Part 6 (1/2)
”If Olivetta were only to marry some one--some decent fellow--she'd blossom out, grow as young as she actually is--and, who knows, perhaps even her hairpins might stay in.”
”Marry, yes. But whom?”
”I've seen a few things--there's a certain party--and--” He stumbled a bit, conscious that he was becoming indiscreet. ”And, oh, well, just on general principles marriage is a good thing.”
”That is just the opinion I have been urging upon you in regard to yourself,” returned his mother in her even, confident tone.
”U'm--yes,” Jack said hastily. ”But that was not--not the first thing I wanted to speak about.”
”I believe you did say there were several matters.”
”So there are.” He rubbed his face tentatively with his bandaged hand; then smiled blandly at his mother. ”Yes, there are a few.”
”Well?”
”Well, first of all, mother, I want to make a kick.”
She frowned. ”How often must I request you not to use such common expressions!”
”All right, all right,” said he. ”Suppose I say, then, that I'm dissatisfied.”
”Dissatisfied!” She straightened up. ”Dissatisfied! What about? Do I not allow you all the money you want?”
”Yes.”
”And have I not practically arranged a match between you and Ethel Quintard? Ethel will have three millions some day. And there is no better family to marry into; that is, except our own.”
”Yes, yes,--I know.”
”And yet you say you are dissatisfied!” She stared. ”What more can you want?”
”Well, for one thing, to go to school,” was Jack's amiable response.
”Go to school! Why--why, you've already had the best of educations!
Exeter--Yale--not to speak of private tutors!”
”And what did I learn? That is,” he added, ”over and above being a fairly decent half-back and learning how to spend money--u'm--pretty thoroughly.”
”I trust,” said Mrs. De Peyster with all her dignity, ”that you learned to be a gentleman!”
”Oh, I suppose I learned that all right,” Jack acquiesced. ”And I've been working hard at the profession ever since--sixteen to twenty hours a day, no half-holidays and no Sundays off. I can't stand it any longer. So I've decided to go on strike.”
”Strike?” exclaimed his mother, bewildered.
”Yes. For better conditions. I'm tired loafing such long hours. I'd like a little leisure in which to work.”
”Work!” repeated his mother--and human voice could hardly express amazement greater than did hers. ”Work! Jack--you're not in earnest?”
He held upon her a clear-eyed, humorous, but resolute face.
”Don't I look in earnest?”