Broken to the Plow: A NovelDobie, Charles Caldwell
General
Broken to the Plow: A Novel
Dobie, Charles Caldwell
Fiction
He rallied from his first depression with a tight-lipped
determination. He was not trying out a business venture so much as he
was trying out himself. Previously he had always figured success and
failure as his performance reacted on his audience. He was learning
that one could impress a stupendous crowd and really fail, or strut
upon the boards of an empty playhouse and still succeed. He began to
realize just what was meant by the term self-esteem--how hard and
uncompromising and exacting it was. To disappoint another was a
humiliation; to disappoint oneself was a tragedy. And the tragedy
became deep in proportion to the ability to be self-searching. There
were moments when he closed his eyes to self-analysis...when it seemed
better to press on without disturbing glimpses either backward or
forward. He was eager to gain an economic foothold first--there would
be time later for recapitulations and readjustments to his widening
vision.
The two months following were rough and uneven. He had to borrow
continually from Brauer, meet Hilmer with a bland smile, suffer the
covert sarcasms of his wife. Some money came in, but it barely kept
things moving. His broker friend had been right--the payment of any
premiums but fire premiums dragged on "till the cows came home." Many
of the policies that had seemed so easy to write up came back for
total cancellation. This man had buried a father, another had married
a wife, a third had bought a piece of ground--the excuses were all
valid, and they came from friends, so there was nothing to do but
smile and assure them that it didn't matter.
But somehow Starratt weathered the storm and the day came when the
Hilmer insurance fell due. Fred found Hilmer absent from his desk, but
the cashier received him blandly. Yes, they were ready to pay, in fact
the check was drawn and only awaited Hilmer's signature. To-morrow, at
the latest, it would be forthcoming. Fred drew a long sigh of relief.
He went back to his office whistling.
In the hallway he met Brauer.
"I want to have a talk with you," Brauer began, almost apologetically.
Fred waved him in and Brauer came direct to the point. He was
dissatisfied with the present arrangement and he was ready to pull out
if Fred were in a position to square things. His demands were
extraordinarily fair--he asked to have the notes for any advances met,
plus 50 per cent of the profit on any business he had turned in. He
claimed no share of the profits on Fred's business.
"I suppose you've collected the Hilmer premiums," he threw out,
significantly.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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