Peter: A Novel of Which He is Not the HeroSmith, Francis Hopkinson
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Peter: A Novel of Which He is Not the Hero
Smith, Francis Hopkinson
Bank tellers -- Fiction; New York (N.Y.) -- Fiction; Wall Street (New York, N.Y.) -- Fiction
“Very decent in him, and you should never forget him for it,” and again
Peter's eyes roamed around the perfectly appointed room.
“I know it, sir, and at first the very newness and strangeness of
everything delighted me. Then I began to meet the people. They were so
different from those in my part of the country, especially the young
fellows--Garry is not so bad, because he really loves his work and is
bound to succeed--everybody says he has a genius for architecture--but
the others--and the way they treat the young girls, and what is more
unaccountable to me is the way the young girls put up with it.”
Peter had settled himself deeper in his chair, his eyes shaded with one
hand and looked intently at the boy.
“Uncle Arthur is kind to me, but the life smothers me. I can't breathe
sometimes. Nothing my father taught me is considered worth while here.
People care for other things.”
“What, for instance?” Peter's hand never moved, nor did his body.
“Why stocks and bonds and money, for instance,” laughed Jack, beginning
to be annoyed at his own tirade--half ashamed of it in fact. “Stocks are
good enough in their way, but you don't want to live with them from ten
o'clock in the morning till four o'clock in the afternoon, and then hear
nothing else talked about until you go to bed. That's why that dinner
last night made such an impression on me. Nobody said money once.”
“But every one of those men had his own hobby--”
“Yes, but in my uncle's world they all ride one and the same horse.
I don't want to be a pessimist, Mr. Grayson, and I want you to set me
straight if I am wrong, but Mr. Morris and every one of those men about
him were the first men I've seen in New York who appear to me to be
doing the things that will live after them. What are we doing down-town?
Gambling the most of us.”
“But your life here isn't confined to your uncle and his stock-gambling
friends. Surely these lovely young girls--two of them came in with me--”
and Peter smiled, “must make your life delightful.”
Jack's eyes sought the floor, then he answered slowly:
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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