The Magnificent Ambersons by Booth Tarkington (little red riding hood ebook .TXT) 📕

already are doing, he claimed it was just the novelty, and that they’d all be empty as soon as people got used to ’em. So he’s putting up these houses.”

“Is he getting miserly in his old age?”

“Hardly! Look what he gave Sydney and Amelia!”

“I don’t mean he’s a miser, of course,” said George. “Heaven knows he’s liberal enough with mother and me; but why on earth didn’t he sell something or other rather than do a thing like this?”

“As a matter of fact,” Amberson returned coolly, “I believe he has sold something or other, from time to time.”

“Well, in heaven’s name,” George cried, “what did he do it for?”

“To get money,” his uncle mildly replied. “That’s my deduction.”

“I suppose you’re joking⁠—or trying to!”

“That’s the best way to look at it,” Amberson said amiably. “Take the whole thing as a joke⁠—and in the meantime, if you haven’t had your breakfast⁠—”

“I haven’t!”

“Then if I were you I’d go in and get some. And”⁠—he paused, becoming serious⁠—“and if I were you I wouldn’t say anything to your grandfather about this.”

“I don’t think I could trust myself to speak to him about it,” said George. “I want to treat him respectfully, because he is my grandfather, but I don’t believe I could if I talked to him about such a thing as this!”

And with a gesture of despair, plainly signifying that all too soon after leaving bright college years behind him he had entered into the full tragedy of life, George turned bitterly upon his heel and went into the house for his breakfast.

His uncle, with his head whimsically upon one side, gazed after him not altogether unsympathetically, then descended again into the excavation whence he had lately emerged. Being a philosopher he was not surprised, that afternoon, in the course of a drive he took in the old carriage with the Major, when, George was encountered upon the highway, flashing along in his runabout with Lucy beside him and Pendennis doing better than three minutes.

“He seems to have recovered,” Amberson remarked: “Looks in the highest good spirits.”

“I beg your pardon.”

“Your grandson,” Amberson explained. “He was inclined to melancholy this morning, but seemed jolly enough just now when they passed us.”

“What was he melancholy about? Not getting remorseful about all the money he’s spent at college, was he?” The Major chuckled feebly, but with sufficient grimness. “I wonder what he thinks I’m made of,” he concluded querulously.

“Gold,” his son suggested, adding gently, “And he’s right about part of you, father.”

“What part?”

“Your heart.”

The Major laughed ruefully. “I suppose that may account for how heavy it feels, sometimes, nowadays. This town seems to be rolling right over that old heart you mentioned, George⁠—rolling over it and burying it under! When I think of those devilish workmen digging up my lawn, yelling around my house⁠—”

“Never mind, father. Don’t think of it. When things are a nuisance it’s a good idea not to keep remembering ’em.”

“I try not to,” the old gentleman murmured. “I try to keep remembering that I won’t be remembering anything very long.” And, somehow convinced that this thought was a mirthful one, he laughed loudly, and slapped his knee. “Not so very long now, my boy!” he chuckled, continuing to echo his own amusement. “Not so very long. Not so very long!”

XVII

Young George paid his respects to his grandfather the following morning, having been occupied with various affairs and engagements on Sunday until after the Major’s bedtime; and topics concerned with building or excavations were not introduced into the conversation, which was a cheerful one until George lightly mentioned some new plans of his. He was a skillful driver, as the Major knew, and he spoke of his desire to extend his proficiency in this art: in fact, he entertained the ambition to drive a four-in-hand. However, as the Major said nothing, and merely sat still, looking surprised, George went on to say that he did not propose to “go in for coaching just at the start”; he thought it would be better to begin with a tandem. He was sure Pendennis could be trained to work as a leader; and all that one needed to buy at present, he said, would be “comparatively inexpensive⁠—a new trap, and the harness, of course, and a good bay to match Pendennis.” He did not care for a special groom; one of the stablemen would do.

At this point the Major decided to speak. “You say one of the stablemen would do?” he inquired, his widened eyes remaining fixed upon his grandson. “That’s lucky, because one’s all there is, just at present, George. Old fat Tom does it all. Didn’t you notice, when you took Pendennis out, yesterday?”

“Oh, that will be all right, sir. My mother can lend me her man.”

“Can she?” The old gentleman smiled faintly. “I wonder⁠—” He paused.

“What, sir?”

“Whether you mightn’t care to go to law-school somewhere perhaps. I’d be glad to set aside a sum that would see you through.”

This senile divergence from the topic in hand surprised George painfully. “I have no interest whatever in the law,” he said. “I don’t care for it, and the idea of being a professional man has never appealed to me. None of the family has ever gone in for that sort of thing, to my knowledge, and I don’t care to be the first. I was speaking of driving a tandem⁠—”

“I know you were,” the Major said quietly.

George looked hurt. “I beg your pardon. Of course if the idea doesn’t appeal to you⁠—” And he rose to go.

The Major ran a tremulous hand through his hair, sighing deeply. “I⁠—I don’t like to refuse you anything, Georgie,” he said. “I don’t know that I often have refused you whatever you wanted⁠—in reason⁠—”

“You’ve always been more than generous, sir,” George interrupted quickly. “And if the idea of a tandem doesn’t appeal to you, why⁠—of course⁠—” And he waved his hand, heroically dismissing the tandem.

The Major’s distress became obvious. “Georgie, I’d like to,