It was called—which interested him greatly. He rode on it occasionally when he was delayed or did not wish to trouble 109

The Financier

Chapter XVII

little less experienced. “Everybody says so. Look at all the nice houses that are being built everywhere about here.” THE DAYS that had been passing brought Frank Cowperwood

“Everybody! Everybody! Who is ‘everybody,’ I’d like to and Aileen Butler somewhat closer together in spirit. Be-know?” demanded Butler, with the faintest touch of choler cause of the pressure of his growing affairs he had not paid and much humor. “I’m somebody, and I like it. Those that so much attention to her as he might have, but he had seen don’t like it don’t have to live in it. Who are they? What’s the her often this past year. She was now nineteen and had grown matter with it, I’d like to know?” into some subtle thoughts of her own. For one thing, she The question in just this form had been up a number of was beginning to see the difference between good taste and times before, and had been handled in just this manner, or bad taste in houses and furnishings.

passed over entirely with a healthy Irish grin. To-night, how-

“Papa, why do we stay in this old barn?” she asked her ever, it was destined for a little more extended thought.

father one evening at dinner, when the usual family group

“You know it’s bad, papa,” corrected Aileen, firmly. “Now was seated at the table.

what’s the use getting mad about it? It’s old and cheap and

“What’s the matter with this house, I’d like to know?” de-dingy. The furniture is all worn out. That old piano in there manded Butler, who was drawn up close to the table, his ought to be given away. I won’t play on it any more. The napkin tucked comfortably under his chin, for he insisted Cowperwoods—”

on this when company was not present. “I don’t see any-

“Old is it!” exclaimed Butler, his accent sharpening something the matter with this house. Your mother and I manage what with his self-induced rage. He almost pronounced it to live in it well enough.”

“owled.” “Dingy, hi! Where do you get that? At your con-

“Oh, it’s terrible, papa. You know it,” supplemented Norah, vent, I suppose. And where is it worn? Show me where it’s who was seventeen and quite as bright as her sister, though a worn.”

110

Dreiser

He was coming to her reference to Cowperwood, but he you was born, I’d have you know. If it weren’t for her workin’

hadn’t reached that when Mrs. Butler interfered. She was a and slavin’ you wouldn’t have any fine manners to be paradin’

stout, broad-faced woman, smiling-mouthed most of the before her. I’d have you know that. She’s a better woman nor time, with blurry, gray Irish eyes, and a touch of red in her any you’ll be runnin’ with this day, you little baggage, you!” hair, now modified by grayness. Her cheek, below the mouth,

“Mama, do you hear what he’s calling me?” complained on the left side, was sharply accented by a large wen.

Norah, hugging close to her mother’s arm and pretending

“Children! children!” (Mr. Butler, for all his commercial fear and dissatisfaction.

and political responsibility, was as much a child to her as

“Eddie! Eddie!” cautioned Mrs. Butler, pleading with her any.) “Youse mustn’t quarrel now. Come now. Give your fa-husband. “You know he don’t mean that, Norah, dear. Don’t ther the tomatoes.”

you know he don’t?”

There was an Irish maid serving at table; but plates were She was stroking her baby’s head. The reference to her gram-passed from one to the other just the same. A heavily orna-mar had not touched her at all.

mented chandelier, holding sixteen imitation candles in white Butler was sorry that he had called his youngest a baggage; porcelain, hung low over the table and was brightly lighted, but these children—God bless his soul—were a great an-another offense to Aileen.

noyance. Why, in the name of all the saints, wasn’t this house

“Mama, how often have I told you not to say ‘youse’?” good enough for them?

pleaded Norah, very much disheartened by her mother’s

“Why don’t you people quit fussing at the table?” observed grammatical errors. “You know you said you wouldn’t.” Callum, a likely youth, with black hair laid smoothly over

“And who’s to tell your mother what she should say?” called his forehead in a long, distinguished layer reaching from his Butler, more incensed than ever at this sudden and unwar-left to close to his right ear, and his upper lip carrying a ranted rebellion and assault. “Your mother talked before ever short, crisp mustache. His nose was short and retrousse, and 111

The Financier

his ears were rather prominent; but he was bright and attrac-his hands rather antagonistically under his wife’s or his tive. He and Owen both realized that the house was old and children’s noses.

poorly arranged; but their father and mother liked it, and

“Oh, well, I will get out one of these days,” Aileen replied.

business sense and family peace dictated silence on this score.

“Thank heaven I won’t have to live here forever.”

“Well, I think it’s mean to have to live in this old place There flashed across her mind the beautiful reception-room, when people not one-fourth as good as we are are living in library, parlor, and boudoirs of the Cowperwoods, which were better ones. The Cowperwoods—why, even the now being arranged and about which Anna Cowperwood Cowperwoods—”

talked to her so much—their dainty, lovely triangular grand

“Yes, the Cowperwoods! What about the Cowperwoods?” piano in gold and painted pink and blue. Why couldn’t they demanded Butler, turning squarely to Aileen—she was sit-have things like that? Her father was unquestionably a dozen ting beside him—his big, red face glowing.

times as wealthy. But no, her father, whom she loved dearly,

“Why, even they have a better house than we have, and was of the old school. He was just what people charged him he’s merely an agent of yours.” with being, a rough Irish contractor. He might be rich. She

“The Cowperwoods! The Cowperwoods! I’ll not have any flared up at the injustice of things—why couldn’t he have talk about the Cowperwoods. I’m not takin’ my rules from the been rich and refined, too? Then they could have—but, oh, Cowperwoods. Suppose they have a fine house, what of it? My what was the use of complaining? They would never get any-house is my house. I want to live here. I’ve lived here too long to where with her father and mother in charge. She would just be pickin’ up and movin’ away. If you don’t like it you know have to wait. Marriage was the answer—the right marriage.

what else you can do. Move if you want to. I’ll not move.” But whom was she to marry?