Part 8 (2/2)
”Well, suppose he was going to be a lawyer and go in for politics?”
”Look here. What 're you thinking of becoming a lawyer for?”
”Didn't say I was.”
”Of course you're thinking of it. Look here. Don't you know you've got a chance of seeing the world? You're one of the lucky people that can have a touch of the wanderl.u.s.t without being made useless by it--as I have. You may, you _may_ wander in thought as well as on freight-trains, and discover something for the world. Whereas a lawyer----They're priests. They decide what's holy and punish you if you don't guess right. They set up codes that it takes lawyers to interpret, and so they perpetuate themselves. I don't mean to say you're extraordinary in having a chance to wander. Don't get the big-head over it. You're a pretty average young American. There's plenty of the same kind. Only, mostly they get tied up to something before they see what a big world there is to hike in, and I want to keep you from that. I'm not roasting lawyers----Yes, I am, too. They live in calf-bound books. Son, son, for G.o.d's sake live in life.”
”Yes, but look here, Bone; I was just thinking about it, that's all.
You're always drumming it into me about not taking anything for granted. Anyway, by the time I go to Plato I'll know----”
”D'you mean to say you're going to that back-creek nunnery? That Blackhaw University? Are you going to play checkers all through life?”
”Oh, I don't know, now, Bone. Plato ain't so bad. A fellow's got to go some place so he can mix with people that know what's the proper thing to do. Refining influences and like that.”
”Proper! _Refining!_ Son, son, are you going to get Joralemonized? If you want what the French folks call the grand manner, if you're going to be a tip-top, A Number 1, genuwine grand senyor, or however they p.r.o.nounce it, why, all right, go to it; that's one way of playing a big game. But when it comes down to a short-bit, fresh-water sewing-circle like Plato College, where an imitation scholar teaches you imitation translations of useless cla.s.sics, and amble-footed girls teach you imitation party manners that 'd make you just as plumb ridic'lous in a real _salon_ as they would in a lumber-camp, why----Oh, sa-a-a-y! I've got it. Girls, eh? What girl 've you been falling in love with to get this Plato idea from, eh?”
”Aw, I ain't in love, Bone.”
”No, I don't opine you are. At your age you got about as much chance of being in love as you have of being a grandfather. But somehow I seem to have a little old suspicion that you _think_ you're in love.
But it's none of my business, and I ain't going to ask questions about it.” He patted Carl on the shoulder, moving his arm with difficulty in their small, dark s.p.a.ce. ”Son, I've learned this in my life--and I've done quite some hiking at that, even if I didn't have the book-l'arnin' and the git-up-and-git to make anything out of my experience. It's a thing I ain't big enough to follow up, but I know it's there. Life is just a little old checker game played by the alfalfa contingent at the country store unless you've got an ambition that's too big to ever quite la.s.so it. You want to know that there's something ahead that's bigger and more beautiful than anything you've ever seen, and never stop till--well, till you can't follow the road any more. And anything or anybody that doesn't pack any surprises--get that?--_surprises_ for you, is dead, and you want to slough it like a snake does its skin. You want to keep on remembering that Chicago's beyond Joralemon, and Paris beyond Chicago, and beyond Paris--well, maybe there's some big peak of the Himalayas.”
For hours they talked, Bone desperately striving to make his dreams articulate to Carl--and to himself. They ate fish fried on the powder-can stove, with half-warm coffee. They walked a few steps outside the shack in the ringing cold, to stretch stiff legs. Carl saw a world of unuttered freedom and beauty forthshadowed in Bone's cloudy speech. But he was melancholy. For he was going to give up his citizens.h.i.+p in wonderland for Gertie Cowles.
Gertie continued to enjoy ill health for another week. Every evening Carl walked past her house, hoping that he might see her at a window, longing to dare to call. Each night he pictured rescuing her from things--rescuing her from fire, from drowning, from evil men. He felt himself the more bound to her by the social recognition of having his name in the _Joralemon Dynamite_, the following Thursday:
One of the pleasantest affairs of the holiday season among the younger set was held last Friday evening, when Gertrude Cowles entertained a number of her young friends at a party at her mother's handsome residence on Maple Hill. Among those present were Mesdames Benner and Rusk, who came in for a brief time to a.s.sist in the jollities of the evening, Misses Benner, Carson, Wesselius, Madlund, Ripka, Smith, Lansing, and Brick; and Messrs. Ray Cowles, his cla.s.smate Howard Griffin, who is spending his vacation here from Plato College, Carl Ericson, Joseph Jordan, Irving Lamb, Benjamin Rusk, Nels Thorsten, Peter Schoenhof, and William T. Upham.
After dancing and games, which were thoroughly enjoyed by all present, and a social hour spent in discussing the events of the season in J. H. S., a most delicious repast was served and the party adjourned, one and all voting that they had been royally entertained.
The glory was the greater because at least seven names had been omitted from the list of guests. Such social recognition satisfied Carl--for half an hour. Possibly it nerved him finally to call on Gertie.
Since for a week he had been dreading a chilly reception when he should call, he was immeasurably surprised when he did call and got what he expected. He had not expected the fates to be so treacherous as to treat him as he expected, after he had disarmed them by expecting it.
When he rang the bell he was an immensely grown-up lawyer (though he couldn't get his worn, navy-blue tie to hang exactly right). He turned into a crestfallen youth as Mrs. Cowles opened the door and waited--waited!--for him to speak, after a crisp:
”Well? What is it, Carl?”
”Why, uh, I just thought I'd come and see how Gertie is.”
”Gertrude is much better, thank you. I presume she will return to school at the end of vacation.”
The hall behind Mrs. Cowles seemed very stately, very long.
”I've heard a lot saying they hoped she was better.”
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