“Do you think it’s really going to be a trial to him?” asked the young man quickly.
“No, no, I can’t say it is. But I confess I wish it was some other business, Tom.”
“Well, mother, I don’t see why. The principal thing looked at now is the amount of money; and while I would rather starve than touch a dollar that was dirty with any sort of dishonesty—”
“Of course you would, my son!” interposed his mother proudly.
“I shouldn’t at all mind its having a little mineral paint on it. I’ll use my influence with Colonel Lapham—if I ever have any—to have his paint scraped off the landscape.”
“I suppose you won’t begin till the autumn.”
“Oh yes, I shall,” said the son, laughing at his mother’s simple ignorance of business. “I shall begin tomorrow morning.”
“Tomorrow morning!”
“Yes. I’ve had my desk appointed already, and I shall be down there at nine in the morning to take possession.”
“Tom,” cried his mother, “why do you think Mr. Lapham has taken you into business so readily? I’ve always heard that it was so hard for young men to get in.”
“And do you think I found it easy with him? We had about twelve hours’ solid talk.”
“And you don’t suppose it was any sort of—personal consideration?”
“Why, I don’t know exactly what you mean, mother. I suppose he likes me.”
Mrs. Corey could not say just what she meant. She answered, ineffectually enough—
“Yes. You wouldn’t like it to be a favour, would you?”
“I think he’s a man who may be trusted to look after his own interest. But I don’t mind his beginning by liking me. It’ll be my own fault if I don’t make myself essential to him.”
“Yes,” said Mrs. Corey.
“Well,” demanded her husband, at their first meeting after her interview with their son, “what did you say to Tom?”
“Very little, if anything. I found him with his mind made up, and it would only have distressed him if I had tried to change it.”
“That is precisely what I said, my dear.”
“Besides, he had talked the matter over fully with James, and seems to have been advised by him. I can’t understand James.”
“Oh! it’s in regard to the paint, and not the princess, that he’s made up his mind. Well, I think you were wise to let him alone, Anna. We represent a faded tradition. We don’t really care what business a man is in, so it is large enough, and he doesn’t advertise offensively; but we think it fine to affect reluctance.”
“Do you really feel so, Bromfield?” asked his wife seriously.
“Certainly I do. There was a long time in my misguided youth when I supposed myself some sort of porcelain; but it’s a relief to be of the common clay, after all, and to know it. If I get broken, I can be easily replaced.”
“If Tom must go into such a business,” said Mrs. Corey, “I’m glad James approves of it.”
“I’m afraid it wouldn’t matter to Tom if he didn’t; and I don’t know that I should care,” said Corey, betraying the fact that he had perhaps had a good deal of his brother-in-law’s judgment in the course of his life. “You had better consult him in regard to Tom’s marrying the princess.”
“There is no necessity at present for that,” said Mrs. Corey, with dignity. After a moment, she asked, “Should you feel quite so easy if it were a question of that, Bromfield?”
“It would be a little more personal.”
“You feel about it as I do. Of course, we have both lived too long, and seen too much of the world, to suppose we can control such things. The child is good, I haven’t the least doubt, and all those things can be managed so that they wouldn’t disgrace us. But she has had a certain sort of bringing up. I should prefer Tom to marry a girl with another sort, and this business venture of his increases the chances that he won’t. That’s all.”
“ ‘ ’Tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a church door, but ’twill serve.’ ”
“I shouldn’t like it.”
“Well, it hasn’t happened yet.”
“Ah, you never can realise anything beforehand.”
“Perhaps that has saved me some suffering. But you have at least the consolation of two anxieties at once. I always find that a great advantage. You can play one off against the other.”
Mrs. Corey drew a long breath as if she did not experience the suggested consolation; and she arranged to quit, the following afternoon, the scene of her defeat, which she had not had the courage to make a battlefield. Her son went down to see her off on the boat, after spending his first day at his desk in Lapham’s office. He was in a gay humour, and she departed in a reflected 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 gangplank which the deckhands had laid hold of. He touched his hat to her from the wharf to reassure her 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.
