Main Street Sinclair Lewis (books to read romance TXT) đ
- Author: Sinclair Lewis
Book online «Main Street Sinclair Lewis (books to read romance TXT) đ». Author Sinclair Lewis
âPeople like Sam Clark and Harry Haydock arenât earnest about music and pictures and eloquent sermons and really refined movies, but then, on the other hand, people like Carol Kennicott put too much stress on all this art. Folks ought to appreciate lovely things, but just the same, they got to be practical andâ âthey got to look at things in a practical way.â
Smiling, passing each other the pressed-glass pickle-dish, seeing Mrs. Gurreyâs linty supper-cloth irradiated by the light of intimacy, Vida and Raymie talked about Carolâs rose-colored turban, Carolâs sweetness, Carolâs new low shoes, Carolâs erroneous theory that there was no need of strict discipline in school, Carolâs amiability in the Bon Ton, Carolâs flow of wild ideas, which, honestly, just simply made you nervous trying to keep track of them.
About the lovely display of gentsâ shirts in the Bon Ton window as dressed by Raymie, about Raymieâs offertory last Sunday, the fact that there werenât any of these new solos as nice as âJerusalem the Golden,â and the way Raymie stood up to Juanita Haydock when she came into the store and tried to run things and he as much as told her that she was so anxious to have folks think she was smart and bright that she said things she didnât mean, and anyway, Raymie was running the shoe department, and if Juanita, or Harry either, didnât like the way he ran things, they could go get another man.
About Vidaâs new jabot which made her look thirty-two (Vidaâs estimate) or twenty-two (Raymieâs estimate), Vidaâs plan to have the high-school Debating Society give a playlet, and the difficulty of keeping the younger boys well behaved on the playground when a big lubber like Cy Bogart acted up so.
About the picture postcard which Mrs. Dawson had sent to Mrs. Cass from Pasadena, showing roses growing right outdoors in February, the change in time on No. 4, the reckless way Dr. Gould always drove his auto, the reckless way almost all these people drove their autos, the fallacy of supposing that these socialists could carry on a government for as much as six months if they ever did have a chance to try out their theories, and the crazy way in which Carol jumped from subject to subject.
Vida had once beheld Raymie as a thin man with spectacles, mournful drawn-out face, and colorless stiff hair. Now she noted that his jaw was square, that his long hands moved quickly and were bleached in a refined manner, and that his trusting eyes indicated that he had âled a clean life.â She began to call him âRay,â and to bounce in defense of his unselfishness and thoughtfulness every time Juanita Haydock or Rita Gould giggled about him at the Jolly Seventeen.
On a Sunday afternoon of late autumn they walked down to Lake Minniemashie. Ray said that he would like to see the ocean; it must be a grand sight; it must be much grander than a lake, even a great big lake. Vida had seen it, she stated modestly; she had seen it on a summer trip to Cape Cod.
âHave you been clear to Cape Cod? Massachusetts? I knew youâd traveled, but I never realized youâd been that far!â
Made taller and younger by his interest she poured out, âOh my yes. It was a wonderful trip. So many points of interest through Massachusettsâ âhistorical. Thereâs Lexington where we turned back the redcoats, and Longfellowâs home at Cambridge, and Cape Codâ âjust everythingâ âfishermen and whale-ships and sand-dunes and everything.â
She wished that she had a little cane to carry. He broke off a willow branch.
âMy, youâre strong!â she said.
âNo, not very. I wish there was a Y.M.C.A. here, so I could take up regular exercise. I used to think I could do pretty good acrobatics, if I had a chance.â
âIâm sure you could. Youâre unusually lithe, for a large man.â
âOh no, not so very. But I wish we had a Y.M. It would be dandy to have lectures and everything, and Iâd like to take a class in improving the memoryâ âI believe a fellow ought to go on educating himself and improving his mind even if he is in business, donât you, Vidaâ âI guess Iâm kind of fresh to call you âVidaâ!â
âIâve been calling you âRayâ for weeks!â
He wondered why she sounded tart.
He helped her down the bank to the edge of the lake but dropped her hand abruptly, and as they sat on a willow log and he brushed her sleeve, he delicately moved over and murmured, âOh, excuse meâ âaccident.â
She stared at the mud-browned chilly water, the floating gray reeds.
âYou look so thoughtful,â he said.
She threw out her hands. âI am! Will you kindly tell me whatâs the use ofâ âanything! Oh, donât mind me. Iâm a moody old hen. Tell me about your plan for getting a partnership in the Bon Ton. I do think youâre right: Harry Haydock and that mean old Simons ought to give you one.â
He hymned the old unhappy wars in which he had been Achilles and the mellifluous Nestor, yet gone his righteous ways unheeded by the cruel kings.â ââ ⊠âWhy, if Iâve told âem once, Iâve told âem a dozen times to get in a sideline of lightweight pants for gentsâ summer wear, and of course here they go and let a cheap kike like Rifkin beat them to it and grab the trade right off âem, and then Harry saidâ âyou know how Harry is, maybe he donât mean to be grouchy, but heâs such a soreheadâ ââ
He gave her a hand to rise. âIf you donât mind. I think a fellow is awful if a lady goes on a walk with him and she canât trust him and he tries to flirt
Comments (0)