Alice Adams by Booth Tarkington (ebook reader macos TXT) 📕

last of all their veranda moments, Alice’s broken laughter grew louder. “What a thing to say!” she cried. “What a romantic parting⁠—talking about hats!”

Her laughter continued as he turned away, but other sounds came from within the house, clearly audible with the opening of a door upstairs⁠—a long and wailing cry of lamentation in the voice of Mrs. Adams. Russell paused at the steps, uncertain, but Alice waved to him to go on.

“Oh, don’t bother,” she said. “We have lots of that in this funny little old house! Goodbye!”

And as he went down the steps, she ran back into the house and closed the door heavily behind her.

XXIII

Her mother’s wailing could still be heard from overhead, though more faintly; and old Charley Lohr was coming down the stairs alone.

He looked at Alice compassionately. “I was just comin’ to suggest maybe you’d excuse yourself from your company,” he said. “Your mother was bound not to disturb you, and tried her best to keep you from hearin’ how she’s takin’ on, but I thought probably you better see to her.”

“Yes, I’ll come. What’s the matter?”

“Well,” he said, “I only stepped over to offer my sympathy and services, as it were. I thought of course you folks knew all about it. Fact is, it was in the evening paper⁠—just a little bit of an item on the back page, of course.”

“What is it?”

He coughed. “Well, it ain’t anything so terrible,” he said. “Fact is, your brother Walter’s got in a little trouble⁠—well, I suppose you might call it quite a good deal of trouble. Fact is, he’s quite considerable short in his accounts down at Lamb and Company.”

Alice ran up the stairs and into her father’s room, where Mrs. Adams threw herself into her daughter’s arms. “Is he gone?” she sobbed. “He didn’t hear me, did he? I tried so hard⁠—”

Alice patted the heaving shoulders her arms enclosed. “No, no,” she said. “He didn’t hear you⁠—it wouldn’t have mattered⁠—he doesn’t matter anyway.”

“Oh, poor Walter!” The mother cried. “Oh, the poor boy! Poor, poor Walter! Poor, poor, poor, poor⁠—”

“Hush, dear, hush!” Alice tried to soothe her, but the lament could not be abated, and from the other side of the room a repetition in a different spirit was as continuous. Adams paced furiously there, pounding his fist into his left palm as he strode. “The dang boy!” he said. “Dang little fool! Dang idiot! Dang fool! Whyn’t he tell me, the dang little fool?”

“He did!” Mrs. Adams sobbed. “He did tell you, and you wouldn’t give it to him.”

“He did, did he?” Adams shouted at her. “What he begged me for was money to run away with! He never dreamed of putting back what he took. What the dangnation you talking about⁠—accusing me!”

“He needed it,” she said. “He needed it to run away with! How could he expect to live, after he got away, if he didn’t have a little money? Oh, poor, poor, poor Walter! Poor, poor, poor⁠—”

She went back to this repetition; and Adams went back to his own, then paused, seeing his old friend standing in the hallway outside the open door.

“Ah⁠—I’ll just be goin’, I guess, Virgil,” Lohr said. “I don’t see as there’s any use my tryin’ to say any more. I’ll do anything you want me to, you understand.”

“Wait a minute,” Adams said, and, groaning, came and went down the stairs with him. “You say you didn’t see the old man at all?”

“No, I don’t know a thing about what he’s going to do,” Lohr said, as they reached the lower floor. “Not a thing. But look here, Virgil, I don’t see as this calls for you and your wife to take on so hard about⁠—anyhow not as hard as the way you’ve started.”

“No,” Adams gulped. “It always seems that way to the other party that’s only looking on!”

“Oh, well, I know that, of course,” old Charley returned, soothingly. “But look here, Virgil: they may not catch the boy; they didn’t even seem to be sure what train he made, and if they do get him, why, the ole man might decide not to prosecute if⁠—”

“Him?” Adams cried, interrupting. “Him not prosecute? Why, that’s what he’s been waiting for, all along! He thinks my boy and me both cheated him! Why, he was just letting Walter walk into a trap! Didn’t you say they’d been suspecting him for some time back? Didn’t you say they’d been watching him and were just about fixing to arrest him?”

“Yes, I know,” said Lohr; “but you can’t tell, especially if you raise the money and pay it back.”

“Every cent!” Adams vociferated. “Every last penny! I can raise it⁠—I got to raise it! I’m going to put a loan on my factory tomorrow. Oh, I’ll get it for him, you tell him! Every last penny!”

“Well, ole feller, you just try and get quieted down some now.” Charley held out his hand in parting. “You and your wife just quiet down some. You ain’t the healthiest man in the world, you know, and you already been under quite some strain before this happened. You want to take care of yourself for the sake of your wife and that sweet little girl upstairs, you know. Now, good night,” he finished, stepping out upon the veranda. “You send for me if there’s anything I can do.”

“Do?” Adams echoed. “There ain’t anything anybody can do!” And then, as his old friend went down the path to the sidewalk, he called after him, “You tell him I’ll pay him every last cent! Every last, dang, dirty penny!”

He slammed the door and went rapidly up the stairs, talking loudly to himself. “Every dang, last, dirty penny! Thinks everybody in this family wants to steal from him, does he? Thinks we’re all yellow, does he? I’ll show him!” And he came into his own room vociferating, “Every last, dang, dirty penny!”

Mrs. Adams had collapsed, and Alice had put her upon his bed, where she lay tossing convulsively and