The Rise Of Silas Lapham By William Dean Howells Part 1 - William Dean Howells (best e reader for academics txt) 📗
- Author: William Dean Howells
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Gleam Of His Good Spirits. He Told Her All About It,
As He Sat Talking with Her At The Stern Of The Boat,
Lingering till The Last Moment, And Then Stepping ashore,
With As Little Waste Of Time As Lapham Himself, On The
Gang-Plank Which The Deck-Hands Had Laid Hold Of.
He Touched his Hat To Her From The Wharf To Reassure
of 1 Part 8 Pg 86Her Of His Escape From Being carried away With Her,
And The Next Moment His Smiling face Hid Itself In
The Crowd.
He Walked on Smiling up The Long Wharf, Encumbered with
Trucks And Hacks And Piles Of Freight, And, Taking his Way
Through The Deserted business Streets Beyond This Bustle,
Made A Point Of Passing the Door Of Lapham'S Warehouse,
On The Jambs Of Which His Name And Paint Were Lettered in
Black On A Square Ground Of White. The Door Was Still Open,
And Corey Loitered a Moment Before It, Tempted to Go
Upstairs And Fetch Away Some Foreign Letters Which He
Had Left On His Desk, And Which He Thought He Might Finish
Up At Home. He Was In love With His Work, And He Felt
The Enthusiasm For It Which Nothing but The Work We Can
Do Well Inspires In us. He Believed that He Had Found
His Place In the World, After A Good Deal Of Looking,
And He Had The Relief, The Repose, Of Fitting into It.
Every Little Incident Of The Momentous, Uneventful Day
Was A Pleasure In his Mind, From His Sitting down
At His Desk, To Which Lapham'S Boy Brought Him The
Foreign Letters, Till His Rising from It An Hour Ago.
Lapham Had Been In view Within His Own Office, But He
Had Given Corey No Formal Reception, And Had, In fact,
Not Spoken To Him Till Toward The End Of The Forenoon,
When He Suddenly Came Out Of His Den With Some More
Letters In his Hand, And After A Brief "How D'Ye Do?"
Had Spoken A Few Words About Them, And Left Them With Him.
He Was In his Shirt-Sleeves Again, And His Sanguine Person
Seemed to Radiate The Heat With Which He Suffered.
He Did Not Go Out To Lunch, But Had It Brought To Him
In His Office, Where Corey Saw Him Eating it Before He
Left His Own Desk To Go Out And Perch On A Swinging seat
Before The Long Counter Of A Down-Town Restaurant.
He Observed that All The Others Lunched at Twelve, And He
Resolved to Anticipate His Usual Hour. When He Returned,
The Pretty Girl Who Had Been Clicking away At A Type-Writer
All The Morning was Neatly Putting out Of Sight The
Evidences Of Pie From The Table Where Her Machine Stood,
And Was Preparing to Go On With Her Copying. In his Office
Lapham Lay Asleep In his Arm-Chair, With A Newspaper Over
His Face.
Now, While Corey Lingered at The Entrance To The Stairway,
These Two Came Down The Stairs Together, And He Heard
Lapham Saying, "Well, Then, You Better Get A Divorce."
He Looked red and Excited, And The Girl'S Face, Which She
Veiled at Sight Of Corey, Showed traces Of Tears.
She Slipped round Him Into The Street.
But Lapham Stopped, And Said, With The Show Of No Feeling
But Surprise: "Hello, Corey! Did You Want To Go Up?"
"Yes; There Were Some Letters I Hadn'T Quite Got Through With."
"You'Ll Find Dennis Up There. But I Guess You Better Let
Them Go Till To-Morrow. I Always Make It A Rule To Stop
of 1 Part 8 Pg 87Work When I'M Done."
"Perhaps You'Re Right," Said Corey, Yielding.
"Come Along Down As Far As The Boat With Me. There'S A
Little Matter I Want To Talk Over With You."
It Was A Business Matter, And Related to Corey'S Proposed
Connection With The House.
The Next Day The Head Book-Keeper, Who Lunched at The Long
Counter Of The Same Restaurant With Corey, Began To Talk
With Him About Lapham. Walker Had Not Apparently Got
His Place By Seniority; Though With His Forehead, Bald Far
Up Toward The Crown, And His Round Smooth Face, One Might
Have Taken Him For A Plump Elder, If He Had Not Looked
Equally Like A Robust Infant. The Thick Drabbish Yellow
Moustache Was What Arrested decision In either Direction,
And The Prompt Vigour Of All His Movements Was That Of
A Young Man Of Thirty, Which Was Really Walker'S Age.
He Knew, Of Course, Who Corey Was, And He Had Waited
For A Man Who Might Look Down On Him Socially To Make
The Overtures Toward Something more Than Business
Acquaintance; But, These Made, He Was Readily Responsive,
And Drew Freely On His Philosophy Of Lapham And His Affairs.
"I Think About The Only Difference Between People In
This World Is That Some Know What They Want, And Some
Don'T. Well, Now," Said Walker, Beating the Bottom Of His
Salt-Box To Make The Salt Come Out, "The Old Man Knows
What He Wants Every Time. And Generally He Gets It.
Yes, Sir, He Generally Gets It. He Knows What He'S About,
But I'Ll Be Blessed if The Rest Of Us Do Half The Time.
Anyway, We Don'T Till He'S Ready To Let Us. You Take
My Position In most Business Houses. It'S Confidential.
The Head Book-Keeper Knows Right Along Pretty Much
Everything the House Has Got In hand. I'Ll Give You
My Word I Don'T. He May Open Up To You A Little More
In Your Department, But, As Far As The Rest Of Us Go,
He Don'T Open Up Any More Than An Oyster On A Hot Brick.
They Say He Had A Partner Once; I Guess He'S Dead.
I Wouldn'T Like To Be The Old Man'S Partner. Well,
You See, This Paint Of His Is Like His Heart'S Blood.
Better Not Try To Joke Him About It. I'Ve Seen People
Come In occasionally And Try It. They Didn'T Get Much
Fun Out Of It."
While He Talked, Walker Was Plucking up Morsels From His Plate,
Tearing off Pieces Of French Bread From The Long Loaf,
And Feeding them Into His Mouth In an Impersonal Way,
As If He Were Firing up An Engine.
"I Suppose He Thinks," Suggested corey, "That If He
Doesn'T Tell, Nobody Else Will."
Walker Took A Draught Of Beer From His Glass, And Wiped
The Foam From His Moustache.
of 1 Part 8 Pg 88
"Oh, But He Carries It Too Far! It'S A Weakness With Him.
He'S Just So About Everything. Look At The Way He Keeps
It Up About That Type-Writer Girl Of His. You'D Think
She Was Some Princess Travelling incognito. There Isn'T
One Of Us Knows Who She Is, Or Where She Came From,
Or Who She Belongs To. He Brought Her And Her Machine
Into The Office One Morning, And Set 'Em Down At A Table,
And That'S All There Is About It, As Far As We'Re Concerned.
It'S Pretty Hard On The Girl, For I Guess She'D Like
To Talk; And To Any One That Didn'T Know The Old Man----"
Walker Broke Off And Drained his Glass Of What Was Left
In It.
Corey Thought Of The Words He Had Overheard From Lapham
To The Girl. But He Said, "She Seems To Be Kept Pretty Busy."
"Oh Yes," Said Walker; "There Ain'T Much Loafing round
The Place, In any Of The Departments, From The Old Man'S Down.
That'S Just What I Say. He'S Got To Work Just Twice As Hard,
If He Wants To Keep Everything in his Own Mind. But He
Ain'T Afraid Of Work. That'S One Good Thing about Him.
And Miss Dewey Has To Keep Step With The Rest Of Us.
But She Don'T Look Like One That Would Take To It Naturally.
Such A Pretty Girl As That Generally Thinks She Does Enough
When She Looks Her Prettiest."
"She'S A Pretty Girl," Said Corey, Non-Committally. "But I
Suppose A Great Many Pretty Girls Have To Earn Their Living."
"Don'T Any Of 'Em Like To Do It," Returned the Book-Keeper.
"They Think It'S A Hardship, And I Don'T Blame 'Em. They Have
Got A Right To Get Married, And They Ought To Have The Chance.
And Miss Dewey'S Smart, Too. She'S As Bright As A Biscuit.
I Guess She'S Had Trouble. I Shouldn'T Be Much More Than
Half Surprised if Miss Dewey Wasn'T Miss Dewey, Or Hadn'T
Always Been. Yes, Sir," Continued the Book-Keeper,
Who Prolonged the Talk As They Walked back To Lapham'S
Warehouse Together, "I Don'T Know Exactly What It Is,--It
Isn'T Any One Thing in particular,--But I Should Say That
Girl Had Been Married. I Wouldn'T Speak So Freely To Any
Of The Rest, Mr. Corey,--I Want You To Understand That,--And
It Isn'T Any Of My Business, Anyway; But That'S My Opinion."
Corey Made No Reply, As He Walked beside The Book-Keeper,
Who Continued--
"It'S Curious What A Difference Marriage Makes In people.
Now, I Know That I Don'T Look Any More Like A Bachelor
Of My Age Than I Do Like The Man In the Moon, And Yet I
Couldn'T Say Where The Difference Came In, To Save Me.
And It'S Just So With A Woman. The Minute You Catch
Sight Of Her Face, There'S Something in it That Tells
You Whether She'S Married or Not. What Do You Suppose
It Is?"
"I'M Sure I Don'T Know," Said Corey, Willing to Laugh Away
The Topic. "And From What I Read Occasionally Of Some
People Who Go About Repeating their Happiness, I Shouldn'T
of 1 Part 8 Pg 89Say That The Intangible Evidences Were Always Unmistakable."
"Oh, Of Course," Admitted walker, Easily Surrendering
His Position. "All Signs Fail In dry Weather.
Hello! What'S That?" He Caught Corey By The Arm,
And They Both Stopped.
At A Corner, Half A Block Ahead Of Them, The Summer Noon
Solitude Of The Place Was Broken By A
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