Active Service, Stephen Crane [classic books for 11 year olds TXT] 📗
- Author: Stephen Crane
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" Yes, I S'Pose I Could Do That," Said The Artist, Mollified by A
Thought Of The Ease With Which He Could Make The Change, And
Mollified, Too, By The Brazen Tribute To A Part Of His Cleverness.
" Well, Do It, Then," Said The Sunday Editor, Turning abruptly
Away. The Artist, With Head High, Walked majestically Back To
The Other Room. Whereat The Curly-Headed one Immediately
Resumed the Rain Of Paper Balls Upon Him. The Office Boy Came
Timidly To Coleman And Suggested the Presence Of The People
In The Outer Office. " Let Them Wait Until I Read My
Mail," Said Coleman. He Shuffled the Pack Of Letters
Indifferently Through His Hands. Suddenly He Came Upon A Little
Grey Envelope. He Opened it At Once And Scanned its Contents
With The Speed of His Craft. Afterward He Laid It Down Before Him
On The Desk And Surveyed it With A Cool And Musing smile.
"So?" He Remarked. " That'S The Case, Is It?"
He Presently Swung Around In his Chair, And For A Time Held
The Entire Attention Of The Men At The Various Desks. He Outlined
To Them Again Their Various Parts In the Composition Of The Next
Great Sunday Edition. In a Few Brisk Sentences He Set A Complex
Machine In proper Motion. His Men No Longer Thrilled with
Admiration At The Precision With Which He Grasped each Obligation
Of The Campaign Toward A Successful Edition. They Had Grown
To Accept It As They Accepted his Hat Or His London Clothes. At
This Time His Face Was Lit With Something of The Self-Contained
Enthusiasm Of A General. Immediately Afterward He Arose And
Reached for His Coat And Hat.
The Office Boy, Coming circuitously Forward, Presented him
With Some Cards And Also With A Scrap Of Paper Upon Which Was
Scrawled a Long And Semicoherent Word. " What Are These ? "
Grumbled coleman.
"They Are Waiting outside," Answered the Boy, With
Trepidation. It Was Part Of The Law That The Lion Of The Ante-Room
Should Cringe Like A Cold Monkey,
More Or Less, As Soon As He Was Out Of His Private Jungle. "Oh,
Tallerman," Cried the Sunday Editor, "Here'S This Arctic Man
Come To Arrange About His Illustration. I Wish You'D Go And Talk
It Over With Him." By Chance He Picked up The Scrap Of Paper
With Its Cryptic Word. " Oh," He Said, Scowling at The Office Boy.
"Pity You Can'T Remember That Fellow. If You Can'T Remember
Faces Any Better Than That You Should Be A Detective. Get Out
Now And Tell Him To Go To The Devil." The Wilted slave Turned at
Once, But Coleman Hailed him. " Hold On. Come To Think Of It, I
Will See This Idiot. Send Him In," He Commanded, Grimly.
Coleman Lapsed into A Dream Over The Sheet Of Grey Note
Paper. Presently, A Middle-Aged man, A Palpable German, Came
Hesitatingly Into The Room And Bunted among The Desks As
Unmanageably As A Tempest-Tossed scow. Finally He Was
Impatiently Towed in the Right Direction. He Came And Stood At
Coleman'S Elbow And Waited nervously For The Engrossed man
To Raise His Eyes. It Was Plain That This Interview Meant
Important Things To Him. Somehow On His Commonplace
Countenance Was To Be Found The Expression Of A Dreamer, A
Fashioner Of Great And Absurd Projects, A Fine, Tender Fool. He
Cast Hopeful And Reverent Glances At The Man Who Was Deeply
Contemplative Of The Grey Note. He Evidently Believed himself
On The Threshold Of A Triumph Of Some Kind, And He Awaited
His Fruition With A Joy That Was Only Made Sharper By
The Usual Human Suspicion Of Coming events.
Coleman Glanced up At Last And Saw His Visitor.
" Oh, It'S You, Is It ? " He Remarked icily, Bending upon The
German The Stare Of A Tyrant. "So You'Ve Come Again, Have You? "
He Wheeled in his Chair Until He Could Fully Display A
Contemptuous, Merciless Smile. "Now, Mr.
What'S-Your-Name, You'Ve Called here To See Me About Twenty
Times Already And At Last I Am Going to Say Something definite
About Your Invention." His Listener'S Face, Which Had Worn For A
Moment A Look Of Fright And Bewilderment, Gladdened swiftly To
A Gratitude That Seemed the Edge Of An Outburst Of Tears. " Yes,"
Continued coleman, " I Am Going to Say Something definite. I Am
Going to Say That It Is The Most Imbecile Bit Of Nonsense That Has
Come Within The Range Of My Large Newspaper Experience. It Is
Simply The Aberration Of A Rather Remarkable Lunatic. It Is No Good;
It Is Not Worth The Price Of A Cheese Sandwich. I Understand
That Its One Feat Has Been To Break Your Leg; If It Ever Goes Off
Again, Persuade It To Break Your Neck. And Now I Want You To
Take This Nursery Rhyme Of Yours And Get Out. And Don'T Ever
Come Here Again. Do You Understand ? You Understand, Do You ?"
He Arose And Bowed in courteous Dismissal.
The German Was Regarding him With The Surprise
And Horror Of A Youth Shot Mortally. He Could Not
Find His Tongue For A Moment. Ultimately He Gasped : "But,
Mister Editor "--Coleman Interrupted him Tigerishly. " You Heard
What I Said? Get Out." The Man Bowed his Head And Went
Slowly Toward The Door.
Coleman Placed the Little Grey Note In his Breast Pocket. He
Took His Hat And Top Coat, And Evading the Dismal Band By A
Shameless Manoeuvre, Passed through The Halls To The Entrance
To The Elevator Shaft. He Heard A Movement Behind Him And Saw
That The German Was Also Waiting for The Elevator.
Standing in the Gloom Of The Corridor, Coleman Felt The
Mournful Owlish Eyes Of The German Resting upon Him. He Took
A Case From His Pocket And Elaborately Lit A Cigarette. Suddenly
There Was A Flash Of Light And A Cage Of Bronze, Gilt And Steel
Dropped, Magically From Above. Coleman Yelled: " Down!" A
Door Flew Open. Coleman, Followed by The German, Stepped
Upon The Elevator. " Well, Johnnie," He Said Cheerfully To The
Lad Who Operated this Machine, "Is Business Good?" "Yes, Sir,
Pretty Good," Answered the Boy, Grinning. The Little Cage Sank
Swiftly; Floor After Floor Seemed to Be Rising with Marvellous
Speed; The Whole Building was Winging straight Into The Sky.
There Were Soaring lights, Figures And The Opalescent Glow Of
Ground Glass Doors Marked with Black Inscriptions. Other Lifts
Were Springing heavenward. All The Lofty Corridors Rang With
Cries. " Up! " Down! " " Down! " " Up! " The Boy'S Hand
Grasped a Lever And His Machine Obeyed his Lightest Movement
With Sometimes An Unbalancing swiftness.
Coleman Discoursed briskly To The Youthful Attendant. Once
He Turned and Regarded with A Quick Stare Of Insolent
Annoyance The Despairing countenance Of The German Whose
Eyes Had Never Left Him. When The Elevator Arrived at The
Ground Floor, Coleman Departed with The Outraged air Of A Man
Who For A Time Had Been Compelled to Occupy A Cell In company
With A Harmless Spectre.
He Walked quickly Away. Opposite A Corner Of The City Hall
He Was Impelled to Look Behind Him. Through The Hordes Of
People With Cable Cars Marching like Panoplied elephants, He
Was Able To Distinguish The German, Motionless And Gazing after
Him. Coleman Laughed. " That'S A Comic Old Boy," He Said, To
Himself.
In The Grill-Room Of A Broadway Hotel He Was Obliged to Wait
Some Minutes For The Fulfillment Of His Orders And He Spent The
Time In reading and Studying the Little Grey Note. When His
Luncheon Was Served he Ate With An Expression Of Morose
Dignity.
Chapter 4Marjory Paused again At Her Father'S Door. After Hesitating
In The Original Way She Entered the Library. Her Father Almost
Represented an Emblematic Figure, Seated upon A Column Of
Books. " Well," He Cried. Then, Seeing it Was Marjory, He
Changed his Tone. " Ah, Under The Circumstances, My Dear, I
Admit Your Privilege Of Interrupting me At Any Hour Of The Day.
You Have Important Business With Me." His Manner Was
Satanically Indulgent.
The Girl Fingered a Book. She Turned the Leaves In absolute
Semblance Of A Person Reading. "Rufus Coleman Called."
"Indeed," Said The Professor.
"And I'Ve Come To You, Father, Before Seeing him."
The Professor Was Silent For A Time. " Well, Marjory," He Said
At Last, "What Do You Want Me To Say?" He Spoke Very
Deliberately. " I Am Sure This Is A Singular Situation. Here Appears
The Man I Formally Forbid You To Marry. I Am Sure I Do Not Know
What I Am To Say."
" I Wish To See Him," Said The Girl.
"You Wish To See Him?" Enquired the Professor. "You Wish
To See Him " Marjory, I May As Well Tell You Now That With
All The Books And Plays I'Ve Read, I Really
Don'T Know How The Obdurate Father Should Conduct Himself.
He Is Always Pictured as An Exceedingly Dense Gentleman With
White Whiskers, Who Does All The Unintelligent Things In the
Plot. You And I Are Going to Play No Drama, Are We, Marjory? I
Admit That I Have White Whiskers, And I Am An Obdurate Father. I
Am, As You Well May Say, A Very Obdurate Father. You Are Not To
Marry Rufus Coleman. You Understand The Rest Of The Matter.
He Is Here ; You Want To See Him. What Will You Say To Him
When You See Him? "
" I Will Say That You Refuse To Let Me Marry Him, Father And-"
She Hesitated a Moment Before She Lifted her Eyes Fully And
Formidably To Her Father'S Face. " And That I Shall Marry Him
Anyhow."
The Professor Did Not Cavort When This Statement Came From
His Daughter. He Nodded and Then Passed into A Period Of
Reflection. Finally He Asked: "But When? That Is The Point.
When?"
The Girl Made A Sad Gesture. "I Don'T Know. I Don'T Know.
Perhaps When You Come To Know Rufus Better-"
" Know Him Better. Know That Rapscallion Better? Why, I
Know Him Much Better Than He Knows Himself. I Know Him Too
Well. Do You Think I Am Talking offhand About This Affair? Do
You Think I Am Talking without Proper Information?"
Marjory Made No Reply.
"Well," Said The Professor, "You May See Coleman On
Condition That You Inform Him At Once That I Forbid Your
Marriage To Him. I Don'T Understand At All How To Manage These
Situations. I Don'T Know What To Do. I Suppose I Should Go
Myself And-No, You Can'T See Him, Majory."
Still The Girl Made No Reply. Her Head Sank Forward And She
Breathed a Trifle Heavily.
"Marjory," Cried the Professor, It Is Impossible That You
Should Think So Much Of This Man." He Arose And Went To His
Daughter. " Marjory, Many Wise Children Have Been Guided by
Foolish Fathers, But We Both Suspect That No Foolish Child Has
Ever Been Guided by A Wise Father. Let Us Change It. I Present
Myself To You As A Wise Father. Follow My Wishes In this Affair
And You Will Be At Least Happier Than If You Marry This Wretched
Coleman."
She Answered: " He Is Waiting for Me."
The Professor Turned abruptly From Her And Dropped into His
Chair At The Table. He Resumed a Grip On His Pen. " Go," He Said,
Wearily. " Go. But If You Have A Remnant Of Sense, Remember
What I Have Said To You. Go." He Waved his Hand In a Dismissal
That Was Slightly Scornful. " I Hoped you Would Have A Minor
Conception Of What You Were Doing. It Seems A Pity." Drooping
In Tears, The Girl Slowly Left The Room.
Coleman Had An Idea That He Had Occupied the Chair For
Several Months. He Gazed about At The Pictures And The Odds
And Ends Of A Drawing-Room In an Attempt To Take An Interest In
Them. The Great Garlanded paper Shade Over The Piano Lamp
Consoled his Impatience In a Mild Degree Because He Knew That
Marjory Had Made It. He Noted the Clusters Of Cloth Violets
Which She Had Pinned upon The Yellow Paper And He Dreamed
Over The Fact. He Was Able To Endow This Shade With Certain
Qualities Of Sentiment That Caused his Stare To Become Almost A
Part Of An Intimacy, A
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