I cut +loose and danced the way I like to, they'd think I was a +perfect hellion--poor harmless me! Oh, I oughtn't to be +talking like this. Fern, you never could be cagey!" + +"Don't be frightened, my dear! . . . Doesn't that +sound atrociously old and kind! I'm talking to you the way +Mrs. Westlake talks to me! That's having a husband and a +kitchen range, I suppose. But I feel young, and I want to +dance like a--like a hellion?--too. So I sympathize." + +Fern made a sound of gratitude. Carol inquired, "What +experience did you have with college dramatics? I tried to +start a kind of Little Theater here. It was dreadful. I must +tell you about it----" + +Two hours later, when Kennicott came over to greet Fern +and to yawn, "Look here, Carrie, don't you suppose you better +be thinking about turning in? I've got a hard day tomorrow," +the two were talking so intimately that they constantly +interrupted each other. + +As she went respectably home, convoyed by a husband, and +decorously holding up her skirts, Carol rejoiced, "Everything +has changed! I have two friends, Fern and---- But who's +the other? That's queer; I thought there was---- Oh, how +absurd!" + + +V + + +She often passed Erik Valborg on the street; the brown +jersey coat became unremarkable. When she was driving with +Kennicott, in early evening, she saw him on the lake shore, +reading a thin book which might easily have been poetry. She +noted that he was the only person in the motorized town who +still took long walks. + +She told herself that she was the daughter of a judge, the +wife of a doctor, and that she did not care to know a capering +tailor. She told herself that she was not responsive to men. . . +not even to Percy Bresnahan. She told herself that a woman +of thirty who heeded a boy of twenty-five was ridiculous. +And on Friday, when she had convinced herself that +the errand was necessary, she went to Nat Hicks's shop, +bearing the not very romantic burden of a pair of her husband's +trousers. Hicks was in the back room. She faced the Greek +god who, in a somewhat ungodlike way, was stitching a coat +on a scaley sewing-machine, in a room of smutted plaster walls. + +She saw that his hands were not in keeping with a Hellenic +face. They were thick, roughened with needle and hot iron +and plow-handle. Even in the shop he persisted in his finery. +He wore a silk shirt, a topaz scarf, thin tan shoes. + +This she absorbed while she was saying curtly, "Can I +get these pressed, please?" + +Not rising from the sewing-machine he stuck out his hand, +mumbled, "When do you want them?" + +"Oh, Monday." + +The adventure was over. She was marching out. + +"What name?" he called after her. + +He had risen and, despite the farcicality of Dr. Will +Kennicott's bulgy trousers draped over his arm, he had the grace +of a cat. + +"Kennicott." + +"Kennicott. Oh! Oh say, you're Mrs. Dr. Kennicott then, +aren't you?" + +"Yes." She stood at the door. Now that she had carried +out her preposterous impulse to see what he was like, she was +cold, she was as ready to detect familiarities as the virtuous +Miss Ella Stowbody. + +"I've heard about you. Myrtle Cass was saying you got +up a dramatic club and gave a dandy play. I've always wished +I had a chance to belong to a Little Theater, and give some +European plays, or whimsical like Barrie, or a pageant." + +He pronounced it "pagent"; he rhymed "pag" with "rag." + +Carol nodded in the manner of a lady being kind to a tradesman, +and one of her selves sneered, "Our Erik is indeed a lost +John Keats." + +He was appealing, "Do you suppose it would be possible +to get up another dramatic club this coming fall?" + +"Well, it might be worth thinking of." She came out of +her several conflicting poses, and said sincerely, "There's a new +teacher, Miss Mullins, who might have some talent. That +would make three of us for a nucleus. If we could scrape up +half a dozen we might give a real play with a small cast. Have +you had any experience?" + +"Just a bum club that some of us got up in Minneapolis +when I was working there. We had one good man, an interior +decorator--maybe he was kind of sis and effeminate, but he +really was an artist, and we gave one dandy play. But I---- +Of course I've always had to work hard, and study by myself, +and I'm probably sloppy, and I'd love it if I had training in +rehearsing--I mean, the crankier the director was, the better +I'd like it. If you didn't want to use me as an actor, I'd love +to design the costumes. I'm crazy about fabrics--textures +and colors and designs." + +She knew that he was trying to keep her from going, trying +to indicate that he was something more than a person to whom +one brought trousers for pressing. He besought: + +"Some day I hope I can get away from this fool repairing, +when I have the money saved up. I want to go East and work +for some big dressmaker, and study art drawing, and become +a high-class designer. Or do you think that's a kind of fiddlin' +ambition for a fellow? I was brought up on a farm. And then +monkeyin' round with silks! I don't know. What do you +think? Myrtle Cass says you're awfully educated." + +"I am. Awfully. Tell me: Have the boys made fun of +your ambition?" + +She was seventy years old, and sexless, and more advisory +than Vida Sherwin. + +"Well, they have, at that. They've jollied me a good deal, +here and Minneapolis both. They say dressmaking is ladies' +work. (But I was willing to get drafted for the war! I tried +to get in. But they rejected me. But I did try! ) I thought +some of working up in a gents' furnishings store, and I had +a chance to travel on the road for a clothing house, but somehow-- +I hate this tailoring, but I can't seem to get enthusiastic +about salesmanship. I keep thinking about a room in gray +oatmeal paper with prints in very narrow gold frames--or +would it be better in white enamel paneling?--but anyway, it +looks out on Fifth Avenue, and I'm designing a sumptuous----" +He made it "sump-too-ous"--"robe of linden green chiffon +over cloth of gold! You know--tileul. It's elegant. . . . +What do you think?" + +"Why not? What do you care for the opinion of city +rowdies, or a lot of farm boys? But you mustn't, you really +mustn't, let casual strangers like me have a chance to judge +you." + +"Well---- You aren't a stranger, one way. Myrtle Cass +--Miss Cass, should say--she's spoken about you so often. I +wanted to call on you--and the doctor--but I didn't quite +have the nerve. One evening I walked past your house, but +you and your husband were talking on the porch, and you +looked so chummy and happy I didn't dare butt in." + +Maternally, "I think it's extremely nice of you to want +to be trained in--in enunciation by a stage-director. Perhaps +I could help you. I'm a thoroughly sound and uninspired +schoolma'am by instinct; quite hopelessly mature." + +"Oh, you aren't EITHER!" + +She was not very successful at accepting his fervor with the +air of amused woman of the world, but she sounded reasonably +impersonal: "Thank you. Shall we see if we really can get +up a new dramatic club? I'll tell you: Come to the house this +evening, about eight. I'll ask Miss Mullins to come over, and +we'll talk about it." + + +VI + + +"He has absolutely no sense of humor. Less than Will. But +hasn't he----- What is a `sense of humor'? Isn't the thing +he lacks the back-slapping jocosity that passes for humor here? +Anyway---- Poor lamb, coaxing me to stay and play with +him! Poor lonely lamb! If he could be free from Nat Hickses, +from people who say `dandy' and `bum,' would he develop? + +"I wonder if Whitman didn't use Brooklyn back-street slang, +as a boy? + +"No. Not Whitman. He's Keats--sensitive to silken +things. `Innumerable of stains and splendid dyes as are the +tiger-moth's deep-damask'd wings.' Keats, here! A bewildered +spirit fallen on Main Street. And Main Street laughs till it +aches, giggles till the spirit doubts his own self and tries to give +up the use of wings for the correct uses of a `gents' furnishings +store.' Gopher Prairie with its celebrated eleven miles of +cement walk. . . . I wonder how much of the cement +is made out of the tombstones of John Keatses?" + + +VII + + +Kennicott was cordial to Fern Mullins, teased her, told her +he was a "great hand for running off with pretty school- +teachers," and promised that if the school-board should object +to her dancing, he would "bat 'em one over the head and tell +'em how lucky they were to get a girl with some go to her, for +once." + +But to Erik Valborg he was not cordial. He shook hands +loosely, and said, "H' are yuh." + +Nat Hicks was socially acceptable; he had been here for +years, and owned his shop; but this person was merely Nat's +workman, and the town's principle of perfect democracy was +not meant to be applied indiscriminately. + +The conference on a dramatic club theoretically included +Kennicott, but he sat back, patting yawns, conscious of Fern's +ankles, smiling amiably on the children at their sport. + +Fern wanted to tell her grievances; Carol was sulky every +time she thought of "The Girl from Kankakee"; it was Erik +who made suggestions. He had read with astounding breadth, +and astounding lack of judgment. His voice was sensitive to +liquids, but he overused the word "glorious." He mispronounced +a tenth of the words he had from books, but he knew +it. He was insistent, but he was shy. + +When he demanded, "I'd like to stage `Suppressed Desires,' +by Cook and Miss Glaspell," Carol ceased to be patronizing. +He was not the yearner: he was the artist, sure of his vision. +"I'd make it simple. Use a big window at the back, with a +cyclorama of a blue that would simply hit you in the eye, +and just one tree-branch, to suggest a park below. Put the +breakfast table on a dais. Let the colors be kind of arty and +tea-roomy--orange chairs, and orange and blue table, and blue +Japanese breakfast set, and some place, one big flat smear of +black--bang! Oh. Another play I wish we could do is Tennyson +Jesse's `The Black Mask.' I've never seen it but---- +Glorious ending, where this woman looks at the man with his +face all blown away, and she just gives one horrible scream." + +"Good God, is that your idea of a glorious ending?" bayed +Kennicott. + +"That sounds fierce! I do love artistic things, but not the +horrible ones," moaned Fern Mullins. + +Erik was bewildered; glanced at Carol. She nodded loyally. + +At the end of the conference they had decided nothing. + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +SHE had walked up the railroad track with Hugh, this Sunday +afternoon. + +She saw Erik Valborg coming, in an ancient highwater suit, +tramping sullenly and alone, striking at the rails with a stick. +For a second she unreasoningly wanted to avoid him, but she +kept on, and she serenely talked about God, whose voice, Hugh +asserted, made the humming in the telegraph wires. Erik +stared, straightened. They greeted each other with "Hello." + +"Hugh, say how-do-you-do to Mr. Valborg." + +"Oh, dear me, he's got a button unbuttoned," worried Erik, +kneeling. Carol frowned, then noted the strength with which +he swung the baby in the air. + +"May I walk along a piece with you?" + +"I'm tired. Let's rest on those ties. Then I must be trotting +back." + +They sat on a heap of discarded railroad ties, oak logs +spotted with cinnamon-colored dry-rot and marked with +metallic brown streaks where iron plates had rested. Hugh +learned that the pile was the hiding-place of Injuns; he went +gunning for them while the elders talked of uninteresting +things. + +The telegraph wires thrummed, thrummed, thrummed above +them; the rails were glaring hard lines; the goldenrod smelled +dusty. Across the track was a pasture of dwarf clover and +sparse lawn cut by earthy cow-paths; beyond its placid narrow +green, the rough immensity of new stubble, jagged with wheat- +stacks like huge pineapples. + +Erik talked of books; flamed like a recent convert to any +faith. He exhibited as many titles and authors as possible, +halting only to appeal, "Have you read his last book? Don't +you think he's a terribly strong writer?" + +She was dizzy. But when he insisted, "You've been a +librarian; tell me; do I read too much fiction?" she advised +him loftily, rather discursively. He had, she indicated, never +studied. He had skipped from one emotion to another. +Especially--she hesitated, then flung it at him--he must not guess +at pronunciations; he must endure the nuisance of stopping to +reach for the dictionary. + +"I'm talking like a cranky teacher," she sighed. + +"No! And I will study! Read the damned dictionary right +through." He crossed his legs and bent over, clutching his +ankle with both hands. "I know what you mean. I've been +rushing from picture to picture, like a kid let loose in an art +gallery for the first time. You see, it's so awful recent that +I've found there was a world--well, a world where beautiful +things counted. I was on the farm till I was nineteen. Dad +is a good farmer, but nothing else. Do you know why he first +sent me off to learn tailoring? I wanted to study drawing, +and he had a cousin that'd made a lot of money tailoring out +in Dakota, and he said tailoring was a lot like drawing, so he +sent me down to a punk hole called Curlew, to work in a +tailor shop. Up to that time I'd only had three months' schooling +a year--walked to school two miles, through snow up to +my knees--and Dad never would stand for my having a single +book except schoolbooks. + +"I never read a novel till I got `Dorothy Vernon of Haddon +Hall' out of the library at Curlew. I thought it was the +loveliest thing in the world! Next I read `Barriers Burned +Away' and then Pope's translation of Homer. Some +combination, all right! When I went to Minneapolis, just two +years ago, I guess I'd read pretty much everything in that +Curlew library, but I'd never heard of Rossetti or John Sargent +or Balzac or Brahms. But---- Yump, I'll study. Look here! +Shall I get out of this tailoring, this pressing and repairing?" + +"I don't see why a surgeon should spend very much time +cobbling shoes." + +"But what if I find I can't really draw and design? After +fussing around in New York or Chicago, I'd feel like a fool +if I had to go back to work in a gents' furnishings store!" + +"Please say `haberdashery.' " + +"Haberdashery? All right. I'll remember." He shrugged +and spread his fingers wide. + +She was humbled by his humility; she put away in her +mind, to take out and worry over later, a speculation as to +whether it was not she who was naive. She urged, "What +if you do have to go back? Most of us do! We can't all +be artists--myself, for instance. We have to darn socks, and +yet we're not content to think of nothing but socks and darning- +cotton. I'd demand all I could get--whether I finally settled +down to designing frocks or building temples or pressing pants. +What if you do drop back? You'll have had the adventure. +Don't be too meek toward life! Go! You're young, you're +unmarried. Try everything! Don't listen to Nat Hicks and +Sam Clark and be a `steady young man'--in order to help +them make money. You're still a blessed innocent. Go and +play till the Good People capture you!" + +"But I don't just want to play. I want to make something +beautiful. God! And I don't know enough. Do you get it? +Do you understand? Nobody else ever has! Do you understand?" + +"Yes." + +"And so---- But here's what bothers me: I like fabrics; +dinky things like that; little drawings and elegant words. But +look over there at those fields. Big! New! Don't it seem +kind of a shame to leave this and go back to the East and +Europe, and do what all those people have been doing so long? +Being careful about words, when there's millions of bushels off +wheat here! Reading this fellow Pater, when I've helped Dad +to clear fields!" + +"It's good to clear fields. But it's not for you. It's one +of our favorite American myths that broad plains necessarily +make broad minds, and high mountains make high purpose. +I thought that myself, when I first came to the prairie. `Big-- +new.' Oh, I don't want to deny the prairie future. It will +be magnificent. But equally I'm hanged if I want to be bullied +by it, go to war on behalf of Main Street, be bullied and BULLIED +by the faith that the future is already here in the present, and +that all of us must stay and worship wheat-stacks and insist +that this is `God's Country'--and never, of course, do +anything original or gay-colored that would help to make that +future! Anyway, you don't belong here. Sam Clark and Nat +Hicks, that's what our big newness has produced. Go! Before +it's too late, as it has been for--for some of us. Young man, +go East and grow up with the revolution! Then perhaps you +may come back and tell Sam and Nat and me what to do with +the land we've been clearing--if we'll listen--if we don't lynch +you first!" + +He looked at her reverently. She could hear him saying, + +"I've always wanted to know a woman who would talk to +me like that." + +Her hearing was faulty. He was saying nothing of the sort. +He was saying: + +"Why aren't you happy with your husband?" + +"I--you----" + +"He doesn't care for the `blessed innocent' part of you, +does he!" + +"Erik, you mustn't----" + +"First you tell me to go and be free, and then you say that +I `mustn't'!" + +"I know. But you mustn't---- You must be more +impersonal!" + +He glowered at her like a downy young owl. She wasn't +sure but she thought that he muttered, "I'm damned if I will." +She considered with wholesome fear the perils of meddling with +other people's destinies, and she said timidly, "Hadn't we +better start back now?" + +He mused, "You're younger than I am. Your lips are for +songs about rivers in the morning and lakes at twilight. I don't +see how anybody could ever hurt you. . . . Yes. We better go." + +He trudged beside her, his eyes averted. Hugh experimentally +took his thumb. He looked down at the baby seriously. +He burst out, "All right. I'll do it. I'll stay here +one year. Save. Not spend so much money on clothes. And +then I'll go East, to art-school. Work on the side-tailor shop, +dressmaker's. I'll learn what I'm good for: designing clothes, +stage-settings, illustrating, or selling collars to fat men. All +settled." He peered at her, unsmiling. + +"Can you stand it here in town for a year?" + +"With you to look at?" + +"Please! I mean: Don't the people here think you're an +odd bird? (They do me, I assure you!)" + +"I don't know. I never notice much. Oh, they do kid me +about not being in the army--especially the old warhorses, the +old men that aren't going themselves. And this Bogart boy. +And Mr. Hicks's son--he's a horrible brat. But probably he's +licensed to say what he thinks about his father's hired man!" + +"He's beastly!" + +They were in town. They passed Aunt Bessie's house. Aunt +Bessie and Mrs. Bogart were at the window, and Carol saw +that they were staring so intently that they answered her wave +only with the stiffly raised hands of automatons. In the next +block Mrs. Dr. Westlake was gaping from her porch. Carol +said with an embarrassed quaver: + +"I want to run in and see Mrs. Westlake. I'll say good-by here." + +She avoided his eyes. + +Mrs. Westlake was affable. Carol felt that she was expected +to explain; and while she was mentally asserting that she'd +be hanged if she'd explain, she was explaining: + +"Hugh captured that Valborg boy up the track. They +became such good friends. And I talked to him for a while. I'd +heard he was eccentric, but really, I found him quite intelligent. +Crude, but he reads--reads almost the way Dr. Westlake does." + +"That's fine. Why does he stick here in town? What's +this I hear about his being interested in Myrtle Cass?" + +"I don't know. Is he? I'm sure he isn't! He said he was +quite lonely! Besides, Myrtle is a babe in arms!" + +"Twenty-one if she's a day!" + +"Well---- Is the doctor going to do any hunting this fall?" + + +II + + +The need of explaining Erik dragged her back into doubting. +For all his ardent reading, and his ardent life, was he anything +but a small-town youth bred on an illiberal farm and in cheap +tailor shops? He had rough hands. She had been attracted +only by hands that were fine and suave, like those of her father. +Delicate hands and resolute purpose. But this boy--powerful +seamed hands and flabby will. + +"It's not appealing weakness like his, but sane strength that +win animate the Gopher Prairies. Only---- Does that mean +anything? Or am I echoing Vida? The world has always let +`strong' statesmen and soldiers--the men with strong voices-- +take control, and what have the thundering boobies done? +What is `strength'? + +"This classifying of people! I suppose tailors differ as much +as burglars or kings. + +"Erik frightened me when he turned on me. Of course +he didn't mean anything, but I mustn't let him be so personal. + +"Amazing impertinence! + +"But he didn't mean to be. + +"His hands are FIRM. I wonder if sculptors don't have +thick hands, too? + +"Of course if there really is anything I can do to HELP the boy---- + +"Though I despise these people who interfere. He must be independent." + + +III + + +She wasn't altogether pleased, the week after, when Erik was +independent and, without asking for her inspiration, planned +the tennis tournament. It proved that he had learned to play +in Minneapolis; that, next to Juanita Haydock, he had the +best serve in town. Tennis was well spoken of in Gopher +Prairie and almost never played. There were three courts: +one belonging to Harry Haydock, one to the cottages at the +lake, and one, a rough field on the outskirts, laid out by a +defunct tennis association. + +Erik had been seen in flannels and an imitation panama hat, +playing on the abandoned court with Willis Woodford, the clerk +in Stowbody's bank. Suddenly he was going about proposing +the reorganization of the tennis association, and writing names +in a fifteen-cent note-book bought for the purpose at Dyer's. +When he came to Carol he was so excited over being an +organizer that he did not stop to talk of himself and Aubrey +Beardsley for more than ten minutes. He begged, "Will you +get some of the folks to come in?" and she nodded agreeably. + +He proposed an informal exhibition match to advertise the +association; he suggested that Carol and himself, the Haydocks, +the Woodfords, and the Dillons play doubles, and that the +association be formed from the gathered enthusiasts. He had +asked Harry Haydock to be tentative president. Harry, he +reported, had promised, "All right. You bet. But you go +ahead and arrange things, and I'll O.K. 'em." Erik planned +that the match should be held Saturday afternoon, on the old +public court at the edge of town. He was happy in being, for +the first time, part of Gopher Prairie. + +Through the week Carol heard how select an attendance +there was to be. + +Kennicott growled that he didn't care to go. + +Had he any objections to her playing with Erik? + +No; sure not; she needed the exercise. +Carol went to the match early. The court was in a meadow +out on the New Antonia road. Only Erik was there. He was +dashing about with a rake, trying to make the court somewhat +less like a plowed field. He admitted that he had stage +fright at the thought of the coming horde. Willis and Mrs. +Woodford arrived, Willis in home-made knickers and black +sneakers through at the toe; then Dr. and Mrs. Harvey Dillon, +people as harmless and grateful as the Woodfords. + +Carol was embarrassed and excessively agreeable, like the +bishop's lady trying not to feel out of place at a Baptist +bazaar. + +They waited. + +The match was scheduled for three. As spectators there +assembled one youthful grocery clerk, stopping his Ford delivery +wagon to stare from the seat, and one solemn small boy, tugging +a smaller sister who had a careless nose. + +"I wonder where the Haydocks are? They ought to show +up, at least," said Erik. + +Carol smiled confidently at him, and peered down the empty +road toward town. Only heat-waves and dust and dusty +weeds. + +At half-past three no one had come, and the grocery boy +reluctantly got out, cranked his Ford, glared at them in a +disillusioned manner, and rattled away. The small boy and his +sister ate grass and sighed. + +The players pretended to be exhilarated by practising +service, but they startled at each dust-cloud from a motor car. +None of the cars turned into the meadow-none till a quarter +to four, when Kennicott drove in. + +Carol's heart swelled. "How loyal he is! Depend on him! +He'd come, if nobody else did. Even though he doesn't care +for the game. The old darling!" + +Kennicott did not alight. He called out, "Carrie! Harry +Haydock 'phoned me that they've decided to hold the tennis +matches, or whatever you call 'em, down at the cottages at the +lake, instead of here. The bunch are down there now: Haydocks +and Dyers and Clarks and everybody. Harry wanted to +know if I'd bring you down. I guess I can take the time-- +come right back after supper." + +Before Carol could sum it all up, Erik stammered, "Why, +Haydock didn't say anything to me about the change. Of +course he's the president, but----" + +Kennicott looked at him heavily, and grunted, "I don't know +a thing about it. . . . Coming, Carrie?" + +"I am not! The match was to be here, and it will be here! +You can tell Harry Haydock that he's beastly rude!" She +rallied the five who had been left out, who would always be +left out. "Come on! We'll toss to see which four of us play +the Only and Original First Annual Tennis Tournament of +Forest Hills, Del Monte, and Gopher Prairie!" + +"Don't know as I blame you," said Kennicott. "Well +have supper at home then?" He drove off. + +She hated him for his composure. He had ruined her +defiance. She felt much less like Susan B. Anthony as she turned +to her huddled followers. + +Mrs. Dillon and Willis Woodford lost the toss. The others +played out the game, slowly, painfully, stumbling on the rough +earth, muffing the easiest shots, watched only by the small boy +and his sniveling sister. Beyond the court stretched the eternal +stubble-fields. The four marionettes, awkwardly going through +exercises, insignificant in the hot sweep of contemptuous land, +were not heroic; their voices did not ring out in the score, but +sounded apologetic; and when the game was over they glanced +about as though they were waiting to be laughed at. + +They walked home. Carol took Erik's arm. Through her +thin linen sleeve she could feel the crumply warmth of his +familiar brown jersey coat. She observed that there were +purple and red gold threads interwoven with the brown. She +remembered the first time she had seen it. + +Their talk was nothing but improvisations on the theme: +"I never did like this Haydock. He just considers his own +convenience." Ahead of them, the Dillons and Woodfords +spoke of the weather and B. J. Gougerling's new bungalow. No +one referred to their tennis tournament. At her gate Carol +shook hands firmly with Erik and smiled at him. + +Next morning, Sunday morning, when Carol was on the +porch, the Haydocks drove up. + +"We didn't mean to be rude to you, dearie!" implored +Juanita. "I wouldn't have you think that for anything. We +planned that Will and you should come down and have supper +at our cottage." + +"No. I'm sure you didn't mean to be." Carol was super- +neighborly. "But I do think you ought to apologize to poor +Erik Valborg. He was terribly hurt." + +"Oh. Valborg. I don't care so much what he thinks," +objected Harry. "He's nothing but a conceited buttinsky. +Juanita and I kind of figured he was trying to run this +tennis thing too darn much anyway." + +"But you asked him to make arrangements." + +"I know, but I don't like him. Good Lord, you couldn't +hurt his feelings! He dresses up like a chorus man--and, +by golly, he looks like one!--but he's nothing but a Swede farm +boy, and these foreigners, they all got hides like a covey of +rhinoceroses ." + +"But he IS hurt!" + +"Well---- I don't suppose I ought to have gone off half- +cocked, and not jollied him along. I'll give him a cigar. +He'll----" + +Juanita had been licking her lips and staring at Carol. She +interrupted her husband, "Yes, I do think Harry ought to +fix it up with him. You LIKE him, DON'T you, Carol??" + +Over and through Carol ran a frightened cautiousness. +"Like him? I haven't an I--dea. He seems to be a very decent +young man. I just felt that when he'd worked so hard on +the plans for the match, it was a shame not to be nice to him." + +"Maybe there's something to that," mumbled Harry; then, +at sight of Kennicott coming round the corner tugging the red +garden hose by its brass nozzle, he roared in relief, "What +d' you think you're trying to do, doc?" + +While Kennicott explained in detail all that he thought he +was trying to do, while he rubbed his chin and gravely stated, +"Struck me the grass was looking kind of brown in patches-- +didn't know but what I'd give it a sprinkling," and while +Harry agreed that this was an excellent idea, Juanita made +friendly noises and, behind the gilt screen of an affectionate +smile, watched Carol's face. + + +IV + + +She wanted to see Erik. She wanted some one to play with! +There wasn't even so dignified and sound an excuse as +having Kennicott's trousers pressed; when she inspected them, +all three pairs looked discouragingly neat. She probably +would not have ventured on it had she not spied Nat Hicks +in the pool-parlor, being witty over bottle-pool. Erik was +alone! She fluttered toward the tailor shop, dashed into its +slovenly heat with the comic fastidiousness of a humming bird +dipping into a dry tiger-lily. It was after she had entered +that she found an excuse. + +Erik was in the back room, cross-legged on a long table, +sewing a vest. But he looked as though he were doing this +eccentric thing to amuse himself. + +"Hello. I wonder if you couldn't plan a sports-suit for +me?" she said breathlessly. + +He stared at her; he protested, "No, I won't! God! I'm +not going to be a tailor with you!" + +"Why, Erik!" she said, like a mildly shocked mother. + +It occurred to her that she did not need a suit, and that +the order might have been hard to explain to Kennicott. + +He swung down from the table. "I want to show you +something." He rummaged in the roll-top desk on which Nat +Hicks kept bills, buttons, calendars, buckles, thread-channeled +wax, shotgun shells, samples of brocade for "fancy vests," +fishing-reels, pornographic post-cards, shreds of buckram lining. +He pulled out a blurred sheet of Bristol board and +anxiously gave it to her. It was a sketch for a frock. It +was not well drawn; it was too finicking; the pillars in the +background were grotesquely squat. But the frock had an +original back, very low, with a central triangular section from +the waist to a string of jet beads at the neck. + +"It's stunning. But how it would shock Mrs. Clark!" + +"Yes, wouldn't it!" + +"You must let yourself go more when you're drawing." + +"Don't know if I can. I've started kind of late. But +listen! What do you think I've done this two weeks? I've +read almost clear through a Latin grammar, and about twenty +pages of Caesar." + +"Splendid! You are lucky. You haven't a teacher to make +you artificial." + +"You're my teacher!" + +There was a dangerous edge of personality to his voice. +She was offended and agitated. She turned her shoulder on +him, stared through the back window, studying this typical +center of a typical Main Street block, a vista hidden from +casual strollers. The backs of the chief establishments in town +surrounded a quadrangle neglected, dirty, and incomparably +dismal. From the front, Howland & Gould's grocery was +smug enough, but attached to the rear was a lean-to of storm +streaked pine lumber with a sanded tar roof--a staggering +doubtful shed behind which was a heap of ashes, splintered +packing-boxes, shreds of excelsior, crumpled straw-board, +broken olive-bottles, rotten fruit, and utterly disintegrated +vegetables: orange carrots turning black, and potatoes with +ulcers. The rear of the Bon Ton Store was grim with blistered +black-painted iron shutters, under them a pile of once glossy +red shirt-boxes, now a pulp from recent rain. + +As seen from Main Street, Oleson & McGuire's Meat Market +had a sanitary and virtuous expression with its new tile +counter, fresh sawdust on the floor, and a hanging veal cut +in rosettes. But she now viewed a back room with a homemade +refrigerator of yellow smeared with black grease. A man +in an apron spotted with dry blood was hoisting out a hard +slab of meat. + +Behind Billy's Lunch, the cook, in an apron which must +long ago have been white, smoked a pipe and spat at the +pest of sticky flies. In the center of the block, by itself, was +the stable for the three horses of the drayman, and beside it a +pile of manure. + +The rear of Ezra Stowbody's bank was whitewashed, and +back of it was a concrete walk and a three-foot square of +grass, but the window was barred, and behind the bars she +saw Willis Woodford cramped over figures in pompous books. +He raised his head, jerkily rubbed his eyes, and went back +to the eternity of figures. + +The backs of the other shops were an impressionistic picture +of dirty grays, drained browns, writhing heaps of refuse. + +"Mine is a back-yard romance--with a journeyman tailor!" + +She was saved from self-pity as she began to think through +Erik's mind. She turned to him with an indignant, "It's +disgusting that this is all you have to look at." + +He considered it. "Outside there? I don't notice much. +I'm learning to look inside. Not awful easy!" + +"Yes. . . . I must be hurrying." + +As she walked home--without hurrying--she remembered +her father saying to a serious ten-year-old Carol, "Lady, only +a fool thinks he's superior to beautiful bindings, but only a +double-distilled fool reads nothing but bindings." + +She was startled by the return of her father, startled by a +sudden conviction that in this flaxen boy she had found +the gray reticent judge who was divine love, perfect under- +standing. She debated it, furiously denied it, reaffirmed it, +ridiculed it. Of one thing she was unhappily certain: there +was nothing of the beloved father image in Will Kennicott. + + +V + + +She wondered why she sang so often, and why she found +so many pleasant things--lamplight seen though trees on +a cool evening, sunshine on brown wood, morning sparrows, +black sloping roofs turned to plates of silver by moonlight. +Pleasant things, small friendly things, and pleasant places--a +field of goldenrod, a pasture by the creek--and suddenly a +wealth of pleasant people. Vida was lenient to Carol at the +surgical-dressing class; Mrs. Dave Dyer flattered her with +questions about her health, baby, cook, and opinions on the +war. + +Mrs. Dyer seemed not to share the town's prejudice against +Erik. "He's a nice-looking fellow; we must have him go on +one of our picnics some time." Unexpectedly, Dave Dyer also +liked him. The tight-fisted little farceur had a confused +reverence for anything that seemed to him refined or clever. He +answered Harry Haydock's sneers, "That's all right now! +Elizabeth may doll himself up too much, but he's smart, and +don't you forget it! I was asking round trying to find +out where this Ukraine is, and darn if he didn't tell me. +What's the matter with his talking so polite? Hell's bells, +Harry, no harm in being polite. There's some regular he- +men that are just as polite as women, prett' near." + +Carol found herself going about rejoicing, "How neighborly +the town is!" She drew up with a dismayed "Am I falling in +love with this boy? That's ridiculous! I'm merely interested +in him. I like to think of helping him to succeed." + +But as she dusted the living-room, mended a collar-band, +bathed Hugh, she was picturing herself and a young artistan +Apollo nameless and evasive--building a house in the +Berkshires or in Virginia; exuberantly buying a chair with his +first check; reading poetry together, and frequently being +earnest over valuable statistics about labor; tumbling out of +bed early for a Sunday walk, and chattering (where Kennicott +would have yawned) over bread and butter by a lake. Hugh +was in her pictures, and he adored the young artist, who made +castles of chairs and rugs for him. Beyond these playtimes +she saw the "things I could do for Erik"--and she admitted that Erik +did partly make up the image of her altogether perfect artist. + +In panic she insisted on being attentive to Kennicott, when +he wanted to be left alone to read the newspaper. + + +VI + + +She needed new clothes. Kennicott had promised, "We'll +have a good trip down to the Cities in the fall, and take plenty +of time for it, and you can get your new glad-rags then." But +as she examined her wardrobe she flung her ancient black +velvet frock on the floor and raged, "They're disgraceful. +Everything I have is falling to pieces." + +There was a new dressmaker and milliner, a Mrs. +Swiftwaite. It was said that she was not altogether an elevating +influence in the way she glanced at men; that she would as +soon take away a legally appropriated husband as not; that if +there WAS any Mr. Swiftwaite, "it certainly was strange that +nobody seemed to know anything about him!" But she had +made for Rita Gould an organdy frock and hat to match +universally admitted to be "too cunning for words," and the +matrons went cautiously, with darting eyes and excessive +politeness, to the rooms which Mrs. Swiftwaite had taken in +the old Luke Dawson house, on Floral Avenue. + +With none of the spiritual preparation which normally +precedes the buying of new clothes in Gopher Prairie, Carol +marched into Mrs. Swiftwaite's, and demanded, "I want to +see a hat, and possibly a blouse." + +In the dingy old front parlor which she had tried to make +smart with a pier glass, covers from fashion magazines, +anemic French prints, Mrs. Swiftwaite moved smoothly among +the dress-dummies and hat-rests, spoke smoothly as she took +up a small black and red turban. "I am sure the lady will +find this extremely attractive." + +"It's dreadfully tabby and small-towny," thought Carol, +while she soothed, "I don't believe it quite goes with me." + +"It's the choicest thing I have, and I'm sure you'll find +it suits you beautifully. It has a great deal of chic. Please +try it on," said Mrs. Swiftwaite, more smoothly than ever. + +Carol studied the woman. She was as imitative as a glass +diamond. She was the more rustic in her effort to appear +urban. She wore a severe high-collared blouse with a row of +small black buttons, which was becoming to her low-breasted +slim neatness, but her skirt was hysterically checkered, her +cheeks were too highly rouged, her lips too sharply penciled. +She was magnificently a specimen of the illiterate divorcee of +forty made up to look thirty, clever, and alluring. + +While she was trying on the hat Carol felt very condescending. +She took it off, shook her head, explained with the kind +smile for inferiors, "I'm afraid it won't do, though it's +unusually nice for so small a town as this." + +"But it's really absolutely New-Yorkish." + +"Well, it----" + +"You see, I know my New York styles. I lived in New +York for years, besides almost a year in Akron!" + +"You did?" Carol was polite, and edged away, and went +home unhappily. She was wondering whether her own airs +were as laughable as Mrs. Swiftwaite's. She put on the eye- +glasses which Kennicott had recently given to her for reading, +and looked over a grocery bill. She went hastily up to her +room, to her mirror. She was in a mood of self-depreciation. +Accurately or not, this was the picture she saw in the mirror: + +Neat rimless eye-glasses. Black hair clumsily tucked under +a mauve straw hat which would have suited a spinster. Cheeks +clear, bloodless. Thin nose. Gentle mouth and chin. A +modest voile blouse with an edging of lace at the neck. A +virginal sweetness and timorousness--no flare of gaiety, no +suggestion of cities, music, quick laughter. + +"I have become a small-town woman. Absolute. Typical. +Modest and moral and safe. Protected from life. GENTEEL! +The Village Virus--the village virtuousness. My hair--just +scrambled together. What can Erik see in that wedded spinster +there? He does like me! Because I'm the only woman who's +decent to him! How long before he'll wake up to me? . . . +I've waked up to myself. . . . Am I as old as--as old as I am? + +"Not really old. Become careless. Let myself look tabby. + +"I want to chuck every stitch I own. Black hair and +pale cheeks--they'd go with a Spanish dancer's costume-- +rose behind my ear, scarlet mantilla over one shoulder, the +other bare." + +She seized the rouge sponge, daubed her cheeks, scratched at +her lips with the vermilion pencil until they stung, tore open +her collar. She posed with her thin arms in the attitude of +the fandango. She dropped them sharply. She shook her head. +"My heart doesn't dance," she said. She flushed as she +fastened her blouse. + +"At least I'm much more graceful than Fern Mullins. + +Heavens! When I came here from the Cities, girls imitated +me. Now I'm trying to imitate a city girl." + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +FERN Mullins rushed into the house on a Saturday morning +early in September and shrieked at Carol, "School starts next +Tuesday. I've got to have one more spree before I'm arrested. +Let's get up a picnic down the lake for this afternoon. Won't +you come, Mrs. Kennicott, and the doctor? Cy Bogart wants +to go--he's a brat but he's lively." + +"I don't think the doctor can go," sedately. "He said +something about having to make a country call this afternoon. +But I'd love to." + +"That's dandy! Who can we get?" + +"Mrs. Dyer might be chaperon. She's been so nice. And +maybe Dave, if he could get away from the store." + +"How about Erik Valborg? I think he's got lots more style +than these town boys. You like him all right, don't you?" + +So the picnic of Carol, Fern, Erik, Cy Bogart, and the +Dyers was not only moral but inevitable. + +They drove to the birch grove on the south shore of Lake +Minniemashie. Dave Dyer was his most clownish self. He +yelped, jigged, wore Carol's hat, dropped an ant down Fern's +back, and when they went swimming (the women modestly +changing in the car with the side curtains up, the men +undressing behind the bushes, constantly repeating, "Gee, hope +we don't run into poison ivy"), Dave splashed water on +them and dived to clutch his wife's ankle. He infected the +others. Erik gave an imitation of the Greek dancers he had +seen in vaudeville, and when they sat down to picnic supper +spread on a lap-robe on the grass, Cy climbed a tree to throw +acorns at them. + +But Carol could not frolic. + +She had made herself young, with parted hair, sailor blouse +and large blue bow, white canvas shoes and short linen skirt. +Her mirror had asserted that she looked exactly as she had in +college, that her throat was smooth, her collar-bone not very +noticeable. But she was under restraint. When they swam +she enjoyed the freshness of the water but she was irritated by +Cy's tricks, by Dave's excessive good spirits. She admired +Erik's dance; he could never betray bad taste, as Cy did, and +Dave. She waited for him to come to her. He did not come. +By his joyousness he had apparently endeared himself to +the Dyers. Maud watched him and, after supper, cried to +him, "Come sit down beside me, bad boy!" Carol winced +at his willingness to be a bad boy and come and sit, at his +enjoyment of a not very stimulating game in which Maud, Dave, +and Cy snatched slices of cold tongue from one another's +plates. Maud, it seemed, was slightly dizzy from the swim. +She remarked publicly, "Dr. Kennicott has helped me so much +by putting me on a diet," but it was to Erik alone that she +gave the complete version of her peculiarity in being so +sensitive, so easily hurt by the slightest cross word, that she simply +had to have nice cheery friends. + +Erik was nice and cheery. + +Carol assured herself, "Whatever faults I may have, I +certainly couldn't ever be jealous. I do like Maud; she's +always so pleasant. But I wonder if she isn't just a bit fond of +fishing for men's sympathy? Playing with Erik, and her +married---- Well---- But she looks at him in that languishing, +swooning, mid-Victorian way. Disgusting!" + +Cy Bogart lay between the roots of a big birch, smoking his +pipe and teasing Fern, assuring her that a week from now, +when he was again a high-school boy and she his teacher, he'd +wink at her in class. Maud Dyer wanted Erik to "come down +to the beach to see the darling little minnies." Carol was left +to Dave, who tried to entertain her with humorous accounts +of Ella Stowbody's fondness for chocolate peppermints. She +watched Maud Dyer put her hand on Erik's shoulder to steady +herself. + +"Disgusting!" she thought. + +Cy Bogart covered Fern's nervous hand with his red paw, and +when she bounced with half-anger and shrieked, "Let go, I +tell you!" he grinned and waved his pipe--a gangling twenty- +year-old satyr. + +"Disgusting!" + +When Maud and Erik returned and the grouping shifted, +Erik muttered at Carol, "There's a boat on shore. Let's skip +off and have a row." + +"What will they think?" she worried. She saw Maud +Dyer peer at Erik with moist possessive eyes. "Yes! Let's!" +she said. + +She cried to the party, with the canonical amount of +sprightliness, "Good-by, everybody. We'll wireless you from China." + +As the rhythmic oars plopped and creaked, as she floated +on an unreality of delicate gray over which the sunset was +poured out thin, the irritation of Cy and Maud slipped away. +Erik smiled at her proudly. She considered him--coatless, in +white thin shirt. She was conscious of his male differentness, +of his flat masculine sides, his thin thighs, his easy rowing. +They talked of the library, of the movies. He hummed and +she softly sang "Swing Low, Sweet Chariot." A breeze +shivered across the agate lake. The wrinkled water was like +armor damascened and polished. The breeze flowed round the +boat in a chill current. Carol drew the collar of her middy +blouse over her bare throat. + +"Getting cold. Afraid we'll have to go back," she said. + +"Let's not go back to them yet. They'll be cutting up. +Let's keep along the shore." + +"But you enjoy the `cutting up!' Maud and you had a +beautiful time." + +"Why! We just walked on the shore and talked about +fishing!" + +She was relieved, and apologetic to her friend Maud. "Of +course. I was joking." + +"I'll tell you! Let's land here and sit on the shore--that +bunch of hazel-brush will shelter us from the wind--and watch +the sunset. It's like melted lead. Just a short while! We +don't want to go back and listen to them!" + +"No, but----" She said nothing while he sped ashore. +The keel clashed on the stones. He stood on the forward seat, +holding out his hand. They were alone, in the ripple-lapping +silence. She rose slowly, slowly stepped over the water in the +bottom of the old boat. She took his hand confidently. +Unspeaking they sat on a bleached log, in a russet twilight which +hinted of autumn. Linden leaves fluttered about them. + +"I wish---- Are you cold now?" he whispered. + +"A little." She shivered. But it was not with cold. + +"I wish we could curl up in the leaves there, covered all +up, and lie looking out at the dark." + +"I wish we could." As though it was comfortably understood +that he did not mean to be taken seriously. + +"Like what all the poets say--brown nymph and faun." + +"No. I can't be a nymph any more. Too old---- Erik, +am I old? Am I faded and small-towny?" + +"Why, you're the youngest---- Your eyes are like a +girl's. They're so--well, I mean, like you believed everything. +Even if you do teach me, I feel a thousand years older +than you, instead of maybe a year younger." + +"Four or five years younger!" + +"Anyway, your eyes are so innocent and your cheeks so +soft---- Damn it, it makes me want to cry, somehow, you're +so defenseless; and I want to protect you and---- There's +nothing to protect you against!" + +"Am I young? Am I? Honestly? Truly?" She +betrayed for a moment the childish, mock-imploring tone that +comes into the voice of the most serious woman when an +agreeable man treats her as a girl; the childish tone and +childish pursed-up lips and shy lift of the cheek. + +"Yes, you are!" + +"You're dear to believe it, Will--ERIK!" + +"Will you play with me? A lot?" + +"Perhaps." + +"Would you really like to curl in the leaves and watch the +stars swing by overhead?" + +"I think it's rather better to be sitting here!" He twined +his fingers with hers. "And Erik, we must go back." + +"Why?" + +"It's somewhat late to outline all the history of social +custom!" + +"I know. We must. Are you glad we ran away though?" + +"Yes." She was quiet, perfectly simple. But she rose. + +He circled her waist with a brusque arm. She did not resist. +She did not care. He was neither a peasant tailor, a potential +artist, a social complication, nor a peril. He was himself, and +in him, in the personality flowing from him, she was unreasoningly +content. In his nearness she caught a new view of his +head; the last light brought out the planes of his neck, his +flat ruddied cheeks, the side of his nose, the depression of his +temples. Not as coy or uneasy lovers but as companions they +walked to the boat, and he lifted her up on the prow. + +She began to talk intently, as he rowed: "Erik, you've got +to work! You ought to be a personage. You're robbed of +your kingdom. Fight for it! Take one of these correspon- +dence courses in drawing--they mayn't be any good in themselves, +but they'll make you try to draw and----" + +As they reached the picnic ground she perceived that it was +dark, that they had been gone for a long time. + +"What will they say?" she wondered. + +The others greeted them with the inevitable storm of humor +and slight vexation: "Where the deuce do you think you've +been?" "You're a fine pair, you are!" Erik and Carol +looked self-conscious; failed in their effort to be witty. All the +way home Carol was embarrassed. Once Cy winked at her. +That Cy, the Peeping Tom of the garage-loft, should consider +her a fellow-sinner---- She was furious and frightened and +exultant by turns, and in all her moods certain that Kennicott +would read her adventuring in her face. + +She came into the house awkwardly defiant. + +Her husband, half asleep under the lamp, greeted her, "Well, +well, have nice time?" + +She could not answer. He looked at her. But his look +did not sharpen. He began to wind his watch, yawning the old +"Welllllll, guess it's about time to turn in." + +That was all. Yet she was not glad. She was almost +disappointed. + + +II + + +Mrs. Bogart called next day. She had a hen-like, crumb- +pecking, diligent appearance. Her smile was too innocent. The +pecking started instantly: + +"Cy says you had lots of fun at the picnic yesterday. Did +you enjoy it?" + +"Oh yes. I raced Cy at swimming. He beat me badly. +He's so strong, isn't he!" + +"Poor boy, just crazy to get into the war, too, but---- +This Erik Valborg was along, wa'n't he?" + +"Yes." + +"I think he's an awful handsome fellow, and they say he's +smart. Do you like him?" + +"He seems very polite." + +"Cy says you and him had a lovely boat-ride. My, that +must have been pleasant." + +"Yes, except that I couldn't get Mr. Valborg to say a word. +I wanted to ask him about the suit Mr. Hicks is making for +my husband. But he insisted on singing. Still, it was restful, +floating around on the water and singing. So happy and +innocent. Don't you think it's a shame, Mrs. Bogart, that people +in this town don't do more nice clean things like that, instead +of all this horrible gossiping?" + +"Yes. . . . Yes." + +Mrs. Bogart sounded vacant. Her bonnet was awry; she +was incomparably dowdy. Carol stared at her, felt contemptuous, +ready at last to rebel against the trap, and as the rusty +goodwife fished again, "Plannin' some more picnics?" she +flung out, "I haven't the slightest idea! Oh. Is that Hugh +crying? I must run up to him." + +But up-stairs she remembered that Mrs. Bogart had seen her +walking with Erik from the railroad track into town, and she +was chilly with disquietude. + +At the Jolly Seventeen, two days after, she was effusive to +Maud Dyer, to Juanita Haydock. She fancied that every one +was watching her, but she could not be sure, and in rare strong +moments she did not care. She could rebel against the town's +prying now that she had something, however indistinct, for +which to rebel. + +In a passionate escape there must be not only a place from +which to flee but a place to which to flee. She had known +that she would gladly leave Gopher Prairie, leave Main Street +and all that it signified, but she had had no destination. She +had one now. That destination was not Erik Valborg and the +love of Erik. She continued to assure herself that she wasn't +in love with him but merely "fond of him, and interested in +his success." Yet in him she had discovered both her need of +youth and the fact that youth would welcome her. It was not +Erik to whom she must escape, but universal and joyous youth, +in class-rooms, in studios, in offices, in meetings to protest +against Things in General. . . . But universal and joyous +youth rather resembled Erik. + +All week she thought of things she wished to say to him. +High, improving things. She began to admit that she was +lonely without him. Then she was afraid. + +It was at the Baptist church supper, a week after the picnic, +that she saw him again. She had gone with Kennicott and +Aunt Bessie to the supper, which was spread on oilcloth- +covered and trestle-supported tables in the church basement. +Erik was helping Myrtle Cass to fill coffee cups for the wait- +resses. The congregation had doffed their piety. Children +tumbled under the tables, and Deacon Pierson greeted the +women with a rolling, "Where's Brother Jones, sister, where's +Brother Jones? Not going to be with us tonight? Well, +you tell Sister Perry to hand you a plate, and make 'em give +you enough oyster pie!" + +Erik shared in the cheerfulness. He laughed with Myrtle, +jogged her elbow when she was filling cups, made deep mock +bows to the waitresses as they came up for coffee. Myrtle +was enchanted by his humor. From the other end of the room, +a matron among matrons, Carol observed Myrtle, and hated +her, and caught herself at it. "To be jealous of a wooden- +faced village girl!" But she kept it up. She detested Erik; +gloated over his gaucheries--his "breaks," she called them. +When he was too expressive, too much like a Russian dancer, +in saluting Deacon Pierson, Carol had the ecstasy of pain in +seeing the deacon's sneer. When, trying to talk to three girls +at once, he dropped a cup and effeminately wailed, "Oh dear!" +she sympathized with--and ached over--the insulting secret +glances of the girls. + +From meanly hating him she rose to compassion as she saw +that his eyes begged every one to like him. She perceived how +inaccurate her judgments could be. At the picnic she had +fancied that Maud Dyer looked upon Erik too sentimentally, +and she had snarled, "I hate these married women who cheapen +themselves and feed on boys." But at the supper Maud was one +of the waitresses; she bustled with platters of cake, she was +pleasant to old women; and to Erik she gave no attention at all. +Indeed, when she had her own supper, she joined the Kennicotts, +and how ludicrous it was to suppose that Maud was a +gourmet of emotions Carol saw in the fact that she talked +not to one of the town beaux but to the safe Kennicott himself! + +When Carol glanced at Erik again she discovered that Mrs. +Bogart had an eye on her. It was a shock to know that at last +there was something which could make her afraid of Mrs. +Bogart's spying. + +"What am I doing? Am I in love with Erik? Unfaithful? I? +I want youth but I don't want him--I mean, I don't want youth-- +enough to break up my life. I must get out of this. Quick." + +She said to Kennicott on their way home, "Will! I want to run away +for a few days. Wouldn't you like to skip down to Chicago?" + +"Still be pretty hot there. No fun in a big city till winter. +What do you want to go for?" + +"People! To occupy my mind. I want stimulus." + +"Stimulus?" He spoke good-naturedly. "Who's been feeding +you meat? You got that `stimulus' out of one of these fool +stories about wives that don't know when they're well off. +Stimulus! Seriously, though, to cut out the jollying, I can't +get away." + +"Then why don't I run off by myself?" + +"Why---- 'Tisn't the money, you understand. But what +about Hugh?" + +"Leave him with Aunt Bessie. It would be just for a few days." + +"I don't think much of this business of leaving kids around. +Bad for 'em." + +"So you don't think----" + +"I'll tell you: I think we better stay put till after the war. +Then we'll have a dandy long trip. No, I don't think you +better plan much about going away now." + +So she was thrown at Erik. + + +III + + +She awoke at ebb-time, at three of the morning, woke sharply +and fully; and sharply and coldly as her father pronouncing +sentence on a cruel swindler she gave judgment: + +"A pitiful and tawdry love-affair. + +"No splendor, no defiance. A self-deceived little woman +whispering in corners with a pretentious little man. + +"No, he is not. He is fine. Aspiring. It's not his fault. +His eyes are sweet when he looks at me. Sweet, so sweet." + +She pitied herself that her romance should be pitiful; she +sighed that in this colorless hour, to this austere self, it should +seem tawdry. + +Then, in a very great desire of rebellion and unleashing of all +her hatreds, "The pettier and more tawdry it is, the more blame +to Main Street. It shows how much I've been longing to escape. +Any way out! Any humility so long as I can flee. Main Street +has done this to me. I came here eager for nobilities, ready for +work, and now---- Any way out. + +"I came trusting them. They beat me with rods of dullness. +They don't know, they don't understand how agonizing their +complacent dullness is. Like ants and August sun on a wound. + +"Tawdry! Pitiful! Carol--the clean girl that used to +walk so fast!--sneaking and tittering in dark corners, being +sentimental and jealous at church suppers!" + +At breakfast--time her agonies were night-blurred, and +persisted only as a nervous irresolution. + + +IV + + +Few of the aristocrats of the Jolly Seventeen attended the +humble folk-meets of the Baptist and Methodist church suppers, +where the Willis Woodfords, the Dillons, the Champ Perrys, +Oleson the butcher, Brad Bemis the tinsmith, and Deacon Pierson +found release from loneliness. But all of the smart set +went to the lawn-festivals of the Episcopal Church, and were +reprovingly polite to outsiders. + +The Harry Haydocks gave the last lawn-festival of the +season; a splendor of Japanese lanterns and card-tables and +chicken patties and Neapolitan ice-cream. Erik was no longer +entirely an outsider. He was eating his ice-cream with a group +of the people most solidly "in"--the Dyers, Myrtle Cass, Guy +Pollock, the Jackson Elders. The Haydocks themselves kept +aloof, but the others tolerated him. He would never, Carol +fancied, be one of the town pillars, because he was not orthodox +in hunting and motoring and poker. But he was winning +approbation by his liveliness, his gaiety--the qualities least +important in him. + +When the group summoned Carol she made several very +well-taken points in regard to the weather + +Myrtle cried to Erik, "Come on! We don't belong with +these old folks. I want to make you 'quainted with the jolliest +girl, she comes from Wakamin, she's staying with Mary Howland." + +Carol saw him being profuse to the guest from Wakamin. +She saw him confidentially strolling with Myrtle. She burst +out to Mrs. Westlake, "Valborg and Myrtle seem to have quite +a crush on each other." + +Mrs. Westlake glanced at her curiously before she mumbled, +"Yes, don't they." + +"I'm mad, to talk this way," Carol worried. + +She had regained a feeling of social virtue by telling Juanita +Haydock "how darling her lawn looked with the Japanese +lanterns" when she saw that Erik was stalking her. Though +he was merely ambling about with his hands in his pockets, +though he did not peep at her, she knew that he was calling +her. She sidled away from Juanita. Erik hastened to her. She +nodded coolly (she was proud of her coolness). + +"Carol! I've got a wonderful chance! Don't know but +what some ways it might be better than going East to take +art. Myrtle Cass says---- I dropped in to say howdy to +Myrtle last evening, and had quite a long talk with her father, +and he said he was hunting for a fellow to go to work in the +flour mill and learn the whole business, and maybe become +general manager. I know something about wheat from my +farming, and I worked a couple of months in the flour mill at +Curlew when I got sick of tailoring. What do you think? You +said any work was artistic if it was done by an artist. And +flour is so important. What do you think?" + +"Wait! Wait!" + +This sensitive boy would be very skilfully stamped into +conformity by Lyman Cass and his sallow daughter; but did she +detest the plan for this reason?" I must be honest. I mustn't +tamper with his future to please my vanity." But she had no +sure vision. She turned on him: + +"How can I decide? It's up to you. Do you want to +become a person like Lym Cass, or do you want to become a +person like--yes, like me! Wait! Don't be flattering. +Be honest. This is important." + +"I know. I am a person like you now! I mean, I want to rebel." + +"Yes. We're alike," gravely. + +"Only I'm not sure I can put through my schemes. I really +can't draw much. I guess I have pretty fair taste in fabrics, but +since I've known you I don't like to think about fussing with +dress-designing. But as a miller, I'd have the means--books, +piano, travel." + +"I'm going to be frank and beastly. Don't you realize that +it isn't just because her papa needs a bright young man in the +mill that Myrtle is amiable to you? Can't you understand +what she'll do to you when she has you, when she sends you to +church and makes you become respectable?" + +He glared at her. "I don't know. I suppose so." + +"You are thoroughly unstable!" + +"What if I am? Most fish out of water are! Don't talk +like Mrs. Bogart! How can I be anything but `unstable'-- +wandering from farm to tailor shop to books, no training, +nothing but trying to make books talk to me! Probably I'll +fail. Oh, I know it; probably I'm uneven. But I'm not +unstable in thinking about this job in the mill--and Myrtle. I +know what I want. I want you!" + +"Please, please, oh, please!" + +"I do. I'm not a schoolboy any more. I want you. If +I take Myrtle, it's to forget you." + +"Please, please!" + +"It's you that are unstable! You talk at things and play +at things, but you're scared. Would I mind it if you and I +went off to poverty, and I had to dig ditches? I would not! +But you would. I think you would come to like me, but you +won't admit it. I wouldn't have said this, but when you +sneer at Myrtle and the mill---- If I'm not to have good +sensible things like those, d' you think I'll be content with +trying to become a damn dressmaker, after YOU? Are you fair? +Are you?" + +"No, I suppose not." + +"Do you like me? Do you?" + +"Yes---- No! Please! I can't talk any more." + +"Not here. Mrs. Haydock is looking at us." + +"No, nor anywhere. O Erik, I am fond of you, but I'm +afraid." + +"What of?" + +"Of Them! Of my rulers--Gopher Prairie. . . . My dear boy, +we are talking very foolishly. I am a normal wife +and a good mother, and you are--oh, a college freshman." + +"You do like me! I'm going to make you love me!" + +She looked at him once, recklessly, and walked away with a +serene gait that was a disordered flight. + +Kennicott grumbled on their way home, "You and this +Valborg fellow seem quite chummy." + +"Oh, we are. He's interested in Myrtle Cass, and I was +telling him how nice she is." + +In her room she marveled, "I have become a liar. I'm +snarled with lies and foggy analyses and desires--I who was +clear and sure." + +She hurried into Kennicott's room, sat on the edge of his +bed. He flapped a drowsy welcoming hand at her from the +expanse of quilt and dented pillows. + +"Will, I really think I ought to trot off to St. Paul or +Chicago or some place." + +"I thought we settled all that, few nights ago! Wait till +we can have a real trip." He shook himself out of his +drowsiness. "You might give me a good-night kiss." + +She did--dutifully. He held her lips against his for an +intolerable time. "Don't you like the old man any more?" he +coaxed. He sat up and shyly fitted his palm about the +slimness of her waist. + +"Of course. I like you very much indeed." Even to herself +it sounded flat. She longed to be able to throw into her +voice the facile passion of a light woman. She patted his cheek. + +He sighed, "I'm sorry you're so tired. Seems like---- +But of course you aren't very strong." + +"Yes. . . . Then you don't think--you're quite sure I +ought to stay here in town?" + +"I told you so! I certainly do!" + +She crept back to her room, a small timorous figure in white. + +"I can't face Will down--demand the right. He'd be +obstinate. And I can't even go off and earn my living again. +Out of the habit of it. He's driving me---- I'm afraid of +what he's driving me to. Afraid. + +"That man in there, snoring in stale air, my husband? +Could any ceremony make him my husband? + +"No. I don't want to hurt him. I want to love him. I +can't, when I'm thinking of Erik. Am I too honest--a funny +topsy-turvy honesty--the faithfulness of unfaith? I wish I +had a more compartmental mind, like men. I'm too monogamous-- +toward Erik!--my child Erik, who needs me. + +"Is an illicit affair like a gambling debt--demands stricter +honor than the legitimate debt of matrimony, because it's not +legally enforced? + +"That's nonsense! I don't care in the least for Erik! +Not for any man. I want to be let alone, in a woman world-- +a world without Main Street, or politicians, or business men, +or men with that sudden beastly hungry look, that glistening +unfrank expression that wives know---- + +"If Erik were here, if he would just sit quiet and kind and +talk, I could be still, I could go to sleep. + +"I am so tired. If I could sleep----" + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + +THEIR night came unheralded. + +Kennicott was on a country call. It was cool but Carol +huddled on the porch, rocking, meditating, rocking. The house +was lonely and repellent, and though she sighed, "I ought +to go in and read--so many things to read--ought to go in," she +remained. Suddenly Erik was coming, turning in, swinging +open the screen door, touching her hand. + +"Erik!" + +"Saw your husband driving out of town. Couldn't stand +it." + +"Well---- You mustn't stay more than five minutes." + +"Couldn't stand not seeing you. Every day, towards +evening, felt I had to see you--pictured you so clear. I've been +good though, staying away, haven't I!" + +"And you must go on being good." + +"Why must I?" + +"We better not stay here on the porch. The Howlands +across the street are such window-peepers, and Mrs. +Bogart----" + +She did not look at him but she could divine his tremulousness +as he stumbled indoors. A moment ago the night had been +coldly empty; now it was incalculable, hot, treacherous. But +it is women who are the calm realists once they discard the +fetishes of the premarital hunt. Carol was serene as she +murmured, "Hungry? I have some little honey-colored cakes. +You may have two, and then you must skip home." + +"Take me up and let me see Hugh asleep." + +"I don't believe----" + +"Just a glimpse!" + +"Well----" + +She doubtfully led the way to the hallroom-nursery. Their +heads close, Erik's curls pleasant as they touched her cheek, +they looked in at the baby. Hugh was pink with slumber. +He had burrowed into his pillow with such energy that it was +almost smothering him. Beside it was a celluloid rhinoceros; +tight in his hand a torn picture of Old King Cole. + +"Shhh!" said Carol, quite automatically. She tiptoed in +to pat the pillow. As she returned to Erik she had a friendly +sense of his waiting for her. They smiled at each other. She +did not think of Kennicott, the baby's father. What she did +think was that some one rather like Erik, an older and surer +Erik, ought to be Hugh's father. The three of them would +play--incredible imaginative games. + +"Carol! You've told me about your own room. Let me +peep in at it." + +"But you mustn't stay, not a second. We must go +downstairs." + +"Yes." + +"Will you be good?" + +"R-reasonably!" He was pale, large-eyed, serious. + +"You've got to be more than reasonably good!" She felt +sensible and superior; she was energetic about pushing open +the door. + +Kennicott had always seemed out of place there but Erik +surprisingly harmonized with the spirit of the room as he +stroked the books, glanced at the prints. He held out his +hands. He came toward her. She was weak, betrayed to a +warm softness. Her head was tilted back. Her eyes were +closed. Her thoughts were formless but many-colored. She +felt his kiss, diffident and reverent, on her eyelid. + +Then she knew that it was impossible. + +She shook herself. She sprang from him. "Please!" she +said sharply. + +He looked at her unyielding. + +"I am fond of you," she said. "Don't spoil everything. +Be my friend." + +"How many thousands and millions of women must have +said that! And now you! And it doesn't spoil everything. +It glorifies everything." + +"Dear, I do think there's a tiny streak of fairy in you-- +whatever you do with it. Perhaps I'd have loved that once. +But I won't. It's too late. But I'll keep a fondness for you. +Impersonal--I will be impersonal! It needn't be just a thin +talky fondness. You do need me, don't you? Only you and +my son need me. I've wanted so to be wanted! Once I +wanted love to be given to me. Now I'll be content if I can +give. . . . Almost content! + +"We women, we like to do things for men. Poor men! +We swoop on you when you're defenseless and fuss over you +and insist on reforming you. But it's so pitifully deep in us. +You'll be the one thing in which I haven't failed. Do something +definite! Even if it's just selling cottons. Sell beautiful +cottons--caravans from China----" + +"Carol! Stop! You do love me!" + +"I do not! It's just---- Can't you understand? Everything +crushes in on me so, all the gaping dull people, and I look +for a way out---- Please go. I can't stand any more. +Please!" + +He was gone. And she was not relieved by the quiet of the +house. She was empty and the house was empty and she +needed him. She wanted to go on talking, to get this threshed +out, to build a sane friendship. She wavered down to the +living-room, looked out of the bay-window. He was not to +be seen. But Mrs. Westlake was. She was walking past, and +in the light from the corner arc-lamp she quickly inspected +the porch, the windows. Carol dropped the curtain, stood with +movement and reflection paralyzed. Automatically, without +reasoning, she mumbled, "I will see him again soon and make +him understand we must be friends. But---- The house is +so empty. It echoes so." + + +II + + +Kennicott had seemed nervous and absent-minded through +that supper-hour, two evenings after. He prowled about the +living-room, then growled: + +"What the dickens have you been saying to Ma Westlake?" + +Carol's book rattled. "What do you mean?" + +"I told you that Westlake and his wife were jealous of us, +and here you been chumming up to them and---- From what +Dave tells me, Ma Westlake has been going around town saying +you told her that you hate Aunt Bessie, and that you fixed +up your own room because I snore, and you said Bjornstam +was too good for Bea, and then, just recent, that you were +sore on the town because we don't all go down on our knees +and beg this Valborg fellow to come take supper with us. God +only knows what else she says you said." + +"It's not true, any of it! I did like Mrs. Westlake, and +I've called on her, and apparently she's gone and twisted +everything I've said----" + +"Sure. Of course she would. Didn't I tell you she would? +She's an old cat, like her pussyfooting, hand-holding husband. +Lord, if I was sick, I'd rather have a faith-healer than Westlake, +and she's another slice off the same bacon. What I can't +understand though----" + +She waited, taut. + +"----is whatever possessed you to let her pump you, bright +a girl as you are. I don't care what you told her--we all get +peeved sometimes and want to blow off steam, that's natural-- +but if you wanted to keep it dark, why didn't you advertise +it in the Dauntless, or get a megaphone and stand on top of +the hotel and holler, or do anything besides spill it to her!" + +"I know. You told me. But she was so motherly. And +I didn't have any woman---- Vida 's become so married and +proprietary." + +"Well, next time you'll have better sense." + +He patted her head, flumped down behind his newspaper, +said nothing more. + +Enemies leered through the windows, stole on her from +the hall. She had no one save Erik. This kind good man +Kennicott--he was an elder brother. It was Erik, her fellow +outcast, to whom she wanted to run for sanctuary. Through +her storm she was, to the eye, sitting quietly with her fingers +between the pages of a baby-blue book on home-dressmaking. +But her dismay at Mrs. Westlake's treachery had risen to +active dread. What had the woman said of her and Erik? +What did she know? What had she seen? Who else would +join in the baying hunt? Who else had seen her with Erik? +What had she to fear from the Dyers, Cy Bogart, Juanita, +Aunt Bessie? What precisely had she answered to Mrs. +Bogart's questioning? + +All next day she was too restless to stay home, yet as she +walked the streets on fictitious errands she was afraid of every +person she met. She waited for them to speak; waited with +foreboding. She repeated, "I mustn't ever see Erik again." +But the words did not register. She had no ecstatic indulgence +in the sense of guilt which is, to the women of Main Street, +the surest escape from blank tediousness. + +At five, crumpled in a chair in the living-room, she started +at the sound of the bell. Some one opened the door. She +waited, uneasy. Vida Sherwin charged into the room. "Here's +the one person I can trust!" Carol rejoiced. + +Vida was serious but affectionate. She bustled at Carol +with, "Oh, there you are, dearie, so glad t' find you in, sit +down, want to talk to you." + +Carol sat, obedient. + +Vida fussily tugged over a large chair and launched out: + +"I've been hearing vague rumors you were interested in +this Erik Valborg. I knew you couldn't be guilty, and I'm +surer than ever of it now. Here we are, as blooming as a daisy." + +"How does a respectable matron look when she feels guilty?" + +Carol sounded resentful. + +"Why---- Oh, it would show! Besides! I know that you, +of all people, are the one that can appreciate Dr. Will." + +"What have you been hearing?" + +"Nothing, really. I just heard Mrs. Bogart say she'd seen +you and Valborg walking together a lot." Vida's chirping +slackened. She looked at her nails. "But---- I suspect +you do like Valborg. Oh, I don't mean in any wrong way. +But you're young; you don't know what an innocent liking +might drift into. You always pretend to be so sophisticated +and all, but you're a baby. Just because you are so innocent, +you don't know what evil thoughts may lurk in that fellow's brain." + +"You don't suppose Valborg could actually think about +making love to me?" + +Her rather cheap sport ended abruptly as Vida cried, with +contorted face, "What do you know about the thoughts in +hearts? You just play at reforming the world. You don't +know what it means to suffer." + +There are two insults which no human being will endure: +the assertion that he hasn't a sense of humor, and the doubly +impertinent assertion that he has never known trouble. Carol +said furiously, "You think I don't suffer? You think I've +always had an easy----" + +"No, you don't. I'm going to tell you something I've +never told a living soul, not even Ray." The dam of repressed +imagination which Vida had builded for years, which now, +with Raymie off at the wars, she was building again, gave way. + +"I was--I liked Will terribly well. One time at a party--oh, +before he met you, of course--but we held hands, and we were +so happy. But I didn't feel I was really suited to him. I let +him go. Please don't think I still love him! I see now that +Ray was predestined to be my mate. But because I liked him, +I know how sincere and pure and noble Will is, and his +thoughts never straying from the path of rectitude, and---- +If I gave him up to you, at least you've got to appreciate him! +We danced together and laughed so, and I gave him up, +but---- This IS my affair! I'm NOT intruding! I see the +whole thing as he does, because of all I've told you. Maybe +it's shameless to bare my heart this way, but I do it for him-- +for him and you!" + +Carol understood that Vida believed herself to have recited +minutely and brazenly a story of intimate love; understood +that, in alarm, she was trying to cover her shame as she +struggled on, "Liked him in the most honorable way--simply +can't help it if I still see things through his eyes---- If I +gave him up, I certainly am not beyond my rights in demanding +that you take care to avoid even the appearance of evil +and----" She was weeping; an insignificant, flushed, ungracefully +weeping woman. + +Carol could not endure it. She ran to Vida, kissed her +forehead, comforted her with a murmur of dove-like sounds, +sought to reassure her with worn and hastily assembled gifts +of words: "Oh, I appreciate it so much," and "You are so +fine and splendid," and "Let me assure you there isn't a thing +to what you've heard," and "Oh, indeed, I do know how +sincere Will is, and as you say, so--so sincere." + +Vida believed that she had explained many deep and devious +matters. She came out of her hysteria like a sparrow shaking +off rain-drops. She sat up, and took advantage of her victory: + +"I don't want to rub it in, but you can see for yourself +now, this is all a result of your being so discontented and +not appreciating the dear good people here. And another +thing: People like you and me, who want to reform things, +have to be particularly careful about appearances. Think +how much better you can criticize conventional customs if you +yourself live up to them, scrupulously. Then people can't +say you're attacking them to excuse your own infractions." + +To Carol was given a sudden great philosophical +understanding, an explanation of half the cautious reforms in his- +tory. "Yes. I've heard that plea. It's a good one. It sets +revolts aside to cool. It keeps strays in the flock. To word +it differently: `You must live up to the popular code if you +believe in it; but if you don't believe in it, then you MUST live +up to it!' " + +"I don't think so at all," said Vida vaguely. She began to +look hurt, and Carol let her be oracular. + + +III + + +Vida had done her a service; had made all agonizing seem +so fatuous that she ceased writhing and saw that her whole +problem was simple as mutton: she was interested in Erik's +aspiration; interest gave her a hesitating fondness for him; +and the future would take care of the event. . . . But +at night, thinking in bed, she protested, "I'm not a falsely +accused innocent, though! If it were some one more resolute +than Erik, a fighter, an artist with bearded surly lips---- +They're only in books. Is that the real tragedy, that I never +shall know tragedy, never find anything but blustery +complications that turn out to be a farce? + +"No one big enough or pitiful enough to sacrifice for. +Tragedy in neat blouses; the eternal flame all nice and safe +in a kerosene stove. Neither heroic faith nor heroic guilt. +Peeping at love from behind lace curtains--on Main Street!" + +Aunt Bessie crept in next day, tried to pump her, tried to +prime the pump by again hinting that Kennicott might have +his own affairs. Carol snapped, "Whatever I may do, I'll +have you to understand that Will is only too safe!" She +wished afterward that she had not been so lofty. How much +would Aunt Bessie make of "Whatever I may do?" + +When Kennicott came home he poked at things, and hemmed, +and brought out, "Saw aunty, this afternoon. She said you +weren't very polite to her." + +Carol laughed. He looked at her in a puzzled way and +fled to his newspaper. + + +IV + + +She lay sleepless. She alternately considered ways of leaving +Kennicott, and remembered his virtues, pitied his bewilderment +in face of the subtle corroding sicknesses which he could not +dose nor cut out. Didn't he perhaps need her more than did +the book-solaced Erik? Suppose Will were to die, suddenly. +Suppose she never again saw him at breakfast, silent but +amiable, listening to her chatter. Suppose he never again +played elephant for Hugh. Suppose---- A country call, a +slippery road, his motor skidding, the edge of the road +crumbling, the car turning turtle, Will pinned beneath, suffering, +brought home maimed, looking at her with spaniel eyes--or +waiting for her, calling for her, while she was in Chicago, +knowing nothing of it. Suppose he were sued by some vicious +shrieking woman for malpractice. He tried to get witnesses; +Westlake spread lies; his friends doubted him; his self- +confidence was so broken that it was horrible to see the +indecision of the decisive man; he was convicted, handcuffed, +taken on a train---- + +She ran to his room. At her nervous push the door swung +sharply in, struck a chair. He awoke, gasped, then in a +steady voice: "What is it, dear? Anything wrong?" She +darted to him, fumbled for the familiar harsh bristly cheek. +How well she knew it, every seam, and hardness of bone, and +roll of fat! Yet when he sighed, "This is a nice visit," and +dropped his hand on her thin-covered shoulder, she said, too +cheerily, "I thought I heard you moaning. So silly of me. +Good night, dear." + + +V + + +She did not see Erik for a fortnight, save once at church +and once when she went to the tailor shop to talk over the +plans, contingencies, and strategy of Kennicott's annual +campaign for getting a new suit. Nat Hicks was there, and he +was not so deferential as he had been. With unnecessary +jauntiness he chuckled, "Some nice flannels, them samples, +heh?" Needlessly he touched her arm to call attention to the +fashion-plates, and humorously he glanced from her to Erik. +At home she wondered if the little beast might not be +suggesting himself as a rival to Erik, but that abysmal +bedragglement she would not consider. + +She saw Juanita Haydock slowly walking past the house-- +as Mrs. Westlake had once walked past. + +She met Mrs. Westlake in Uncle Whittier's store, and before +that alert stare forgot her determination to be rude, and was +shakily cordial. + +She was sure that all the men on the street, even Guy +Pollock and Sam Clark, leered at her in an interested hopeful +way, as though she were a notorious divorcee. She felt as +insecure as a shadowed criminal. She wished to see Erik, and +wished that she had never seen him. She fancied that Kennicott +was the only person in town who did not know all-- +know incomparably more than there was to know--about herself +and Erik. She crouched in her chair as she imagined men +talking of her, thick-voiced, obscene, in barber shops and the +tobacco-stinking pool parlor. + +Through early autumn Fern Mullins was the only person +who broke the suspense. The frivolous teacher had come to +accept Carol as of her own youth, and though school had +begun she rushed in daily to suggest dances, welsh-rabbit +parties. + +Fern begged her to go as chaperon to a barn-dance in the +country, on a Saturday evening. Carol could not go. The +next day, the storm crashed. + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + +I + +CAROL was on the back porch, tightening a bolt on the baby's +go-cart, this Sunday afternoon. Through an open window of +the Bogart house she heard a screeching, heard Mrs. Bogart's +haggish voice: + +. . .did too, and there's no use your denying it +no you don't, you march yourself right straight out +of the house. . .never in my life heard of such. . . +never had nobody talk to me like. . .walk in the ways +of sin and nastiness. . .leave your clothes here, and +heaven knows that's more than you deserve. . .any of +your lip or I'll call the policeman." + +The voice of the other interlocutor Carol did not catch, +nor, though Mrs. Bogart was proclaiming that he was her +confidant and present assistant, did she catch the voice of Mrs. +Bogart's God. + +"Another row with Cy," Carol inferred. + +She trundled the go-cart down the back steps and tentatively +wheeled it across the yard, proud of her repairs. She heard +steps on the sidewalk. She saw not Cy Bogart but Fern +Mullins, carrying a suit-case, hurrying up the street with her +head low. The widow, standing on the porch with buttery +arms akimbo, yammered after the fleeing girl: + +"And don't you dare show your face on this block again. +You can send the drayman for your trunk. My house has +been contaminated long enough. Why the Lord should afflict +me----" + +Fern was gone. The righteous widow glared, banged into +the house, came out poking at her bonnet, marched away. +By this time Carol was staring in a manner not visibly to be +distinguished from the window-peeping of the rest of Gopher +Prairie. She saw Mrs. Bogart enter the Howland house, then +the Casses'. Not till suppertime did she reach the Kennicotts. +The doctor answered her ring, and greeted her, "Well, well? +how's the good neighbor?" + +The good neighbor charged into the living-room, waving the +most unctuous of black kid gloves and delightedly sputtering: + +"You may well ask how I am! I really do wonder how I +could go through the awful scenes of this day--and the +impudence I took from that woman's tongue, that ought to be +cut out----" + +"Whoa! Whoa! Hold up!" roared Kennicott. "Who's +the hussy, Sister Bogart? Sit down and take it cool and tell +us about it." + +"I can't sit down, I must hurry home, but I couldn't devote +myself to my own selfish cares till I'd warned you, and heaven +knows I don't expect any thanks for trying to warn the town +against her, there's always so much evil in the world that folks +simply won't see or appreciate your trying to safeguard +them---- And forcing herself in here to get in with you and +Carrie, many 's the time I've seen her doing it, and, thank +heaven, she was found out in time before she could do any +more harm, it simply breaks my heart and prostrates me to +think what she may have done already, even if some of us +that understand and know about things----" + +"Whoa-up! Who are you talking about?" + +"She's talking about Fern Mullins," Carol put in, not +pleasantly. + +"Huh?" + +Kennicott was incredulous. + +"I certainly am!" flourished Mrs. Bogart, "and good and +thankful you may be that I found her out in time, before she +could get YOU into something, Carol, because even if you are +my neighbor and Will's wife and a cultured lady, let me tell +you right now, Carol Kennicott, that you ain't always as +respectful to--you ain't as reverent--you don't stick by the +good old ways like they was laid down for us by God in the +Bible, and while of course there ain't a bit of harm in having +a good laugh, and I know there ain't any real wickedness in +you, yet just the same you don't fear God and hate the +transgressors of his commandments like you ought to, and you may +be thankful I found out this serpent I nourished in my bosom +--and oh yes! oh yes indeed! my lady must have two eggs +every morning for breakfast, and eggs sixty cents a dozen, +and wa'n't satisfied with one, like most folks--what did she +care how much they cost or if a person couldn't make hardly +nothing on her board and room, in fact I just took her in out +of charity and I might have known from the kind of stockings +and clothes that she sneaked into my house in her trunk----" + +Before they got her story she had five more minutes of +obscene wallowing. The gutter comedy turned into high +tragedy, with Nemesis in black kid gloves. The actual story +was simple, depressing, and unimportant. As to details Mrs. +Bogart was indefinite, and angry that she should be questioned. + +Fern Mullins and Cy had, the evening before, driven alone +to a barn-dance in the country. (Carol brought out the +admission that Fern had tried to get a chaperon.) At the dance +Cy had kissed Fern--she confessed that. Cy had obtained a +pint of whisky; he said that he didn't remember where he had +got it; Mrs. Bogart implied that Fern had given it to him; Fern +herself insisted that he had stolen it from a farmer's overcoat-- +which, Mrs. Bogart raged, was obviously a lie. He had +become soggily drunk. Fern had driven him home; deposited +him, retching and wabbling, on the Bogart porch. + +Never before had her boy been drunk, shrieked Mrs. Bogart. +When Kennicott grunted, she owned, "Well, maybe once or +twice I've smelled licker on his breath." She also, with an +air of being only too scrupulously exact, granted that sometimes +he did not come home till morning. But he couldn't +ever have been drunk, for he always had the best excuses: +the other boys had tempted him to go down the lake spearing +pickerel by torchlight, or he had been out in a "machine that +ran out of gas." Anyway, never before had her boy fallen +into the hands of a "designing woman." + +"What do you suppose Miss Mullins could design to do with +him?" insisted Carol. + +Mrs. Bogart was puzzled, gave it up, went on. This morning, +when she had faced both of them, Cy had manfully confessed +that all of the blame was on Fern, because the teacher--his +own teacher--had dared him to take a drink. Fern had tried +to deny it. + +"Then," gabbled Mrs. Bogart, "then that woman had the +impudence to say to me, `What purpose could I have in wanting +the filthy pup to get drunk?' That's just what she called +him--pup. `I'll have no such nasty language in my house,' +I says, `and you pretending and pulling the wool over people's +eyes and making them think you're educated and fit to be a +teacher and look out for young people's morals--you're worse +'n any street-walker!' I says. I let her have it good. I +wa'n't going to flinch from my bounden duty and let her think +that decent folks had to stand for her vile talk. `Purpose?' +I says, `Purpose? I'll tell you what purpose you had! Ain't +I seen you making up to everything in pants that'd waste +time and pay attention to your impert'nence? Ain't I seen +you showing off your legs with them short skirts of yours, +trying to make out like you was so girlish and la-de-da, +running along the street?' " + +Carol was very sick at this version of Fern's eager youth, +but she was sicker as Mrs. Bogart hinted that no one could +tell what had happened between Fern and Cy before the +drive home. Without exactly describing the scene, by her +power of lustful imagination the woman suggested dark country +places apart from the lanterns and rude fiddling and banging +dance-steps in the barn, then madness and harsh hateful +conquest. Carol was too sick to interrupt. It was Kennicott +who cried, "Oh, for God's sake quit it! You haven't any idea +what happened. You haven't given us a single proof yet that +Fern is anything but a rattle-brained youngster." + +"I haven't, eh? Well, what do you say to this? I come +straight out and I says to her, `Did you or did you not taste the +whisky Cy had?' and she says, `I think I did take one sip-- +Cy made me,' she said. She owned up to that much, so you +can imagine----" + +"Does that prove her a prostitute?" asked Carol. + +"Carrie! Don't you never use a word like that again!" +wailed the outraged Puritan. + +"Well, does it prove her to be a bad woman, that she took +a taste of whisky? I've done it myself!" + +"That's different. Not that I approve your doing it. What +do the Scriptures tell us? `Strong drink is a mocker'! But +that's entirely different from a teacher drinking with one of her +own pupils." + +"Yes, it does sound bad. Fern was silly, undoubtedly. But +as a matter of fact she's only a year or two older than Cy +and probably a good many years younger in experience of +vice." + +"That's--not--true! She is plenty old enough to corrupt +him! + +"The job of corrupting Cy was done by your sinless town, +five years ago!" + +Mrs. Bogart did not rage in return. Suddenly she was +hopeless. Her head drooped. She patted her black kid gloves, +picked at a thread of her faded brown skirt, and sighed, "He's +a good boy, and awful affectionate if you treat him right. +Some thinks he's terrible wild, but that's because he's young. +And he's so brave and truthful--why, he was one of the first +in town that wanted to enlist for the war, and I had to speak +real sharp to him to keep him from running away. I didn't +want him to get into no bad influences round these camps-- +and then," Mrs. Bogart rose from her pitifulness, recovered her +pace, "then I go and bring into my own house a woman that's +worse, when all's said and done, than any bad woman he could +have met. You say this Mullins woman is too young and +inexperienced to corrupt Cy. Well then, she's too young and +inexperienced to teach him, too, one or t'other, you can't have +your cake and eat it! So it don't make no difference which +reason they fire her for, and that's practically almost what +I said to the school-board." + +"Have you been telling this story to the members of the +school-board?" + +"I certainly have! Every one of 'em! And their wives +I says to them, ` 'Tain't my affair to decide what you should +or should not do with your teachers,' I says, `and I ain't +presuming to dictate in any way, shape, manner, or form. I just +want to know,' I says, `whether you're going to go on record +as keeping here in our schools, among a lot of innocent boys +and girls, a woman that drinks, smokes, curses, uses bad +language, and does such dreadful things as I wouldn't lay tongue +to but you know what I mean,' I says, `and if so, I'll just +see to it that the town learns about it.' And that's what I told +Professor Mott, too, being superintendent--and he's a righteous +man, not going autoing on the Sabbath like the school-board +members. And the professor as much as admitted he was +suspicious of the Mullins woman himself." + + +II + + +Kennicott was less shocked and much less frightened than +Carol, and more articulate in his description of Mrs. Bogart, +when she had gone. + +Maud Dyer telephoned to Carol and, after a rather +improbable question about cooking lima beans with bacon, de- +manded, "Have you heard the scandal about this Miss Mullins +and Cy Bogart?" + +"I'm sure it's a lie." + +"Oh, probably is." Maud's manner indicated that the +falsity of the story was an insignificant flaw in its general +delightfulness. + +Carol crept to her room, sat with hands curled tight +together as she listened to a plague of voices. She could hear the +town yelping with it, every soul of them, gleeful at new details, +panting to win importance by having details of their own to +add. How well they would make up for what they had been +afraid to do by imagining it in another! They who had not +been entirely afraid (but merely careful and sneaky), all the +barber-shop roues and millinery-parlor mondaines, how archly +they were giggling (this second--she could hear them at it); +with what self-commendation they were cackling their suavest +wit: "You can't tell ME she ain't a gay bird; I'm wise!" + +And not one man in town to carry out their pioneer tradition +of superb and contemptuous cursing, not one to verify the +myth that their "rough chivalry" and "rugged virtues" were +more generous than the petty scandal-picking of older lands, +not one dramatic frontiersman to thunder, with fantastic and +fictional oaths, "What are you hinting at? What are you +snickering at? What facts have you? What are these unheard- +of sins you condemn so much--and like so well?" + +No one to say it. Not Kennicott nor Guy Pollock nor +Champ Perry. + +Erik? Possibly. He would sputter uneasy protest. + +She suddenly wondered what subterranean connection her +interest in Erik had with this affair. Wasn't it because they +had been prevented by her caste from bounding on her own +trail that they were howling at Fern? + + +III + + +Before supper she found, by half a dozen telephone calls, +that Fern had fled to the Minniemashie House. She hastened +there, trying not to be self-conscious about the people who +looked at her on the street. The clerk said indifferently that +he "guessed" Miss Mullins was up in Room 37, and left Carol +to find the way. She hunted along the stale-smelling corridors +with their wallpaper of cerise daisies and poison-green rosettes, +streaked in white spots from spilled water, their frayed +red and yellow matting, and rows of pine doors painted a +sickly blue. She could not find the number. In the darkness +at the end of a corridor she had to feel the aluminum figures +on the door-panels. She was startled once by a man's voice: +"Yep? Whadyuh want?" and fled. When she reached the +right door she stood listening. She made out a long sobbing. +There was no answer till her third knock; then an alarmed +"Who is it? Go away!" + +Her hatred of the town turned resolute as she pushed open +the door. + +Yesterday she had seen Fern Mullins in boots and tweed +skirt and canary-yellow sweater, fleet and self-possessed. Now +she lay across the bed, in crumpled lavender cotton and shabby +pumps, very feminine, utterly cowed. She lifted her head in +stupid terror. Her hair was in tousled strings and her face +was sallow, creased. Her eyes were a blur from weeping. + +"I didn't! I didn't!" was all she would say at first, and +she repeated it while Carol kissed her cheek, stroked her +hair, bathed her forehead. She rested then, while Carol looked +about the room--the welcome to strangers, the sanctuary of +hospitable Main Street, the lucrative property of Kennicott's +friend, Jackson Elder. It smelled of old linen and decaying +carpet and ancient tobacco smoke. The bed was rickety, with +a thin knotty mattress; the sand-colored walls were scratched +and gouged; in every corner, under everything, were fluffy +dust and cigar ashes; on the tilted wash-stand was a nicked +and squatty pitcher; the only chair was a grim straight object +of spotty varnish; but there was an altogether splendid gilt +and rose cuspidor. + +She did not try to draw out Fern's story; Fern insisted on +telling it. + +She had gone to the party, not quite liking Cy but willing +to endure him for the sake of dancing, of escaping from Mrs. +Bogart's flow of moral comments, of relaxing after the first +strained weeks of teaching. Cy "promised to be good." He +was, on the way out. There were a few workmen from Gopher +Prairie at the dance, with many young farm-people. Half +a dozen squatters from a degenerate colony in a brush-hidden +hollow, planters of potatoes, suspected thieves, came in noisily +drunk. They all pounded the floor of the barn in old-fashioned +square dances, swinging their partners, skipping, laughing, +under the incantations of Del Snafflin the barber, who fiddled +and called the figures. Cy had two drinks from pocket-flasks. +Fern saw him fumbling among the overcoats piled on the feedbox +at the far end of the barn; soon after she heard a farmer +declaring that some one had stolen his bottle. She taxed Cy +with the theft; he chuckled, "Oh, it's just a joke; I'm going +to give it back." He demanded that she take a drink. Unless +she did, he wouldn't return the bottle. + +"I just brushed my lips with it, and gave it back to him," +moaned Fern. She sat up, glared at Carol. "Did you ever +take a drink?" + +"I have. A few. I'd love to have one right now! This +contact with righteousness has about done me up!" + +Fern could laugh then. "So would I! I don't suppose I've +had five drinks in my life, but if I meet just one more Bogart +and Son---- Well, I didn't really touch that bottle--horrible +raw whisky--though I'd have loved some wine. I felt so jolly. +The barn was almost like a stage scene--the high rafters, and +the dark stalls, and tin lanterns swinging, and a silage-cutter +up at the end like some mysterious kind of machine. And +I'd been having lots of fun dancing with the nicest young +farmer, so strong and nice, and awfully intelligent. But I got +uneasy when I saw how Cy was. So I doubt if I touched two +drops of the beastly stuff. Do you suppose God is punishing +me for even wanting wine?" + +"My dear, Mrs. Bogart's god may be--Main Street's god. +But all the courageous intelligent people are fighting him. . . +though he slay us." + +Fern danced again with the young farmer; she forgot Cy +while she was talking with a girl who had taken the University +agricultural course. Cy could not have returned the bottle; +he came staggering toward her--taking time to make himself +offensive to every girl on the way and to dance a jig. She +insisted on their returning. Cy went with her, chuckling and +jigging. He kissed her, outside the door. . . . "And +to think I used to think it was interesting to have men kiss +you at a dance!". . . She ignored the kiss, in the need +of getting him home before he started a fight. A farmer helped +her harness the buggy, while Cy snored in the seat. He awoke +before they set out; all the way home he alternately slept and +tried to make love to her. + +"I'm almost as strong as he is. I managed to keep him +away while I drove--such a rickety buggy. I didn't feel like +a girl; I felt like a scrubwoman--no, I guess I was too scared +to have any feelings at all. It was terribly dark. I got home, +somehow. But it was hard, the time I had to get out, and it +was quite muddy, to read a sign-post--I lit matches that I +took from Cy's coat pocket, and he followed me--he fell off the +buggy step into the mud, and got up and tried to make love +to me, and---- I was scared. But I hit him. Quite hard. +And got in, and so he ran after the buggy, crying like a baby, +and I let him in again, and right away again he was trying---- +But no matter. I got him home. Up on the porch. Mrs. +Bogart was waiting up. . . . + +"You know, it was funny; all the time she was--oh, talking +to me--and Cy was being terribly sick--I just kept thinking, +`I've still got to drive the buggy down to the livery stable. +I wonder if the livery man will be awake?' But I got through +somehow. I took the buggy down to the stable, and got to +my room. I locked my door, but Mrs. Bogart kept saying +things, outside the door. Stood out there saying things about +me, dreadful things, and rattling the knob. And all the while +I could hear Cy in the back yard-being sick. I don't think +I'll ever marry any man. And then today---- + +"She drove me right out of the house. She wouldn't listen +to me, all morning. Just to Cy. I suppose he's over his +headache now. Even at breakfast he thought the whole thing +was a grand joke. I suppose right this minute he's going +around town boasting about his `conquest.' You understand-- +oh, DON'T you understand? I DID keep him away! But I don't +see how I can face my school. They say country towns are +fine for bringing up boys in, but---- I can't believe this is +me, lying here and saying this. I don't BELIEVE what happened +last night. + +"Oh. This was curious: When I took off my dress last +night--it was a darling dress, I loved it so, but of course the +mud had spoiled it. I cried over it and---- No matter. But +my white silk stockings were all torn, and the strange thing is, +I don't know whether I caught my legs in the briers when I got +out to look at the sign-post, or whether Cy scratched me when +I was fighting him off." + + +IV + + +Sam Clark was president of the school-board. When Carol +told him Fern's story Sam looked sympathetic and neighborly, +and Mrs. Clark sat by cooing, "Oh, isn't that too bad." Carol +was interrupted only when Mrs. Clark begged, "Dear, don't +speak so bitter about `pious' people. There's lots of sincere +practising Christians that are real tolerant. Like the Champ +Perrys." + +"Yes. I know. Unfortunately there are enough kindly +people in the churches to keep them going." + +When Carol had finished, Mrs. Clark breathed, "Poor girl; +I don't doubt her story a bit," and Sam rumbled, "Yuh, sure. +Miss Mullins is young and reckless, but everybody in town, +except Ma Bogart, knows what Cy is. But Miss Mullins was +a fool to go with him." + +"But not wicked enough to pay for it with disgrace?" + +"N-no, but----" Sam avoided verdicts, clung to the +entrancing horrors of the story. "Ma Bogart cussed her out all +morning, did she? Jumped her neck, eh? Ma certainly is +one hell-cat." + +"Yes, you know how she is; so vicious." + +"Oh no, her best style ain't her viciousness. What she pulls +in our store is to come in smiling with Christian Fortitude and +keep a clerk busy for one hour while she picks out half a dozen +fourpenny nails. I remember one time----" + +"Sam!" Carol was uneasy. "You'll fight for Fern, won't +you? When Mrs. Bogart came to see you did she make definite +charges?" + +"Well, yes, you might say she did." + +"But the school-board won't act on them?" + +"Guess we'll more or less have to." + +"But you'll exonerate Fern?" + +"I'll do what I can for the girl personally, but you know +what the board is. There's Reverend Zitterel; Sister Bogart +about half runs his church, so of course he'll take her say-so; +and Ezra Stowbody, as a banker he has to be all hell for +morality and purity. Might 's well admit it, Carrie; I'm afraid +there'll be a majority of the board against her. Not that any +of us would believe a word Cy said, not if he swore it on a +stack of Bibles, but Still, after all this gossip, Miss Mullins +wouldn't hardly be the party to chaperon our basket-ball team +when it went out of town to play other high schools, would +she!" + +"Perhaps not, but couldn't some one else?" + +"Why, that's one of the things she was hired for." Sam +sounded stubborn. + +"Do you realize that this isn't just a matter of a job, and +hiring and firing; that it's actually sending a splendid girl out +with a beastly stain on her, giving all the other Bogarts in the +world a chance at her? That's what will happen if you discharge her." + +Sam moved uncomfortably, looked at his wife, scratched his +head, sighed, said nothing. + +"Won't you fight for her on the board? If you lose, won't +you, and whoever agrees with you, make a minority report?" + +"No reports made in a case like this. Our rule is to just +decide the thing and announce the final decision, whether it's +unanimous or not." + +"Rules! Against a girl's future! Dear God! Rules of a +school-board! Sam! Won't you stand by Fern, and threaten +to resign from the board if they try to discharge her?" + +Rather testy, tired of so many subtleties, he complained, +"Well, I'll do what I can, but I'll have to wait till the board +meets." + +And "I'll do what I can," together with the secret admission +"Of course you and I know what Ma Bogart is," was all Carol +could get from Superintendent George Edwin Mott, Ezra Stowbody, +the Reverend Mr. Zitterel or any other member of the +school-board. + +Afterward she wondered whether Mr. Zitterel could have +been referring to herself when he observed, "There's too much +license in high places in this town, though, and the wages of +sin is death--or anyway, bein' fired." The holy leer with which +the priest said it remained in her mind. + +She was at the hotel before eight next morning. Fern longed +to go to school, to face the tittering, but she was too shaky. +Carol read to her all day and, by reassuring her, convinced her +own self that the school-board would be just. She was less +sure of it that evening when, at the motion pictures, she heard +Mrs. Gougerling exclaim to Mrs. Howland, "She may be so +innocent and all, and I suppose she probably is, but still, if she +drank a whole bottle of whisky at that dance, the way everybody +says she did, she may have forgotten she was so innocent! +Hee, hee, hee!" Maud Dyer, leaning back from her seat, put +in, "That's what I've said all along. I don't want to roast +anybody, but have you noticed the way she looks at men?" + +"When will they have me on the scaffold?" Carol speculated. + +Nat Hicks stopped the Kennicotts on their way home. Carol +hated him for his manner of assuming that they two had a +mysterious understanding. Without quite winking he seemed +to wink at her as he gurgled, "What do you folks think about +this Mullins woman? I'm not strait-laced, but I tell you we +got to have decent women in our schools. D' you know what +I heard? They say whatever she may of done afterwards, this +Mullins dame took two quarts of whisky to the dance with +her, and got stewed before Cy did! Some tank, that wren! +Ha, ha. ha!" + +"Rats, I don't believe it," Kennicott muttered. + +He got Carol away before she was able to speak. + +She saw Erik passing the house, late, alone, and she stared +after him, longing for the lively bitterness of the things he +would say about the town. Kennicott had nothing for her but +"Oh, course, ev'body likes a juicy story, but they don't intend +to be mean." + +She went up to bed proving to herself that the members of +the school-board were superior men. + +It was Tuesday afternoon before she learned that the board +had met at ten in the morning and voted to "accept Miss +Fern Mullins's resignation." Sam Clark telephoned the news +to her. "We're not making any charges. We're just letting +her resign. Would you like to drop over to the hotel and ask +her to write the resignation, now we've accepted it? Glad I +could get the board to put it that way. It's thanks to you." + +"But can't you see that the town will take this as proof +of the charges?" + +"We're--not--making--no--charges--whatever!" Sam was +obviously finding it hard to be patient. + +Fern left town that evening. + +Carol went with her to the train. The two girls elbowed +through a silent lip-licking crowd. Carol tried to stare them +down but in face of the impishness of the boys and the bovine +gaping of the men, she was embarrassed. Fern did not glance +at them. Carol felt her arm tremble, though she was tearless, +listless, plodding. She squeezed Carol's hand, said something +unintelligible, stumbled up into the vestibule. + +Carol remembered that Miles Bjornstam had also taken a +train. What would be the scene at the station when she +herself took departure? + +She walked up-town behind two strangers. + +One of them was giggling, "See that good-looking wench +that got on here? The swell kid with the small black hat? +She's some charmer! I was here yesterday, before my jump to +Ojibway Falls, and I heard all about her. Seems she was a +teacher, but she certainly was a high-roller--O boy!--high, +wide, and fancy! Her and couple of other skirts bought a +whole case of whisky and went on a tear, and one night, darned +if this bunch of cradle-robbers didn't get hold of some young +kids, just small boys, and they all got lit up like a White Way, +and went out to a roughneck dance, and they say----" + +The narrator turned, saw a woman near and, not being a +common person nor a coarse workman but a clever salesman +and a householder, lowered his voice for the rest of the tale. +During it the other man laughed hoarsely. + +Carol turned off on a side-street. + +She passed Cy Bogart. He was humorously narrating some +achievement to a group which included Nat Hicks, Del Snafflin, +Bert Tybee the bartender, and A. Tennyson O'Hearn the +shyster lawyer. They were men far older than Cy but they +accepted him as one of their own, and encouraged him to +go on. + +It was a week before she received from Fern a letter of +which this was a part: + +. . .& of course my family did not really believe the story but +as they were sure I must have done something wrong they just +lectured me generally, in fact jawed me till I have gone to live at +a boarding house. The teachers' agencies must know the story, +man at one almost slammed the door in my face when I went to +ask about a job, & at another the woman in charge was beastly. +Don't know what I will do. Don't seem to feel very well. May +marry a fellow that's in love with me but he's so stupid that he +makes me SCREAM. + +Dear Mrs. Kennicott you were the only one that believed me. +I guess it's a joke on me, I was such a simp, I felt quite heroic +while I was driving the buggy back that night & keeping Cy away +from me. I guess I expected the people in Gopher Prairie to admire +me. I did use to be admired for my athletics at the U.--just five +months ago. + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + +FOR a month which was one suspended moment of doubt she +saw Erik only casually, at an Eastern Star dance, at the shop, +where, in the presence of Nat Hicks, they conferred with +immense particularity on the significance of having one or two +buttons on the cuff of Kennicott's New Suit. For the benefit +of beholders they were respectably vacuous. + +Thus barred from him, depressed in the thought of Fern, +Carol was suddenly and for the first time convinced that she +loved Erik. + +She told herself a thousand inspiriting things which he would +say if he had the opportunity; for them she admired him, +loved him. But she was afraid to summon him. He understood, +he did not come. She forgot her every doubt of him, +and her discomfort in his background. Each day it seemed +impossible to get through the desolation of not seeing him. +Each morning, each afternoon, each evening was a compartment +divided from all other units of time, distinguished by a sudden +"Oh! I want to see Erik!" which was as devastating as +though she had never said it before. + +There were wretched periods when she could not picture +him. Usually he stood out in her mind in some little moment-- +glancing up from his preposterous pressing-iron, or running on +the beach with Dave Dyer. But sometimes he had vanished; +he was only an opinion. She worried then about his appearance: +Weren't his wrists too large and red? Wasn't his nose +a snub, like so many Scandinavians? Was he at all the graceful +thing she had fancied? When she encountered him on the +street she was as much reassuring herself as rejoicing in his +presence. More disturbing than being unable to visualize him +was the darting remembrance of some intimate aspect: his +face as they had walked to the boat together at the picnic; +the ruddy light on his temples, neck-cords, flat cheeks. + +On a November evening when Kennicott was in the country +she answered the bell and was confused to find Erik at the +door, stooped, imploring, his hands in the pockets of his +topcoat. As though he had been rehearsing his speech he instantly +besought: + +"Saw your husband driving away. I've got to see you. I +can't stand it. Come for a walk. I know! People might +see us. But they won't if we hike into the country. I'll wait +for you by the elevator. Take as long as you want to--oh, +come quick!" + +"In a few minutes," she promised. + +She murmured, "I'll just talk to him for a quarter of an +hour and come home." She put an her tweed coat and rubber +overshoes, considering how honest and hopeless are rubbers, +how clearly their chaperonage proved that she wasn't going +to a lovers' tryst. + +She found him in the shadow of the grain-elevator, sulkily +kicking at a rail of the side-track. As she came toward him +she fancied that his whole body expanded. But he said nothing, +nor she; he patted her sleeve, she returned the pat, and they +crossed the railroad tracks, found a road, clumped toward +open country. + +"Chilly night, but I like this melancholy gray," he said. + +"Yes." + +They passed a moaning clump of trees and splashed along +the wet road. He tucked her hand into the side-pocket of his +overcoat. She caught his thumb and, sighing, held it exactly +as Hugh held hers when they went walking. She thought +about Hugh. The current maid was in for the evening, but +was it safe to leave the baby with her? The thought was +distant and elusive. + +Erik began to talk, slowly, revealingly. He made for her a +picture of his work in a large tailor shop in Minneapolis: the +steam and heat, and the drudgery; the men in darned vests +and crumpled trousers, men who "rushed growlers of beer" +and were cynical about women, who laughed at him and played +jokes on him. "But I didn't mind, because I could keep away +from them outside. I used to go to the Art Institute and the +Walker Gallery, and tramp clear around Lake Harriet, or hike +out to the Gates house and imagine it was a chateau in Italy +and I lived in it. I was a marquis and collected tapestries-- +that was after I was wounded in Padua. The only really bad +time was when a tailor named Finkelfarb found a diary I was +trying to keep and he read it aloud in the shop--it was a +bad fight." He laughed. "I got fined five dollars. But that's +all gone now. Seems as though you stand between me and +the gas stoves--the long flames with mauve edges, licking up +around the irons and making that sneering sound all day-- +aaaaah!" + +Her fingers tightened about his thumb as she perceived the +hot low room, the pounding of pressing-irons, the reek of +scorched cloth, and Erik among giggling gnomes. His fingertip +crept through the opening of her glove and smoothed her +palm. She snatched her hand away, stripped off her glove, +tucked her hand back into his. + +He was saying something about a "wonderful person." In +her tranquillity she let the words blow by and heeded only the +beating wings of his voice. + +She was conscious that he was fumbling for impressive +speech. + +"Say, uh--Carol, I've written a poem about you." + +"That's nice. Let's hear it." + +"Damn it, don't be so casual about it! Can't you take me +seriously?" + +"My dear boy, if I took you seriously----! I don't want +us to be hurt more than--more than we will be. Tell me the +poem. I've never had a poem written about me!" + +"It isn't really a poem. It's just some words that I love +because it seems to me they catch what you are. Of course +probably they won't seem so to anybody else, but---- +Well---- + + Little and tender and merry and wise + With eyes that meet my eyes. + +Do you get the idea the way I do?" + +"Yes! I'm terribly grateful!" And she was grateful-- +while she impersonally noted how bad a verse it was. + +She was aware of the haggard beauty in the lowering night. +Monstrous tattered clouds sprawled round a forlorn moon; +puddles and rocks glistened with inner light. They were passing +a grove of scrub poplars, feeble by day but looming now +like a menacing wall. She stopped. They heard the branches +dripping, the wet leaves sullenly plumping on the soggy earth. + +"Waiting--waiting--everything is waiting," she whispered. +She drew her hand from his, pressed her clenched fingers +against her lips. She was lost in the somberness. "I am +happy--so we must go home, before we have time to become +unhappy. But can't we sit on a log for a minute and just +listen?" + +"No. Too wet. But I wish we could build a fire, and you +could sit on my overcoat beside it. I'm a grand fire-builder! +My cousin Lars and me spent a week one time in a cabin +way up in the Big Woods, snowed in. The fireplace was filled +with a dome of ice when we got there, but we chopped it out, +and jammed the thing full of pine-boughs. Couldn't we build +a fire back here in the woods and sit by it for a while?" + +She pondered, half-way between yielding and refusal. Her +head ached faintly. She was in abeyance. Everything, the +night, his silhouette, the cautious-treading future, was as +undistinguishable as though she were drifting bodiless in a Fourth +Dimension. While her mind groped, the lights of a motor car +swooped round a bend in the road, and they stood farther +apart. "What ought I to do?" she mused. "I think---- +Oh, I won't be robbed! I AM good! If I'm so enslaved that +I can't sit by the fire with a man and talk, then I'd better +be dead!" + +The lights of the thrumming car grew magically; were upon +them; abruptly stopped. From behind the dimness of the +windshield a voice, annoyed, sharp: "Hello there!" + +She realized that it was Kennicott. + +The irritation in his voice smoothed out. "Having a walk?" + +They made schoolboyish sounds of assent. + +"Pretty wet, isn't it? Better ride back. Jump up in front +here, Valborg." + +His manner of swinging open the door was a command. +Carol was conscious that Erik was climbing in, that she was +apparently to sit in the back, and that she had been left to +open the rear door for herself. Instantly the wonder which +had flamed to the gusty skies was quenched, and she was +Mrs. W. P. Kennicott of Gopher Prairie, riding in a squeaking +old car, and likely to be lectured by her husband. + +She feared what Kennicott would say to Erik. She bent +toward them. Kennicott was observing, "Going to have some +rain before the night 's over, all right." + +"Yes," said Erik. + +"Been funny season this year, anyway. Never saw it with +such a cold October and such a nice November. 'Member +we had a snow way back on October ninth! But it certainly +was nice up to the twenty-first, this month--as I remember it, +not a flake of snow in November so far, has there been? But +I shouldn't wonder if we'd be having some snow 'most any +time now." + +"Yes, good chance of it," said Erik. + +"Wish I'd had more time to go after the ducks this fall. +By golly, what do you think?" Kennicott sounded appealing. +"Fellow wrote me from Man Trap Lake that he shot seven +mallards and couple of canvas-back in one hour!" + +"That must have been fine," said Erik. + +Carol was ignored. But Kennicott was blustrously cheerful. +He shouted to a farmer, as he slowed up to pass the frightened +team, "There we are--schon gut!" She sat back, neglected, +frozen, unheroic heroine in a drama insanely undramatic. She +made a decision resolute and enduring. She would tell +Kennicott---- What would she tell him? She could not say that +she loved Erik. DID she love him? But she would have it +out. She was not sure whether it was pity for Kennicott's +blindness, or irritation at his assumption that he was enough +to fill any woman's life, which prompted her, but she knew +that she was out of the trap, that she could be frank; and she +was exhilarated with the adventure of it. . .while in +front he was entertaining Erik: + +"Nothing like an hour on a duck-pass to make you relish +your victuals and---- Gosh, this machine hasn't got the +power of a fountain pen. Guess the cylinders are jam-cram-full +of carbon again. Don't know but what maybe I'll have to +put in another set of piston-rings." + +He stopped on Main Street and clucked hospitably, "There, +that'll give you just a block to walk. G' night." + +Carol was in suspense. Would Erik sneak away? + +He stolidly moved to the back of the car, thrust in his hand, +muttered, "Good night--Carol. I'm glad we had our walk." +She pressed his hand. The car was flapping on. He was +hidden from her--by a corner drug store on Main Street! + +Kennicott did not recognize her till he drew up before the +house. Then he condescended, "Better jump out here and +I'll take the boat around back. Say, see if the back door is +unlocked, will you?" She unlatched the door for him. She +realized that she still carried the damp glove she had stripped +off for Erik. She drew it on. She stood in the center of the +living-room, unmoving, in damp coat and muddy rubbers. +Kennicott was as opaque as ever. Her task wouldn't be anything +so lively as having to endure a scolding, but only an +exasperating effort to command his attention so that he would +understand the nebulous things she had to tell him, instead +of interrupting her by yawning, winding the clock, and going +up to bed. She heard him shoveling coal into the furnace. He +came through the kitchen energetically, but before he spoke +to her he did stop in the hall, did wind the clock. + +He sauntered into the living-room and his glance passed +from her drenched hat to her smeared rubbers. She could +hear--she could hear, see, taste, smell, touch--his "Better +take your coat off, Carrie; looks kind of wet." Yes, there it +was: + +"Well, Carrie, you better----" He chucked his own coat +on a chair, stalked to her, went on with a rising tingling voice, +"----you better cut it out now. I'm not going to do the out- +raged husband stunt. I like you and I respect you, and I'd +probably look like a boob if I tried to be dramatic. But I think +it's about time for you and Valborg to call a halt before you get +in Dutch, like Fern Mullins did." + +"Do you----" + +"Course. I know all about it. What d' you expect in a +town that's as filled with busybodies, that have plenty of time +to stick their noses into other folks' business, as this is? Not +that they've had the nerve to do much tattling to me, but +they've hinted around a lot, and anyway, I could see for myself +that you liked him. But of course I knew how cold you were, +I knew you wouldn't stand it even if Valborg did try to hold +your hand or kiss you, so I didn't worry. But same time, I +hope you don't suppose this husky young Swede farmer is as +innocent and Platonic and all that stuff as you are! Wait +now, don't get sore! I'm not knocking him. He isn't a bad +sort. And he's young and likes to gas about books. Course +you like him. That isn't the real rub. But haven't you just +seen what this town can do, once it goes and gets moral on +you, like it did with Fern? You probably think that two +young folks making love are alone if anybody ever is, but +there's nothing in this town that you don't do in company +with a whole lot of uninvited but awful interested guests. +Don't you realize that if Ma Westlake and a few others got +started they'd drive you up a tree, and you'd find yourself so +well advertised as being in love with this Valborg fellow that +you'd HAVE to be, just to spite 'em!" + +"Let me sit down," was all Carol could say. She drooped +on the couch, wearily, without elasticity. + +He yawned, "Gimme your coat and rubbers," and while +she stripped them off he twiddled his watch-chain, felt the +radiator, peered at the thermometer. He shook out her wraps +in the hall, hung them up with exactly his usual care. He +pushed a chair near to her and sat bolt up. He looked like +a physician about to give sound and undesired advice. + +Before he could launch into his heavy discourse she +desperately got in, "Please! I want you to know that I was +going to tell you everything, tonight." + +"Well, I don't suppose there's really much to tell." + +"But there is. I'm fond of Erik. He appeals to something +in here." She touched her breast. "And I admire him. He +isn't just a `young Swede farmer.' He's an artist----" + +"Wait now! He's had a chance all evening to tell you +what a whale of a fine fellow he is. Now it's my turn. I can't +talk artistic, but---- Carrie, do you understand my work?" +He leaned forward, thick capable hands on thick sturdy thighs, +mature and slow, yet beseeching. "No matter even if you are +cold, I like you better than anybody in the world. One time +I said that you were my soul. And that still goes. You're +all the things that I see in a sunset when I'm driving in from +the country, the things that I like but can't make poetry of. +Do you realize what my job is? I go round twenty-four hours +a day, in mud and blizzard, trying my damnedest to heal +everybody, rich or poor. You--that 're always spieling about +how scientists ought to rule the world, instead of a bunch +of spread-eagle politicians--can't you see that I'm all the +science there is here? And I can stand the cold and the bumpy +roads and the lonely rides at night. All I need is to have you +here at home to welcome me. I don't expect you to be +passionate--not any more I don't--but I do expect you to +appreciate my work. I bring babies into the world, and save +lives, and make cranky husbands quit being mean to their +wives. And then you go and moon over a Swede tailor because +he can talk about how to put ruchings on a skirt! Hell of a +thing for a man to fuss over!" + +She flew out at him: "You make your side clear. Let me +give mine. I admit all you say--except about Erik. But is +it only you, and the baby, that want me to back you up, that +demand things from me? They're all on me, the whole town! +I can feel their hot breaths on my neck! Aunt Bessie and +that horrible slavering old Uncle Whittier and Juanita and +Mrs. Westlake and Mrs. Bogart and all of them. And you +welcome them, you encourage them to drag me down into their +cave! I won't stand it! Do you hear? Now, right now, I'm +done. And it's Erik who gives me the courage. You say he +just thinks about ruches (which do not usually go on skirts, +by the way!). I tell you he thinks about God, the God that +Mrs. Bogart covers up with greasy gingham wrappers! Erik +will be a great man some day, and if I could contribute one +tiny bit to his success----" + +"Wait, wait, wait now! Hold up! You're assuming that +your Erik will make good. As a matter of fact, at my age he'll +be running a one-man tailor shop in some burg about the size +of Schoenstrom." + +"He will not!" + +"That's what he's headed for now all right, and he's twenty- +five or -six and---- What's he done to make you think he'll +ever be anything but a pants-presser?" + +"He has sensitiveness and talent----" + +"Wait now! What has he actually done in the art line? +Has he done one first-class picture or--sketch, d' you call it? +Or one poem, or played the piano, or anything except gas +about what he's going to do?" + +She looked thoughtful. + +"Then it's a hundred to one shot that he never will. Way +I understand it, even these fellows that do something pretty +good at home and get to go to art school, there ain't more +than one out of ten of 'em, maybe one out of a hundred, that +ever get above grinding out a bum living--about as artistic +as plumbing. And when it comes down to this tailor, why, +can't you see--you that take on so about psychology--can't +you see that it's just by contrast with folks like Doc McGanum +or Lym Cass that this fellow seems artistic? Suppose you'd +met up with him first in one of these reg'lar New York studios! +You wouldn't notice him any more 'n a rabbit!" + +She huddled over folded hands like a temple virgin shivering +on her knees before the thin warmth of a brazier. She could +not answer. + +Kennicott rose quickly, sat on the couch, took both her +hands. "Suppose he fails--as he will! Suppose he goes back +to tailoring, and you're his wife. Is that going to be this +artistic life you've been thinking about? He's in some bum +shack, pressing pants all day, or stooped over sewing, and +having to be polite to any grouch that blows in and jams a +dirty stinking old suit in his face and says, `Here you, fix +this, and be blame quick about it.' He won't even have enough +savvy to get him a big shop. He'll pike along doing his own +work--unless you, his wife, go help him, go help him in the +shop, and stand over a table all day, pushing a big heavy iron. +Your complexion will look fine after about fifteen years of +baking that way, won't it! And you'll be humped over like +an old hag. And probably you'll live in one room back of +the shop. And then at night--oh, you'll have your artist-- +sure! He'll come in stinking of gasoline, and cranky from +hard work, and hinting around that if it hadn't been for you, +he'd of gone East and been a great artist. Sure! And you'll +be entertaining his relatives---- Talk about Uncle Whit! +You'll be having some old Axel Axelberg coming in with manure +on his boots and sitting down to supper in his socks and yelling +at you, `Hurry up now, you vimmin make me sick!' Yes, +and you'll have a squalling brat every year, tugging at you +while you press clothes, and you won't love 'em like you do +Hugh up-stairs, all downy and asleep----" + +"Please! Not any more!" + +Her face was on his knee. + +He bent to kiss her neck. "I don't want to be unfair. I +guess love is a great thing, all right. But think it would stand +much of that kind of stuff? Oh, honey, am I so bad? Can't +you like me at all? I've--I've been so fond of you!" + +She snatched up his hand, she kissed it. Presently she +sobbed, "I won't ever see him again. I can't, now. The +hot living-room behind the tailor shop---- I don't love him +enough for that. And you are---- Even if I were sure of +him, sure he was the real thing, I don't think I could actually +leave you. This marriage, it weaves people together. It's +not easy to break, even when it ought to be broken." + +"And do you want to break it?" + +"No!" + +He lifted her, carried her up-stairs, laid her on her bed, +turned to the door. + +"Come kiss me," she whimpered. + +He kissed her lightly and slipped away. For an hour she +heard him moving about his room, lighting a cigar, drumming +with his knuckles on a chair. She felt that he was a bulwark +between her and the darkness that grew thicker as the delayed +storm came down in sleet. + + +II + + +He was cheery and more casual than ever at breakfast. All +day she tried to devise a way of giving Erik up. Telephone? +The village central would unquestionably "listen in." A +letter? It might be found. Go to see him? Impossible. +That evening Kennicott gave her, without comment, an +envelope. The letter was signed "E. V." + + +I know I can't do anything but make trouble for you, I think. +I am going to Minneapolis tonight and from there as soon as I can +either to New York or Chicago. I will do as big things as I can. +I I can't write I love you too much God keep you. + + +Until she heard the whistle which told her that the +Minneapolis train was leaving town, she kept herself from thinking, +from moving. Then it was all over. She had no plan nor +desire for anything. + +When she caught Kennicott looking at her over his newspaper +she fled to his arms, thrusting the paper aside, and for +the first time in years they were lovers. But she knew that she +still had no plan in life, save always to go along the same +streets, past the same people, to the same shops. + + +III + + +A week after Erik's going the maid startled her by +announcing, "There's a Mr. Valborg down-stairs say he vant to +see you." + +She was conscious of the maid's interested stare, angry at +this shattering of the calm in which she had hidden. She +crept down, peeped into the living-room. It was not Erik +Valborg who stood there; it was a small, gray-bearded, yellow- +faced man in mucky boots, canvas jacket, and red mittens. +He glowered at her with shrewd red eyes. + +"You de doc's wife?" + +"Yes." + +"I'm Adolph Valborg, from up by Jefferson. I'm Erik's +father." + +"Oh!" He was a monkey-faced little man, and not gentle. + +"What you done wit' my son?" + +"I don't think I understand you." + +"I t'ink you're going to understand before I get t'rough! +Where is he?" + +"Why, really---- I presume that he's in Minneapolis." + +"You presume!" He looked through her with a +contemptuousness such as she could not have imagined. Only an +insane contortion of spelling could portray his lyric whine, his +mangled consonants. He clamored, "Presume! Dot's a fine +word! I don't want no fine words and I don't want no more +lies! I want to know what you KNOW!" + +"See here, Mr. Valborg, you may stop this bullying right +now. I'm not one of your farmwomen. I don't know where +your son is, and there's no reason why I should know." Her +defiance ran out in face of his immense flaxen stolidity. He +raised his fist, worked up his anger with the gesture, and +sneered: + +"You dirty city women wit' your fine ways and fine dresses! +A father come here trying to save his boy from wickedness, +and you call him a bully! By God, I don't have to take +nothin' off you nor your husband! I ain't one of your hired +men. For one time a woman like you is going to hear de trut' +about what you are, and no fine city words to it, needer." + +"Really, Mr. Valborg----" + +"What you done wit' him? Heh? I'll yoost tell you what +you done! He was a good boy, even if he was a damn fool. +I want him back on de farm. He don't make enough money +tailoring. And I can't get me no hired man! I want to take +him back on de farm. And you butt in and fool wit' him and +make love wit' him, and get him to run away!" + +"You are lying! It's not true that---- It's not true, and +if it were, you would have no right to speak like this." + +"Don't talk foolish. I know. Ain't I heard from a fellow +dot live right here in town how you been acting wit' de boy? +I know what you done! Walking wit' him in de country! +Hiding in de woods wit' him! Yes and I guess you talk about +religion in de woods! Sure! Women like you--you're worse +dan street-walkers! Rich women like you, wit' fine husbands +and no decent work to do--and me, look at my hands, look +how I work, look at those hands! But you, oh God no, you +mustn't work, you're too fine to do decent work. You got +to play wit' young fellows, younger as you are, laughing and +rolling around and acting like de animals! You let my son +alone, d' you hear?" He was shaking his fist in her face. She +could smell the manure and sweat. "It ain't no use talkin' to +women like you. Get no trut' out of you. But next time I +go by your husband!" + +He was marching into the hall. Carol flung herself on him, +her clenching hand on his hayseed-dusty shoulder. "You +horrible old man, you've always tried to turn Erik into a slave, +to fatten your pocketbook! You've sneered at him, and +overworked him, and probably you've succeeded in preventing his +ever rising above your muck-heap! And now because you can't +drag him back, you come here to vent---- Go tell my husband, +go tell him, and don't blame me when he kills you, when +my husband kills you--he will kill you----" + +The man grunted, looked at her impassively, said one word, +and walked out. + +She heard the word very plainly. + +She did not quite reach the couch. Her knees gave way, +she pitched forward. She heard her mind saying, "You +haven't fainted. This is ridiculous. You're simply dramatizing +yourself. Get up." But she could not move. When +Kennicott arrived she was lying on the couch. His step +quickened. "What's happened, Carrie? You haven't got a +bit of blood in your face." + +She clutched his arm. "You've got to be sweet to me, and +kind! I'm going to California--mountains, sea. Please don't +argue about it, because I'm going." + +Quietly, "All right. We'll go. You and I. Leave the kid +here with Aunt Bessie." + +"Now!" + +"Well yes, just as soon as we can get away. Now don't +talk any more. Just imagine you've already started." He +smoothed her hair, and not till after supper did he continue: +"I meant it about California. But I think we better wait +three weeks or so, till I get hold of some young fellow released +from the medical corps to take my practice. And if people +are gossiping, you don't want to give them a chance by running +away. Can you stand it and face 'em for three weeks or so?" + +"Yes," she said emptily. + + +IV + + +People covertly stared at her on the street. Aunt Bessie +tried to catechize her about Erik's disappearance, and it was +Kennicott who silenced the woman with a savage, "Say, are +you hinting that Carrie had anything to do with that fellow's +beating it? Then let me tell you, and you can go right out +and tell the whole bloomin' town, that Carrie and I took Val-- +took Erik riding, and he asked me about getting a better job +in Minneapolis, and I advised him to go to it. . . . +Getting much sugar in at the store now?" + +Guy Pollock crossed the street to be pleasant apropos of +California and new novels. Vida Sherwin dragged her to the +Jolly Seventeen. There, with every one rigidly listening, Maud +Dyer shot at Carol, "I hear Erik has left town." + +Carol was amiable. "Yes, so I hear. In fact, he called +me up--told me he had been offered a lovely job in the city. +So sorry he's gone. He would have been valuable if we'd +tried to start the dramatic association again. Still, I wouldn't +be here for the association myself, because Will is all in from +work, and I'm thinking of taking him to California. Juanita-- +you know the Coast so well--tell me: would you start in at +Los Angeles or San Francisco, and what are the best hotels?" + +The Jolly Seventeen looked disappointed, but the Jolly +Seventeen liked to give advice, the Jolly Seventeen liked to +mention the expensive hotels at which they had stayed. (A +meal counted as a stay.) Before they could question her +again Carol escorted in with drum and fife the topic of Raymie +Wutherspoon. Vida had news from her husband. He had +been gassed in the trenches, had been in a hospital for two +weeks, had been promoted to major, was learning French. + +She left Hugh with Aunt Bessie. + +But for Kennicott she would have taken him. She hoped +that in some miraculous way yet unrevealed she might find +it possible to remain in California. She did not want to see +Gopher Prairie again. + +The Smails were to occupy the Kennicott house, and quite +the hardest thing to endure in the month of waiting was the +series of conferences between Kennicott and Uncle Whittier +in regard to heating the garage and having the furnace flues +cleaned. + +Did Carol, Kennicott inquired, wish to stop in Minneapolis +to buy new clothes? + +"No! I want to get as far away as I can as soon as I can. +Let's wait till Los Angeles." + +"Sure, sure! Just as you like. Cheer up! We're going +to have a large wide time, and everything 'll be different when +we come back." + + +VI + + +Dusk on a snowy December afternoon. The sleeper which +would connect at Kansas City with the California train rolled +out of St. Paul with a chick-a-chick, chick-a-chick, chick-a- +chick as it crossed the other tracks. It bumped through the +factory belt, gained speed. Carol could see nothing but gray +fields, which had closed in on her all the way from Gopher +Prairie. Ahead was darkness. + +"For an hour, in Minneapolis, I must have been near Erik. +He's still there, somewhere. He'll be gone when I come back. +I'll never know where he has gone." + +As Kennicott switched on the seat-light she turned drearily +to the illustrations in a motion-picture magazine. + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV + +THEY journeyed for three and a half months. They saw the +Grand Canyon, the adobe walls of Sante Fe and, in a drive +from El Paso into Mexico, their first foreign land. They jogged +from San Diego and La Jolla to Los Angeles, Pasadena, Riverside, +through towns with bell-towered missions and orange- +groves; they viewed Monterey and San Francisco and a +forest of sequoias. They bathed in the surf and climbed +foothills and danced, they saw a polo game and the making of +motion-pictures, they sent one hundred and seventeen souvenir +post-cards to Gopher Prairie, and once, on a dune by a foggy +sea when she was walking alone, Carol found an artist, and he +looked up at her and said, "Too damned wet to paint; sit +down and talk," and so for ten minutes she lived in a romantic +novel. + +Her only struggle was in coaxing Kennicott not to spend +all his time with the tourists from the ten thousand other +Gopher Prairies. In winter, California is full of people from +Iowa and Nebraska, Ohio and Oklahoma, who, having traveled +thousands of miles from their familiar villages, hasten to secure +an illusion of not having left them. They hunt for people from +their own states to stand between them and the shame of naked +mountains; they talk steadily, in Pullmans, on hotel porches, +at cafeterias and motion-picture shows, about the motors and +crops and county politics back home. Kennicott discussed +land-prices with them, he went into the merits of the several +sorts of motor cars with them, he was intimate with train +porters, and he insisted on seeing the Luke Dawsons at their +flimsy bungalow in Pasadena, where Luke sat and yearned to +go back and make some more money. But Kennicott gave +promise of learning to play. He shouted in the pool at the +Coronado, and he spoke of (though he did nothing more radical +than speak of) buying evening-clothes. Carol was touched +by his efforts to enjoy picture galleries, and the dogged way in +which he accumulated dates and dimensions when they followed +monkish guides through missions. + +She felt strong. Whenever she was restless she dodged her +thoughts by the familiar vagabond fallacy of running away +from them, of moving on to a new place, and thus she persuaded +herself that she was tranquil. In March she willingly +agreed with Kennicott that it was time to go home. She was +longing for Hugh. + +They left Monterey on April first, on a day of high blue +skies and poppies and a summer sea. + +As the train struck in among the hills she resolved, "I'm +going to love the fine Will Kennicott quality that there is in +Gopher Prairie. The nobility of good sense. It will be sweet +to see Vida and Guy and the Clarks. And I'm going to see +my baby! All the words he'll be able to say now! It's a +new start. Everything will be different!" + +Thus on April first, among dappled hills and the bronze of +scrub oaks, while Kennicott seesawed on his toes and chuckled, +"Wonder what Hugh'll say when he sees us?" + +Three days later they reached Gopher Prairie in a sleet +storm. + + +II + + +No one knew that they were coming; no one met them; +and because of the icy roads, the only conveyance at the station +was the hotel 'bus, which they missed while Kennicott +was giving his trunk-check to the station agent--the only +person to welcome them. Carol waited for him in the station, +among huddled German women with shawls and umbrellas, and +ragged-bearded farmers in corduroy coats; peasants mute as +oxen, in a room thick with the steam of wet coats, the reek +of the red-hot stove, the stench of sawdust boxes which served +as cuspidors. The afternoon light was as reluctant as a winter +dawn. + +"This is a useful market-center, an interesting pioneer post, +but it is not a home for me," meditated the stranger Carol. + +Kennicott suggested, "I'd 'phone for a flivver but it'd take +quite a while for it to get here. Let's walk." + +They stepped uncomfortably from the safety of the plank +platform and, balancing on their toes, taking cautious strides, +ventured along the road. The sleety rain was turning to snow. +The air was stealthily cold. Beneath an inch of water was a +layer of ice, so that as they wavered with their suit-cases they +slid and almost fell. The wet snow drenched their gloves; the +water underfoot splashed their itching ankles. They scuffled +inch by inch for three blocks. In front of Harry Haydock's +Kennicott sighed: + +"We better stop in here and 'phone for a machine." + +She followed him like a wet kitten. + +The Haydocks saw them laboring up the slippery concrete +walk, up the perilous front steps, and came to the door +chanting: + +"Well, well, well, back again, eh? Say, this is fine! Have +a fine trip? My, you look like a rose, Carol. How did you +like the coast, doc? Well, well, well! Where-all did you +go?" + +But as Kennicott began to proclaim the list of places +achieved, Harry interrupted with an account of how much +he himself had seen, two years ago. When Kennicott boasted, +"We went through the mission at Santa Barbara," Harry +broke in, "Yeh, that's an interesting old mission. Say, I'll +never forget that hotel there, doc. It was swell. Why, the +rooms were made just like these old monasteries. Juanita +and I went from Santa Barbara to San Luis Obispo. You folks +go to San Luis Obispo?" + +"No, but----" + +"Well you ought to gone to San Luis Obispo. And then +we went from there to a ranch, least they called it a ranch----" + +Kennicott got in only one considerable narrative, which +began: + +"Say, I never knew--did you, Harry?--that in the Chicago +district the Kutz Kar sells as well as the Overland? I never +thought much of the Kutz. But I met a gentleman on the +train--it was when we were pulling out of Albuquerque, and +I was sitting on the back platform of the observation car, +and this man was next to me and he asked me for a light, +and we got to talking, and come to find out, he came from +Aurora, and when he found out I came from Minnesota he +asked me if I knew Dr. Clemworth of Red Wing, and of course, +while I've never met him, I've heard of Clemworth lots of +times, and seems he's this man's brother! Quite a coincidence! +Well, we got to talking, and we called the porter--that was a +pretty good porter on that car--and we had a couple bottles +of ginger ale, and I happened to mention the Kutz Kar, and +this man--seems he's driven a lot of different kinds of cars-- +he's got a Franklin now--and he said that he'd tried the Kutz +and liked it first-rate. Well, when we got into a station-- +I don't remember the name of it--Carrie, what the deuce +was the name of that first stop we made the other side of +Albuquerque?--well, anyway, I guess we must have stopped +there to take on water, and this man and I got out to stretch +our legs, and darned if there wasn't a Kutz drawn right up +at the depot platform, and he pointed out something I'd never +noticed, and I was glad to learn about it: seems that the gear +lever in the Kutz is an inch longer----" + +Even this chronicle of voyages Harry interrupted, with +remarks on the advantages of the ball-gear-shift. + +Kennicott gave up hope of adequate credit for being a +traveled man, and telephoned to a garage for a Ford taxicab, +while Juanita kissed Carol and made sure of being the first +to tell the latest, which included seven distinct and proven +scandals about Mrs. Swiftwaite, and one considerable doubt as +to the chastity of Cy Bogart. + +They saw the Ford sedan making its way over the water- +lined ice, through the snow-storm, like a tug-boat in a fog. +The driver stopped at a corner. The car skidded, it turned +about with comic reluctance, crashed into a tree, and stood +tilted on a broken wheel. + +The Kennicotts refused Harry Haydock's not too urgent +offer to take them home in his car "if I can manage to get +it out of the garage--terrible day--stayed home from the +store--but if you say so, I'll take a shot at it." Carol gurgled, +"No, I think we'd better walk; probably make better time, and +I'm just crazy to see my baby." With their suit-cases they +waddled on. Their coats were soaked through. + +Carol had forgotten her facile hopes. She looked about +with impersonal eyes. But Kennicott, through rain-blurred +lashes, caught the glory that was Back Home. + +She noted bare tree-trunks, black branches, the spongy +brown earth between patches of decayed snow on the lawns. +The vacant lots were full of tall dead weeds. Stripped of +summer leaves the houses were hopeless--temporary shelters. + +Kennicott chuckled, "By golly, look down there! Jack Elder +must have painted his garage. And look! Martin Mahoney +has put up a new fence around his chicken yard. Say, that's +a good fence, eh? Chicken-tight and dog-tight. That's +certainly a dandy fence. Wonder how much it cost a yard? +Yes, sir, they been building right along, even in winter. Got +more enterprise than these Californians. Pretty good to be +home, eh?" + +She noted that all winter long the citizens had been throwing +garbage into their back yards, to be cleaned up in spring. The +recent thaw had disclosed heaps of ashes, dog-bones, torn +bedding, clotted paint-cans, all half covered by the icy pools +which filled the hollows of the yards. The refuse had stained +the water to vile colors of waste: thin red, sour yellow, streaky +brown. + +Kennicott chuckled, "Look over there on Main Street! +They got the feed store all fixed up, and a new sign on it, +black and gold. That'll improve the appearance of the block +a lot." + +She noted that the few people whom they passed wore their +raggedest coats for the evil day. They were scarecrows in a +shanty town. . . . "To think," she marveled, "of coming +two thousand miles, past mountains and cities, to get off here, +and to plan to stay here! What conceivable reason for +choosing this particular place?" + +She noted a figure in a rusty coat and a cloth cap. + +Kennicott chuckled, "Look who's coming! It's Sam Clark! +Gosh, all rigged out for the weather." + +The two men shook hands a dozen times and, in the +Western fashion, bumbled, "Well, well, well, well, you old +hell-hound, you old devil, how are you, anyway? You old +horse-thief, maybe it ain't good to see you again!" While Sam +nodded at her over Kennicott's shoulder, she was embarrassed. + +"Perhaps I should never have gone away. I'm out of +practise in lying. I wish they would get it over! Just a +block more and--my baby!" + +They were home. She brushed past the welcoming Aunt +Bessie and knelt by Hugh. As he stammered, "O mummy, +mummy, don't go away! Stay with me, mummy!" she cried, +"No, I'll never leave you again!" + +He volunteered, "That's daddy." + +"By golly, he knows us just as if we'd never been away!" +said Kennicott. "You don't find any of these California kids +as bright as he is, at his age!" + +When the trunk came they piled about Hugh the bewhiskered +little wooden men fitting one inside another, the miniature junk, +and the Oriental drum, from San Francisco Chinatown; the +blocks carved by the old Frenchman in San Diego; the lariat +from San Antonio. + +"Will you forgive mummy for going away? Will you?" +she whispered. + +Absorbed in Hugh, asking a hundred questions about him-- +had he had any colds? did he still dawdle over his oatmeal? +what about unfortunate morning incidents? she viewed Aunt +Bessie only as a source of information, and was able to ignore +her hint, pointed by a coyly shaken finger, "Now that you've +had such a fine long trip and spent so much money and all, +I hope you're going to settle down and be satisfied and +not----" + +"Does he like carrots yet?" replied Carol. + +She was cheerful as the snow began to conceal the slatternly +yards. She assured herself that the streets of New York and +Chicago were as ugly as Gopher Prairie in such weather; she +dismissed the thought, "But they do have charming interiors +for refuge." She sang as she energetically looked over Hugh's clothes. + +The afternoon grew old and dark. Aunt Bessie went home. +Carol took the baby into her own room. The maid came in +complaining, "I can't get no extra milk to make chipped beef +for supper." Hugh was sleepy, and he had been spoiled by +Aunt Bessie. Even to a returned mother, his whining and +his trick of seven times snatching her silver brush were +fatiguing. As a background, behind the noises of Hugh +and the kitchen, the house reeked with a colorless stillness. + +From the window she heard Kennicott greeting the Widow +Bogart as he had always done, always, every snowy evening: +"Guess this 'll keep up all night." She waited. There they +were, the furnace sounds, unalterable, eternal: removing ashes, +shoveling coal. + +Yes. She was back home! Nothing had changed. She +had never been away. California? Had she seen it? Had she +for one minute left this scraping sound of the small shovel in +the ash-pit of the furnace? But Kennicott preposterously +supposed that she had. Never had she been quite so far from +going away as now when he believed she had just come back. +She felt oozing through the walls the spirit of small houses and +righteous people. At that instant she knew that in running +away she had merely hidden her doubts behind the officious +stir of travel. + +"Dear God, don't let me begin agonizing again!" she sobbed. +Hugh wept with her. + +"Wait for mummy a second!" She hastened down to the +cellar, to Kennicott. + +He was standing before the furnace. However inadequate +the rest of the house, he had seen to it that the fundamental +cellar should be large and clean, the square pillars whitewashed, +and the bins for coal and potatoes and trunks convenient. A +glow from the drafts fell on the smooth gray cement floor at +his feet. He was whistling tenderly, staring at the furnace +with eyes which saw the black-domed monster as a symbol +of home and of the beloved routine to which he had returned-- +his gipsying decently accomplished, his duty of viewing +"sights" and "curios" performed with thoroughness. +Unconscious of her, he stooped and peered in at the blue flames +among the coals. He closed the door briskly, and made a +whirling gesture with his right hand, out of pure bliss. + +He saw her. "Why, hello, old lady! Pretty darn good to +be back, eh?" + +"Yes," she lied, while she quaked, "Not now. I can't face +the job of explaining now. He's been so good. He trusts +me. And I'm going to break his heart!" + +She smiled at him. She tidied his sacred cellar by throwing +an empty bluing bottle into the trash bin. She mourned, "It's +only the baby that holds me. If Hugh died----" She fled +upstairs in panic and made sure that nothing had happened to +Hugh in these four minutes. + +She saw a pencil-mark on a window-sill. She had made it +on a September day when she had been planning a picnic for +Fern Mullins and Erik. Fern and she had been hysterical with +nonsense, had invented mad parties for all the coming winter. +She glanced across the alley at the room which Fern had +occupied. A rag of a gray curtain masked the still window. + +She tried to think of some one to whom she wanted to +telephone. There was no one. + +The Sam Clarks called that evening and encouraged her to +describe the missions. A dozen times they told her how glad +they were to have her back. + +"It is good to be wanted," she thought. "It will drug me. +But---- Oh, is all life, always, an unresolved But?" + + + +CHAPTER XXXV + +SHE tried to be content, which was a contradiction in terms. +She fanatically cleaned house all April. She knitted a sweater +for Hugh. She was diligent at Red Cross work. She was +silent when Vida raved that though America hated war as much +as ever, we must invade Germany and wipe out every man, +because it was now proven that there was no soldier in the +German army who was not crucifying prisoners and cutting off +babies' hands. + +Carol was volunteer nurse when Mrs. Champ Perry suddenly +died of pneumonia. + +In her funeral procession were the eleven people left out +of the Grand Army and the Territorial Pioneers, old men and +women, very old and weak, who a few decades ago had been +boys and girls of the frontier, riding broncos through the rank +windy grass of this prairie. They hobbled behind a band made +up of business men and high-school boys, who straggled along +without uniforms or ranks or leader, trying to play Chopin's +Funeral March--a shabby group of neighbors with grave eyes, +stumbling through the slush under a solemnity of faltering +music. + +Champ was broken. His rheumatism was worse. The rooms +over the store were silent. He could not do his work as buyer +at the elevator. Farmers coming in with sled-loads of wheat +complained that Champ could not read the scale, that he +seemed always to be watching some one back in the darkness +of the bins. He was seen slipping through alleys, talking +to himself, trying to avoid observation, creeping at last to the +cemetery. Once Carol followed him and found the coarse, +tobacco-stained, unimaginative old man lying on the snow of +the grave, his thick arms spread out across the raw mound +as if to protect her from the cold, her whom he had carefully +covered up every night for sixty years, who was alone there +now, uncared for. + +The elevator company, Ezra Stowbody president, let him go. +The company, Ezra explained to Carol, had no funds for +giving pensions. + +She tried to have him appointed to the postmastership, which, +since all the work was done by assistants, was the one sinecure +in town, the one reward for political purity. But it proved +that Mr. Bert Tybee, the former bartender, desired the postmastership. + +At her solicitation Lyman Cass gave Champ a warm berth +as night watchman. Small boys played a good many tricks +on Champ when he fell asleep at the mill. + + +II + + +She had vicarious happiness in the return of Major Raymond +Wutherspoon. He was well, but still weak from having been +gassed; he had been discharged and he came home as the +first of the war veterans. It was rumored that he surprised +Vida by coming unannounced, that Vida fainted when she saw +him, and for a night and day would not share him with the +town. When Carol saw them Vida was hazy about everything +except Raymie, and never went so far from him that she +could not slip her hand under his. Without understanding +why Carol was troubled by this intensity. And Raymie-- +surely this was not Raymie, but a sterner brother of his, this +man with the tight blouse, the shoulder emblems, the trim legs +in boots. His face seemed different, his lips more tight. He +was not Raymie; he was Major Wutherspoon; and Kennicott +and Carol were grateful when he divulged that Paris wasn't half +as pretty as Minneapolis, that all of the American soldiers had +been distinguished by their morality when on leave. Kennicott +was respectful as he inquired whether the Germans had good +aeroplanes, and what a salient was, and a cootie, and Going +West. + +In a week Major Wutherspoon was made full manager of the +Bon Ton. Harry Haydock was going to devote himself to the +half-dozen branch stores which he was establishing at crossroads +hamlets. Harry would be the town's rich man in the +coming generation, and Major Wutherspoon would rise with +him, and Vida was jubilant, though she was regretful at having +to give up most of her Red Cross work. Ray still needed +nursing, she explained. + +When Carol saw him with his uniform off, in a pepper-and +salt suit and a new gray felt hat, she was disappointed. He +was not Major Wutherspoon; he was Raymie + +For a month small boys followed him down the street, and +everybody called him Major, but that was presently shortened +to Maje, and the small boys did not look up from their marbles +as he went by. + + +III + + +The town was booming, as a result of the war price of wheat. + +The wheat money did not remain in the pockets of the +farmers; the towns existed to take care of all that. Iowa +farmers were selling their land at four hundred dollars an acre +and coming into Minnesota. But whoever bought or sold +or mortgaged, the townsmen invited themselves to the feast-- +millers, real-estate men, lawyers, merchants, and Dr. Will +Kennicott. They bought land at a hundred and fifty, sold it +next day at a hundred and seventy, and bought again. In +three months Kennicott made seven thousand dollars, which +was rather more than four times as much as society paid him +for healing the sick. + +In early summer began a "campaign of boosting." The +Commercial Club decided that Gopher Prairie was not only a +wheat-center but also the perfect site for factories, summer +cottages, and state institutions. In charge of the campaign was +Mr. James Blausser, who had recently come to town to +speculate in land. Mr. Blausser was known as a Hustler. He +liked to be called Honest Jim. He was a bulky, gauche, noisy, +humorous man, with narrow eyes, a rustic complexion, large +red hands, and brilliant clothes. He was attentive to all +women. He was the first man in town who had not been +sensitive enough to feel Carol's aloofness. He put his arm +about her shoulder while he condescended to Kennicott, "Nice +lil wifey, I'll say, doc," and when she answered, not warmly, +"Thank you very much for the imprimatur," he blew on her +neck, and did not know that he had been insulted. + +He was a layer-on of hands. He never came to the house +without trying to paw her. He touched her arm, let his fist +brush her side. She hated the man, and she was afraid of +him. She wondered if he had heard of Erik, and was taking +advantage. She spoke ill of him at home and in public places, +but Kennicott and the other powers insisted, "Maybe he is +kind of a roughneck, but you got to hand it to him; he's got +more git-up-and-git than any fellow that ever hit this burg. +And he's pretty cute, too. Hear what he said to old Ezra? +Chucked him in the ribs and said, `Say, boy, what do you +want to go to Denver for? Wait 'll I get time and I'll move +the mountains here. Any mountain will be tickled to death +to locate here once we get the White Way in!' " + +The town welcomed Mr. Blausser as fully as Carol snubbed +him. He was the guest of honor at the Commercial Club +Banquet at the Minniemashie House, an occasion for menus +printed in gold (but injudiciously proof-read), for free cigars, +soft damp slabs of Lake Superior whitefish served as fillet of +sole, drenched cigar-ashes gradually filling the saucers of coffee +cups, and oratorical references to Pep, Punch, Go, Vigor, +Enterprise, Red Blood, He-Men, Fair Women, God's Country, James +J. Hill, the Blue Sky, the Green Fields, the Bountiful Harvest, +Increasing Population, Fair Return on Investments, Alien +Agitators Who Threaten the Security of Our Institutions, the +Hearthstone the Foundation of the State, Senator Knute +Nelson, One Hundred Per Cent. Americanism, and Pointing +with Pride. + +Harry Haydock, as chairman, introduced Honest Jim +Blausser. "And I am proud to say, my fellow citizens, that +in his brief stay here Mr. Blausser has become my warm +personal friend as well as my fellow booster, and I advise you +all to very carefully attend to the hints of a man who knows +how to achieve." + +Mr. Blausser reared up like an elephant with a camel's neck +--red faced, red eyed, heavy fisted, slightly belching--a born +leader, divinely intended to be a congressman but deflected to +the more lucrative honors of real-estate. He smiled on his +warm personal friends and fellow boosters, and boomed: + +"I certainly was astonished in the streets of our lovely little +city, the other day. I met the meanest kind of critter that +God ever made--meaner than the horned toad or the Texas +lallapaluza! (Laughter.) And do you know what the animile +was? He was a knocker! (Laughter and applause.) + +"I want to tell you good people, and it's just as sure as +God made little apples, the thing that distinguishes our American +commonwealth from the pikers and tin-horns in other +countries is our Punch. You take a genuwine, honest-to-God +homo Americanibus and there ain't anything he's afraid to +tackle. Snap and speed are his middle name! He'll put her +across if he has to ride from hell to breakfast, and believe me, +I'm mighty good and sorry for the boob that's so unlucky as to +get in his way, because that poor slob is going to wonder where +he was at when Old Mr. Cyclone hit town! (Laughter.) + +"Now, frien's, there's some folks so yellow and small and +so few in the pod that they go to work and claim that those-- +of us that have the big vision are off our trolleys. They say +we can't make Gopher Prairie, God bless her! just as big as +Minneapolis or St. Paul or Duluth. But lemme tell you right +here and now that there ain't a town under the blue canopy +of heaven that's got a better chance to take a running jump +and go scooting right up into the two-hundred-thousand class +than little old G. P.! And if there's anybody that's got such +cold kismets that he's afraid to tag after Jim Blausser on the +Big Going Up, then we don't want him here! Way I figger it, +you folks are just patriotic enough so that you ain't going to +stand for any guy sneering and knocking his own town, no +matter how much of a smart Aleck he is--and just on the side +I want to add that this Farmers' Nonpartisan League and the +whole bunch of socialists are right in the same category, or, +as the fellow says, in the same scategory, meaning This Way +Out, Exit, Beat It While the Going's Good, This Means You, +for all knockers of prosperity and the rights of property! + +"Fellow citizens, there's a lot of folks, even right here in this +fair state, fairest and richest of all the glorious union, that +stand up on their hind legs and claim that the East and Europe +put it all over the golden Northwestland. Now let me nail +that lie right here and now. `Ah-ha,' says they, `so Jim +Blausser is claiming that Gopher Prairie is as good a place +to live in as London and Rome and--and all the rest of the Big +Burgs, is he? How does the poor fish know?' says they. Well +I'll tell you how I know! I've seen 'em! I've done Europe +from soup to nuts! They can't spring that stuff on Jim +Blausser and get away with it! And let me tell you that the +only live thing in Europe is our boys that are fighting there +now! London--I spent three days, sixteen straight hours a +day, giving London the once-over, and let me tell you that it's +nothing but a bunch of fog and out-of-date buildings that no +live American burg would stand for one minute. You may +not believe it, but there ain't one first-class skyscraper in the +whole works. And the same thing goes for that crowd of crabs +and snobs Down East, and next time you hear some zob +from Yahooville-on-the-Hudson chewing the rag and bulling +and trying to get your goat, you tell him that no two-fisted +enterprising Westerner would have New York for a gift! + +"Now the point of this is: I'm not only insisting that Gopher +Prairie is going to be Minnesota's pride, the brightest ray in the +glory of the North Star State, but also and furthermore that +it is right now, and still more shall be, as good a place to live +in, and love in, and bring up the Little Ones in, and it's got +as much refinement and culture, as any burg on the whole +bloomin' expanse of God's Green Footstool, and that goes, get +me, that goes!" + +Half an hour later Chairman Haydock moved a vote of +thanks to Mr. Blausser. + +The boosters' campaign was on. + +The town sought that efficient and modern variety of fame +which is known as "publicity." The band was reorganized, +and provided by the Commercial Club with uniforms of purple +and gold. The amateur baseball-team hired a semi-professional +pitcher from Des Moines, and made a schedule of games with +every town for fifty miles about. The citizens accompanied +it as "rooters," in a special car, with banners lettered "Watch +Gopher Prairie Grow," and with the band playing "Smile, +Smile, Smile." Whether the team won or lost the Dauntless +loyally shrieked, "Boost, Boys, and Boost Together--Put +Gopher Prairie on the Map--Brilliant Record of Our Matchless +Team." + +Then, glory of glories, the town put in a White Way. White +Ways were in fashion in the Middlewest. They were composed +of ornamented posts with clusters of high-powered electric +lights along two or three blocks on Main Street. The Dauntless +confessed: "White Way Is Installed--Town Lit Up Like +Broadway--Speech by Hon. James Blausser--Come On You +Twin Cities--Our Hat Is In the Ring." + +The Commercial Club issued a booklet prepared by a great +and expensive literary person from a Minneapolis advertising +agency, a red-headed young man who smoked cigarettes in a +long amber holder. Carol read the booklet with a certain +wonder. She learned that Plover and Minniemashie Lakes +were world-famed for their beauteous wooded shores and gamey +pike and bass not to be equalled elsewhere in the entire +country; that the residences of Gopher Prairie were models of +dignity, comfort, and culture, with lawns and gardens known +far and wide; that the Gopher Prairie schools and public +library, in its neat and commodious building, were celebrated +throughout the state; that the Gopher Prairie mills made the +best flour in the country; that the surrounding farm lands were +renowned, where'er men ate bread and butter, for their +incomparable No. 1 Hard Wheat and Holstein-Friesian cattle; +and that the stores in Gopher Prairie compared favorably with +Minneapolis and Chicago in their abundance of luxuries and +necessities and the ever-courteous attention of the skilled +clerks. She learned, in brief, that this was the one Logical +Location for factories and wholesale houses. + +"THERE'S where I want to go; to that model town Gopher +Prairie," said Carol. + +Kennicott was triumphant when the Commercial Club did +capture one small shy factory which planned to make wooden +automobile-wheels, but when Carol saw the promoter she could +not feel that his coming much mattered--and a year after, +when he failed, she could not be very sorrowful. + +Retired farmers were moving into town. The price of lots +had increased a third. But Carol could discover no more +pictures nor interesting food nor gracious voices nor amusing +conversation nor questing minds. She could, she asserted, +endure a shabby but modest town; the town shabby and +egomaniac she could not endure. She could nurse Champ +Perry, and warm to the neighborliness of Sam Clark, but she +could not sit applauding Honest Jim Blausser. Kennicott had +begged her, in courtship days, to convert the town to beauty. +If it was now as beautiful as Mr. Blausser and the Dauntless +said, then her work was over, and she could go. + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI + +KENNICOTT was not so inhumanly patient that he could continue +to forgive Carol's heresies, to woo her as he had on the +venture to California. She tried to be inconspicuous, but she +was betrayed by her failure to glow over the boosting. +Kennicott believed in it; demanded that she say patriotic +things about the White Way and the new factory. He snorted, +"By golly, I've done all I could, and now I expect you to +play the game. Here you been complaining for years about +us being so poky, and now when Blausser comes along and does +stir up excitement and beautify the town like you've always +wanted somebody to, why, you say he's a roughneck, and you +won't jump on the band-wagon." + +Once, when Kennicott announced at noon-dinner, "What do +you know about this! They say there's a chance we may +get another factory--cream-separator works!" he added, "You +might try to look interested, even if you ain't!" The baby +was frightened by the Jovian roar; ran wailing to hide his +face in Carol's lap; and Kennicott had to make himself humble +and court both mother and child. The dim injustice of not +being understood even by his son left him irritable. He felt +injured. + +An event which did not directly touch them brought down +his wrath. + +In the early autumn, news came from Wakamin that the +sheriff had forbidden an organizer for the National +Nonpartisan League to speak anywhere in the county. The +organizer had defied the sheriff, and announced that in a few +days he would address a farmers' political meeting. That +night, the news ran, a mob of a hundred business men led by +the sheriff--the tame village street and the smug village faces +ruddled by the light of bobbing lanterns, the mob flowing +between the squatty rows of shops--had taken the organizer +from his hotel, ridden him on a fence-rail, put him on a +freight train, and warned him not to return. + +The story was threshed out in Dave Dyer's drug store, with +Sam Clark, Kennicott, and Carol present. + +"That's the way to treat those fellows--only they ought +to have lynched him!" declared Sam, and Kennicott and Dave +Dyer joined in a proud "You bet!" + +Carol walked out hastily, Kennicott observing her. + +Through supper-time she knew that he was bubbling and +would soon boil over. When the baby was abed, and they sat +composedly in canvas chairs on the porch, he experimented; +"I had a hunch you thought Sam was kind of hard on that +fellow they kicked out of Wakamin." + +"Wasn't Sam rather needlessly heroic?" + +"All these organizers, yes, and a whole lot of the German +and Squarehead farmers themselves, they're seditious as the +devil--disloyal, non-patriotic, pro-German pacifists, that's +what they are!" + +"Did this organizer say anything pro-German?" + +"Not on your life! They didn't give him a chance!" His +laugh was stagey. + +"So the whole thing was illegal--and led by the sheriff! +Precisely how do you expect these aliens to obey your law if +the officer of the law teaches them to break it? Is it a new +kind of logic?" + +"Maybe it wasn't exactly regular, but what's the odds? +They knew this fellow would try to stir up trouble. Whenever +it comes right down to a question of defending Americanism +and our constitutional rights, it's justifiable to set aside +ordinary procedure." + +"What editorial did he get that from?" she wondered, as +she protested, "See here, my beloved, why can't you Tories +declare war honestly? You don't oppose this organizer because +you think he's seditious but because you're afraid that +the farmers he is organizing will deprive you townsmen of the +money you make out of mortgages and wheat and shops. +Of course, since we're at war with Germany, anything that any +one of us doesn't like is `pro-German,' whether it's business +competition or bad music. If we were fighting England, +you'd call the radicals `pro-English.' When this war is over, +I suppose you'll be calling them `red anarchists.' What an +eternal art it is--such a glittery delightful art--finding hard +names for our opponents! How we do sanctify our efforts to +keep them from getting the holy dollars we want for ourselves! +The churches have always done it, and the political orators-- +and I suppose I do it when I call Mrs. Bogart a `Puritan' and +Mr. Stowbody a `capitalist.' But you business men are going +to beat all the rest of us at it, with your simple-hearted, +energetic, pompous----" + +She got so far only because Kennicott was slow in shaking +off respect for her. Now he bayed: + +"That'll be about all from you! I've stood for your sneering +at this town, and saying how ugly and dull it is. I've stood +for your refusing to appreciate good fellows like Sam. I've +even stood for your ridiculing our Watch Gopher Prairie Grow +campaign. But one thing I'm not going to stand: I'm not +going to stand my own wife being seditious. You can camouflage +all you want to, but you know darn well that these +radicals, as you call 'em, are opposed to the war, and let me +tell you right here and now, and you and all these long-haired +men and short-haired women can beef all you want to, but +we're going to take these fellows, and if they ain't patriotic, +we're going to make them be patriotic. And--Lord knows +I never thought I'd have to say this to my own wife--but if +you go defending these fellows, then the same thing applies to +you! Next thing, I suppose you'll be yapping about free +speech. Free speech! There's too much free speech and free +gas and free beer and free love and all the rest of your damned +mouthy freedom, and if I had my way I'd make you folks live +up to the established rules of decency even if I had to take +you----" + +"Will!" She was not timorous now. "Am I pro-German +if I fail to throb to Honest Jim Blausser, too? Let's have my +whole duty as a wife!" + +He was grumbling, "The whole thing's right in line with +the criticism you've always been making. Might have known +you'd oppose any decent constructive work for the town or +for----" + +"You're right. All I've done has been in line. I don't +belong to Gopher Prairie. That isn't meant as a +condemnation of Gopher Prairie, and it may be a condemnation +of me. All right! I don't care! I don't belong here, and +I'm going. I'm not asking permission any more. I'm simply +going." + +He grunted. "Do you mind telling me, if it isn't too much +trouble, how long you're going for?" + +"I don't know. Perhaps for a year. Perhaps for a lifetime." + +"I see. Well, of course, I'll be tickled to death to sell out +my practise and go anywhere you say. Would you like to have +me go with you to Paris and study art, maybe, and wear +velveteen pants and a woman's bonnet, and live on spaghetti?" + +"No, I think we can save you that trouble. You don't +quite understand. I am going--I really am--and alone! I've +got to find out what my work is----" + +"Work? Work? Sure! That's the whole trouble with +you! You haven't got enough work to do. If you had five +kids and no hired girl, and had to help with the chores and +separate the cream, like these farmers' wives, then you wouldn't +be so discontented." + +"I know. That's what most men--and women--like you +WOULD say. That's how they would explain all I am and all +I want. And I shouldn't argue with them. These business +men, from their crushing labors of sitting in an office seven +hours a day, would calmly recommend that I have a dozen +children. As it happens, I've done that sort of thing. There've +been a good many times when we hadn't a maid, and I did +all the housework, and cared for Hugh, and went to Red Cross, +and did it all very efficiently. I'm a good cook and a good +sweeper, and you don't dare say I'm not!" + +"N-no, you're----" + +"But was I more happy when I was drudging? I was not. +I was just bedraggled and unhappy. It's work--but not my +work. I could run an office or a library, or nurse and teach +children. But solitary dish-washing isn't enough to satisfy me +--or many other women. We're going to chuck it. We're +going to wash 'em by machinery, and come out and play with +you men in the offices and clubs and politics you've cleverly +kept for yourselves! Oh, we're hopeless, we dissatisfied +women! Then why do you want to have us about the place, +to fret you? So it's for your sake that I'm going!" + +"Of course a little thing like Hugh makes no difference!" + +"Yes, all the difference. That's why I'm going to take him +with me." + +"Suppose I refuse?" + +"You won't!" + +Forlornly, "Uh---- Carrie, what the devil is it you want, +anyway?" + +"Oh, conversation! No, it's much more than that. I think +it's a greatness of life--a refusal to be content with even the +healthiest mud." + +"Don't you know that nobody ever solved a problem by +running away from it?" + +"Perhaps. Only I choose to make my own definition of +`running away' I don't call---- Do you realize how big a +world there is beyond this Gopher Prairie where you'd keep +me all my life? It may be that some day I'll come back, but +not till I can bring something more than I have now. And +even if I am cowardly and run away--all right, call it cowardly, +call me anything you want to! I've been ruled too long by +fear of being called things. I'm going away to be quiet and +think. I'm--I'm going! I have a right to my own life." + +"So have I to mine!" + +"Well?" + +"I have a right to my life--and you're it, you're my life! +You've made yourself so. I'm damned if I'll agree to all your +freak notions, but I will say I've got to depend on you. Never +thought of that complication, did you, in this `off to Bohemia, +and express yourself, and free love, and live your own life' +stuff!" + +"You have a right to me if you can keep me. Can you?" + +He moved uneasily. + + +II + + +For a month they discussed it. They hurt each other very +much, and sometimes they were close to weeping, and invariably +he used banal phrases about her duties and she used phrases +quite as banal about freedom, and through it all, her discovery +that she really could get away from Main Street was as sweet +as the discovery of love. Kennicott never consented definitely. +At most he agreed to a public theory that she was "going to +take a short trip and see what the East was like in wartime." + +She set out for Washington in October--just before the +war ended. + +She had determined on Washington because it was less +intimidating than the obvious New York, because she hoped to +find streets in which Hugh could play, and because in the stress +of war-work, with its demand for thousands of temporary +clerks, she could be initiated into the world of offices. + +Hugh was to go with her, despite the wails and rather +extensive comments of Aunt Bessie. + +She wondered if she might not encounter Erik in the East +but it was a chance thought, soon forgotten. + + +III + + +The last thing she saw on the station platform was Kennicott, +faithfully waving his hand, his face so full of uncomprehending +loneliness that he could not smile but only twitch up +his lips. She waved to him as long as she could, and when +he was lost she wanted to leap from the vestibule and run +back to him. She thought of a hundred tendernesses she had +neglected. + +She had her freedom, and it was empty. The moment was +not the highest of her life, but the lowest and most desolate, +which was altogether excellent, for instead of slipping downward +she began to climb. + +She sighed, "I couldn't do this if it weren't for Will's +kindness, his giving me money." But a second after: "I wonder +how many women would always stay home if they had the +money?" + +Hugh complained, "Notice me, mummy!" He was beside +her on the red plush seat of the day-coach; a boy of three +and a half. "I'm tired of playing train. Let's play something +else. Let's go see Auntie Bogart." + +"Oh, NO! Do you really like Mrs. Bogart?" + +"Yes. She gives me cookies and she tells me about the +Dear Lord. You never tell me about the Dear Lord. Why +don't you tell me about the Dear Lord? Auntie Bogart says +I'm going to be a preacher. Can I be a preacher? Can +I preach about the Dear Lord?" + +"Oh, please wait till my generation has stopped rebelling +before yours starts in!" + +"What's a generation?" + +"It's a ray in the illumination of the spirit." + +"That's foolish." He was a serious and literal person, and +rather humorless. She kissed his frown, and marveled: + +"I am running away from my husband, after liking a +Swedish ne'er-do-well and expressing immoral opinions, just +as in a romantic story. And my own son reproves me because +I haven't given him religious instruction. But the story +doesn't go right. I'm neither groaning nor being dramatically +saved. I keep on running away, and I enjoy it. I'm mad +with joy over it. Gopher Prairie is lost back there in the +dust and stubble, and I look forward----" + +She continued it to Hugh: "Darling, do you know what +mother and you are going to find beyond the blue horizon +rim?" + +"What?" flatly. + +"We're going to find elephants with golden howdahs from +which peep young maharanees with necklaces of rubies, and a +dawn sea colored like the breast of a dove, and a white and +green house filled with books and silver tea-sets." + +"And cookies?" + +"Cookies? Oh, most decidedly cookies. We've had enough +of bread and porridge. We'd get sick on too many cookies, +but ever so much sicker on no cookies at all." + +"That's foolish." + +"It is, O male Kennicott!" + +"Huh!" said Kennicott II, and went to sleep on her shoulder. + + +IV + +The theory of the Dauntless regarding Carol's absence: + +Mrs. Will Kennicott and son Hugh left on No. 24 on Saturday +last for a stay of some months in Minneapolis Chicago New +York, and Washington. Mrs. Kennicott confided to Ye Scribe +that she will be connected with one of the multifarious war activities +now centering in the Nation's Capital for a brief period before +returning. Her countless friends who appreciate her splendid labors +with the local Red Cross realize how valuable she will be to any +war board with which she chooses to become connected. Gopher +Prairie thus adds another shining star to its service flag and +without wishing to knock any neighboring communities, we would +like to know any town of anywheres near our size in the state +that has such a sterling war record. Another reason why you'd +better Watch Gopher Prairie Grow. + + * * * + +Mr. and Mrs. David Dyer, Mrs. Dyer's sister, Mrs. Jennie Dayborn +of Jackrabbit, and Dr. Will Kennicott drove to Minniemashie +on Tuesday for a delightful picnic. + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII + +I + +SHE found employment in the Bureau of War Risk Insurance. +Though the armistice with Germany was signed a few weeks +after her coming to Washington, the work of the bureau continued. +She filed correspondence all day; then she dictated +answers to letters of inquiry. It was an endurance of +monotonous details, yet she asserted that she had found "real work." + +Disillusions she did have. She discovered that in the +afternoon, office routine stretches to the grave. She discovered that +an office is as full of cliques and scandals as a Gopher Prairie +She discovered that most of the women in the government +bureaus lived unhealthfully, dining on snatches in their +crammed apartments. But she also discovered that business +women may have friendships and enmities as frankly as men +and may revel in a bliss which no housewife attains--a free +Sunday. It did not appear that the Great World needed her +inspiration, but she felt that her letters, her contact with +the anxieties of men and women all over the country, were +a part of vast affairs, not confined to Main Street and a kitchen +but linked with Paris, Bangkok, Madrid. + +She perceived that she could do office work without losing +any of the putative feminine virtue of domesticity; that cooking +and cleaning, when divested of the fussing of an Aunt +Bessie, take but a tenth of the time which, in a Gopher +Prairie, it is but decent to devote to them. + +Not to have to apologize for her thoughts to the Jolly +Seventeen, not to have to report to Kennicott at the end of the +day all that she had done or might do, was a relief which made +up for the office weariness. She felt that she was no longer +one-half of a marriage but the whole of a human being. + + +II + + +Washington gave her all the graciousness in which she had +had faith: white columns seen across leafy parks, spacious +avenues, twisty alleys. Daily she passed a dark square house +with a hint of magnolias and a courtyard behind it, and a tall +curtained second-story window through which a woman was +always peering. The woman was mystery, romance, a story +which told itself differently every day; now she was a +murderess, now the neglected wife of an ambassador. It was +mystery which Carol had most lacked in Gopher Prairie, where +every house was open to view, where every person was but +too easy to meet, where there were no secret gates opening +upon moors over which one might walk by moss-deadened +paths to strange high adventures in an ancient garden. + +As she flitted up Sixteenth Street after a Kreisler recital, +given late in the afternoon for the government clerks, as the +lamps kindled in spheres of soft fire, as the breeze flowed into +the street, fresh as prairie winds and kindlier, as she glanced +up the elm alley of Massachusetts Avenue, as she was rested +by the integrity of the Scottish Rite Temple, she loved the +city as she loved no one save Hugh. She encountered negro +shanties turned into studios, with orange curtains and pots of +mignonette; marble houses on New Hampshire Avenue, with +butlers and limousines; and men who looked like fictional +explorers and aviators. Her days were swift, and she knew that +in her folly of running away she had found the courage to +be wise. + +She had a dispiriting first month of hunting lodgings in the +crowded city. She had to roost in a hall-room in a moldy +mansion conducted by an indignant decayed gentlewoman, +and leave Hugh to the care of a doubtful nurse. But later +she made a home. + + +III + + +Her first acquaintances were the members of the Tincomb +Methodist Church, a vast red-brick tabernacle. Vida Sherwin +had given her a letter to an earnest woman with eye-glasses, +plaid silk waist, and a belief in Bible Classes, who introduced +her to the Pastor and the Nicer Members of Tincomb. Carol +recognized in Washington as she had in California a transplanted +and guarded Main Street. Two-thirds of the church- +members had come from Gopher Prairies. The church was +their society and their standard; they went to Sunday service, +Sunday School, Christian Endeavor, missionary lectures, church +suppers, precisely as they had at home; they agreed that +ambassadors and flippant newspapermen and infidel scientists of +the bureaus were equally wicked and to be avoided; and by +cleaving to Tincomb Church they kept their ideals from all +contamination. + +They welcomed Carol, asked about her husband, gave her +advice regarding colic in babies, passed her the gingerbread +and scalloped potatoes at church suppers, and in general made +her very unhappy and lonely, so that she wondered if she +might not enlist in the militant suffrage organization and be +allowed to go to jail. + +Always she was to perceive in Washington (as doubtless she +would have perceived in New York or London) a thick streak +of Main Street. The cautious dullness of a Gopher Prairie +appeared in boarding-houses where ladylike bureau-clerks +gossiped to polite young army officers about the movies; a +thousand Sam Clarks and a few Widow Bogarts were to be +identified in the Sunday motor procession, in theater parties, and +at the dinners of State Societies, to which the emigres from +Texas or Michigan surged that they might confirm themselves +in the faith that their several Gopher Prairies were notoriously +"a whole lot peppier and chummier than this stuck-up East." + +But she found a Washington which did not cleave to Main +Street. + +Guy Pollock wrote to a cousin, a temporary army captain, a +confiding and buoyant lad who took Carol to tea-dances, and +laughed, as she had always wanted some one to laugh, about +nothing in particular. The captain introduced her to the +secretary of a congressman, a cynical young widow with many +acquaintances in the navy. Through her Carol met commanders +and majors, newspapermen, chemists and geographers and fiscal +experts from the bureaus, and a teacher who was a familiar +of the militant suffrage headquarters. The teacher took her +to headquarters. Carol never became a prominent suffragist. +Indeed her only recognized position was as an able addresser +of envelopes. But she was casually adopted by this family +of friendly women who, when they were not being mobbed or +arrested, took dancing lessons or went picnicking up the +Chesapeake Canal or talked about the politics of the American +Federation of Labor. + +With the congressman's secretary and the teacher Carol +leased a small flat. Here she found home, her own place and +her own people. She had, though it absorbed most of her +salary, an excellent nurse for Hugh. She herself put him to +bed and played with him on holidays. There were walks with +him, there were motionless evenings of reading, but chiefly +Washington was associated with people, scores of them, sitting +about the flat, talking, talking, talking, not always wisely but +always excitedly. It was not at all the "artist's studio" of +which, because of its persistence in fiction, she had dreamed. +Most of them were in offices all day, and thought more in +card-catalogues or statistics than in mass and color. But they +played, very simply, and they saw no reason why anything +which exists cannot also be acknowledged. + +She was sometimes shocked quite as she had shocked Gopher +Prairie by these girls with their cigarettes and elfish knowledge. +When they were most eager about soviets or canoeing, she +listened, longed to have some special learning which would +distinguish her, and sighed that her adventure had come so +late. Kennicott and Main Street had drained her self-reliance; +the presence of Hugh made her feel temporary. Some day-- +oh, she'd have to take him back to open fields and the right +to climb about hay-lofts. + +But the fact that she could never be eminent among these +scoffing enthusiasts did not keep her from being proud of +them, from defending them in imaginary conversations with +Kennicott, who grunted (she could hear his voice), "They're +simply a bunch of wild impractical theorists sittin' round +chewing the rag," and "I haven't got the time to chase after +a lot of these fool fads; I'm too busy putting aside a stake for +our old age." + +Most of the men who came to the flat, whether they were +army officers or radicals who hated the army, had the easy +gentleness, the acceptance of women without embarrassed +banter, for which she had longed in Gopher Prairie. Yet they +seemed to be as efficient as the Sam Clarks. She concluded +that it was because they were of secure reputation, not hemmed +in by the fire of provincial jealousies. Kennicott had asserted +that the villager's lack of courtesy is due to his poverty. +"We're no millionaire dudes," he boasted. Yet these army +and navy men, these bureau experts, and organizers of +multitudinous leagues, were cheerful on three or four thousand a +year, while Kennicott had, outside of his land speculations, +six thousand or more, and Sam had eight. + +Nor could she upon inquiry learn that many of this reckless +race died in the poorhouse. That institution is reserved for +men like Kennicott who, after devoting fifty years to "putting +aside a stake," incontinently invest the stake in spurious oil- +stocks. + + +IV + + +She was encouraged to believe that she had not been +abnormal in viewing Gopher Prairie as unduly tedious and +slatternly. She found the same faith not only in girls escaped +from domesticity but also in demure old ladies who, tragically +deprived of esteemed husbands and huge old houses, yet +managed to make a very comfortable thing of it by living in +small flats and having time to read. + +But she also learned that by comparison Gopher Prairie +was a model of daring color, clever planning, and frenzied +intellectuality. From her teacher-housemate she had a sardonic +description of a Middlewestern railroad-division town, of the +same size as Gopher Prairie but devoid of lawns and trees, a +town where the tracks sprawled along the cinder-scabbed +Main Street, and the railroad shops, dripping soot from eaves +and doorway, rolled out smoke in greasy coils. + +Other towns she came to know by anecdote: a prairie village +where the wind blew all day long, and the mud was two feet +thick in spring, and in summer the flying sand scarred new- +painted houses and dust covered the few flowers set out in +pots. New England mill-towns with the hands living in rows +of cottages like blocks of lava. A rich farming-center in New +Jersey, off the railroad, furiously pious, ruled by old men, +unbelievably ignorant old men, sitting about the grocery talking +of James G. Blaine. A Southern town, full of the magnolias +and white columns which Carol had accepted as proof of +romance, but hating the negroes, obsequious to the Old +Families. A Western mining-settlement like a tumor. A booming +semi-city with parks and clever architects, visited by +famous pianists and unctuous lecturers, but irritable from a +struggle between union labor and the manufacturers' association, +so that in even the gayest of the new houses there was a +ceaseless and intimidating heresy-hunt. + + +V + + +The chart which plots Carol's progress is not easy to read. +The lines are broken and uncertain of direction; often instead +of rising they sink in wavering scrawls; and the colors are +watery blue and pink and the dim gray of rubbed pencil +marks. A few lines are traceable. + +Unhappy women are given to protecting their sensitiveness +by cynical gossip, by whining, by high-church and new-thought +religions, or by a fog of vagueness. Carol had hidden in none +of these refuges from reality, but she, who was tender and +merry, had been made timorous by Gopher Prairie. Even her +flight had been but the temporary courage of panic. The +thing she gained in Washington was not information about +office-systems and labor unions but renewed courage, that +amiable contempt called poise. Her glimpse of tasks involving +millions of people and a score of nations reduced Main Street +from bloated importance to its actual pettiness. She could +never again be quite so awed by the power with which she +herself had endowed the Vidas and Blaussers and Bogarts. + +From her work and from her association with women who +had organized suffrage associations in hostile cities, or had +defended political prisoners, she caught something of an +impersonal attitude; saw that she had been as touchily personal +as Maud Dyer. + +And why, she began to ask, did she rage at individuals? Not +individuals but institutions are the enemies, and they most +afflict the disciples who the most generously serve them. They +insinuate their tyranny under a hundred guises and pompous +names, such as Polite Society, the Family, the Church, Sound +Business, the Party, the Country, the Superior White Race; +and the only defense against them, Carol beheld, is +unembittered laughter. + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII + +SHE had lived in Washington for a year. She was tired of the +office. It was tolerable, far more tolerable than housework, but +it was not adventurous. + +She was having tea and cinnamon toast, alone at a small +round table on the balcony of Rauscher's Confiserie. Four +debutantes clattered in. She had felt young and dissipated, +had thought rather well of her black and leaf-green suit, but +as she watched them, thin of ankle, soft under the chin, +seventeen or eighteen at most, smoking cigarettes with the correct +ennui and talking of "bedroom farces" and their desire to +"run up to New York and see something racy," she became +old and rustic and plain, and desirous of retreating from these +hard brilliant children to a life easier and more sympathetic. +When they flickered out and one child gave orders to a chauffeur, +Carol was not a defiant philosopher but a faded government +clerk from Gopher Prairie, Minnesota + +She started dejectedly up Connecticut Avenue. She stopped, +her heart stopped. Coming toward her were Harry and Juanita +Haydock. She ran to them, she kissed Juanita, while Harry +confided, "Hadn't expected to come to Washington--had to +go to New York for some buying--didn't have your address +along--just got in this morning--wondered how in the world +we could get hold of you." + +She was definitely sorry to hear that they were to leave at +nine that evening, and she clung to them as long as she could. +She took them to St. Mark's for dinner. Stooped, her elbows +on the table, she heard with excitement that "Cy Bogart had +the 'flu, but of course he was too gol-darn mean to die of it." + +"Will wrote me that Mr. Blausser has gone away. How did +he get on?" + +"Fine! Fine! Great loss to the town. There was a real +public-spirited fellow, all right!" + +She discovered that she now had no opinions whatever about +Mr. Blausser, and she said sympathetically, "Will you keep +up the town-boosting campaign?" + +Harry fumbled, "Well, we've dropped it just temporarily, +but--sure you bet! Say, did the doc write you about the +luck B. J. Gougerling had hunting ducks down in Texas?" + +When the news had been told and their enthusiasm had +slackened she looked about and was proud to be able to point +out a senator, to explain the cleverness of the canopied garden. +She fancied that a man with dinner-coat and waxed mustache +glanced superciliously at Harry's highly form-fitting bright- +brown suit and Juanita's tan silk frock, which was doubtful at +the seams. She glared back, defending her own, daring the +world not to appreciate them. + +Then, waving to them, she lost them down the long train +shed. She stood reading the list of stations: Harrisburg, +Pittsburg, Chicago. Beyond Chicago----? She saw the lakes +and stubble fields, heard the rhythm of insects and the creak +of a buggy, was greeted by Sam Clark's "Well, well, how's +the little lady?" + +Nobody in Washington cared enough for her to fret about +her sins as Sam did. + +But that night they had at the flat a man just back from +Finland. + + +II + + +She was on the Powhatan roof with the captain. At a table, +somewhat vociferously buying improbable "soft drinks" for +two fluffy girls, was a man with a large familiar back. + +"Oh! I think I know him," she murmured. + +"Who? There? Oh, Bresnahan, Percy Bresnahan." + +"Yes. You've met him? What sort of a man is he?" + +"He's a good-hearted idiot. I rather like him, and I believe +that as a salesman of motors he's a wonder. But he's a +nuisance in the aeronautic section. Tries so hard to be useful +but he doesn't know anything--he doesn't know anything. +Rather pathetic: rich man poking around and trying to be +useful. Do you want to speak to him?" + +"No--no--I don't think so." + + +III + + +She was at a motion-picture show. The film was a highly +advertised and abysmal thing smacking of simpering hair- +dressers, cheap perfume, red-plush suites on the back streets +of tenderloins, and complacent fat women chewing gum. It +pretended to deal with the life of studios. The leading man did +a portrait which was a masterpiece. He also saw visions in +pipe-smoke, and was very brave and poor and pure. He had +ringlets, and his masterpiece was strangely like an enlarged +photograph. + +Carol prepared to leave. + +On the screen, in the role of a composer, appeared an actor +called Eric Valour. + +She was startled, incredulous, then wretched. Looking +straight out at her, wearing a beret and a velvet jacket, was +Erik Valborg. + +He had a pale part, which he played neither well nor badly. +She speculated, "I could have made so much of him----" +She did not finish her speculation. + +She went home and read Kennicott's letters. They had +seemed stiff and undetailed, but now there strode from them +a personality, a personality unlike that of the languishing +young man in the velvet jacket playing a dummy piano in a +canvas room. + + +IV + + +Kennicott first came to see her in November, thirteen months +after her arrival in Washington. When he announced that +he was coming she was not at all sure that she wished to +see him. She was glad that he had made the decision himself. + +She had leave from the office for two days. + +She watched him marching from the train, solid, assured, +carrying his heavy suit-case, and she was diffident--he was +such a bulky person to handle. They kissed each other +questioningly, and said at the same time, "You're looking fine; +how's the baby?" and "You're looking awfully well, dear; +how is everything?" + +He grumbled, "I don't want to butt in on any plans you've +made or your friends or anything, but if you've got time for +it, I'd like to chase around Washington, and take in some +restaurants and shows and stuff, and forget work for a while." + +She realized, in the taxicab, that he was wearing a soft +gray suit, a soft easy hat, a flippant tie. + +"Like the new outfit? Got 'em in Chicago. Gosh, I hope +they're the kind you like." + +They spent half an hour at the flat, with Hugh. She was +flustered, but he gave no sign of kissing her again. + +As he moved about the small rooms she realized that he +had had his new tan shoes polished to a brassy luster. There +was a recent cut on his chin. He must have shaved on the +train just before coming into Washington. + +It was pleasant to feel how important she was, how many +people she recognized, as she took him to the Capitol, as she +told him (he asked and she obligingly guessed) how many +feet it was to the top of the dome, as she pointed out Senator +LaFollette and the vice-president, and at lunch-time showed +herself an habitue by leading him through the catacombs to +the senate restaurant. + +She realized that he was slightly more bald. The familiar +way in which his hair was parted on the left side agitated +her. She looked down at his hands, and the fact that his nails +were as ill-treated as ever touched her more than his pleading +shoe-shine. + +"You'd like to motor down to Mount Vernon this afternoon, +wouldn't you?" she said. + +It was the one thing he had planned. He was delighted that +it seemed to be a perfectly well bred and Washingtonian thing +to do. + +He shyly held her hand on the way, and told her the news: +they were excavating the basement for the new schoolbuilding, +Vida "made him tired the way she always looked at the Maje," +poor Chet Dashaway had been killed in a motor accident out +on the Coast. He did not coax her to like him. At Mount +Vernon he admired the paneled library and Washington's +dental tools. + +She knew that he would want oysters, that he would have +heard of Harvey's apropos of Grant and Blaine, and she took +him there. At dinner his hearty voice, his holiday enjoyment +of everything, turned into nervousness in his desire to know +a number of interesting matters, such as whether they still were +married. But be did not ask questions, and be said nothing +about her returning. He cleared his throat and observed, "Oh +say, been trying out the old camera. Don't you think these +are pretty good?" + +He tossed over to her thirty prints of Gopher Prairie and +the country about. Without defense, she was thrown into it. +She remembered that he had lured her with photographs in +courtship days; she made a note of his sameness, his satisfaction +with the tactics which had proved good before; but she +forgot it in the familiar places. She was seeing the sun- +speckled ferns among birches on the shore of Minniemashie, +wind-rippled miles of wheat, the porch of their own house where +Hugh had played, Main Street where she knew every window +and every face. + +She handed them back, with praise for his photography, and +he talked of lenses and time-exposures. + +Dinner was over and they were gossiping of her friends at +the flat, but an intruder was with them, sitting back, persistent, +inescapable. She could not endure it. She stammered: + +"I had you check your bag at the station because I wasn't +quite sure where you'd stay. I'm dreadfully sorry we haven't +room to put you up at the flat. We ought to have seen about +a room for you before. Don't you think you better call up +the Willard or the Washington now?" + +He peered at her cloudily. Without words he asked, +without speech she answered, whether she was also going to the +Willard or the Washington. But she tried to look as though +she did not know that they were debating anything of the +sort. She would have hated him had he been meek about it. +But he was neither meek nor angry. However impatient he +may have been with her blandness he said readily: + +"Yes, guess I better do that. Excuse me a second. Then +how about grabbing a taxi (Gosh, isn't it the limit the way +these taxi shuffers skin around a corner? Got more nerve +driving than I have!) and going up to your flat for a while? +Like to meet your friends--must be fine women--and I might +take a look and see how Hugh sleeps. Like to know how he +breathes. Don't think he has adenoids, but I better make sure, +eh?" He patted her shoulder. + +At the flat they found her two housemates and a girl who +had been to jail for suffrage. Kennicott fitted in surprisingly. +He laughed at the girl's story of the humors of a hunger- +strike; he told the secretary what to do when her eyes were +tired from typing; and the teacher asked him--not as the husband +of a friend but as a physician--whether there was "anything +to this inoculation for colds." + +His colloquialisms seemed to Carol no more lax than their +habitual slang. + +Like an older brother he kissed her good-night in the midst +of the company. + +"He's terribly nice," said her housemates, and waited for +confidences. They got none, nor did her own heart. She could +find nothing definite to agonize about. She felt that she was +no longer analyzing and controlling forces, but swept on by +them. + +He came to the flat for breakfast, and washed the dishes. +That was her only occasion for spite. Back home he never +thought of washing dishes! + +She took him to the obvious "sights"--the Treasury, the +Monument, the Corcoran Gallery, the Pan-American Building, +the Lincoln Memorial, with the Potomac beyond it and the +Arlington hills and the columns of the Lee Mansion. For all +his willingness to play there was over him a melancholy which +piqued her. His normally expressionless eyes had depths to +them now, and strangeness. As they walked through Lafayette +Square, looking past the Jackson statue at the lovely tranquil +facade of the White House, he sighed, "I wish I'd had a shot +at places like this. When I was in the U., I had to earn part +of my way, and when I wasn't doing that or studying, I guess +I was roughhousing. My gang were a great bunch for +bumming around and raising Cain. Maybe if I'd been caught +early and sent to concerts and all that---- Would I have +been what you call intelligent?" + +"Oh, my dear, don't be humble! You are intelligent! For +instance, you're the most thorough doctor----" + +He was edging about something he wished to say. He +pounced on it: + +"You did like those pictures of G. P. pretty well, after all, +didn't you!" + +"Yes, of course." + +"Wouldn't be so bad to have a glimpse of the old town, +would it!" + +"No, it wouldn't. Just as I was terribly glad to see the +Haydocks. But please understand me! That doesn't mean +that I withdraw all my criticisms. The fact that I might like +a glimpse of old friends hasn't any particular relation to the +question of whether Gopher Prairie oughtn't to have festivals +and lamb chops." + +Hastily, "No, no! Sure not. I und'stand." + +"But I know it must have been pretty tiresome to have to +live with anybody as perfect as I was." + +He grinned. She liked his grin. + + +V + + +He was thrilled by old negro coachmen, admirals, aeroplanes, +the building to which his income tax would eventually go, a +Rolls-Royce, Lynnhaven oysters, the Supreme Court Room, +a New York theatrical manager down for the try-out of a play, +the house where Lincoln died, the cloaks of Italian officers, the +barrows at which clerks buy their box-lunches at noon, the +barges on the Chesapeake Canal, and the fact that District +of Columbia cars had both District and Maryland licenses. + +She resolutely took him to her favorite white and green +cottages and Georgian houses. He admitted that fanlights, and +white shutters against rosy brick, were more homelike than a +painty wooden box. He volunteered, "I see how you mean. +They make me think of these pictures of an old-fashioned +Christmas. Oh, if you keep at it long enough you'll have Sam +and me reading poetry and everything. Oh say, d' I tell you +about this fierce green Jack Elder's had his machine painted?" + + +VI + + +They were at dinner. + +He hinted, "Before you showed me those places today, +I'd already made up my mind that when I built the new house +we used to talk about, I'd fix it the way you wanted it. I'm +pretty practical about foundations and radiation and stuff like +that, but I guess I don't know a whole lot about architecture." + +"My dear, it occurs to me with a sudden shock that I don't +either!" + +"Well--anyway--you let me plan the garage and the plumbing, +and you do the rest, if you ever--I mean--if you ever +want to." + +Doubtfully, "That's sweet of you." + +"Look here, Carrie; you think I'm going to ask you to love +me. I'm not. And I'm not going to ask you to come back to +Gopher Prairie!" + +She gaped. + +"It's been a whale of a fight. But I guess I've got myself +to see that you won't ever stand G. P. unless you WANT to +come back to it. I needn't say I'm crazy to have you. But +I won't ask you. I just want you to know how I wait for you. +Every mail I look for a letter, and when I get one I'm kind of +scared to open it, I'm hoping so much that you're coming back. +Evenings---- You know I didn't open the cottage down at +the lake at all, this past summer. Simply couldn't stand all +the others laughing and swimming, and you not there. I used +to sit on the porch, in town, and I--I couldn't get over the +feeling that you'd simply run up to the drug store and would +be right back, and till after it got dark I'd catch myself +watching, looking up the street, and you never came, and the +house was so empty and still that I didn't like to go in. +And sometimes I fell asleep there, in my chair, and didn't +wake up till after midnight, and the house---- Oh, the devil! +Please get me, Carrie. I just want you to know how welcome +you'll be if you ever do come. But I'm not asking you to." + +"You're---- It's awfully----" + +"'Nother thing. I'm going to be frank. I haven't always +been absolutely, uh, absolutely, proper. I've always loved you +more than anything else in the world, you and the kid. But +sometimes when you were chilly to me I'd get lonely and +sore, and pike out and---- Never intended----" + +She rescued him with a pitying, "It's all right. Let's forget +it." + +"But before we were married you said if your husband +ever did anything wrong, you'd want him to tell you." + +"Did I? I can't remember. And I can't seem to think. Oh, +my dear, I do know how generously you're trying to make me +happy. The only thing is---- I can't think. I don't know +what I think." + +"Then listen! Don't think! Here's what I want you to +do! Get a two-weeks leave from your office. Weather's +beginning to get chilly here. Let's run down to Charleston +and Savannah and maybe Florida. + +"A second honeymoon?" indecisively. + +"No. Don't even call it that. Call it a second wooing. +I won't ask anything. I just want the chance to chase around +with you. I guess I never appreciated how lucky I was to +have a girl with imagination and lively feet to play with. +So---- Could you maybe run away and see the South with +me? If you wanted to, you could just--you could just pretend +you were my sister and---- I'll get an extra nurse for Hugh! +I'll get the best dog-gone nurse in Washington!" + + +VII + + +It was in the Villa Margherita, by the palms of the +Charleston Battery and the metallic harbor, that her aloofness +melted. + +When they sat on the upper balcony, enchanted by the +moon glitter, she cried, "Shall I go back to Gopher Prairie +with you? Decide for me. I'm tired of deciding and undeciding." + +"No. You've got to do your own deciding. As a matter of +fact, in spite of this honeymoon, I don't think I want you to +come home. Not yet." + +She could only stare. + +"I want you to be satisfied when you get there. I'll do +everything I can to keep you happy, but I'll make lots of +breaks, so I want you to take time and think it over." + +She was relieved. She still had a chance to seize splendid +indefinite freedoms. She might go--oh, she'd see Europe, somehow, +before she was recaptured. But she also had a firmer +respect for Kennicott. She had fancied that her life might +make a story. She knew that there was nothing heroic or +obviously dramatic in it, no magic of rare hours, nor valiant +challenge, but it seemed to her that she was of some +significance because she was commonplaceness, the ordinary life +of the age, made articulate and protesting. It had not occurred +to her that there was also a story of Will Kennicott, into which +she entered only so much as he entered into hers; that he +had bewilderments and concealments as intricate as her own, +and soft treacherous desires for sympathy. + +Thus she brooded, looking at the amazing sea, holding his +hand. + + +VIII + + +She was in Washington; Kennicott was in Gopher Prairie, +writing as dryly as ever about water-pipes and goose-hunting +and Mrs. Fageros's mastoid. + +She was talking at dinner to a generalissima of suffrage. +Should she return? + +The leader spoke wearily: + +"My dear, I'm perfectly selfish. I can't quite visualize the +needs of your husband, and it seems to me that your baby +will do quite as well in the schools here as in your barracks at +home." + +"Then you think I'd better not go back?" Carol sounded +disappointed. + +"It's more difficult than that. When I say that I'm selfish +I mean that the only thing I consider about women is whether +they're likely to prove useful in building up real political power +for women. And you? Shall I be frank? Remember when +I say `you' I don't mean you alone. I'm thinking of thousands +of women who come to Washington and New York and Chicago +every year, dissatisfied at home and seeking a sign in the +heavens--women of all sorts, from timid mothers of fifty in +cotton gloves, to girls just out of Vassar who organize strikes +in their own fathers' factories! All of you are more or less +useful to me, but only a few of you can take my place, because +I have one virtue (only one): I have given up father and +mother and children for the love of God. + +"Here's the test for you: Do you come to `conquer the +East,' as people say, or do you come to conquer yourself? + +"It's so much more complicated than any of you know--so +much more complicated than I knew when I put on Ground +Grippers and started out to reform the world. The final +complication in `conquering Washington' or `conquering New +York' is that the conquerors must beyond all things not +conquer! It must have been so easy in the good old days when +authors dreamed only of selling a hundred thousand volumes, +and sculptors of being feted in big houses, and even the +Uplifters like me had a simple-hearted ambition to be elected to +important offices and invited to go round lecturing. But we +meddlers have upset everything. Now the one thing that is +disgraceful to any of us is obvious success. The Uplifter who +is very popular with wealthy patrons can be pretty sure that +he has softened his philosophy to please them, and the author +who is making lots of money--poor things, I've heard 'em +apologizing for it to the shabby bitter-enders; I've seen 'em +ashamed of the sleek luggage they got from movie rights. + +"Do you want to sacrifice yourself in such a topsy-turvy +world, where popularity makes you unpopular with the people +you love, and the only failure is cheap success, and the only +individualist is the person who gives up all his individualism +to serve a jolly ungrateful proletariat which thumbs its nose at +him?" + +Carol smiled ingratiatingly, to indicate that she was indeed +one who desired to sacrifice, but she sighed, "I don't know; +I'm afraid I'm not heroic. I certainly wasn't out home. Why +didn't I do big effective----" + +"Not a matter of heroism. Matter of endurance. Your +Middlewest is double-Puritan--prairie Puritan on top of New +England Puritan; bluff frontiersman on the surface, but in its +heart it still has the ideal of Plymouth Rock in a sleet-storm. +There's one attack you can make on it, perhaps the only kind +that accomplishes much anywhere: you can keep on looking +at one thing after another in your home and church and bank, +and ask why it is, and who first laid down the law that it had +to be that way. If enough of us do this impolitely enough, +then we'll become civilized in merely twenty thousand years +or so, instead of having to wait the two hundred thousand +years that my cynical anthropologist friends allow. . . . +Easy, pleasant, lucrative home-work for wives: asking people +to define their jobs. That's the most dangerous doctrine I +know!" + +Carol was mediating, "I will go back! I will go on asking +questions. I've always done it, and always failed at it, and it's +all I can do. I'm going to ask Ezra Stowbody why he's +opposed to the nationalization of railroads, and ask Dave Dyer +why a druggist always is pleased when he's called `doctor,' +and maybe ask Mrs. Bogart why she wears a widow's veil that +looks like a dead crow." + +The woman leader straightened. "And you have one thing. +You have a baby to hug. That's my temptation. I dream of +babies--of a baby--and I sneak around parks to see them +playing. (The children in Dupont Circle are like a poppy- +garden.) And the antis call me `unsexed'!" + +Carol was thinking, in panic, "Oughtn't Hugh to have +country air? I won't let him become a yokel. I can guide +him away from street-corner loafing. . . . I think I can." + +On her way home: "Now that I've made a precedent, joined +the union and gone out on one strike and learned personal +solidarity, I won't be so afraid. Will won't always be resisting +my running away. Some day I really will go to Europe with +him. . .or without him. + +"I've lived with people who are not afraid to go to jail. +I could invite a Miles Bjornstam to dinner without being +afraid of the Haydocks. . .I think I could. + +"I'll take back the sound of Yvette Guilbert's songs and +Elman's violin. They'll be only the lovelier against the thrumming +of crickets in the stubble on an autumn day. + +"I can laugh now and be serene. . .I think I can." + +Though she should return, she said, she would not be utterly +defeated. She was glad of her rebellion. The prairie was no +longer empty land in the sun-glare; it was the living tawny +beast which she had fought and made beautiful by fighting; +and in the village streets were shadows of her desires and the +sound of her marching and the seeds of mystery and greatness. + + +IX + + +Her active hatred of Gopher Prairie had run out. She saw +it now as a toiling new settlement. With sympathy she +remembered Kennicott's defense of its citizens as "a lot of +pretty good folks, working hard and trying to bring up their +families the best they can." She recalled tenderly the young +awkwardness of Main Street and the makeshifts of the little +brown cottages; she pitied their shabbiness and isolation; had +compassion for their assertion of culture, even as expressed in +Thanatopsis papers, for their pretense of greatness, even as +trumpeted in "boosting." She saw Main Street in the dusty +prairie sunset, a line of frontier shanties with solemn lonely +people waiting for her, solemn and lonely as an old man who +has outlived his friends. She remembered that Kennicott and +Sam Clark had listened to her songs, and she wanted to run +to them and sing. + +"At last," she rejoiced, "I've come to a fairer attitude +toward the town. I can love it, now." + +She was, perhaps, rather proud of herself for having acquired +so much tolerance. + +She awoke at three in the morning, after a dream of being +tortured by Ella Stowbody and the Widow Bogart. + +"I've been making the town a myth. This is how people +keep up the tradition of the perfect home-town, the happy +boyhood, the brilliant college friends. We forget so. I've +been forgetting that Main Street doesn't think it's in the least +lonely and pitiful. It thinks it's God's Own Country. It isn't +waiting for me. It doesn't care." + +But the next evening she again saw Gopher Prairie as her +home, waiting for her in the sunset, rimmed round with +splendor. + +She did not return for five months more; five months +crammed with greedy accumulation of sounds and colors to +take back for the long still days. + +She had spent nearly two years in Washington. + +When she departed for Gopher Prairie, in June, her second +baby was stirring within her. + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX + +SHE wondered all the way home what her sensations would be. +She wondered about it so much that she had every sensation +she had imagined. She was excited by each familiar porch, +each hearty "Well, well!" and flattered to be, for a day, the +most important news of the community. She bustled about, +making calls. Juanita Haydock bubbled over their Washington +encounter, and took Carol to her social bosom. This ancient +opponent seemed likely to be her most intimate friend, for +Vida Sherwin, though she was cordial, stood back and watched +for imported heresies. + +In the evening Carol went to the mill. The mystical Om- +Om-Om of the dynamos in the electric-light plant behind the +mill was louder in the darkness. Outside sat the night watchman, +Champ Perry. He held up his stringy hands and +squeaked, "We've all missed you terrible." + +Who in Washington would miss her? + +Who in Washington could be depended upon like Guy +Pollock? When she saw him on the street, smiling as always, +he seemed an eternal thing, a part of her own self. + +After a week she decided that she was neither glad nor +sorry to be back. She entered each day with the matter-of-fact +attitude with which she had gone to her office in Washington. +It was her task; there would be mechanical details and +meaningless talk; what of it? + +The only problem which she had approached with emotion +proved insignificant. She had, on the train, worked herself +up to such devotion that she was willing to give up her own +room, to try to share all of her life with Kennicott. + +He mumbled, ten minutes after she had entered the house, +"Say, I've kept your room for you like it was. I've kind of +come round to your way of thinking. Don't see why folks +need to get on each other's nerves just because they're friendly. +Darned if I haven't got so I like a little privacy and mulling +things over by myself." + + +II + + +She had left a city which sat up nights to talk of universal +transition; of European revolution, guild socialism, free verse. +She had fancied that all the world was changing. + +She found that it was not. + +In Gopher Prairie the only ardent new topics were prohibition, +the place in Minneapolis where you could get whisky at +thirteen dollars a quart, recipes for home-made beer, the "high +cost of living," the presidential election, Clark's new car, and +not very novel foibles of Cy Bogart. Their problems were +exactly what they had been two years ago, what they had been +twenty years ago, and what they would be for twenty years +to come. With the world a possible volcano, the husbandmen +were plowing at the base of the mountain. A volcano does +occasionally drop a river of lava on even the best of agriculturists, +to their astonishment and considerable injury, but their +cousins inherit the farms and a year or two later go back to +the plowing. + +She was unable to rhapsodize much over the seven new +bungalows and the two garages which Kennicott had made to +seem so important. Her intensest thought about them was, +"Oh yes, they're all right I suppose." The change which she +did heed was the erection of the schoolbuilding, with its cheerful +brick walls, broad windows, gymnasium, classrooms for +agriculture and cooking. It indicated Vida's triumph, and it +stirred her to activity--any activity. She went to Vida with a +jaunty, "I think I shall work for you. And I'll begin at the +bottom." + +She did. She relieved the attendant at the rest-room for +an hour a day. Her only innovation was painting the pine +table a black and orange rather shocking to the Thanatopsis. +She talked to the farmwives and soothed their babies and was +happy. + +Thinking of them she did not think of the ugliness of Main +Street as she hurried along it to the chatter of the Jolly +Seventeen. + +She wore her eye-glasses on the street now. She was +beginning to ask Kennicott and Juanita if she didn't look young, +much younger than thirty-three. The eye-glasses pinched her +nose. She considered spectacles. They would make her seem +older, and hopelessly settled. No! She would not wear spec- +tacles yet. But she tried on a pair at Kennicott's office. They +really were much more comfortable. + + +III + + +Dr. Westlake, Sam Clark, Nat Hicks, and Del Snafflin were +talking in Del's barber shop. + +"Well, I see Kennicott's wife is taking a whirl at the rest- +room, now," said Dr. Westlake. He emphasized the "now." + +Del interrupted the shaving of Sam and, with his brush +dripping lather, he observed jocularly: + +"What'll she be up to next? They say she used to claim +this burg wasn't swell enough for a city girl like her, and +would we please tax ourselves about thirty-seven point nine and +fix it all up pretty, with tidies on the hydrants and statoos on +the lawns----" + +Sam irritably blew the lather from his lips, with milky +small bubbles, and snorted, "Be a good thing for most of us +roughnecks if we did have a smart woman to tell us how to +fix up the town. Just as much to her kicking as there was +to Jim Blausser's gassing about factories. And you can bet +Mrs. Kennicott is smart, even if she is skittish. Glad to see +her back." + +Dr. Westlake hastened to play safe. "So was I! So was I! +She's got a nice way about her, and she knows a good deal +about books, or fiction anyway. Of course she's like all the +rest of these women--not solidly founded--not scholarly-- +doesn't know anything about political economy--falls for every +new idea that some windjamming crank puts out. But she's +a nice woman. She'll probably fix up the rest-room, and the +rest-room is a fine thing, brings a lot of business to town. And +now that Mrs. Kennicott's been away, maybe she's got over +some of her fool ideas. Maybe she realizes that folks simply +laugh at her when she tries to tell us how to run everything." + +"Sure. She'll take a tumble to herself," said Nat Hicks, +sucking in his lips judicially. "As far as I'm concerned, I'll +say she's as nice a looking skirt as there is in town. But yow!" +His tone electrified them. "Guess she'll miss that Swede +Valborg that used to work for me! They was a pair! Talking +poetry and moonshine! If they could of got away with it, +they'd of been so darn lovey-dovey----" + +Sam Clark interrupted, "Rats, they never even thought +about making love, Just talking books and all that junk. +I tell you, Carrie Kennicott's a smart woman, and these smart +educated women all get funny ideas, but they get over 'em +after they've had three or four kids. You'll see her settled +down one of these days, and teaching Sunday School and +helping at sociables and behaving herself, and not trying to +butt into business and politics. Sure!" + +After only fifteen minutes of conference on her stockings, +her son, her separate bedroom, her music, her ancient interest +in Guy Pollock, her probable salary in Washington, and every +remark which she was known to have made since her return, +the supreme council decided that they would permit Carol +Kennicott to live, and they passed on to a consideration of +Nat Hicks's New One about the traveling salesman and the +old maid. + + +IV + + +For some reason which was totally mysterious to Carol, +Maud Dyer seemed to resent her return. At the Jolly Seventeen +Maud giggled nervously, "Well, I suppose you found +war-work a good excuse to stay away and have a swell time. +Juanita! Don't you think we ought to make Carrie tell us +about the officers she met in Washington?" + +They rustled and stared. Carol looked at them. Their +curiosity seemed natural and unimportant. + +"Oh yes, yes indeed, have to do that some day," she yawned. + +She no longer took Aunt Bessie Smail seriously enough to +struggle for independence. She saw that Aunt Bessie did not +mean to intrude; that she wanted to do things for all the +Kennicotts. Thus Carol hit upon the tragedy of old age, which +is not that it is less vigorous than youth, but that it is not +needed by youth; that its love and prosy sageness, so +important a few years ago, so gladly offered now, are rejected +with laughter. She divined that when Aunt Bessie came in +with a jar of wild-grape jelly she was waiting in hope of being +asked for the recipe. After that she could be irritated but she +could not be depressed by Aunt Bessie's simoom of questioning. + +She wasn't depressed even when she heard Mrs. Bogart +observe, "Now we've got prohibition it seems to me that the +next problem of the country ain't so much abolishing +cigarettes as it is to make folks observe the Sabbath and arrest +these law-breakers that play baseball and go to the movies +and all on the Lord's Day." + +Only one thing bruised Carol's vanity. Few people asked her +about Washington. They who had most admiringly begged +Percy Bresnahan for his opinions were least interested in her +facts. She laughed at herself when she saw that she had +expected to be at once a heretic and a returned hero; she was +very reasonable and merry about it; and it hurt just as much +as ever. + +Her baby, born in August, was a girl. Carol could not +decide whether she was to become a feminist leader or marry +a scientist or both, but did settle on Vassar and a tricolette +suit with a small black hat for her Freshman year. + + +VI + + +Hugh was loquacious at breakfast. He desired to give his +impressions of owls and F Street. + +"Don't make so much noise. You talk too much," growled +Kennicott. + +Carol flared. "Don't speak to him that way! Why don't +you listen to him? He has some very interesting things to +tell." + +"What's the idea? Mean to say you expect me to spend +all my time listening to his chatter?" + +"Why not?" + +"For one thing, he's got to learn a little discipline. Time +for him to start getting educated." + +"I've learned much more discipline, I've had much more +education, from him than he has from me." + +"What's this? Some new-fangled idea of raising kids you +got in Washington?" + +"Perhaps. Did you ever realize that children are people?" + +"That's all right. I'm not going to have him monopolizing +the conversation." + +"No, of course. We have our rights, too. But I'm going +to bring him up as a human being. He has just as many +thoughts as we have, and I want him to develop them, not +take Gopher Prairie's version of them. That's my biggest +work now--keeping myself, keeping you, from `educating' +him." + +"Well, let's not scrap about it. But I'm not going to have +him spoiled." + +Kennicott had forgotten it in ten minutes; and she forgot +it--this time. + + +VII + + +The Kennicotts and the Sam Clarks had driven north to a +duck-pass between two lakes, on an autumn day of blue and +copper. + +Kennicott had given her a light twenty-gauge shotgun. She +had a first lesson in shooting, in keeping her eyes open, not +wincing, understanding that the bead at the end of the barrel +really had something to do with pointing the gun. She was +radiant; she almost believed Sam when he insisted that it was +she who had shot the mallard at which they had fired together. + +She sat on the bank of the reedy lake and found rest in +Mrs. Clark's drawling comments on nothing. The brown dusk +was still. Behind them were dark marshes. The plowed acres +smelled fresh. The lake was garnet and silver. The voices of +the men, waiting for the last flight, were clear in the cool air. + +"Mark left!" sang Kennicott, in a long-drawn call. + +Three ducks were swooping down in a swift line. The guns +banged, and a duck fluttered. The men pushed their light +boat out on the burnished lake, disappeared beyond the reeds. +Their cheerful voices and the slow splash and clank of oars +came back to Carol from the dimness. In the sky a fiery plain +sloped down to a serene harbor. It dissolved; the lake was +white marble; and Kennicott was crying, "Well, old lady, how +about hiking out for home? Supper taste pretty good, eh?" + +"I'll sit back with Ethel," she said, at the car. + +It was the first time she had called Mrs. Clark by her given +name; the first time she had willingly sat back, a woman of +Main Street. + +"I'm hungry. It's good to be hungry," she reflected, as +they drove away. + +She looked across the silent fields to the west. She was +conscious of an unbroken sweep of land to the Rockies, to +Alaska, a dominion which will rise to unexampled greatness +when other empires have grown senile. Before that time, she +knew, a hundred generations of Carols will aspire and go down +in tragedy devoid of palls and solemn chanting, the humdrum +inevitable tragedy of struggle against inertia. + +"Let's all go to the movies tomorrow night. Awfully +exciting film," said Ethel Clark. + +"Well, I was going to read a new book but---- All right, +let's go," said Carol. + + +VIII + + +"They're too much for me," Carol sighed to Kennicott. +"I've been thinking about getting up an annual Community +Day, when the whole town would forget feuds and go out and +have sports and a picnic and a dance. But Bert Tybee +(why did you ever elect him mayor?)--he's kidnapped my idea. +He wants the Community Day, but he wants to have some +politician `give an address.' That's just the stilted sort of +thing I've tried to avoid. He asked Vida, and of course she +agreed with him." + +Kennicott considered the matter while he wound the clock +and they tramped up-stairs. + +"Yes, it would jar you to have Bert butting in," he said amiably. +"Are you going to do much fussing over this Community stunt? +Don't you ever get tired of fretting and stewing and experimenting?" + +"I haven't even started. Look!" She led him to the +nursery door, pointed at the fuzzy brown head of her daughter. +"Do you see that object on the pillow? Do you know what +it is? It's a bomb to blow up smugness. If you Tories were +wise, you wouldn't arrest anarchists; you'd arrest all these +children while they're asleep in their cribs. Think what that +baby will see and meddle with before she dies in the year 2000! +She may see an industrial union of the whole world, she may +see aeroplanes going to Mars." + +"Yump, probably be changes all right," yawned Kennicott. + +She sat on the edge of his bed while he hunted through his bureau +for a collar which ought to be there and persistently wasn't. + +"I'll go on, always. And I am happy. But this Community +Day makes me see how thoroughly I'm beaten." + +"That darn collar certainly is gone for keeps," muttered +Kennicott and, louder, "Yes, I guess you I didn't quite +catch what you said, dear." + +She patted his pillows, turned down his sheets, as she reflected: + +"But I have won in this: I've never excused my failures +by sneering at my aspirations, by pretending to have gone +beyond them. I do not admit that Main Street is as beautiful +as it should be! I do not admit that Gopher Prairie is +greater or more generous than Europe! I do not admit that +dish-washing is enough to satisfy all women! I may not have +fought the good fight, but I have kept the faith." + +"Sure. You bet you have," said Kennicott. "Well, good night. +Sort of feels to me like it might snow tomorrow. Have to +be thinking about putting up the storm-windows pretty soon. +Say, did you notice whether the girl put that screwdriver back?" + + + + + +End ofThe Project Gutenberg Etext of Main Street, by Sinclair Lewis + |