第32章

heknowswhatgoodplumbingis.I\'mrathersurprisedyoudon\'tappreciatethat,Maude,you\'resoparticularastowhatkindofroomsthechildrenshallhave,andyouwantaschoolroom-nurserywithallthelatestdevices,withsunandventilation.TheBerringerswouldn\'thavehadhim,theHollistersandDickinsonswouldn\'thavehadhimifhisworklackedtaste."

"AndNancywouldn\'thavehadhim,"addedMaude,andshesmiledoncemore.

"Well,Ihaven\'tconsultedNancy,oranyoneelse,"Ireplied——alittletartly,perhaps."Youdon\'tseemtorealizethatsomefashionsmayhaveabasisofreason.Theyarenotallsilly,asLuciaseemstothink.IfLammertonbuildssatisfactoryhouses,heoughttobeforgivenforbeingthefashion,heoughttohaveachance."Igotuptoleave."Let\'sseewhatkindofaplanhe\'lldrawup,atanyrate."

Herglancewasalmostindulgent.

"Ofcourse,Hugh.Iwantyoutobesatisfied,tobepleased,"shesaid.

"Andyou?"Iquestioned,"youaretoliveinthehousemorethanI."

"Oh,I\'msureitwillturnoutallright,"shereplied."Nowyou\'dbetterrunalong,Iknowyou\'relate."

"Iamlate,"Iadmitted,ratherlamely."Ifyoudon\'tcareforLammerton\'sdrawings,we\'llgetanotherarchitect."

SeveralyearsbeforeMr.LammertonhadarrivedamonguswithaBeauxArtsmoustacheandlettersofintroductiontoMrs.Durrettandothers.Wefoundhimthemostadaptable,themostaccommodatingofyoungmen,alwaysreadytodonatehistalentsandhisservicestoprivatetheatricals,tableaux,andfancy-dressballs,totakeaplaceatatableatthelastmoment.Oneofhismostappealingattributeswashis"belief"inourcity,——aformofpatriotismthatculminated,inlateryears,in"millionpopulation"clubs.Ihaveoftenheardhimdeclare,whentheladieshadleftthediningroom,thattherewaspositivelynolimittoourfuturegrowth;and,incidentally,toourfuturewealth.Suchsentimentsasthesecouldnotfailtoaddtoanyman\'spopularity,andhissuccesswasaforegoneconclusion.AlmostbeforeweknewithewasbuildingthenewUnionStationofwhichhehadforeseentheneed,totakecareofthemillionstowhichourpopulationwastobeswelled;buildingthenewPostOfficethattheunceasingeffortsofTheodoreWatlingfinallyprocuredforus:building,indeed,Nancy\'snewhouse,thelargestofourprivatemansionssaveMr.Scherer\'s,acommissionthathadimmediatelybroughtaboutothersfromtheDickinsonsandtheBerringersThatverydayI

calledonhiminhisofficesatthetopofoneofournewbuildings,wheremanyyoungdraftsmenwerebendingovertheirboards.Iwasusheredintohisprivatestudio.

"Isupposeyouwantsomethinghandsome,Hugh,"hesaid,lookingatmeoverhiscigarette,"somethingcommensuratewiththesefeesIhearyouaregetting."

"Well,Iwanttobecomfortable,"Iadmitted.

WelunchedattheClubtogether,wherewetalkedovertherequirements.

Whenhecametodinnerthenextweekandspreadouthissketchontheliving-roomtableMaudedrewinherbreath.

"Why,Hugh,"sheexclaimedindismay,"it\'sasbigas——asbigastheWhiteHouse!"

"Notquite,"Ianswered,laughingwithArchie."Wemayaswelltakeoureaseinouroldage."

"Takeourease!"echoedMaude."We\'llrattle\'roundinit.I\'llnevergetusedtoit."

"Afteramonth,Mrs.Paret,I\'llwageryou\'llbewonderinghowyouevergotalongwithoutit,"saidArchie.

ItwasnotasbigastheWhiteHouse,yetitcouldnotbecalledsmall.

Ihadseen,tothat.Thelongfacadewasimposing,dignified,withatouchofconventionalityandsolidityinkeepingwithmystandinginthecity.ItwasGeorgian,ofplum-colouredbrickwithmarbletrimmingsandmarblewedgesovertheamplewindows,someyearslaterIsawthehousebyFerguson,ofNewYork,fromwhichArchiehadcribbedit.Atoneend,offthedining-room,wasasemicircularconservatory.Therewasasmallportico,withmarblepillars,andintheample,swiftslopingroofmanydormers;servants\'rooms,Archieexplained.ThelookofanxietyonMaude\'sfacedeepenedashewentoverthefloorplans,thereception-room;

diningroomtoseatthirty,theservants\'hall;andupstairsMaude\'sroom,boudoirandbathanddresscloset,my"apartments"adjoiningononesideandthechildren\'sontheother,andtheguest-roomswithbaths

Maudesurrendered,asonewhogiveswaytotheinevitable.Whentheactualbuildingbeganwebothofusexperienced,Ithink;acertainmildexcitement;andwalkedoutthere,sometimeswiththechildren,inthespringevenings,andonSundayafternoons."Excitement"is,perhaps,toostrongawordformyfeelings:therewasapleasurableanticipationonmypart,alookingforwardtoamoredecorous,amoreluxuriousexistence;acertainimpatienceatthedelaysinevitableinbuilding.Butanewlegalcommercialenterpriseofmagnitudebegantoabsorbmeathistime,andsomehowthebuildingofthishome——thefirstthatwepossessedwasnottheeventitshouldhavebeen;thereweremomentswhenIfeltcheated,whenIwonderedwhathadbecomeofthatcapacityforenjoymentwhichinmyyouthhadbeensokeen.Irememberindeed,onegreyeveningwhenI

wenttherealone,aftertheworkmenhaddeparted,andstoodinthelitterofmortarandbricksandboardsgazingatthecompletedfrontofthehouse.ItwasevenlargerthanIhadimagineditfromtheplans;intheSummertwilighttherewasanairaboutit,——ifnotpreciselymenacing,atleastportentous,withitsgapingwindowsandtoweringroof.Iwasalittletiredfromahardday;Ihadtheoddfeedingofhavingraisedupsomethingwithwhich——momentarilyatleast——Idoubtedmyabilitytocope:

somethinghuge,impersonal;somethingthatoughttohaverepresentedafireside,asanctuary,andyetwastheembodimentofanelementquitealientothehome;arestlesselementwithwhichourAmericanatmospherehad,byinvisibledegrees,becomecharged.AsIstaredatit,theoddfancyseizedmethatthebuildingsomehowtypifiedmyowncareerI

hadgainedsomething,intruth,buthadInotalsomissedsomething?

somethingadifferenthomewouldhaveembodied?

Maudeandthechildrenhadgone,totheseaside.

WithavagueuneasinessIturnedawayfromthecontemplationofthosewalls.Thecompanionmansionswereclosed,theirblindstightlydrawn;

theneighbourhoodwasasquietasthecountry,saveforaslightbutpersistentnoisethatimpresseditselfonmyconsciousness.Iwalkedaroundthehousetospyinthebackyard;ayounggirlratherstealthilygatheringlaths,andfragmentsofjoistsandflooring,andloadingthemintoachild\'sexpress-wagon.Shestartedwhenshesawme.Shewaslittle,morethanachild,andtheloosecalicodresssheworeseemedtoemphasizeherthinness.Shestoodstock-still,staringatmewithfrightenedyetdefianteyes.I,too,feltastrangetimidityinherpresence.

"Whydoyoustop?"Iaskedatlength.

"Say,isthisyourheap?"shedemanded.

Iacknowledgedit.Ahintofawewidenedhereyes.Thensiteglancedatthehalf-filledwagon.

"Thisstuffain\'tnousetoyou,isit?"

"No,I\'mgladtohaveyoutakeit."

Sheshiftedtotheotherfoot,butdidnotcontinuehergathering.Animpulseseizedme,Iputdownmywalkingstickandbeganpickinguppiecesofwood,flingingthemintothewagon.Ilookedatheragain,ratherfurtively;shehadnotmoved.Herattitudepuzzledme,foritwasoneneitherofsurprisenorofprotest.Thespectacleofthe"millionaire"

ownerofthehouseengagedinthismenialoccupationgavehernothrills.

Ifinishedtheloading.

"There!"Isaid,anddrewadollarbilloutofmypocketandgaveittoher.Eventhenshedidnotthankme,buttookupthewagontongueandwentoff,leavingonmeadishearteningimpressionofnumbness,oflifecrushedout.IglanceduponcemoreatthemansionIhadbuiltformyselfloominginthedusk,andwalkedhurriedlyaway

Oneafternoonsomethreeweeksafterwehadmovedintothenewhouse,I

cameoutoftheClub,whereIhadbeenlunchinginconferencewithSchererandtwocapitalistsfromNewYork.Itwasafterfouro\'clock,thedaywasfading,thestreetlampswerebeginningtocastsicklystreaksofjade-colouredlightacrosstheslushofthepavements.Itwasthesightofthisslush(whichforabriefhalfhourthatmorninghadbeenpuresnow,andhadsentMatthewandMoretonandBiddyintoecstasiesatthenotionofa"realChristmas"),thatbroughttomymindtheimmanenceofthefestival,andthefactthatIhadasyetboughtnopresents.SuchwasthepredicamentinwhichIusuallyfoundmyselfo