The Rise Of Silas Lapham By William Dean Howells Part 1 by William Dean Howells (read dune txt) 📕

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"Oh,  Nothing much."

 

"What Did He Come For?" "Come For? Oh! He Said He Wanted

To Go Into The Mineral Paint Business."

 

Mrs. Lapham Dropped into A Chair,  And Watched his Bulk

Shaken With Smothered laughter.  "Silas Lapham," She Gasped,

"If You Try To Get Off Any More Of Those Things On Me----"

 

The Colonel Applied himself To The Towel.  "Had A Notion

He Could Work It In south America.  I Don'T Know What He'S

Up To."

 

"Never Mind!" Cried his Wife.  "I'Ll Get Even With You Yet."

 

"So I Told Him He Had Better Come Down And Talk It Over,"

Continued the Colonel,  In well-Affected simplicity.

"I Knew He Wouldn'T Touch It With A Ten-Foot Pole."

 

"Go On!" Threatened mrs. Lapham.

 

"Right Thing to Do,  Wa'N'T It?"

 

A Tap Was Heard At The Door,  And Mrs. Lapham Answered it.

A Maid Announced supper.  "Very Well," She Said,  "Come To

Tea Now.  But I'Ll Make You Pay For This,  Silas."

 

Penelope Had Gone To Her Sister'S Room As Soon As She

Entered the House.

 

"Is Your Head Any Better,  'Rene?" She Asked.

 

"Yes,  A Little," Came A Voice From The Pillows.

"But I Shall Not Come To Tea.  I Don'T Want Anything.

If I Keep Still,  I Shall Be All Right By Morning."

 

"Well,  I'M Sorry," Said The Elder Sister.  "He'S Come

Down With Father."

 

"He Hasn'T! Who?" Cried irene,  Starting up In simultaneous

Denial And Demand.

 

"Oh,  Well,  If You Say He Hasn'T,  What'S The Use Of My

Telling you Who?"

 

"Oh,  How Can You Treat Me So!" Moaned the Sufferer.

"What Do You Mean,  Pen?"

 

"I Guess I'D Better Not Tell You," Said Penelope,

Watching her Like A Cat Playing with A Mouse.  "If You'Re

Not Coming to Tea,  It Would Just Excite You For Nothing."

 

The Mouse Moaned and Writhed upon The Bed.

 

"Oh,  I Wouldn'T Treat You So!"

 

The Cat Seated herself Across The Room,  And Asked quietly--

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"Well,  What Could You Do If It Was Mr. Corey? You

Couldn'T Come To Tea,  You Say.  But He'Ll Excuse You.

I'Ve Told Him You Had A Headache.  Why,  Of Course You

Can'T Come! It Would Be Too Barefaced but You Needn'T

Be Troubled,  Irene; I'Ll Do My Best To Make The Time Pass

Pleasantly For Him." Here The Cat Gave A Low Titter,

And The Mouse Girded itself Up With A Momentary Courage

And Self-Respect.

 

"I Should Think You Would Be Ashamed to Come Here

And Tease Me So."

 

"I Don'T See Why You Shouldn'T Believe Me," Argued penelope.

"Why Shouldn'T He Come Down With Father,  If Father

Asked him? And He'D Be Sure To If He Thought Of It.

I Don'T See Any P'Ints About That Frog That'S Any Better

Than Any Other Frog."

 

The Sense Of Her Sister'S Helplessness Was Too Much For

The Tease; She Broke Down In a Fit Of Smothered laughter,

Which Convinced her Victim That It Was Nothing but An

Ill-Timed joke.

 

"Well,  Pen,  I Wouldn'T Use You So," She Whimpered.

 

Penelope Threw Herself On The Bed beside Her.

 

"Oh,  Poor Irene! He Is Here.  It'S A Solemn Fact."

And She Caressed and Soothed her Sister,  While She

Choked with Laughter.  "You Must Get Up And Come Out.

I Don'T Know What Brought Him Here,  But Here He Is."

 

"It'S Too Late Now," Said Irene Desolately.  Then She Added,

With A Wilder Despair: "What A Fool I Was To Take That Walk!"

 

"Well," Coaxed her Sister,  "Come Out And Get Some Tea.

The Tea Will Do You Good."

 

"No,  No; I Can'T Come.  But Send Me A Cup Here."

 

"Yes,  And Then Perhaps You Can See Him Later In the Evening."

 

"I Shall Not See Him At All."

 

An Hour After Penelope Came Back To Her Sister'S Room

And Found Her Before Her Glass.  "You Might As Well Have

Kept Still,  And Been Well By Morning,  'Rene," She Said.

"As Soon As We Were Done Father Said,  'Well,  Mr. Corey

And I Have Got To Talk Over A Little Matter Of Business,

And We'Ll Excuse You,  Ladies.' He Looked at Mother In a

Way That I Guess Was Pretty Hard To Bear.  'Rene,  You

Ought To Have Heard The Colonel Swelling at Supper.

It Would Have Made You Feel That All He Said The Other Day

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Was Nothing."

 

Mrs. Lapham Suddenly Opened the Door.

 

"Now,  See Here,  Pen," She Said,  As She Closed it Behind Her,

"I'Ve Had Just As Much As I Can Stand From Your Father,

And If You Don'T Tell Me This Instant What It All Means----"

 

She Left The Consequences To Imagination,  And Penelope

Replied with Her Mock Soberness--

 

"Well,  The Colonel Does Seem To Be On His High Horse,

Ma'Am. But You Mustn'T Ask Me What His Business With

Mr. Corey Is,  For I Don'T Know.  All That I Know Is

That I Met Them At The Landing,  And That They Conversed

All The Way Down--On Literary Topics."

 

"Nonsense! What Do You Think It Is?"

 

"Well,  If You Want My Candid Opinion,  I Think This

Talk About Business Is Nothing but A Blind.  It Seems

A Pity Irene Shouldn'T Have Been Up To Receive Him,"

She Added.

 

Irene Cast A Mute Look Of Imploring at Her Mother,

Who Was Too Much Preoccupied to Afford Her The Protection

It Asked.

 

"Your Father Said He Wanted to Go Into The Business

With Him."

 

Irene'S Look Changed to A Stare Of Astonishment

And Mystification,  But Penelope Preserved her Imperturbability.

 

"Well,  It'S A Lucrative Business,  I Believe."

 

"Well,  I Don'T Believe A Word Of It!" Cried mrs. Lapham.

"And So I Told Your Father."

 

"Did It Seem To Convince Him?" Inquired penelope.

 

Her Mother Did Not Reply.  "I Know One Thing," She Said.

"He'S Got To Tell Me Every Word,  Or There'Ll Be No Sleep

For Him This Night."

 

"Well,  Ma'Am," Said Penelope,  Breaking down In one

Of Her Queer Laughs,  "I Shouldn'T Be A Bit Surprised

If You Were Right."

 

"Go On And Dress,  Irene," Ordered her Mother,  "And Then

You And Pen Come Out Into The Parlour.  They Can Have Just

Two Hours For Business,  And Then We Must All Be There

To Receive Him.  You Haven'T Got Headache Enough To Hurt You."

 

"Oh,  It'S All Gone Now," Said The Girl.

 

At The End Of The Limit She Had Given The Colonel,

Mrs. Lapham Looked into The Dining-Room,  Which She Found

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Blue With His Smoke.

 

"I Think You Gentlemen Will Find The Parlour Pleasanter Now,

And We Can Give It Up To You."

 

"Oh No,  You Needn'T," Said Her Husband.  "We'Ve Got

About Through." Corey Was Already Standing,  And Lapham

Rose Too.  "I Guess We Can Join The Ladies Now.

We Can Leave That Little Point Till To-Morrow."

 

Both Of The Young Ladies Were In the Parlour When Corey

Entered with Their Father,  And Both Were Frankly Indifferent

To The Few Books And The Many Newspapers Scattered

About On The Table Where The Large Lamp Was Placed.

But After Corey Had Greeted irene He Glanced at The Novel

Under His Eye,  And Said,  In the Dearth That Sometimes Befalls

People At Such Times: "I See You'Re Reading middlemarch.

Do You Like George Eliot?"

 

"Who?" Asked the Girl.

 

Penelope Interposed.  "I Don'T Believe Irene'S Read

It Yet.  I'Ve Just Got It Out Of The Library; I Heard

So Much Talk About It.  I Wish She Would Let You Find

Out A Little About The People For Yourself," She Added.

But Here Her Father Struck In--

 

"I Can'T Get The Time For Books.  It'S As Much As I Can

Do To Keep Up With The Newspapers; And When Night Comes,

I'M Tired,  And I'D Rather Go Out To The Theatre,  Or A Lecture,

If They'Ve Got A Good Stereopticon To Give You Views Of

The Places.  But I Guess We All Like A Play Better Than 'Most

Anything else.  I Want Something that'Ll Make Me Laugh.

I Don'T Believe In tragedy.  I Think There'S Enough

Of That In real Life Without Putting it On The Stage.

Seen 'Joshua Whitcomb'?"

 

The Whole Family Joined in the Discussion,  And It Appeared

That They All Had Their Opinions Of The Plays And Actors.

Mrs. Lapham Brought The Talk Back To Literature.  "I Guess

Penelope Does Most Of Our Reading."

 

"Now,  Mother,  You'Re Not Going to Put It All On Me!"

Said The Girl,  In comic Protest.

 

Her Mother Laughed,  And Then Added,  With A Sigh: "I Used

To Like To Get Hold Of A Good Book When I Was A Girl;

But We Weren'T Allowed to Read Many Novels In those Days.

My Mother Called them All Lies.  And I Guess She Wasn'T So

Very Far Wrong About Some Of Them."

 

"They'Re Certainly Fictions," Said Corey,  Smiling.

 

"Well,  We Do Buy A Good Many Books,  First And Last,"

Said The Colonel,  Who Probably Had In mind The Costly

Volumes Which They Presented to One Another On Birthdays

And Holidays.  "But I Get About All The Reading i Want

In The Newspapers.  And When The Girls Want A Novel,

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I Tell 'Em To Get It Out Of The Library.  That'S What The

Library'S For.  Phew!" He Panted,  Blowing away The Whole

Unprofitable Subject.  "How Close You Women-Folks Like

To Keep A Room! You Go Down To The Sea-Side Or Up To The

Mountains For A Change Of Air,  And Then You Cork Yourselves

Into A Room So Tight You Don'T Have Any Air At All.

Here! You Girls Get On Your Bonnets,  And Go And Show

Mr. Corey The View Of The Hotels From The Rocks."

 

Corey Said That