"What seemed to be the matter?"
"I don't know." He was looking before him. "When I got through college,
I thought I was going to get on all right--thought I should be a big man
some day." He looked at her and smiled.
"You look pretty big and strong," assented Aunt Jane.
He laughed out. "I'm big enough this way!" He reached out his arms from
the broad shoulders and clinched the hands a little. "I can tackle
anything in sight. But--" he leaned forward--"it's the things that are
out of sight that I can't seem to come to grips with."
"That's what bothers most folks, I guess--men folks special," said Aunt
Jane. "I've known a good many men, and I like them.... I like men
better'n I do women," she added a little guiltily, "but sometimes it
seems to me, when I'm with 'em, as if they were blind--a little mite
blind about what's going on inside."
She rocked a little.
"Maybe it's just because they're slow," she said reflectively. "They
can't see quick, the way women can, and they're kind of afraid of what
they can't see--some like children in the dark." She was smiling at him.
He nodded. "You've got it! I shouldn't wonder if that's the way Edith
feels. She's never said it just that way. But she doesn't seem to
understand what I'm after; and I can't tell her--because I don't know
myself," he added candidly.
"So while you're figuring it out, she calls it something else?" said
Aunt Jane.
"That's it! And then we get--angry, and I can't even think. It seems to
paralyze me, some way."
Aunt Jane was smiling to herself. "'Most seems as if it would have been
a better way to have men folks marry men folks--" She looked at him
shrewdly. "They'd get along more comfortable?"
He shook his head and laughed. "I want Edith just the way she is. But I
wish----"
"Yes--we all do." Aunt Jane nodded. "We like what we've got--pretty
well. But we're always wishing it was a little mite different some
way.... I like my work here; and I do it about as well as I know how.
But some days I wish--" She broke off and sat looking before her.
The young man's face regarded her attentively. He leaned forward. "I'm
taking too much of your time. I didn't think how busy you must be. I'll
go now. And thank you for letting me talk." He stood up.
Aunt Jane reached out a hand.
"Sit down, Mr. Dalton. That's what my time is for--to talk about
things.... What was it you said you wished?"
He sat down. "I'd like to tell you--if you really have time.... And it
won't take so long--" He was looking at it thoughtfully. "You see, I've
never made good, because I've never stayed long in one place. That is
what frets Edith--what she can't understand."
"It's hard for a woman--always changing round," said Aunt Jane. "Hard on
the furniture."
He smiled. "We haven't changed house so many times. It's been mostly in
the city here. But each time I've had to start all over.... After we
were married, I went in with Clark & Lyman; that's Edith's
father--George B. Lyman; and I thought I was fixed for life. And it
wasn't six months before I had to move on."
"I suppose you'd done something they didn't like," commented Aunt Jane.
He laughed. "It was what I _didn't_ do! They said I didn't take my
chances. Edith's father said I didn't."
"Take risks, you mean?"
"No.... Chances to make money--he said I let the best chances go by."
"Why did you do that?" asked Aunt Jane. Her face, turned to him, was
full of kindly interest.
He sat with his hands thrust in his pockets, looking at her.
"That's what I've never been able to tell Edith," he said slowly. "But I
think I can tell you--if you'll let me.... I've been thinking about it a
good deal since she's been ill and I think it's because I always see
something ahead--something bigger--that I'd rather work for." The hands
thrust themselves deeper into his pockets and his face grew intent. "I
feel it so strongly--that it seems wasteful to stop to pick up the
twopenny bits they're scrambling for."
He threw back his shoulders. "Well, I'm going to try.... I've made up my
mind--She means more to me than anything in the world and if she can't
be happy, I'm going to give it up.... That's all! And thank you for
letting me talk it out. It's done me more good than you know!" He held
out his hand.
Aunt Jane took it slowly. "I don't quite think I'd give up, Mr. Dalton."
She was looking at him through her glasses, and the young man had a
sudden sense that her face was beautiful. "I don't think I'd give
up--not quite yet--if I was you."