The Turmoil - Booth Tarkington (good books to read for 12 year olds .txt) 📗

a deep breath and patently finding it delicious. “You bet we got smoke!”

“Exbensif!” said Herr Favre. “Ruins foliage; ruins fabrics. Maybe in summer it iss not so bad, but I wonder your wifes will bear it.”

Sheridan laughed uproariously. “They know it means new spring hats for ’em!”

“They must need many, too!” said the visitor. “New hats, new all things, but nothing white. In München we could not do it; we are a safing peeble.”

“Where’s that?”

“In München. You say ‘Munich.’ ”

“Well, I never been to Munich, but I took in the Mediterranean trip, and I tell you, outside o’ some right good scenery, all I saw was mighty dirty and mighty shiftless and mighty run-down at the heel. Now comin’ right down to it, Mr. Farver, wouldn’t you rather live here in this town than in Munich? I know you got more enterprise up there than the part of the old country I saw, and I know you’re a live business man and you’re associated with others like you, but when it comes to livin’ in a place, wouldn’t you heap rather be here than over there?”

“For me,” said Herr Favre, “no. Here I should not think I was living. It would be like the miner who goes into the mine to work; nothing else.”

“We got a good many good citizens here from your part o’ the world. They like it.”

“Oh yes.” And Herr Favre laughed deprecatingly. “The first generation, they bring their Germany with them; then, after that, they are Americans, like you.” He tapped his host’s big knee genially. “You are patriot; so are they.”

“Well, I reckon you must be a pretty hot little patriot yourself, Mr. Farver!” Sheridan exclaimed, gaily. “You certainly stand up for your own town, if you stick to sayin’ you’d rather live there than you would here. Yes, sir! You sure are some patriot to say that⁠—after you’ve seen our city! It ain’t reasonable in you, but I must say I kind of admire you for it; every man ought to stick up for his own, even when he sees the other fellow’s got the goods on him. Yet I expect way down deep in your heart, Mr. Farver, you’d rather live right here than any place else in the world, if you had your choice. Man alive! this is God’s country, Mr. Farver, and a blind man couldn’t help seein’ it! You couldn’t stand where you do in a business way and not see it. Soho, boy! Here we are. This is the big works, and I’ll show you something now that’ll make your eyes stick out!”

They had arrived at the Pump Works; and for an hour Mr. Favre was personally conducted and personally instructed by the founder and president, the buzzing queen bee of those buzzing hives.

“Now I’ll take you for a spin in the country,” said Sheridan, when at last they came out to the car again. “We’ll take a breezer.” But, with his foot on the step, he paused to hail a neat young man who came out of the office smiling a greeting. “Hello, young fellow!” Sheridan said, heartily. “On the job, are you, Jimmie? Ha! They don’t catch you off of it very often, I guess, though I do hear you go automobile-ridin’ in the country sometimes with a mighty fine-lookin’ girl settin’ up beside you!” He roared with laughter, clapping his son upon the shoulder. “That’s all right with me⁠—if it is with her! So, Jimmie? Well, when we goin’ to move into your new warehouses? Monday?”

“Sunday, if you want to,” said Jim.

“No!” cried his father, delighted. “Don’t tell me you’re goin’ to keep your word about dates! That’s no way to do contractin’! Never heard of a contractor yet didn’t want more time.”

“They’ll be all ready for you on the minute,” said Jim. “I’m going over both of ’em now, with Links and Sherman, from foundation to roof. I guess they’ll pass inspection, too!”

“Well, then, when you get through with that,” said his father, “you go and take your girl out ridin’. By George! you’ve earned it! You tell her you stand high with me!” He stepped into the car, waving a waggish farewell, and when the wheels were in motion again, he turned upon his companion a broad face literally shining with pride. “That’s my boy Jimmie!” he said.

“Fine young man, yes,” said Herr Favre.

“I got two o’ the finest boys,” said Sheridan, “I got two o’ the finest boys God ever made, and that’s a fact, Mr. Farver! Jim’s the oldest, and I tell you they got to get up the day before if they expect to catch him in bed! My other boy, Roscoe, he’s always to the good, too, but Jim’s a wizard. You saw them two new-process warehouses, just about finished? Well, Jim built ’em. I’ll tell you about that, Mr. Farver.” And he recited this history, describing the new process at length; in fact, he had such pride in Jim’s achievement that he told Herr Favre all about it more than once.

“Fine young man, yes,” repeated the good Münchner, three-quarters of an hour later. They were many miles out in the open country by this time.

“He is that!” said Sheridan, adding, as if confidentially: “I got a fine family, Mr. Farver⁠—fine chuldern. I got a daughter now; you take her and put her anywhere you please, and she’ll shine up with any of ’em. There’s culture and refinement and society in this town by the carload, and here lately she’s been gettin’ right in the thick of it⁠—her and my daughter-in-law, both. I got a mighty fine daughter-in-law, Mr. Farver. I’m goin’ to get you up for a meal with us before you leave town, and you’ll see⁠—and, well, sir, from all I hear the two of ’em been holdin’ their own with the best. Myself, I and the wife never had time for much o’ that kind o’ doin’s, but it’s all right and good for the chuldern; and my daughter she’s always kind of taken to it. I’ll