The Magnificent Ambersons Booth Tarkington (reading like a writer txt) đ
- Author: Booth Tarkington
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George stopped walking. âIn Godâs name, Aunt Fanny,â he said, âquit spreading out your handkerchief and drying it and then getting it all wet again! I mean stop crying! Do! And for heavenâs sake, get up. Donât sit there with your back against the boiler andâ ââ
âItâs not hot,â Fanny sniffled. âItâs cold; the plumbers disconnected it. I wouldnât mind if they hadnât. I wouldnât mind if it burned me, George.â
âOh, my Lord!â He went to her, and lifted her. âFor Godâs sake, get up! Come, letâs take the coffee into the other room, and see whatâs to be done.â
He got her to her feet; she leaned upon him, already somewhat comforted, and, with his arm about her, he conducted her to the dining room and seated her in one of the two kitchen chairs which had been placed at the rough table. âThere!â he said, âget over it!â Then he brought the coffeepot, some lumps of sugar in a tin pan, and, finding that all the coffee-cups were broken, set water glasses upon the table, and poured some of the pale coffee into them. By this time Fannyâs spirits had revived appreciably: she looked up with a plaintive eagerness. âI had bought all my fall clothes, George,â she said; âand I paid every bill I owed. I donât owe a cent for clothes, George.â
âThatâs good,â he said wanly, and he had a moment of physical dizziness that decided him to sit down quickly. For an instant it seemed to him that he was not Fannyâs nephew, but married to her. He passed his pale hand over his paler forehead. âWell, letâs see where we stand,â he said feebly. âLetâs see if we can afford this place youâve selected.â
Fanny continued to brighten. âIâm sure itâs the most practical plan we could possibly have worked out, Georgeâ âand it is a comfort to be among nice people. I think weâll both enjoy it, because the truth is weâve been keeping too much to ourselves for a long while. It isnât good for people.â
âI was thinking about the money, Aunt Fanny. You seeâ ââ
âIâm sure we can manage it,â she interrupted quickly. âThere really isnât a cheaper place in town that we could actually live in and beâ ââ Here she interrupted herself. âOh! Thereâs one great economy I forgot to tell you, and itâs especially an economy for you, because youâre always too generous about such things: they donât allow any tipping. They have signs that prohibit it.â
âThatâs good,â he said grimly. âBut the rent is thirty-six dollars a month; the dinner is twenty-two and a half for each of us, and weâve got to have some provision for other food. We wonât need any clothes for a year, perhapsâ ââ
âOh, longer!â she exclaimed. âSo you seeâ ââ
âI see that forty-five and thirty-six make eighty-one,â he said. âAt the lowest, we need a hundred dollars a monthâ âand Iâm going to make thirty-two.â
âI thought of that, George,â she said confidently, âand Iâm sure it will be all right. Youâll be earning a great deal more than that very soon.â
âI donât see any prospect of itâ ânot till Iâm admitted to the bar, and that will be two years at the earliest.â
Fannyâs confidence was not shaken. âI know youâll be getting on faster thanâ ââ
âFaster?â George echoed gravely. âWeâve got to have more than that to start with.â
âWell, thereâs the six hundred dollars from the sale. Six hundred and twelve dollars it was.â
âIt isnât six hundred and twelve now,â said George. âItâs about one hundred and sixty.â
Fanny showed a momentary dismay. âWhy, howâ ââ
âI lent Uncle George two hundred; I gave fifty apiece to old Sam and those two other old darkies that worked for grandfather so long, and ten to each of the servants hereâ ââ
âAnd you gave me thirty-six,â she said thoughtfully, âfor the first monthâs rent, in advance.â
âDid I? Iâd forgotten. Well, with about a hundred and sixty in bank and our expenses a hundred a month, it doesnât seem as if this new placeâ ââ
âStill,â she interrupted, âwe have paid the first monthâs rent in advance, and it does seem to be the most practicalâ ââ
George rose. âSee here, Aunt Fanny,â he said decisively. âYou stay here and look after the moving. Old Frank doesnât expect me until afternoon, this first day, but Iâll go and see him now.â
⊠It was early, and old Frank, just established at his big, flat-topped desk, was surprised when his prospective assistant and pupil walked in. He was pleased, as well as surprised, however, and rose, offering a cordial old hand. âThe real flare!â he said. âThe real flare for the law. Thatâs right! Couldnât wait till afternoon to begin! Iâm delighted that youâ ââ
âI wanted to sayâ ââ George began, but his patron cut him off.
âWait just a minute, my boy. Iâve prepared a little speech of welcome, and even though youâre five hours ahead of time, I mean to deliver it. First of all, your grandfather was my old war-comrade and my best client; for years I prospered through my connection with his business, and his grandson is welcome in my office and to my best efforts in his behalf. But I want to confess, Georgie, that during your earlier youth I may have had some slight feeling ofâ âwell, prejudice, not altogether in your favour; but whatever slight feeling it was, it began to vanish on that afternoon, a good while ago, when you stood up to
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