Active Service, Stephen Crane [classic books for 11 year olds TXT] 📗
- Author: Stephen Crane
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That There Were People In athens Who Would Be Glad
To Explain His Treacherous Character, She Would Have
Haughtily Scorned the Tale-Bearing and Would Have
Gone With More Haste Into The Professor'S Way Of
Thinking. In fact, She Was In process Of Undermining
Herself., And The Work Could Have Been. Retarded or
Advanced by Any Irresponsible, Gossipy Tongue.
The Professor, From The Depths Of His Experience
With Her, Arranged a Course Of Conduct. " If I Just
Leave Her To Herself She Will Come Around All Right,
But If I Go 'Striking while The Iron Is Hot,' Or Any Of
Those Things, I'Ll Bungle It Surely."
As They Were Making ready To Go Down To Luncheon,
Mrs. Wainwright Made Her Speech Which First Indicated
A Changing mind. " Well, What Will Be, Will Be,"
She Murmured with A Prolonged sigh Of Resignation.
" What Will Be, Will Be. Girls Are Very Headstrong In
These Days, And There Is Nothing much To Be Done With
Them. They Go Their Own Roads. It Wasn'T So In my
Girlhood. - We Were Obliged to Pay Attention To Our
Mothers Wishes."
" I Did Not Notice That You Paid Much Attention To
Your Mother'S Wishes When You Married me," Remarked
The Professor. " In fact, I Thought-"
" That Was Another Thing," Retorted mrs. Wainwright
With Severity. " You Were A Steady Young Man
Who Had Taken The Highest Honours All Through Your
College Course, And My Mother'S Sole Objection Was
That We Were Too Hasty. She Thought We -Ought To
Wait Until You Had A Penny To Bless Yourself With,
And I Can See Now Where She Was Quite Right."
" Well, You Married me, Anyhow," Said The Professor,
Victoriously.
Mrs. Wainwright Allowed her Husband'S Retort To
Pass Over Her Thoughtful Mood. " They Say * * They
Say Rufus Coleman Makes As Much As Fifteen Thousand
Dollars A Year. That'S More Than Three Times Your Income
* * I Don'T Know. * * It All Depends On Whether
They Try To Save Or Not. His Manner Of Life Is, No
Doubt, Very Luxurious. I Don'T Suppose He Knows
How To Economise At All. That Kind Of A Man Usually
Doesn'T. And Then, In the Newspaper World Positions
Are So Very Precarious. Men May Have Valuable Positions
One Minute And Be Penniless In the Street The
Next Minute. It Isn'T As If He Had Any Real Income,
And Of Course He Has No Real Ability. If He Was Suddenly
Thrown Out Of His Position, Goodness Knows What
Would Become Of Him. Still Stillfifteen Thousand
Dollars A Year Is A Big Incomewhile It Lasts. I
Suppose He Is Very Extravagant. That Kind Of A Man
Usually Is. And I Wouldn'T Be Surprised if He Was
Heavily In debt; Very Heavily In debt. Still * * If
Marjory Has Set Her Heart There Is Nothing to Be Done,
I Suppose. It Wouldn'T Have Happened if You Had
Been As Wise As You Thought You Were. * * I Suppose
He Thinks I Have Been Very Rude To Him. Well, Some
Times I Wasn'T Nearly So Rude As I Felt Like Being.
Feeling as I Did, I Could Hardly Be Very Amiable. * *
Of Course This Drive This Afternoon Was All Your Affair
And Marjory'S. But, Of Course, I Shall Be Nice To Him."
" And What Of All This Nora Black Business? " Asked
The Professor, With, A Display Of Valour, But Really With
Much Trepidation.
" She Is A Hussy," Responded mrs. Wainwright With
Energy. " Her Conversation In the Carriage On The
Way Down To Agrinion Sickened me! "
" I Really Believe That Her Plan Was Simply To Break
Everything off Between Marjory And Coleman," Said
The Professor, " And I Don'T Believe She Had Any-Grounds
For All That Appearance Of Owning coleman And The
Rest Of It."
" Of Course She Didn'T" Assented mrs. Wainwright.
The Vicious Thing! "
" On The Other Hand," Said The Professor, " There
Might Be Some Truth In it."
" I Don'T Think So," Said Mrs. Wainwright Seriously.
I Don'T Believe A Word Of It."
" You Do Not Mean To Say That You Think Coleman
A Model Man ? " Demanded the Professor.
"Not At All! Not At All!" She Hastily Answered.
" But * * One Doesn'T Look For Model Men These Days."
"'Who Told You He Made Fifteen Thousand A Year?
Asked the Professor.
"It Was Peter Tounley This Morning. We Were
Talking upstairs After Breakfast, And He Remarked that
He If Could Make Fifteen Thousand, A Year: Like Coleman,
He'D-I'Ve Forgotten What-Some Fanciful Thing."
" I Doubt If It Is True," Muttered the Old Man Wagging his Head.
"Of Course It'S True," Said His Wife Emphatically.
" Peter Tounley Says Everybody Knows It."
Well * Anyhow * Money Is Not Everything."
But It'S A. Great Deal, You Know Well Enough. You
Know You Are Always Speaking of Poverty As An Evil,
As A Grand Resultant, A Collaboration Of Many Lesser
Evils. Well, Then?
" But," Began The Professor Meekly, When I Say
That I Mean-"
" Well, Money Is Money And Poverty Is Poverty,"
Interrupted his Wife. " You Don'T Have To Be Very
Learned to Know That."
"I Do Not Say That Coleman Has Not A Very Nice
Thing of It, But I Must Say It Is Hard To Think Of His
Getting any Such Sum, As You Mention."
" Isn'T He Known As The Most Brilliant Journalist In
New York?" She Demanded harshly.
" Y-Yes, As Long As It Lasts, But Then One Never
Knows When He Will Be Out In the Street Penniless.
Of Course He Has No Particular Ability Which Would
Be Marketable If He Suddenly Lost His Present Employment.
Of Course It Is Not As If He Was A Really Talented young Man.
He Might Not Be Able To Make His Way At All In any New Direction."
" I Don'T Know About That," Said Mrs. Wainwright
In Reflective Protestation. " I Don'T Know About That.
I Think He Would."
" I Thought You Said A Moment Ago-" The Professor
Spoke With An Air Of Puzzled hesitancy. "I
Thought You Said A Moment Ago That He Wouldn'T Succeed
In Anything but Journalism."
Mrs. Wainwright Swam Over The Situation With A
Fine Tranquility. " Well-I-I," She Answered musingly,
"If I Did Say That, I Didn'T Mean It Exactly."
" No, I Suppose Not," Spoke The Professor, And De-
Spite The Necessity For Caution He Could Not Keep Out
Of His Voice A Faint Note Of Annoyance.
" Of Course," Continued the Wife, " Rufus Coleman
Is Known Everywhere As A Brilliant Man, A Very Brilliant
Man, And He Even Might Do Well In-In Politics Or
Something of That Sort."
" I Have A Very Poor Opinion Of That Kind Of A Mind
Which Does Well In american Politics," Said The Pro-
Fessor, Speaking as A Collegian, " But I Suppose There
May Be Something in it."
" Well, At Any Rate," Decided mrs. Wainwright.
" At Any Rate-"
At That Moment, Marjory Attired for Luncheon And
The Drive Entered from Her Room, And Mrs. Wainwright
Checked the Expression Of Her Important Conclusion.
Neither Father Or Mother Had Ever Seen Her So Glowing
With Triumphant Beauty, A Beauty Which Would
Carry The Mind Of A Spectator Far Above Physical
Appreciation Into That Realm Of Poetry Where Creatures
Of Light Move And Are Beautiful Because They Cannot
Know Pain Or A Burden. It Carried tears To The Old
Father'S Eyes. He Took Her Hands. " Don'T Be Too
Happy, My Child, Don'T Be Too Happy," He Admonished
Her Tremulously. " It Makes Me Afraid-It Makes Me
Afraid."
Chapter 29
It Seems Strange That The One Who Was The Most
Hilarious Over The Engagement Of Marjory And Cole-
Man Should Be Coleman'S Dragoman Who Was Indeed
In A State Bordering on Transport. It Is Not Known
How He Learned the Glad Tidings, But It Is Certain That
He Learned them Before Luncheon. He Told All The
Visible Employes Of The Hotel And Allowed them To
Know That The Betrothal Really Had Been His Handi-Work
He Had Arranged it. He Did Not Make Quite
Clear How He Had Performed this Feat, But At Least He
Was Perfectly Frank In acknowledging it.
When Some Of The Students Came Down To Luncheon,
They Saw Him But Could Not Decide What Ailed him.
He Was In the Main Corridor Of The Hotel, Grinning
From Ear To Ear, And When He Perceived the Students
He Made Signs To Intimate That They Possessed in com-
Mon A Joyous Secret. " What'S The Matter With That
Idiot?" Asked coke Morosely. " Looks As If His
Wheels Were Going around Too Fast."
Peter Tounley Walked close To Him And Scanned
Him Imperturbably, But With Care. " What'S Up,
Phidias ? " The Man Made No Articulate Reply. He
Continued to Grin And Gesture. "Pain In oo Tummy?
Mother Dead? Caught The Cholera? Found Out
That You'Ve Swallowed a Pair Of Hammered brass And
Irons In your Beer? Say, Who Are You, Anyhow? "
But He Could Not Shake This Invincible Glee, So He
Went Away.
The Dragoman'S Rapture Reached its Zenith When
Coleman Lent Him To The Professor And He Was
Commissioned to Bring a Carriage For Four People To The
Door At Three O'Clock. He Himself Was To Sit On
The Box And Tell The Driver What Was Required of
Him. He Dashed off, His Hat In his Hand, His Hair Flying,
Puffing, Important Beyond Everything, And Apparently
Babbling his Mission To Half The People He Met
On The Street. In most Countries He Would Have
Landed speedily In jail, But Among A People Who Exist
On A Basis Of'Jibbering, His Violent Gabble Aroused no
Suspicions As To His Sanity. However, He Stirred
Several Livery Stables To Their Depths And Set Men Running
Here And There Wildly And For The Most Part
Futiltiy.
At Fifteen Minutes To Three O'Clock, A Carriage With
Its Horses On A Gallop Tore Around The Corner And Up
To The . Front Of The Hotel, Where It Halted with The
Pomp And Excitement Of A Fire Engine. The Dragoman
Jumped down From His Seat Beside The Driver And
Scrambled hurriedly Into The Hoiel, In the Gloom Of
Which Hemet A Serene Stillness Which Was Punctuated
Only By The Leisurely Tinkle Of Silver And Glass In the
Dining room. For A Moment The Dragoman Seemed
Really Astounded out Of Specch. Then He Plunged
Into The Manager'S Room. Was It Conceivable That
Monsieur Coleman Was Still At Luncheon? Yes; In
Fact, It Was True. But The Carriage, Was At The Door!
The Carriage Was At The Door! The Manager,
Undisturbed, Asked for What Hour Monsieur Coleman Had
Been Pleased to Order A Carriage. Three O'Clock !
Three O'Clock? The Manager Pointed calmly At The
Clock. Very Well. It Was Now Only Thirteen Minutes
Of Three O'Clock. Monsieur Coleman Doubtless Would
Appear At Three. Until That Hour The Manager Would
Not Disturb Monsieur Coleman. The Dragoman
Clutched both His Hands In his Hair And Cast A Look Of
Agony To The Ceiling. Great God! Had He Accomplished
The Herculean Task Of Getting a Carriage For
Four People To The Door Of The Hotel In time For A Drive
At Three O'Clock, Only To Meet With This Stoniness, This
Inhumanity? Ah, It Was Unendurable? He Begged
The Manager; He Implored him. But At Every Word.
The Manager Seemed to Grow More Indifferent, More
Callous. He Pointed with A Wooden Finger At The
Clock-Face. In reality, It Is Thus, That Greek Meets
Greek.
Professor Wainwright And Coleman Strolled together
Out Of The Dining room. The Dragoman Rushed ecstatically
Upon The Correspondent. " Oh, Meester Coleman!
The Carge Is Ready !"
"Well, All Right," Said Coleman, Knocking ashes
From His Cigar. "Don'T Be In a Hurry. I Suppose
We'Ll Be Ready, Presently." The Man Was In despair.
The Departure Of The Wainwrights And Coleman On
This Ordinary Drive Was Of A Somewhat Dramatic And
Public Nature, No One Seemed to Know How To Prevent
Its Being so. In the First Place, The Attendants
Thronged out En Masse For A Reason Which Was Plain
At The Time Only To Coleman'S Dragoman. And, Rather
In The Background, Lurked the Interested students.
The Professor Was Surprised and Nervous. Coleman
Was Rigid And Angry. Marjory Was Flushed and Some
What Hurried, And Mrs. Wainwright Was As Proud As
An Old Turkey-Hen.
As The Carriage Rolled away, Peter Tounley Turned
To His Companions And Said: " Now, That'S Official!
That Is The Official Announcement! Did You See Old
Mother Wainwright? Oh,
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