'Well, what?'
'You think I ought to stick to chocolates, then?' 'If you don't there'll
be extraordinary complications,' said I.
'You're sure of that?'
'Positive.'
'You'd swear it?'
I threw down my knife and apple. 'Now what's the matter with the boy!' I
exclaimed impatiently. 'Do I ever swear?'
'But if you did you would?'
'Swear what?'
'That a bit of jewelry would bring the complications about?'
'Oh--dense, dense, dense! Of course it would. You'd be surprised at the
number and size of them. You can't be too careful. Give her a hymn-book.
Joey gave a loud whoop.
'Well, it's safe,' said I severely, 'and it appeals to parents.'
'You bet,' said Joey, screwing his face into a limitlessly audacious
wink.
'I wish,' said I, very plaintively, 'that I knew exactly what it is I am
to bet. You constantly tell me to do so, but never add the necessary
directions.'
'Oh, I'm goin',' was Joey's irrelevant reply; and his head popped out as
suddenly as it had popped in.
Or shall I tell you--I am anxious to make this letter long enough to
please you--about Frau von Lindeberg, who spent two days elaborately
cutting Joey, the two first days of his appearance in their house as
lodger, persuaded, I suppose, that no one even remotely and by business
connected with the Schmidts could be anything but undesirable, and how,
meeting him in the passage, or on his way through the garden to us, the
iciest stare was all she felt justified in giving him in return for his
friendly grin, and how on the third day she suddenly melted, and stopped
and spoke pleasantly to the poor solitary, commiserating with his
situation as a stranger in a foreign country, and suggesting the
alleviation to his loneliness of frequent visits to them? No one knows
the first cause of this melting. I think she must have heard through her
servant of the number and texture of those pink and blue silk
handkerchiefs, of his amazing piles of new and costly shirts, of the
obvious solidity of the silver on everything of his that has a back or a
stopper or a handle or a knob. Anyhow on that third morning she came up
and called on us, asking particularly for Papa. 'I particularly wished,'
she said to me, spreading herself out as she did the last time on the
sofa, 'to see your good father on a matter of some importance.'
'I'll go and call him,' said I, concealing my conviction that though I
might call he would not come.
And he would not. 'What, interrupt my work?' he cried. 'Is the woman
mad?'
I went back and made excuses. They were very lame ones, and Frau von
Lindeberg instantly brushed them aside. 'I will go to him,' she said,
getting up. 'Your excellent father will not refuse me, I am sure.'
Papa was sitting in his slippers before the stove, doing nothing, so far
as I could see, except very comfortably read the new book about Goethe.
'I am sorry to disturb so busy a man,' said Frau von Lindeberg, bearing
down with smiles on this picture of peace.
Papa sprang up, and seeing there was no escape pretended to be quite
pleased to see her. He offered her his chair, he prayed for indulgence
toward his slippers, and sitting down facing her inquired in what way he
could be of service.
'I want to know something about the young Englishman who occupies a room
in our house,' said Frau von Lindeberg, without losing time. 'You
understand that it is not only natural but incumbent on a parent to wish
for information in regard to a person dwelling under the same roof.'
'I can give every information,' said Papa readily. 'His name in English
is Collins. In German it is _Esel_.'
'Oh really,' said Frau von Lindeberg, taken aback.
'It is, madam,' said Papa, looking very pleasant, as became a man in his
own house confronted by a female visitor. 'We have re-christened him.
And no array of words with which I am acquainted will express the
exactness of his resemblance to that useful but unintelligent beast.'
'Oh really,' said Frau von Lindeberg, not yet recovered.
'The ass, madam, is conspicuous for the narrowness of its understanding.
So is Mr. Collins. The ass is exasperating to persons of normal brains.
So is Mr. Collins. The ass is lazy in regard to work, and obstinate. So
is Mr. Collins. The ass is totally indifferent to study. So is Mr.
Collins. The ass has never heard of Goethe. Neither has Mr. Collins. The
ass is useful to the poor. So is Mr. Collins. The ass, indeed, is the
poor man's most precious possession. So, emphatically, is Mr. Collins.'
'Oh really,' said Frau von Lindeberg again.
'Is there anything more you wish to know?' Papa inquired politely, for
she seemed unable immediately to go on.
She cleared her throat. 'In what way--in what way is he useful?' she
asked.
'Madam, he pays.'
'Yes--of course, of course. You cannot--' she smiled--'be expected to
teach him German for nothing.'
'Far from doing that I teach him German for a great deal.'
'Is he--do you know anything about his relations? You understand,' she
added, 'that it is not altogether pleasant for a private family like
ours to have a strange young man living under the same roof.'
'Understand?' cried Papa. 'I understand it so thoroughly that I most
positively refused to have him under this one.'
'Ah--yes,' said Frau von Lindeberg, a Dammerlitz expression coming into
her face. 'The cases are not--are not quite--pray tell me, who and what
is his father?'
'A respectable man, madam, I should judge.'
'Respectable? And besides respectable?'
'Eminently worthy, I should say from his letters.'
'Ah yes. And--and anything else?'
'Honorable too, I fancy. Indeed, I have not a doubt.'
'Is he of any family?'
'He is of his own family, madam.'
'Ah yes. And did you--did you say he was well off?'
'He is apparently revoltingly rich.'
An electric shock seemed to make Frau von Lindeberg catch her breath.
'Oh really,' she then said evenly. 'Did he inherit his wealth?'
'Made it, madam. He is an ironmonger.'
Another electric shock made Frau von Lindeberg catch her breath again.
Then she again said, 'Oh really.'
There was a pause.
'England,' she said after a moment, 'is different from Germany.'
'I believe it is,' admitted Papa.
'And ironmongers there may be different from ironmongers here.'
'It is at least conceivable.'
'Tell me, what status has an ironmonger in England?'
'What status?'
'In society.'
'Ah, that I know not. I went over there seven and twenty years ago for
the purpose of marrying, and I met no ironmongers. Not consciously, that
is.'
'Would they--would they be above the set in which you then found
yourself, or would they--' she tried to conceal a shiver--'be below it.'
'I know not. I know nothing of society either there or here. But I do
know that money, there as here, is very mighty. It is, I should say,
merely a question of having enough.'
'And has he enough?'
'The man, madam, is I believe perilously near becoming that miserable
and isolated creature a millionaire. God help the unfortunate Joey.'
'But why? Why should God help him? Why is he unfortunate? Does not he
get any share?'
'Any share? He gets it all. He is the only child. Now I put it to you,
what chance is there for an unhappy youth with no brains-'
'Oh, I must really go. I have taken up an unwarrantable amount of your
time. Thank you so very much, dear Herr Schmidt--no, no, do not disturb
yourself I beg--your daughter will show me the way--'
'But,' cried Papa, vainly trying to detain this determinedly retreating
figure, 'about his character, his morals--we have not yet touched--'
'Ah yes--so kind--I will not keep you now. Another time perhaps--'
And Frau von Lindeberg got herself out of the room and out of the house.
Scarcely did she say good-by to me, in so great and sudden a fever was
she to be gone; but she did turn on the doorstep and give me a curiously
intense look. It began at my eyes, travelled upward to my hair, down
across my face, and from there over my whole body to my toes. It was a
very odd look. It was the most burningly critical look that has ever
shrivelled my flesh.
Now what do you think of this enormous long letter? It has made me quite
cheerful just writing it, and I was not very cheerful when I began. I
hope the reading of it will do you as much good. Good-by. Write and tell
me you are happy.
Yours sincerely,