Chapter 11

by William Dean Howells

　　"Yes. But you know I don't pretend to be an authority in such matters.As far as they go, I am always in the hands of your mother and youchildren.""I'm very sorry, sir. I had no idea I was over-ruling your judgment.I only wanted to spare you a formality that didn't seem quite anecessity yet. I'm very sorry," he said again, and this time with morecomprehensive regret. "I shouldn't like to have seemed remiss with aman who has been so considerate of me. They are all very good-natured.""I dare say," said Bromfield Corey, with the satisfaction which noelder can help feeling in disabling the judgment of a younger man,"that it won't be too late if I go down to your office with youto-morrow.""No, no. I didn't imagine your doing it at once, sir.""Ah, but nothing can prevent me from doing a thing when once I take thebit in my teeth," said the father, with the pleasure which men of weakwill sometimes take in recognising their weakness. "How does their newhouse get on?""I believe they expect to be in it before New Year.""Will they be a great addition to society?" asked Bromfield Corey, withunimpeachable seriousness."I don't quite know what you mean," returned the son, a little uneasily."Ah, I see that you do, Tom.""No one can help feeling that they are all people of good senseand--right ideas.""Oh, that won't do. If society took in all the people of right ideasand good sense, it would expand beyond the calling capacity of its mostactive members. Even your mother's social conscientiousness could notcompass it. Society is a very different sort of thing from good senseand right ideas. It is based upon them, of course, but the airy,graceful, winning superstructure which we all know demands differentqualities. Have your friends got these qualities,--which may be felt,but not defined?"The son laughed. "To tell you the truth, sir, I don't think they havethe most elemental ideas of society, as we understand it. I don'tbelieve Mrs. Lapham ever gave a dinner.""And with all that money!" sighed the father."I don't believe they have the habit of wine at table. I suspect thatwhen they don't drink tea and coffee with their dinner, they drinkice-water.""Horrible!" said Bromfield Corey."It appears to me that this defines them.""Oh yes. There are people who give dinners, and who are notcognoscible. But people who have never yet given a dinner, how issociety to assimilate them?""It digests a great many people," suggested the young man."Yes; but they have always brought some sort of sauce piquante withthem. Now, as I understand you, these friends of yours have no suchsauce.""Oh, I don't know about that!" cried the son."Oh, rude, native flavours, I dare say. But that isn't what I mean.Well, then, they must spend. There is no other way for them to wintheir way to general regard. We must have the Colonel elected to theTen O'clock Club, and he must put himself down in the list of thosewilling to entertain. Any one can manage a large supper. Yes, I see agleam of hope for him in that direction."In the morning Bromfield Corey asked his son whether he should findLapham at his place as early as eleven."I think you might find him even earlier. I've never been there beforehim. I doubt if the porter is there much sooner.""Well, suppose I go with you, then?""Why, if you like, sir," said the son, with some deprecation."Oh, the question is, will HE like?""I think he will, sir;" and the father could see that his son was verymuch pleased.Lapham was rending an impatient course through the morning's news whenthey appeared at the door of his inner room. He looked up from thenewspaper spread on the desk before him, and then he stood up, makingan indifferent feint of not knowing that he knew Bromfield Corey bysight."Good morning, Colonel Lapham," said the son, and Lapham waited for himto say further, "I wish to introduce my father." Then he answered,"Good morning," and added rather sternly for the elder Corey, "How doyou do, sir? Will you take a chair?" and he pushed him one.They shook hands and sat down, and Lapham said to his subordinate,"Have a seat;" but young Corey remained standing, watching them intheir observance of each other with an amusement which was a littleuneasy. Lapham made his visitor speak first by waiting for him to doso."I'm glad to make your acquaintance, Colonel Lapham, and I ought tohave come sooner to do so. My father in your place would have expectedit of a man in my place at once, I believe. But I can't feel myselfaltogether a stranger as it is. I hope Mrs. Lapham is well? And yourdaughter?""Thank you," said Lapham, "they're quite well.""They were very kind to my wife----""Oh, that was nothing!" cried Lapham. "There's nothing Mrs. Laphamlikes better than a chance of that sort. Mrs. Corey and the youngladies well?""Very well, when I heard from them. They're out of town.""Yes, so I understood," said Lapham, with a nod toward the son. "Ibelieve Mr. Corey, here, told Mrs. Lapham." He leaned back in hischair, stiffly resolute to show that he was not incommoded by theexchange of these civilities."Yes," said Bromfield Corey. "Tom has had the pleasure which I hopefor of seeing you all. I hope you're able to make him useful to youhere?" Corey looked round Lapham's room vaguely, and then out at theclerks in their railed enclosure, where his eye finally rested on anextremely pretty girl, who was operating a type-writer."Well, sir," replied Lapham, softening for the first time with thisapproach to business, "I guess it will be our own fault if we don't. Bythe way, Corey," he added, to the younger man, as he gathered up someletters from his desk, "here's something in your line. Spanish orFrench, I guess.""I'll run them over," said Corey, taking them to his desk.His father made an offer to rise."Don't go," said Lapham, gesturing him down again. "I just wanted toget him away a minute. I don't care to say it to his face,--I don'tlike the principle,--but since you ask me about it, I'd just as liefsay that I've never had any young man take hold here equal to your son.I don't know as you care.""You make me very happy," said Bromfield Corey. "Very happy indeed.I've always had the idea that there was something in my son, if hecould only find the way to work it out. And he seems to have gone intoyour business for the love of it.""He went to work in the right way, sir! He told me about it. He lookedinto it. And that paint is a thing that will bear looking into.""Oh yes. You might think he had invented it, if you heard himcelebrating it.""Is that so?" demanded Lapham, pleased through and through. "Well,there ain't any other way. You've got to believe in a thing before youcan put any heart in it. Why, I had a partner in this thing once,along back just after the war, and he used to be always wanting totinker with something else. 'Why,' says I, 'you've got the best thingin God's universe now. Why ain't you satisfied?' I had to get rid ofhim at last. I stuck to my paint, and that fellow's drifted roundpretty much all over the whole country, whittling his capital down allthe while, till here the other day I had to lend him some money tostart him new. No, sir, you've got to believe in a thing. And Ibelieve in your son. And I don't mind telling you that, so far as he'sgone, he's a success.""That's very kind of you.""No kindness about it. As I was saying the other day to a friend ofmine, I've had many a fellow right out of the street that had to workhard all his life, and didn't begin to take hold like this son ofyours."Lapham expanded with profound self-satisfaction. As he probablyconceived it, he had succeeded in praising, in a perfectly casual way,the supreme excellence of his paint, and his own sagacity andbenevolence; and here he was sitting face to face with Bromfield Corey,praising his son to him, and receiving his grateful acknowledgments asif he were the father of some office-boy whom Lapham had given a placehalf but of charity."Yes, sir, when your son proposed to take hold here, I didn't have muchfaith in his ideas, that's the truth. But I had faith in him, and Isaw that he meant business from the start. I could see it was born inhim. Any one could.""I'm afraid he didn't inherit it directly from me," said BromfieldCorey; "but it's in the blood, on both sides." "Well, sir, we can'thelp those things," said Lapham compassionately. "Some of us have gotit, and some of us haven't. The idea is to make the most of what weHAVE got.""Oh yes; that is the idea. By all means.""And you can't ever tell what's in you till you try. Why, when Istarted this thing, I didn't more than half understand my own strength.I wouldn't have said, looking back, that I could have stood the wearand tear of what I've been through. But I developed as I went along.It's just like exercising your muscles in a gymnasium. You can lifttwice or three times as much after you've been in training a month asyou could before. And I can see that it's going to be just so withyour son. His going through college won't hurt him,--he'll soon sloughall that off,--and his bringing up won't; don't be anxious about it. Inoticed in the army that some of the fellows that had the most go-aheadwere fellows that hadn't ever had much more to do than girls before thewar broke out. Your son will get along.""Thank you," said Bromfield Corey, and smiled--whether because hisspirit was safe in the humility he sometimes boasted, or because it wastriply armed in pride against anything the Colonel's kindness could do."He'll get along. He's a good business man, and he's a fine fellow.MUST you go?" asked Lapham, as Bromfield Corey now rose moreresolutely. "Well, glad to see you. It was natural you should want tocome and see what he was about, and I'm glad you did. I should havefelt just so about it. Here is some of our stuff," he said, pointingout the various packages in his office, including the Persis Brand."Ah, that's very nice, very nice indeed," said his visitor. "Thatcolour through the jar--very rich--delicious. Is Persis Brand a name?"Lapham blushed."Well, Persis is. I don't know as you saw an interview that fellowpublished in the Events a while back?""What is the Events?""Well, it's that new paper Witherby's started.""No," said Bromfield Corey, "I haven't seen it. I read The Daily," heexplained; by which he meant The Daily Advertiser, the only daily thereis in the old-fashioned Bostonian sense."He put a lot of stuff in my mouth that I never said," resumed Lapham;"but that's neither here nor there, so long as you haven't seen it.Here's the department your son's in," and he showed him the foreignlabels. Then he took him out into the warehouse to see the largepackages. At the head of the stairs, where his guest stopped to nod tohis son and say "Good-bye, Tom," Lapham insisted upon going down to thelower door with him "Well, call again," he said in hospitabledismissal. "I shall always be glad to see you. There ain't a greatdeal doing at this season." Bromfield Corey thanked him, and let hishand remain perforce in Lapham's lingering grasp. "If you ever like toride after a good horse----" the Colonel began."Oh, no, no, no; thank you! The better the horse, the more I should bescared. Tom has told me of your driving!""Ha, ha, ha!" laughed the Colonel. "Well! every one to his taste.Well, good morning, sir!" and he suffered him to go."Who is the old man blowing to this morning?" asked Walker, thebook-keeper, making an errand to Corey's desk."My father.""Oh! That your father? I thought he must be one of your Italiancorrespondents that you'd been showing round, or Spanish."In fact, as Bromfield Corey found his way at his leisurely pace upthrough the streets on which the prosperity of his native city wasfounded, hardly any figure could have looked more alien to its life.He glanced up and down the facades and through the crooked vistas likea stranger, and the swarthy fruiterer of whom he bought an apple,apparently for the pleasure of holding it in his hand, was notsurprised that the purchase should be transacted in his own tongue.Lapham walked back through the outer office to his own room withoutlooking at Corey, and during the day he spoke to him only of businessmatters. That must have been his way of letting Corey see that he wasnot overcome by the honour of his father's visit. But he presentedhimself at Nantasket with the event so perceptibly on his mind that hiswife asked: "Well, Silas, has Rogers been borrowing any more money ofyou? I don't want you should let that thing go too far. You've doneenough.""You needn't be afraid. I've seen the last of Rogers for one while."He hesitated, to give the fact an effect of no importance. "Corey'sfather called this morning.""Did he?" said Mrs. Lapham, willing to humour his feint ofindifference. "Did HE want to borrow some money too?" "Not as Iunderstood." Lapham was smoking at great ease, and his wife had somecrocheting on the other side of the lamp from him.The girls were on the piazza looking at the moon on the water again."There's no man in it to-night," Penelope said, and Irene laughedforlornly."What DID he want, then?" asked Mrs. Lapham."Oh, I don't know. Seemed to be just a friendly call. Said he oughtto have come before."Mrs. Lapham was silent a while. Then she said: "Well, I hope you'resatisfied now."Lapham rejected the sympathy too openly offered. "I don't know aboutbeing satisfied. I wa'n't in any hurry to see him."His wife permitted him this pretence also. "What sort of a person ishe, anyway?""Well, not much like his son. There's no sort of business about him.I don't know just how you'd describe him. He's tall; and he's gotwhite hair and a moustache; and his fingers are very long and limber.I couldn't help noticing them as he sat there with his hands on the topof his cane. Didn't seem to be dressed very much, and acted just likeanybody. Didn't talk much. Guess I did most of the talking. Said hewas glad I seemed to be getting along so well with his son. He askedafter you and Irene; and he said he couldn't feel just like a stranger.Said you had been very kind to his wife. Of course I turned it off.Yes," said Lapham thoughtfully, with his hands resting on his knees,and his cigar between the fingers of his left hand, "I guess he meantto do the right thing, every way. Don't know as I ever saw a muchpleasanter man. Dunno but what he's about the pleasantest man I everdid see." He was not letting his wife see in his averted face thestruggle that revealed itself there--the struggle of stalwartachievement not to feel flattered at the notice of sterile elegance,not to be sneakingly glad of its amiability, but to stand up and lookat it with eyes on the same level. God, who made us so much likehimself, but out of the dust, alone knows when that struggle will end.The time had been when Lapham could not have imagined any worldlysplendour which his dollars could not buy if he chose to spend them forit; but his wife's half discoveries, taking form again in his ignoranceof the world, filled him with helpless misgiving. A cloudy vision ofsomething unpurchasable, where he had supposed there was nothing, hadcowed him in spite of the burly resistance of his pride."I don't see why he shouldn't be pleasant," said Mrs. Lapham. "He'snever done anything else."Lapham looked up consciously, with an uneasy laugh. "Pshaw, Persis!you never forget anything?""Oh, I've got more than that to remember. I suppose you asked him toride after the mare?""Well," said Lapham, reddening guiltily, "he said he was afraid of agood horse.""Then, of course, you hadn't asked him." Mrs. Lapham crocheted insilence, and her husband leaned back in his chair and smoked.At last he said, "I'm going to push that house forward. They'reloafing on it. There's no reason why we shouldn't be in it byThanksgiving. I don't believe in moving in the dead of winter.""We can wait till spring. We're very comfortable in the old place,"answered his wife. Then she broke out on him: "What are you in such ahurry to get into that house for? Do you want to invite the Coreys to ahouse-warming?"Lapham looked at her without speaking."Don't you suppose I can see through you I declare, Silas Lapham, if Ididn't know different, I should say you were about the biggest fool!Don't you know ANYthing? Don't you know that it wouldn't do to askthose people to our house before they've asked us to theirs? They'dlaugh in our faces!""I don't believe they'd laugh in our faces. What's the differencebetween our asking them and their asking us?" demanded the Colonelsulkily."Oh, well! If you don t see!""Well, I DON'T see. But I don't want to ask them to the house. Isuppose, if I want to, I can invite him down to a fish dinner atTaft's."Mrs. Lapham fell back in her chair, and let her work drop in her lapwith that "Tckk!" in which her sex knows how to express utter contemptand despair."What's the matter?""Well, if you DO such a thing, Silas, I'll never speak to you again!It's no USE! It's NO use! I did think, after you'd behaved so wellabout Rogers, I might trust you a little. But I see I can't. I presumeas long as you live you'll have to be nosed about like a perfect--Idon't know what!""What are you making such a fuss about?" demanded Lapham, terriblycrestfallen, but trying to pluck up a spirit. "I haven't done anythingyet. I can't ask your advice about anything any more without havingyou fly out. Confound it! I shall do as I please after this."But as if he could not endure that contemptuous atmosphere, he got up,and his wife heard him in the dining-room pouring himself out a glassof ice-water, and then heard him mount the stairs to their room, andslam its door after him."Do you know what your father's wanting to do now?" Mrs. Lapham askedher eldest daughter, who lounged into the parlour a moment with herwrap stringing from her arm, while the younger went straight to bed."He wants to invite Mr. Corey's father to a fish dinner at Taft's!"Penelope was yawning with her hand on her mouth; she stopped, and, witha laugh of amused expectance, sank into a chair, her shoulders shruggedforward."Why! what in the world has put the Colonel up to that?""Put him up to it! There's that fellow, who ought have come to see himlong ago, drops into his office this morning, and talks five minuteswith him, and your father is flattered out of his five senses. He'scrazy to get in with those people, and I shall have a perfect battle tokeep him within bounds.""Well, Persis, ma'am, you can't say but what you began it," saidPenelope."Oh yes, I began it," confessed Mrs. Lapham. "Pen," she broke out,"what do you suppose he means by it?""Who? Mr. Corey's father? What does the Colonel think?""Oh, the Colonel!" cried Mrs. Lapham. She added tremulously: "Perhapshe IS right. He DID seem to take a fancy to her last summer, and nowif he's called in that way . . ." She left her daughter to distributethe pronouns aright, and resumed: "Of course, I should have said oncethat there wasn't any question about it. I should have said so lastyear; and I don't know what it is keeps me from saying so now. Isuppose I know a little more about things than I did; and your father'sbeing so bent on it sets me all in a twitter. He thinks his money cando everything. Well, I don't say but what it can, a good many. And'Rene is as good a child as ever there was; and I don't see but whatshe's pretty-appearing enough to suit any one. She's pretty-behaved,too; and she IS the most capable girl. I presume young men don't carevery much for such things nowadays; but there ain't a great many girlscan go right into the kitchen, and make such a custard as she didyesterday. And look at the way she does, through the whole house! Shecan't seem to go into a room without the things fly right into theirplaces. And if she had to do it to-morrow, she could make all her owndresses a great deal better than them we pay to do it. I don't say butwhat he's about as nice a fellow as ever stepped. But there! I'mashamed of going on so.""Well, mother," said the girl after a pause, in which she looked as ifa little weary of the subject, "why do you worry about it? If it's tobe it'll be, and if it isn't----""Yes, that's what I tell your father. But when it comes to myself, Isee how hard it is for him to rest quiet. I'm afraid we shall all dosomething we'll repent of afterwards.""Well, ma'am," said Penelope, "I don't intend to do anything wrong; butif I do, I promise not to be sorry for it. I'll go that far. And Ithink I wouldn't be sorry for it beforehand, if I were in your place,mother. Let the Colonel go on! He likes to manoeuvre, and he isn'tgoing to hurt any one. The Corey family can take care of themselves, Iguess."She laughed in her throat, drawing down the corners of her mouth, andenjoying the resolution with which her mother tried to fling off theburden of her anxieties. "Pen! I believe you're right. You always dosee things in such a light! There! I don't care if he brings him downevery day.""Well, ma'am," said Pen, "I don't believe 'Rene would, either. She'sjust so indifferent!"The Colonel slept badly that night, and in the morning Mrs. Lapham cameto breakfast without him."Your father ain't well," she reported. "He's had one of his turns.""I should have thought he had two or three of them," said Penelope, "bythe stamping round I heard. Isn't he coming to breakfast?""Not just yet," said her mother. "He's asleep, and he'll be all rightif he gets his nap out. I don't want you girls should make any greatnoise." "Oh, we'll be quiet enough," returned Penelope. "Well, I'mglad the Colonel isn't sojering. At first I thought he might besojering." She broke into a laugh, and, struggling indolently with it,looked at her sister. "You don't think it'll be necessary for anybodyto come down from the office and take orders from him while he's laidup, do you, mother?" she inquired."Pen!" cried Irene."He'll be well enough to go up on the ten o'clock boat," said themother sharply."I think papa works too hard all through the summer. Why don't youmake him take a rest, mamma?" asked Irene."Oh, take a rest! The man slaves harder every year. It used to be sothat he'd take a little time off now and then; but I declare, he hardlyever seems to breathe now away from his office. And this year he sayshe doesn't intend to go down to Lapham, except to see after the worksfor a few days. I don't know what to do with the man any more! Seemsas if the more money he got, the more he wanted to get. It scares meto think what would happen to him if he lost it. I know one thing,"concluded Mrs. Lapham. "He shall not go back to the office to-day.""Then he won't go up on the ten o'clock boat," Pen reminded her."No, he won't. You can just drive over to the hotel as soon as you'rethrough, girls, and telegraph that he's not well, and won't be at theoffice till to-morrow. I'm not going to have them send anybody downhere to bother him.""That's a blow," said Pen. "I didn't know but they might send----" shelooked demurely at her sister--"Dennis!""Mamma!" cried Irene."Well, I declare, there's no living with this family any more," saidPenelope."There, Pen, be done!" commanded her mother. But perhaps she did notintend to forbid her teasing. It gave a pleasant sort of reality tothe affair that was in her mind, and made what she wished appear notonly possible but probable.Lapham got up and lounged about, fretting and rebelling as each boatdeparted without him, through the day; before night he became verycross, in spite of the efforts of the family to soothe him, andgrumbled that he had been kept from going up to town. "I might as wellhave gone as not," he repeated, till his wife lost her patience."Well, you shall go to-morrow, Silas, if you have to be carried to theboat.""I declare," said Penelope, "the Colonel don't pet worth a cent."The six o'clock boat brought Corey. The girls were sitting on thepiazza, and Irene saw him first."O Pen!" she whispered, with her heart in her face; and Penelope had notime for mockery before he was at the steps."I hope Colonel Lapham isn't ill," he said, and they could hear theirmother engaged in a moral contest with their father indoors."Go and put on your coat! I say you shall! It don't matter HOW he seesyou at the office, shirt-sleeves or not. You're in a gentleman's housenow--or you ought to be--and you shan't see company in yourdressing-gown."Penelope hurried in to subdue her mother's anger."Oh, he's very much better, thank you!" said Irene, speaking up loudlyto drown the noise of the controversy."I'm glad of that," said Corey, and when she led him indoors thevanquished Colonel met his visitor in a double-breasted frock-coat,which he was still buttoning up. He could not persuade himself at oncethat Corey had not come upon some urgent business matter, and when hewas clear that he had come out of civility, surprise mingled with hisgratification that he should be the object of solicitude to the youngman. In Lapham's circle of acquaintance they complained when they weresick, but they made no womanish inquiries after one another's health,and certainly paid no visits of sympathy till matters were serious. Hewould have enlarged upon the particulars of his indisposition if he hadbeen allowed to do so; and after tea, which Corey took with them, hewould have remained to entertain him if his wife had not sent him tobed. She followed him to see that he took some medicine she hadprescribed for him, but she went first to Penelope's room, where shefound the girl with a book in her hand, which she was not reading."You better go down," said the mother. "I've got to go to your father,and Irene is all alone with Mr. Corey; and I know she'll be on pins andneedles without you're there to help make it go off.""She'd better try to get along without me, mother," said Penelopesoberly. "I can't always be with them.""Well," replied Mrs. Lapham, "then I must. There'll be a perfectQuaker meeting down there.""Oh, I guess 'Rene will find something to say if you leave her toherself. Or if she don't, HE must. It'll be all right for you to godown when you get ready; but I shan't go till toward the last. If he'scoming here to see Irene--and I don't believe he's come on father'saccount--he wants to see her and not me. If she can't interest himalone, perhaps he'd as well find it out now as any time. At any rate,I guess you'd better make the experiment. You'll know whether it's asuccess if he comes again.""Well," said the mother, "may be you're right. I'll go down directly.It does seem as if he did mean something, after all."Mrs. Lapham did not hasten to return to her guest. In her own girlhoodit was supposed that if a young man seemed to be coming to see a girl,it was only common-sense to suppose that he wished to see her alone;and her life in town had left Mrs. Lapham's simple traditions in thisrespect unchanged. She did with her daughter as her mother would havedone with her.Where Penelope sat with her book, she heard the continuous murmur ofvoices below, and after a long interval she heard her mother descend.She did not read the open book that lay in her lap, though she kept hereyes fast on the print. Once she rose and almost shut the door, sothat she could scarcely hear; then she opened it wide again with aself-disdainful air, and resolutely went back to her book, which againshe did not read. But she remained in her room till it was nearly timefor Corey to return to his boat.When they were alone again, Irene made a feint of scolding her forleaving her to entertain Mr. Corey."Why! didn't you have a pleasant call?" asked Penelope.Irene threw her arms round her. "Oh, it was a SPLENDID call! I didn'tsuppose I could make it go off so well. We talked nearly the wholetime about you!""I don't think THAT was a very interesting subject.""He kept asking about you. He asked everything. You don't know howmuch he thinks of you, Pen. O Pen! what do you think made him come?Do you think he really did come to see how papa was?" Irene buried herface in her sister's neck.Penelope stood with her arms at her side, submitting. "Well," shesaid, "I don't think he did, altogether."Irene, all glowing, released her. "Don't you--don't you REALLY? O Pen!don't you think he IS nice? Don't you think he's handsome? Don't youthink I behaved horridly when we first met him this evening, notthanking him for coming? I know he thinks I've no manners. But itseemed as if it would be thanking him for coming to see me. Ought I tohave asked him to come again, when he said good-night? I didn't; Icouldn't. Do you believe he'll think I don't want him to? You don'tbelieve he would keep coming if he didn't--want to----""He hasn't kept coming a great deal, yet," suggested Penelope."No; I know he hasn't. But if he--if he should?""Then I should think he wanted to.""Oh, would you--WOULD you? Oh, how good you always are, Pen! And youalways say what you think. I wish there was some one coming to see youtoo. That's all that I don't like about it. Perhaps----He was tellingabout his friend there in Texas----""Well," said Penelope, "his friend couldn't call often from Texas. Youneedn't ask Mr. Corey to trouble about me, 'Rene. I think I can manageto worry along, if you're satisfied.""Oh, I AM, Pen. When do you suppose he'll come again?" Irene pushedsome of Penelope's things aside on the dressing-case, to rest her elbowand talk at ease. Penelope came up and put them back."Well, not to-night," she said; "and if that's what you're sitting upfor----"Irene caught her round the neck again, and ran out of the room.The Colonel was packed off on the eight o'clock boat the next morning;but his recovery did not prevent Corey from repeating his visit in aweek. This time Irene came radiantly up to Penelope's room, where shehad again withdrawn herself. "You must come down, Pen," she said."He's asked if you're not well, and mamma says you've got to come."After that Penelope helped Irene through with her calls, and talkedthem over with her far into the night after Corey was gone. But whenthe impatient curiosity of her mother pressed her for some opinion ofthe affair, she said, "You know as much as I do, mother.""Don't he ever say anything to you about her--praise her up, any?""He's never mentioned Irene to me.""He hasn't to me, either," said Mrs. Lapham, with a sigh of trouble."Then what makes him keep coming?""I can't tell you. One thing, he says there isn't a house open inBoston where he's acquainted. Wait till some of his friends get back,and then if he keeps coming, it'll be time to inquire.""Well!" said the mother; but as the weeks passed she was less and lessable to attribute Corey's visits to his loneliness in town, and turnedto her husband for comfort."Silas, I don't know as we ought to let young Corey keep coming so. Idon't quite like it, with all his family away.""He's of age," said the Colonel. "He can go where he pleases. Itdon't matter whether his family's here or not.""Yes, but if they don't want he should come? Should you feel just rightabout letting him?""How're you going to stop him? I swear, Persis, I don't know what's gotover you! What is it? You didn't use to be so. But to hear you talk,you'd think those Coreys were too good for this world, and we wa'n'tfit for 'em to walk on.""I'm not going to have 'em say we took an advantage of their being awayand tolled him on.""I should like to HEAR 'em say it!" cried Lapham. "Or anybody!""Well," said his wife, relinquishing this point of anxiety, "I can'tmake out whether he cares anything for her or not. And Pen can't telleither; or else she won't.""Oh, I guess he cares for her, fast enough," said the Colonel."I can't make out that he's said or done the first thing to show it.""Well, I was better than a year getting my courage up.""Oh, that was different," said Mrs. Lapham, in contemptuous dismissalof the comparison, and yet with a certain fondness. "I guess, if hecared for her, a fellow in his position wouldn't be long getting up hiscourage to speak to Irene."Lapham brought his fist down on the table between them."Look here, Persis! Once for all, now, don't you ever let me hear yousay anything like that again! I'm worth nigh on to a million, and I'vemade it every cent myself; and my girls are the equals of anybody, Idon't care who it is. He ain't the fellow to take on any airs; but ifhe ever tries it with me, I'll send him to the right about mightyquick. I'll have a talk with him, if----""No, no; don't do that!" implored his wife. "I didn't mean anything.I don't know as I meant ANYthing. He's just as unassuming as he canbe, and I think Irene's a match for anybody. You just let things goon. It'll be all right. You never can tell how it is with youngpeople. Perhaps SHE'S offish. Now you ain't--you ain't going to sayanything?"Lapham suffered himself to be persuaded, the more easily, no doubt,because after his explosion he must have perceived that his prideitself stood in the way of what his pride had threatened. He contentedhimself with his wife's promise that she would never again present thatoffensive view of the case, and she did not remain without a certainsupport in his sturdy self-assertion.