Читать книгу The Great Accident - Ben Ames Williams - Страница 6

Table of Contents

ONE of Mrs. Chase’s difficulties with hired girls was that Winthrop Chase, Senior, liked style with his meals.

Mr. Chase was no provincial. He had traveled; he had lived at good hotels; he knew New York, Columbus, Cleveland, Cincinnati. He had been a guest at fine homes. He knew what was what.

“It adds tone to a repast,” he would tell his wife, over and over. “It adds tone to a repast. A neatly dressed maidservant, in apron and cap, handing your dishes around. I tell you, Margaret, it gives that—that—that style....”

“I know it, Winthrop,” Mrs. Chase always agreed. “I’d like to have it so, as much as you would. Land knows I’ve tried. I’ve trained, and I’ve trained; but you can’t expect a girl to do everything for two dollars a week, or even three. Why, Mrs. Hullis had—”

“Well, pay more, then. Pay more. Five, or ten dollars. I make money enough. I surely make money enough, Margaret, to have comfort and—and style in my own home.”

“You can’t get a girl in Hardiston that’s worth more than three dollars,” Mrs. Chase insisted. “They come and they go, and they’re always getting married, and—”

Mr. Chase always carved the meats at his own table. He took pride in his carving. When Wint appeared now, he looked up with a hostile eye, at the same time lifting the carving knife and fork. “You’re late, young man.”

“Am I?” said Wint stiffly.

“The dinner hour in this house is five-thirty. If you wish to have your meals here, you would do well to observe that fact and regulate your movements in accordance.”

“Oh, give the boy his supper,” Mrs. Chase urged. “You get me all mixed up, calling supper dinner and dinner lunch that way, Winthrop. Wint, don’t you mind what your father says. He—”

“Margaret,” said Mr. Chase sternly, “I wish you would—”

“I went to the station to meet Caretall,” said Wint slowly. “Sorry to be late. But—”

“Caretall?” his father echoed sharply. “You—”

“Now, Wint—don’t aggravate your father,” Mrs. Chase urged. “You will drive me to—”

“Hetty, pass my son’s plate,” directed the elder Chase, discovering the girl in the doorway. “Your place is in the kitchen while the meals are being served, not in the hall.”

“All right,” said Hetty cheerfully, and she took Wint’s plate and went around the table to his father’s side. Thus relieved of the elder Chase’s scrutiny, she winked lightly at Wint and smiled. He made no response. A moment later, she set his plate before him, and departed toward the kitchen.

Mrs. Chase began at once to talk. Her eating did not seem to interfere with the gently querulous stream of her conversation. She spoke of many things. Housekeeping cares, the perplexities and annoyances of the day, the acquisition of Hetty, her hope that Hetty would prove a good girl, a good cook, a good housemaid. “She’s not going to go home at night, either,” she explained. “When girls go home at night, they’re never here in time to get breakfast. When I have a girl, I want her in the house, so’s I can see she gets up. She—”

The elder Chase interrupted obliviously. He had been studying his son. “Wint, have you been drinking to-day?” he demanded.

Wint looked up quickly, a retort on his lips. But he checked it, and instead said quietly:

“No.”

“Oh, Wint,” Mrs. Chase exclaimed, “you ain’t going to do any more of that, are you, son? You—”

“I’m keeping my eye on you, young man,” interrupted her husband. “You left the office early to-day. Who gave you permission?”

“The work was done.”

“The work is never done.”

“You left before I did.”

The elder Chase’s eyes flashed. “My movements have nothing to do with it. Your place is at the office till four-thirty every day. Don’t imagine, because you’re my son, you’ll receive any favoritism.”

“It seems to work the other way,” said Wint.

“It does work the other way. You’re on trial, guilty till proved innocent, worthless till proved otherwise. Some fathers.... A boy expelled from college for drunkenness.... You’re lucky that I am so lenient with you, young man.”

“Am I?”

“Now, Wint,” his mother interjected. “Don’t you aggravate your father. Goodness knows it’s hard enough to get along with him—”

“Margaret!”

“Well, I mean, you oughtn’t to—”

Wint rose abruptly. “Nagging never did any good,” he said. “I mean to—do my part.” He flamed suddenly. “But—for Heaven’s sake—don’t talk me to death.”

He went out, up to his room. He was trembling with humiliated resentment. In his room he stood for a moment before the mirror, looking at his image in the glass, frowning sullenly. “Talk! Talk! Talk!” he exclaimed hotly. “Always talk!” He went into the bathroom, splashed cold water into his face, went out again and down the stairs. He took his hat. His mother called, from the dining room:

“Wint—there’s ice cream! Don’t you—”

“No—thanks,” he said. “I’m going uptown.”

He closed the door upon their protests, and went down to the street and turned toward the town.

His way led past Joan’s house. He paused at her gate for a moment, hesitant, frowning, miserable, lonely. Then he went on.

Almost every one goes uptown in Hardiston at night. The seven-fifteen train, bringing mail, is one excuse. The moving pictures are an allurement. The streets are better filled in early evening than at any other time of the day. Wint began presently to meet acquaintances. At the hotel, he encountered Jack Routt. Routt greeted him eagerly.

“Wint! Hello there! Care for a game of billiards?”

“I’d just as soon.”

“Come along, then.”

They went through the hotel office, down three steps, and into the pool room. There were three tables, two for pool and one for billiards. A game of Kelly pool was in progress at one table, but the billiard table was free. They chalked their cues.

“Half a dollar?” Routt challenged.

Wint nodded. “All right.”

Routt won the draw and shot first. The game went jerkily forward. Neither was an expert player. A run of ten was an event. Wint played silently, his thoughts elsewhere. Routt was cheerful, loquacious, friendly. Wint envied him faintly. Every one liked Jack, respected him....

Routt won the game with a run of four, and laid his cue on the table. “I’ll be back in a minute, Wint,” he said. “You don’t mind waiting?”

“I’ll go with you,” Wint countered.

Routt shook his head. “Now, Wint—no, I won’t let you. You know—play it safe, man. You can’t afford to monkey with this.”

“Don’t be a fool, Jack.”

“Oh, Wint, I mean it. Leave it alone. That’s the only safe way—for you.”

Wint’s eyes flamed suddenly. “Aren’t you coming?” he asked, and started for the door.

Routt followed, still protesting. “Wint—don’t be a darned fool.”

“Don’t be a preacher, Jack.”

“Please, Wint—leave it alone. Come on back. I won’t go either.”

Wint said nothing, but he went steadily ahead; and Routt yielded. They left the hotel, went half a block, entered an alley, climbed a stair....

County option had closed the saloons; but Hardiston was still far from being a dry town. When they returned to the pool room half an hour later, Wint’s cheeks were unnaturally flushed, and he laughed more easily than before.