Part 10 (1/2)

Jane drew a long breath. She forgot her weeding and sat back upon the walk, pulling off her gloves. Forrest waited silently for her first comment.

”Imagine my brother Peter doing that,” she murmured.

”I can't imagine it--though Peter's no soft-head. But your father's human, Jane. Mine--isn't.”

”Oh, he is--he is! Don't say that! He may seem stern and hard, but that 's only on the surface, I 'm sure.”

”Much you know about it!” muttered Forrest. ”But, anyhow, hard or not, I 'm not going to be put into a business life I hate.”

”What would you like to do?”

”Go into the army.”

Jane stared at him, astonished. This idle youth live that sort of life?

Her lips curved slowly into a smile, at which Forrest promptly took umbrage.

”See here,” he said, sitting up straight, ”you 're not to judge me, you know, from what you 've seen of me in the two months you 've lived in Gay Street. I 've been on vacation, I admit, ever since my tutor left in March. Besides, it 's not enlisting as a private I 'm thinking of--no, no! I want to enter the army by the way of West Point, and get my lieutenant's commission at graduation. That 's a very different thing.”

”Yes, that's true. It means, I believe, four years of the severest training in the world. I know a boy who went--he could n't stand it.”

Forrest flushed hotly under his fair skin. ”And you think I could n't.

That settles it. I 'll go, if only to prove you 're mistaken.”

The girl looked up quickly, startled by his tone. ”Ah, please,” she began, ”don't talk that way. Tell me--will your brother go into the business?”

”Not much! His health settles that for him. Besides, he 's too bookish, and father 'll let him do what he pleases, anyway--he does n't mind having one son of that stripe. But the other son--he must go into the mill, whether he wants to or not!”

”Could you get to West Point without your father's permission? Don't you have to be sent by somebody--your Congressman, is n't it?”

”Oh, there 's a lot of red tape, and father could block the whole game, I suppose. If he does--well, I 'd enlist and get into the ranks and work my way up, rather than go into that dingy old office and tie myself to a desk and a telephone.”

Forrest got upon his feet as he spoke, brushed a clinging weed leaf or two from his clothes, and stood looking gloomily down at Jane, who had risen also. ”It 's evident I get no sympathy from you,” he said. ”I thought you were a girl who could understand a fellow's ambitions--not wet-blanket them.”

Jane looked up at him, smiling, although her eyes were still troubled.

”I can, I think,” she said. ”Yet--somehow--I'm imagining the disappointment it must be to a father who has built up a great business like Townsend & Company's to have his son take no interest in it. I can't help thinking--”

”What?”--as Jane paused abruptly.

”Never mind.”

”But I want to know what you can't help thinking.”

”Well, I 'm wondering if it would be any harder for you to go into your father's office than it is for Peter to work with my father in the note-paper factory. Do you know what Peter wants to be?”

”No. I know he has a good position for his age, with the Armstrongs.”

”Yes, but Peter wants--has wanted for six years--to be a chemist--an expert, you know. Oh, I 'm not sure I ought to tell you--please never speak of it. Even father does n't know it's any more than a boy's fancy. Peter could n't afford the years of training, of course--and father can't spare him. There are”--as Forrest looked surprised--”more people dependent on father and the boys than you know of--and I must n't tell you. All I want you to know is that”--Jane smiled wistfully--”there are other people who can't have their own way--and who are making the best of it, and pretty bravely, too.”