III
Vast is the power of cities to reclaim the wanderer. More
than mountains or the shore-devouring sea, a city retains its
character, imperturbable, cynical, holding behind apparent
changes its essential purpose. Though Babbitt had deserted
his family and dwelt with Joe Paradise in the wilderness,
though he had become a liberal, though he had been quite
sure, on the night before he reached Zenith, that neither he
nor the city would be the same again, ten days after his
return he could not believe that he had ever been away. Nor
was it at all evident to his acquaintances that there was a new
George F. Babbitt, save that he was more irritable under the
incessant chaffing at the Athletic Club, and once, when Vergil
Gunch observed that Seneca Doane ought to be hanged, Babbitt
snorted, "Oh, rats, he's not so bad.''
At home he grunted "Eh?'' across the newspaper to his
commentatory wife, and was delighted by Tinka's new red
tam o'shanter, and announced, "No class to that corrugated
iron garage. Have to build me a nice frame one.''
Verona and Kenneth Escott appeared really to be engaged.
In his newspaper Escott had conducted a pure-food crusade
against commission-houses. As a result he had been given
an excellent job in a commission-house, and he was making a
salary on which he could marry, and denouncing irresponsible
reporters who wrote stories criticizing commission-houses without
knowing what they were talking about.
This September Ted had entered the State University as a
freshman in the College of Arts and Sciences. The university
was at Mohalis only fifteen miles from Zenith, and Ted often
came down for the week-end. Babbitt was worried. Ted was
"going in for'' everything but books. He had tried to "make''
the football team as a light half-back, he was looking forward
to the basket-ball season, he was on the committee for
the Freshman Hop, and (as a Zenithite, an aristocrat among
the yokels) he was being "rushed'' by two fraternities. But
of his studies Babbitt could learn nothing save a mumbled,
"Oh, gosh, these old stiffs of teachers just give you a lot of
junk about literature and economics.''
One week-end Ted proposed, "Say, Dad, why can't I transfer
over from the College to the School of Engineering and take
mechanical engineering? You always holler that I never study,
but honest, I would study there.''
"No, the Engineering School hasn't got the standing the
College has,'' fretted Babbitt.
"I'd like to know how it hasn't! The Engineers can play
on any of the teams!''
There was much explanation of the "dollars-and-cents value
of being known as a college man when you go into the law,''
and a truly oratorical account of the lawyer's life. Before he
was through with it, Babbitt had Ted a United States Senator.
Among the great lawyers whom he mentioned was Secena
Doane.
"But, gee whiz,'' Ted marveled, "I thought you always said
this Doane was a reg'lar nut!''
"That's no way to speak of a great man! Doane's always
been a good friend of mine—fact I helped him in college—I
started him out and you might say inspired him. Just because
he's sympathetic with the aims of Labor, a lot of chumps
that lack liberality and broad-mindedness think he's a crank,
but let me tell you there's mighty few of 'em that rake in the
fees he does, and he's a friend of some of the strongest; most
conservative men in the world—like Lord Wycombe, this, uh,
this big English nobleman that's so well known. And you
now, which would you rather do: be in with a lot of greasy
mechanics and laboring-men, or chum up to a real fellow like
Lord Wycombe, and get invited to his house for parties?''
"Well—gosh,'' sighed Ted.
The next week-end he came in joyously with, "Say, Dad,
why couldn't I take mining engineering instead of the academic
course? You talk about standing—maybe there isn't much in
mechanical engineering, but the Miners, gee, they got seven
out of eleven in the new elections to Nu Tau Tau!''