CHAPTER XXV

by Sinclair Lewis

　　"CARRIE'S all right. She's finicky, but she'll get over it. But I wishshe'd hurry up about it! What she can't understand is that a fellowpractising medicine in a small town like this has got to cut out thehighbrow stuff, and not spend all his time going to concerts andshining his shoes. (Not but what he might be just as good at all theseintellectual and art things as some other folks, if he had the timefor it!)" Dr. Will Kennicott was brooding in his office, during a freemoment toward the end of the summer afternoon. He hunched down in histilted desk-chair, undid a button of his shirt, glanced at the statenews in the back of the Journal of the American Medical Association,dropped the magazine, leaned back with his right thumb hooked in thearm-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 herto learn by and by that I won't be a parlor lizard. She says we tryto 'make her over.' Well, she's always trying to make me over, from aperfectly good M. D. into a damn poet with a socialist necktie! She'dhave a fit if she knew how many women would be willing to cuddle up toFriend Will and comfort him, if he'd give 'em the chance! There's stilla few dames that think the old man isn't so darn unattractive! I'mglad I've ducked all that woman-game since I've been married but----Beswitched if sometimes I don't feel tempted to shine up to some girl thathas sense enough to take life as it is; some frau that doesn't want totalk Longfellow all the time, but just hold my hand and say, 'You lookall in, honey. Take it easy, and don't try to talk.'"Carrie thinks she's such a whale at analyzing folks. Giving the townthe once-over. Telling us where we get off. Why, she'd simply turn upher toes and croak if she found out how much she doesn't know about thehigh old times a wise guy could have in this burg on the Q.T., if hewasn't faithful to his wife. But I am. At that, no matter what faultsshe's got, there's nobody here, no, nor in Minn'aplus either, that's asnice-looking and square and bright as Carrie. She ought to of been anartist or a writer or one of those things. But once she took a shot atliving here, she ought to stick by it. Pretty----Lord yes. But cold. Shesimply doesn't know what passion is. She simply hasn't got an -dea howhard it is for a full-blooded man to go on pretending to be satisfiedwith just being endured. It gets awful tiresome, having to feel like acriminal just because I'm normal. She's getting so she doesn't even carefor my kissing her. Well----"I guess I can weather it, same as I did earning my way through schooland getting started in practise. But I wonder how long I can stand beingan outsider in my own home?"He sat up at the entrance of Mrs. Dave Dyer. She slumped into a chairand gasped with the heat. He chuckled, "Well, well, Maud, this is fine.Where's the subscription-list? What cause do I get robbed for, thistrip?""I haven't any subscription-list, Will. I want to see youprofessionally.""And you a Christian Scientist? Have you given that up? What next? NewThought or Spiritualism?""No, I have not given it up!""Strikes me it's kind of a knock on the sisterhood, your coming to see adoctor!""No, it isn't. It's just that my faith isn't strong enough yet. So therenow! And besides, you ARE kind of consoling, Will. I mean as a man, notjust as a doctor. You're so strong and placid."He sat on the edge of his desk, coatless, his vest swinging open withthe thick gold line of his watch-chain across the gap, his hands in histrousers pockets, his big arms bent and easy. As she purred he cockedan interested eye. Maud Dyer was neurotic, religiocentric, faded; heremotions were moist, and her figure was unsystematic--splendid thighsand arms, with thick ankles, and a body that was bulgy in the wrongplaces. But her milky skin was delicious, her eyes were alive, herchestnut hair shone, and there was a tender slope from her ears to theshadowy place below her jaw.With unusual solicitude he uttered his stock phrase, "Well, what seemsto be the matter, Maud?""I've got such a backache all the time. I'm afraid the organic troublethat 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 oldfriends, I think your troubles are mostly imaginary. I can't reallyadvise you to have an examination."She flushed, looked out of the window. He was conscious that his voicewas not impersonal and even.She turned quickly. "Will, you always say my troubles are imaginary. Whycan't you be scientific? I've been reading an article about these newnerve-specialists, and they claim that lots of 'imaginary' ailments,yes, and lots of real pain, too, are what they call psychoses, and theyorder a change in a woman's way of living so she can get on a higherplane----""Wait! Wait! Whoa-up! Wait now! Don't mix up your Christian Science andyour psychology! They're two entirely different fads! You'll be mixingin socialism next! You're as bad as Carrie, with your 'psychoses.'Why, Good Lord, Maud, I could talk about neuroses and psychoses andinhibitions and repressions and complexes just as well as any damnspecialist, if I got paid for it, if I was in the city and had the nerveto charge the fees that those fellows do. If a specialist stung you fora hundred-dollar consultation-fee and told you to go to New York to duckDave's nagging, you'd do it, to save the hundred dollars! But you knowme--I'm your neighbor--you see me mowing the lawn--you figure I'm justa plug general practitioner. If I said, 'Go to New York,' Dave and youwould laugh your heads off and say, 'Look at the airs Will is puttingon. What does he think he is?'"As a matter of fact, you're right. You have a perfectly well-developedcase of repression of sex instinct, and it raises the old Ned with yourbody. What you need is to get away from Dave and travel, yes, and go toevery dog-gone kind of New Thought and Bahai and Swami and Hooptedoodlemeeting you can find. I know it, well 's you do. But how can I adviseit? Dave would be up here taking my hide off. I'm willing to be familyphysician and priest and lawyer and plumber and wet-nurse, but I drawthe line at making Dave loosen up on money. Too hard a job in weatherlike this! So, savvy, my dear? Believe it will rain if this heatkeeps----""But, Will, he'd never give it to me on my say-so. He'd never let mego 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! Butat home he pinches a nickel till the buffalo drips blood. I have to naghim for every single dollar.""Sure, I know, but it's your fight, honey. Keep after him. He'd simplyresent my butting in."He crossed over and patted her shoulder. Outside the window, beyond thefly-screen that was opaque with dust and cottonwood lint, Main Streetwas hushed except for the impatient throb of a standing motor car. Shetook his firm hand, pressed his knuckles against her cheek."O Will, Dave is so mean and little and noisy--the shrimp! You'reso calm. When he's cutting up at parties I see you standing back andwatching 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 thisevening 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 hisevening off from the store.""No. The clerk just got called to Corinth--mother sick. Dave will be inthe store till midnight. Oh, come on over. There's some lovely beer onthe ice, and we can sit and talk and be all cool and lazy. That wouldn'tbe wrong of us, WOULD it!""No, no, course it wouldn't be wrong. But still, oughtn't to----" He sawCarol, 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 andmachine-lace."Tell you, Maud: I'll drop in just for a minute, if I happen to becalled down that way.""If you'd like," demurely. "O Will, I just want comfort. I know you'reall married, and my, such a proud papa, and of course now----If I couldjust sit near you in the dusk, and be quiet, and forget Dave! You WILLcome?""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'llhave 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 morelife to her than Carol has. All my fault, anyway. Why can't I be morecagey, like Calibree and McGanum and the rest of the doctors? Oh, Iam, but Maud's such a demanding idiot. Deliberately bamboozling me intogoing up there tonight. Matter of principle: ought not to let her getaway 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 amessy-minded female like Maud Dyer--no, SIR! Though there's no need ofhurting her feelings. I may just drop in for a second, to tell her Ican't stay. All my fault anyway; ought never to have started in andjollied Maud along in the old days. If it's my fault, I've got no rightto punish Maud. I could just drop in for a second and then pretend Ihad a country call and beat it. Damn nuisance, though, having to fake upexcuses. Lord, why can't the women let you alone? Just because once ortwice, seven hundred million years ago, you were a poor fool, why can'tthey let you forget it? Maud's own fault. I'll stay strictly away. TakeCarrie to the movies, and forget Maud. . . . But it would be kind of hotat 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 saidsturdily and, as he said it, he would have given a good deal to knowwhether he was going.He was refreshed, as always, by the familiar windows and faces. Itrestored his soul to have Sam Clark trustingly bellow, "Better come downto the lake this evening and have a swim, doc. Ain't you going to openyour cottage at all, this summer? By golly, we miss you." He noted theprogress on the new garage. He had triumphed in the laying of everycourse of bricks; in them he had seen the growth of the town. His pridewas ushered back to its throne by the respectfulness of Oley Sundquist:"Evenin', doc! The woman is a lot better. That was swell medicine yougave 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, sealingwith gum a cut in the right front tire of the car, sprinkling the roadbefore the house. The hose was cool to his hands. As the bright arrowsfell with a faint puttering sound, a crescent of blackness was formed inthe 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 wasnear him, that she was important, that he was afraid of her disapproval;but he was content to be alone. When he had finished sprinkling hestrolled 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!" Kennicottwas upon his back, flapping his hands in the earnest effort to be aseal, thrilled by the strength with which his son kicked him. He slippedhis arm about Carol's shoulder; he went down to supper rejoicing that hewas cleansed of perilous stuff. While Carol was putting the baby tobed he sat on the front steps. Nat Hicks, tailor and roue, came to sitbeside him. Between waves of his hand as he drove off mosquitos, Natwhispered, "Say, doc, you don't feel like imagining you're a bacheldoreagain, and coming out for a Time tonight, do you?""As how?""You know this new dressmaker, Mrs. Swiftwaite?--swell dame withblondine hair? Well, she's a pretty good goer. Me and Harry Haydock aregoing 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 Harrybought. We're taking some beer, and some of the smoothest rye you everlaid 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 inthe coach?""No, but look here: The little Swiftwaite has a friend with her fromWinona, dandy looker and some gay bird, and Harry and me thought maybeyou'd like to sneak off for one evening.""No--no----""Rats now, doc, forget your everlasting dignity. You used to be a prettygood sport yourself, when you were foot-free."It may have been the fact that Mrs. Swiftwaite's friend remained toKennicott an ill-told rumor, it may have been Carol's voice, wistfulin the pallid evening as she sang to Hugh, it may have been natural andcommendable virtue, but certainly he was positive:"Nope. I'm married for keeps. Don't pretend to be any saint. Like toget out and raise Cain and shoot a few drinks. But a fellow owes aduty----Straight now, won't you feel like a sneak when you come back tothe 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 gamethat you always lose at. If you do lose, you feel foolish; and if youwin, as soon as you find out how little it is that you've been schemingfor, 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 ifthey knew everything that goes on behind their backs, eh, Nattie?""WOULD they! Say, boy! If the good wives knew what some of the boys getaway 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 longdrive, and then the lov-e-ly Swiftwaite's white hand mixing you a goodstiff highball!""Nope. Nope. Sorry. Guess I won't," grumbled Kennicott.He was glad that Nat showed signs of going. But he was restless. Heheard Carol on the stairs. "Come have a seat--have the whole earth!" heshouted 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 screenfixed."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 hereverything. I had to clean most of the silver myself. And Hugh was sobad all afternoon. He whined so. Poor soul, he was hot, but he did wearme 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 themovies! 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'mgoing to bring down my mattress. Come on! Keep the old man company.Can't tell--I might get scared of burglars. Lettin' little fellow likeme stay all alone by himself!""It's sweet of you to think of it, but I like my own room so much. Butyou go ahead and do it, dear. Why don't you sleep on the couch, insteadof putting your mattress on the floor? Well I believe I'll run in andread for just a second--want to look at the last Vogue--and then perhapsI'll go by-by. Unless you want me, dear? Of course if there's anythingyou 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 drugstore. 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 indifferentlyto speak to Mrs. Terry Gould. But his heart was racing, his stomachwas constricted. He walked more slowly. He reached Dave Dyer's yard. Heglanced in. On the porch, sheltered by a wild-grape vine, was thefigure of a woman in white. He heard the swing-couch creak as she sat upabruptly, peered, then leaned back and pretended to relax."Be nice to have some cool beer. Just drop in for a second," heinsisted, as he opened the Dyer gate.IIMrs. Bogart was calling upon Carol, protected by Aunt Bessie Smail."Have you heard about this awful woman that's supposed to have come hereto do dressmaking--a Mrs. Swiftwaite--awful peroxide blonde?" moanedMrs. Bogart. "They say there's some of the awfullest goings-on at herhouse--mere boys and old gray-headed rips sneaking in there eveningsand drinking licker and every kind of goings-on. We women can't neverrealize the carnal thoughts in the hearts of men. I tell you, eventhough I been acquainted with Will Kennicott almost since he was a mereboy, seems like, I wouldn't trust even him! Who knows what designin'women might tempt him! Especially a doctor, with women rushin' in to seehim at his office and all! You know I never hint around, but haven't youfelt that----"Carol was furious. "I don't pretend that Will has no faults. But onething 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 anotherwoman, I certainly hope he'd have spirit enough to do the tempting, andnot 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 everythought in his head so well that he couldn't hide anything even if hewanted to. Now this morning----He was out late, last night; he had togo see Mrs. Perry, who is ailing, and then fix a man's hand, and thismorning he was so quiet and thoughtful at breakfast and----" She leanedforward, breathed dramatically to the two perched harpies, "What do yousuppose he was thinking of?""What?" trembled Mrs. Bogart."Whether the grass needs cutting, probably! There, there! Don't mind mynaughtiness. I have some fresh-made raisin cookies for you."