The Spenders: A Tale of the Third GenerationWilson, Harry Leon
General
The Spenders: A Tale of the Third Generation
Wilson, Harry Leon
Inheritance and succession -- Fiction; United States -- Social life and customs -- Fiction
In due time they were rattling over a tangled maze of switches, dodging
interminable processions of freight-cars, barely missing crowded
passenger trains whose bells struck clear and then flatted as the
trains flew by; defiling by narrow water-ways, crowded with small
shipping; winding through streets lined with high, gloomy warehouses,
amid the clang and clatter, the strangely-sounding bells and whistles
of a thousand industries, each sending up its just contribution of
black smoke to the pall that lay always spread above; and steaming at
last into a great roomy shed where all was system, and where the big
engine trembled and panted as if in relief at having run in safety a
gantlet so hazardous.
"Anyway, I'd rather live in Montana City than Chicago," ventured Mrs.
Bines.
"Whatever pride you may feel in your discernment, Mrs. Cadwallader, is
amply justified," replied her son, performing before the amazed lady a
bow that indicated the lowest depths of slavish deference.
"I am now," he continued, "going out to pace the floor of this
locomotive-boudoir for a few exhilarating breaths of smoke, and pretend
to myself that I've got to live in Chicago for ever. A little
discipline like that is salutary to keep one from forgetting the great
blessing which a merciful Providence has conferred upon one."
"I'll walk a bit with you," said his sister, donning her jacket and a
cap.
"Lest my remarks have seemed indeterminate, madam," sternly continued
Percival at the door of the car, "permit me to add that if Chicago were
heaven I should at once enter upon a life of crime. Do not affect to
misunderstand me, I beg of you. I should leave no avenue of salvation
open to my precious soul. I should incur no risk of being numbered
among the saved. I should be _b-a-d_, and I should sit up nights to
invent new ways of evil. If I had any leisure left from being as wicked
as I could be, I should devote it to teaching those I loved how to
become abandoned. I should doubtless issue a pamphlet, 'How to Merit
Perdition Without a Master. Learn to be Wicked in your Own Home in Ten
Lessons. Instructions Sent Securely Sealed from Observation. Thousands
of Testimonials from the Most Accomplished Reprobates of the Day.' I
trust Mrs. Llewellen Leffingwell-Thompson, that you will never again so
far forget yourself as to utter that word 'Chicago' in my presence. If
you feel that you must give way to the evil impulse, go off by yourself
and utter the name behind the protection of closed doors--where this
innocent girl cannot hear you. Come, sister. Otherwise I may behave in
a manner to be regretted in my calmer moments. Let us leave the woman
alone, now. Besides, I've got to go out and help the hands make up that
New York train. You never can tell. Some horrible accident might happen
to delay us here thirty minutes. Cheer up, ma; it's always darkest just
before leaving Chicago, you know."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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