Chapter 7

by William Dean Howells

　　"Mine.""Nonsense! What was he doing there?""Oh, nothing much.""What did he come for?" "Come for? Oh! he SAID he wanted to go into themineral paint business."Mrs. Lapham dropped into a chair, and watched his bulk shaken withsmothered laughter. "Silas Lapham," she gasped, "if you try to get offany more of those things on me----"The Colonel applied himself to the towel. "Had a notion he could workit in South America. I don't know what he's up to.""Never mind!" cried his wife. "I'll get even with you YET.""So I told him he had better come down and talk it over," continued theColonel, in well-affected simplicity. "I knew he wouldn't touch itwith a ten-foot pole.""Go on!" threatened Mrs. Lapham."Right thing to do, wa'n't it?"A tap was heard at the door, and Mrs. Lapham answered it. A maidannounced supper. "Very well," she said, "come to tea now. But I'llmake you pay for this, Silas."Penelope had gone to her sister's room as soon as she entered the house."Is your head any better, 'Rene?" she asked."Yes, a little," came a voice from the pillows. "But I shall not cometo tea. I don't want anything. If I keep still, I shall be all rightby morning.""Well, I'm sorry," said the elder sister. "He's come down with father.""He hasn't! Who?" cried Irene, starting up in simultaneous denial anddemand."Oh, well, if you say he hasn't, what's the use of my telling you who?""Oh, how can you treat me so!" moaned the sufferer. "What do you mean,Pen?""I guess I'd better not tell you," said Penelope, watching her like acat playing with a mouse. "If you're not coming to tea, it would justexcite you for nothing."The mouse moaned and writhed upon the bed."Oh, I wouldn't treat YOU so!"The cat seated herself across the room, and asked quietly--"Well, what could you do if it WAS Mr. Corey? You couldn't come to tea,you say. But HE'LL excuse you. I've told him you had a headache.Why, of course you can't come! It would be too barefaced But youneedn't be troubled, Irene; I'll do my best to make the time passpleasantly for him." Here the cat gave a low titter, and the mousegirded itself up with a momentary courage and self-respect."I should think you would be ashamed to come here and tease me so.""I don't see why you shouldn't believe me," argued Penelope. "Whyshouldn't he come down with father, if father asked him? and he'd besure to if he thought of it. I don't see any p'ints about that frogthat's any better than any other frog."The sense of her sister's helplessness was too much for the tease; shebroke down in a fit of smothered laughter, which convinced her victimthat it was nothing but an ill-timed joke."Well, Pen, I wouldn't use you so," she whimpered.Penelope threw herself on the bed beside her."Oh, poor Irene! He IS here. It's a solemn fact." And she caressed andsoothed her sister, while she choked with laughter. "You must get upand come out. I don't know what brought him here, but here he is.""It's too late now," said Irene desolately. Then she added, with awilder despair: "What a fool I was to take that walk!""Well," coaxed her sister, "come out and get some tea. The tea will doyou good.""No, no; I can't come. But send me a cup here.""Yes, and then perhaps you can see him later in the evening.""I shall not see him at all."An hour after Penelope came back to her sister's room and found herbefore her glass. "You might as well have kept still, and been well bymorning, 'Rene," she said. "As soon as we were done father said,'Well, Mr. Corey and I have got to talk over a little matter ofbusiness, and we'll excuse you, ladies.' He looked at mother in a waythat I guess was pretty hard to bear. 'Rene, you ought to have heardthe Colonel swelling at supper. It would have made you feel that allhe said the other day was nothing."Mrs. Lapham suddenly opened the door."Now, see here, Pen," she said, as she closed it behind her, "I've hadjust as much as I can stand from your father, and if you don't tell methis instant what it all means----"She left the consequences to imagination, and Penelope replied with hermock soberness--"Well, the Colonel does seem to be on his high horse, ma'am. But youmustn't ask me what his business with Mr. Corey is, for I don't know.All that I know is that I met them at the landing, and that theyconversed all the way down--on literary topics.""Nonsense! What do you think it is?""Well, if you want my candid opinion, I think this talk about businessis nothing but a blind. It seems a pity Irene shouldn't have been upto receive him," she added.Irene cast a mute look of imploring at her mother, who was too muchpreoccupied to afford her the protection it asked."Your father said he wanted to go into the business with him."Irene's look changed to a stare of astonishment and mystification, butPenelope preserved her imperturbability."Well, it's a lucrative business, I believe.""Well, I don't believe a word of it!" cried Mrs. Lapham. "And so Itold your father.""Did it seem to convince him?" inquired Penelope.Her mother did not reply. "I know one thing," she said. "He's got totell me every word, or there'll be no sleep for him THIS night.""Well, ma'am," said Penelope, breaking down in one of her queer laughs,"I shouldn't be a bit surprised if you were right.""Go on and dress, Irene," ordered her mother, "and then you and Pencome out into the parlour. They can have just two hours for business,and then we must all be there to receive him. You haven't got headacheenough to hurt you.""Oh, it's all gone now," said the girl.At the end of the limit she had given the Colonel, Mrs. Lapham lookedinto the dining-room, which she found blue with his smoke."I think you gentlemen will find the parlour pleasanter now, and we cangive it up to you.""Oh no, you needn't," said her husband. "We've got about through."Corey was already standing, and Lapham rose too. "I guess we can jointhe ladies now. We can leave that little point till to-morrow."Both of the young ladies were in the parlour when Corey entered withtheir father, and both were frankly indifferent to the few books andthe many newspapers scattered about on the table where the large lampwas placed. But after Corey had greeted Irene he glanced at the novelunder his eye, and said, in the dearth that sometimes befalls people atsuch times: "I see you're reading Middlemarch. Do you like GeorgeEliot?""Who?" asked the girl.Penelope interposed. "I don't believe Irene's read it yet. I've justgot it out of the library; I heard so much talk about it. I wish shewould let you find out a little about the people for yourself," sheadded. But here her father struck in--"I can't get the time for books. It's as much as I can do to keep upwith the newspapers; and when night comes, I'm tired, and I'd rather goout to the theatre, or a lecture, if they've got a good stereopticon togive you views of the places. But I guess we all like a play betterthan 'most anything else. I want something that'll make me laugh. Idon't believe in tragedy. I think there's enough of that in real lifewithout putting it on the stage. Seen 'Joshua Whitcomb'?"The whole family joined in the discussion, and it appeared that theyall had their opinions of the plays and actors. Mrs. Lapham broughtthe talk back to literature. "I guess Penelope does most of ourreading.""Now, mother, you're not going to put it all on me!" said the girl, incomic protest.Her mother laughed, and then added, with a sigh: "I used to like to gethold of a good book when I was a girl; but we weren't allowed to readmany novels in those days. My mother called them all LIES. And Iguess she wasn't so very far wrong about some of them.""They're certainly fictions," said Corey, smiling."Well, we do buy a good many books, first and last," said the Colonel,who probably had in mind the costly volumes which they presented to oneanother on birthdays and holidays. "But I get about all the reading Iwant in the newspapers. And when the girls want a novel, I tell 'em toget it out of the library. That's what the library's for. Phew!" hepanted, blowing away the whole unprofitable subject. "How close youwomen-folks like to keep a room! You go down to the sea-side or up tothe mountains for a change of air, and then you cork yourselves into aroom so tight you don't have any air at all. Here! You girls get onyour bonnets, and go and show Mr. Corey the view of the hotels from therocks."Corey said that he should be delighted. The girls exchanged looks witheach other, and then with their mother. Irene curved her pretty chinin comment upon her father's incorrigibility, and Penelope made a drollmouth, but the Colonel remained serenely content with his finesse. "Igot 'em out of the way," he said, as soon as they were gone, and beforehis wife had time to fall upon him, "because I've got through my talkwith him, and now I want to talk with YOU. It's just as I said,Persis; he wants to go into the business with me.""It's lucky for you," said his wife, meaning that now he would not bemade to suffer for attempting to hoax her. But she was too intenselyinterested to pursue that matter further. "What in the world do yousuppose he means by it?""Well, I should judge by his talk that he had been trying a good manydifferent things since he left college, and he hain't found just thething he likes--or the thing that likes him. It ain't so easy. Andnow he's got an idea that he can take hold of the paint and push it inother countries--push it in Mexico and push it in South America. He'sa splendid Spanish scholar,"--this was Lapham's version of Corey'smodest claim to a smattering of the language,--"and he's been among thenatives enough to know their ways. And he believes in the paint,"added the Colonel."I guess he believes in something else besides the paint," said Mrs.Lapham."What do you mean?""Well, Silas Lapham, if you can't see NOW that he's after Irene, Idon't know what ever CAN open your eyes. That's all."The Colonel pretended to give the idea silent consideration, as if ithad not occurred to him before. "Well, then, all I've got to say is,that he's going a good way round. I don't say you're wrong, but ifit's Irene, I don't see why he should want to go off to South Americato get her. And that's what he proposes to do. I guess there's somepaint about it too, Persis. He says he believes in it,"--the Coloneldevoutly lowered his voice,--"and he's willing to take the agency onhis own account down there, and run it for a commission on what he cansell.""Of course! He isn't going to take hold of it any way so as to feelbeholden to you. He's got too much pride for that.""He ain't going to take hold of it at all, if he don't mean paint inthe first place and Irene afterward. I don't object to him, as I know,either way, but the two things won't mix; and I don't propose he shallpull the wool over my eyes--or anybody else. But, as far as heardfrom, up to date, he means paint first, last, and all the time. At anyrate, I'm going to take him on that basis. He's got some pretty goodideas about it, and he's been stirred up by this talk, just now, aboutgetting our manufactures into the foreign markets. There's anoverstock in everything, and we've got to get rid of it, or we've gotto shut down till the home demand begins again. We've had two or threesuch flurries before now, and they didn't amount to much. They say wecan't extend our commerce under the high tariff system we've got now,because there ain't any sort of reciprocity on our side,--we want tohave the other fellows show all the reciprocity,--and the English havegot the advantage of us every time. I don't know whether it's so ornot; but I don't see why it should apply to my paint. Anyway, he wantsto try it, and I've about made up my mind to let him. Of course Iain't going to let him take all the risk. I believe in the paint TOO,and I shall pay his expenses anyway.""So you want another partner after all?" Mrs. Lapham could not forbearsaying."Yes, if that's your idea of a partner. It isn't mine," returned herhusband dryly."Well, if you've made up your mind, Si, I suppose you're ready foradvice," said Mrs. Lapham.The Colonel enjoyed this. "Yes, I am. What have you got to sayagainst it?""I don't know as I've got anything. I'm satisfied if you are.""Well?""When is he going to start for South America?""I shall take him into the office a while. He'll get off some time inthe winter. But he's got to know the business first.""Oh, indeed! Are you going to take him to board in the family?""What are you after, Persis?""Oh, nothing! I presume he will feel free to visit in the family, evenif he don't board with us.""I presume he will.""And if he don't use his privileges, do you think he'll be a fit personto manage your paint in South America?"The Colonel reddened consciously. "I'm not taking him on that basis.""Oh yes, you are! You may pretend you ain't to yourself, but youmustn't pretend so to me. Because I know you."The Colonel laughed. "Pshaw!" he said.Mrs. Lapham continued: "I don't see any harm in hoping that he'll takea fancy to her. But if you really think it won't do to mix the twothings, I advise you not to take Mr. Corey into the business. It willdo all very well if he DOES take a fancy to her; but if he don't, youknow how you'll feel about it. And I know you well enough, Silas, toknow that you can't do him justice if that happens. And I don't thinkit's right you should take this step unless you're pretty sure. I cansee that you've set your heart on this thing.""I haven't set my heart on it at all," protested Lapham."And if you can't bring it about, you're going to feel unhappy overit," pursued his wife, regardless of his protest."Oh, very well," he said. "If you know more about what's in my mindthan I do, there's no use arguing, as I can see."He got up, to carry off his consciousness, and sauntered out of thedoor on to his piazza. He could see the young people down on therocks, and his heart swelled in his breast. He had always said that hedid not care what a man's family was, but the presence of young Coreyas an applicant to him for employment, as his guest, as the possiblesuitor of his daughter, was one of the sweetest flavours that he hadyet tasted in his success. He knew who the Coreys were very well, and,in his simple, brutal way, he had long hated their name as a symbol ofsplendour which, unless he should live to see at least threegenerations of his descendants gilded with mineral paint, he could nothope to realise in his own. He was acquainted in a business way withthe tradition of old Phillips Corey, and he had heard a great manythings about the Corey who had spent his youth abroad and his father'smoney everywhere, and done nothing but say smart things. Lapham couldnot see the smartness of some of them which had been repeated to him.Once he had encountered the fellow, and it seemed to Lapham that thetall, slim, white-moustached man, with the slight stoop, was everythingthat was offensively aristocratic. He had bristled up aggressively atthe name when his wife told how she had made the acquaintance of thefellow's family the summer before, and he had treated the notion ofyoung Corey's caring for Irene with the contempt which such aridiculous superstition deserved. He had made up his mind about youngCorey beforehand; yet when he met him he felt an instant liking forhim, which he frankly acknowledged, and he had begun to assume theburden of his wife's superstition, of which she seemed now ready toaccuse him of being the inventor.Nothing had moved his thick imagination like this day's events sincethe girl who taught him spelling and grammar in the school atLumberville had said she would have him for her husband.The dark figures, stationary on the rocks, began to move, and he couldsee that they were coming toward the house. He went indoors, so as notto appear to have been watching them.