II
He had forgotten, next morning, that he was a conscious
rebel, but he was irritable in the office and at the eleven o'clock
drive of telephone calls and visitors he did something he had
often desired and never dared: he left the office without excuses
to those stave-drivers his employees, and went to the
movies. He enjoyed the right to be alone. He came out with
a vicious determination to do what he pleased.
As he approached the Roughnecks' Table at the club, everybody
laughed.
"Well, here's the millionaire!'' said Sidney Finkelstein.
"Yes, I saw him in his Locomobile!'' said Professor Pumphrey.
"Gosh, it must be great to be a smart guy like Georgie!''
moaned Vergil Gunch. "He's probably stolen all of Dorchester.
I'd hate to leave a poor little defenseless piece of property
lying around where he could get his hooks on it!''
They had, Babbitt perceived, "something on him.'' Also,
they "had their kidding clothes on.'' Ordinarily he would
have been delighted at the honor implied in being chaffed,
but he was suddenly touchy. He grunted, "Yuh, sure; maybe
I'll take you guys on as office boys!'' He was impatient as
the jest elaborately rolled on to its dénouement.
"Of course he may have been meeting a girl,'' they said,
and "No, I think he was waiting for his old roommate, Sir
Jerusalem Doak.''
He exploded, "Oh, spring it, spring it, you boneheads!
What's the great joke?''
"Hurray! George is peeved!'' snickered Sidney Finkelstein,
while a grin went round the table. Gunch revealed the shocking
truth: He had seen Babbitt coming out of a motion-picture
theater—at noon!
They kept it up. With a hundred variations, a hundred
guffaws, they said that he had gone to the movies during business-hours.
He didn't so much mind Gunch, but he was annoyed
by Sidney Finkelstein, that brisk, lean, red-headed explainer
of jokes. He was bothered, too, by the lump of ice
in his glass of water. It was too large; it spun round and
burned his nose when he tried to drink. He raged that Finkelstein
was like that lump of ice. But he won through; he kept
up his banter till they grew tired of the superlative jest and
turned to the great problems of the day.
He reflected, "What's the matter with me to-day? Seems
like I've got an awful grouch. Only they talk so darn much.
But I better steer careful and keep my mouth shut.''
As they lighted their cigars he mumbled, "Got to get back,''
and on a chorus of "If you will go spending your
mornings with
lady ushers at the movies!'' he escaped. He heard them giggling.
He was embarrassed. While he was most bombastically
agreeing with the coat-man that the weather was warm,
he was conscious that he was longing to run childishly with
his troubles to the comfort of the fairy child.
