Husband and wife -- Fiction; Man-woman relationships -- Fiction
He gave me his confidences before I offered mine, sketching a career in
which stenography figured as no more than the handmaid to a passion for
biological research. From many of the details of research he was, of
course, precluded by his blindness; but his methodical habits, his
memory, and his faculty for induction had more than once put Averill on
the track of one thing when looking for another. It was thus that they
had discovered the _ophida parotidea_ while experimenting for the germ
of the Spanish influenza. Incidentally, his salary had been creeping
upward in proportion as he made himself more useful.
"And Lydia’s been a wonder," he declared, his face shining. "Talk about
sticking! The way that girl’s stuck to me in every kind of tight place!
Always thinking of other people and how to pull them out of the holes
they get into! In the Middle Ages she’d have been a saint. Now she’s
just an up-to-date New York girl."
By the time he had finished this rhapsody I was ready to tell him a part
of my own life tale, on which I found him more responsive than any one I
had met. As to my mental misfortunes in France he accepted the
narrative without questioning. When I came to what I painted as
domestic conditions outlived on both sides he passed the topic over with
the lightness born of tact. You see it was an altogether older and more
serious Drinkwater with whom I had to deal; and yet one not less
enthusiastic.
I discovered this when, with much misgiving, I hinted at the task to
which I wished to dedicate anything left in my life.
"You’ve got it, old boy," he half shouted, slapping his leg. "There are
three or four big jobs through which we white Americans have got to save
our country, and among them the free play of class-contribution is
almost the first. Say, these fellows that go jazzing about class
welfare get my goat. Class co-operation is what we want; and it’s what
classes come into existence to give. You can’t suppress classes, not
yet awhile at any rate, in a country full of inequalities; but what we
can do is to get the classes that form themselves spontaneously to take
their gifts and pass ’em on to each other. Each works out something
that another doesn’t, and so can benefit the bunch all round. Say,
Jasper, you’ll hit the nail of one of our biggest national weaknesses
right on the head as soon as you’ve learned how to do it."
"Yes, but the learning how to do it is just where the hitch seems to
come in. I’ve been in New York three weeks and I’m just where I was
when I came."
"Say, I’ll give you a line on that. Do you know how a young fellow in a
country town—I don’t know anything about swell places like New
York—becomes a barber?"
I said I didn’t, that I had never given a thought to the subject.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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