VI
Ted had come down from the University for the week-end.
Though he no longer spoke of mechanical engineering and
though he was reticent about his opinion of his instructors, he
seemed no more reconciled to college, and his chief interest
was his wireless telephone set.
On Saturday evening he took Eunice Littlefield to a dance
at Devon Woods. Babbitt had a glimpse of her, bouncing in
the seat of the car, brilliant in a scarlet cloak over a frock
of thinnest creamy silk. They two had not returned when
the Babbitts went to bed, at half-past eleven. At a blurred
indefinite time of late night Babbitt was awakened by the ring
of the telephone and gloomily crawled down-stairs. Howard
Littlefield was speaking:
"George, Euny isn't back yet. Is Ted?''
"No—at least his door is open—''
"They ought to be home. Eunice said the dance would be
over at midnight. What's the name of those people where
they're going?''
"Why, gosh, tell the truth, I don't know, Howard. It's
some classmate of Ted's, out in Devon Woods. Don't see
what we can do. Wait, I'll skip up and ask Myra if she knows
their name.''
Babbitt turned on the light in Ted's room. It was a brown
boyish room; disordered dresser, worn books, a high-school
pennant, photographs of basket-ball teams and baseball teams.
Ted was decidedly not there.
Mrs. Babbitt, awakened, irritably observed that she certainly
did not know the name of Ted's host, that it was late, that
Howard Littlefield was but little better than a born fool, and
that she was sleepy. But she remained awake and worrying
while Babbitt, on the sleeping-porch, struggled back into sleep
through the incessant soft rain of her remarks. It was after
dawn when he was aroused by her shaking him and calling
"George! George!'' in something like horror.
"Wha— wha— what is it?''
"Come here quick and see. Be quiet!''
She led him down the hall to the door of Ted's room and
pushed it gently open. On the worn brown rug he saw a froth
of rose-colored chiffon lingerie; on the sedate Morris chair a
girl's silver slipper. And on the pillows were two sleepy heads
—Ted's and Eunice's.
Ted woke to grin, and to mutter with unconvincing defiance,
"Good morning! Let me introduce my wife—Mrs. Theodore
Roosevelt Eunice Littlefield Babbitt, Esquiress.''
"Good God!'' from Babbitt, and from his wife a long wailing,
"You've gone and—''
"We got married last evening. Wife! Sit up and say a
pretty good morning to mother-in-law.''
But Eunice hid her shoulders and her charming wild hair
under the pillow.
By nine o'clock the assembly which was gathered about Ted
and Eunice in the living-room included Mr. and Mrs. George
Babbitt, Dr. and Mrs. Howard Littlefield, Mr. and Mrs. Kenneth
Escott, Mr. and Mrs. Henry T. Thompson, and Tinka
Babbitt, who was the only pleased member of the inquisition.
A crackling shower of phrases filled the room:
"At their age—'' "Ought to be annulled—'' "Never
heard of such a thing in—'' "Fault of both of them and—''
"Keep it out of the papers—'' "Ought to be packed off to
school—'' "Do something about it at once, and what I say
is—'' "Damn good old-fashioned spanking—''
Worst of them all was Verona. "Ted! Some
way must be
found to make you understand how dreadfully
serious this is,
instead of standing around with that silly foolish
smile on your
face!''
He began to revolt. "Gee whittakers, Rone, you got married
yourself, didn't you?''
"That's entirely different.''
"You bet it is! They didn't have to work on Eu and me
with a chain and tackle to get us to hold hands!''
"Now, young man, we'll have no more flippancy,'' old Henry
Thompson ordered. "You listen to me.''
"You listen to Grandfather!'' said Verona.
"Yes, listen to your Grandfather!'' said Mrs. Babbitt.
"Ted, you listen to Mr. Thompson!'' said Howard Littlefield.
"Oh, for the love o' Mike, I am listening!'' Ted shouted.
"But you look here, all of you! I'm getting sick and tired
of being the corpse in this post mortem! If you want to kill
somebody, go kill the preacher that married us! Why, he stung
me five dollars, and all the money I had in the world was six
dollars and two bits. I'm getting just about enough of being
hollered at!''
A new voice, booming, authoritative, dominated the room.
It was Babbitt. "Yuh, there's too darn many putting in their
oar! Rone, you dry up. Howard and I are still pretty strong,
and able to do our own cussing. Ted, come into the dining-room
and we'll talk this over.''
In the dining-room, the door firmly closed, Babbitt walked
to his son, put both hands on his shoulders. "You're more or
less right. They all talk too much. Now what do you plan
to do, old man?''
"Gosh, dad, are you really going to be human?''
"Well, I— Remember one time you called us `the Babbitt
men' and said we ought to stick together? I want to. I don't
pretend to think this isn't serious. The way the cards are
stacked against a young fellow to-day, I can't say I approve of
early marriages. But you couldn't have married a better girl
than Eunice; and way I figure it, Littlefield is darn lucky to
get a Babbitt for a son-in-law! But what do you plan to do?
Course you could go right ahead with the U., and when you'd
finished—''
"Dad, I can't stand it any more. Maybe it's all right for
some fellows. Maybe I'll want to go back some day. But me,
I want to get into mechanics. I think I'd get to be a good
inventor. There's a fellow that would give me twenty dollars
a week in a factory right now.''
"Well—'' Babbitt crossed the floor, slowly, ponderously,
seeming a little old. "I've always wanted you to have a college
degree.'' He meditatively stamped across the floor again.
"But I've never— Now, for heaven's sake, don't repeat this
to your mother, or she'd remove what little hair I've got left,
but practically, I've never done a single thing I've wanted to
in my whole life! I don't know 's I've accomplished anything
except just get along. I figure out I've made about a quarter
of an inch out of a possible hundred rods. Well, maybe you'll
carry things on further. I don't know. But I do get a kind
of sneaking pleasure out of the fact that you knew what you
wanted to do and did it. Well, those folks in there will try
to bully you, and tame you down. Tell 'em to go to the devil!
I'll back you. Take your factory job, if you want to. Don't
be scared of the family. No, nor all of Zenith. Nor of yourself,
the way I've been. Go ahead, old man! The world is
yours!''
Arms about each other's shoulders, the Babbitt men marched
into the living-room and faced the swooping family.