Sam, leaning on the gate, watched his grandfather's toiling progress
up the hill. His face was dull, and when he spoke all the youth seemed
to have dropped out of his voice.
"Grandfather," he said, when Mr. Wright was within speaking distance,
"I want to go away from Old Chester. Will you give me some money,
sir?"
Benjamin Wright, his feet wide apart, and both hands gripping the top
of his stick, came to a panting standstill and gaped at him. He did
not quite take the boy's words in; then, as he grasped the idea that
Sam was agreeing to the suggestion which he had himself made more than
a month before, he burst out furiously. "Why the devil didn't you say
so, yesterday? Why did you let me--you young jackass!"
Sam looked at him in faint surprise. Then he proceeded to explain
himself: "Of course, father won't give me any money. And I haven't got
any myself--except about twelve dollars. And you were kind enough,
sir, to say that you would help me to go and see if I could get a
publisher for the drama. I would like to go to-morrow, if you please."
"Go?" said Benjamin Wright, scowling and chewing orange-skin rapidly,
"the sooner the better! I'm glad to get rid of you. But, confound you!
why didn't you tell me so yesterday? Then I needn't have--Well, how
much money do you want? Have you told your--your mother that you are
going? Come on up to the house, and I'll give you a check. But why
didn't you make up your mind to this yesterday?" Snarling and
snapping, and then falling into silence, he began to trudge up the
driveway to his old house.
Sam said briefly that he didn't know how much money he wanted, and
that he had not as yet told his family of his purpose. "I'll tell
mother to-night," he said. Then he, too, was silent, his young step
falling in with his grandfather's shuffling gait.
When Mr. Wright left her, Helena stood staring after him, sobbing
under her breath. She was terrified, but almost instantly she began to
be angry....
That old man, creeping away along the road, had told her that he would
not betray her; but his knowledge was a menace, and his surprise that
she should have David, an insult! Of course, her way of living was
considered "wrong" by people who cannot understand such situations--
old-fashioned, narrow-minded people. But the idea of any harm coming
to David by it was ridiculous! As for Sam Wright, all that sort of
thing was impossible, because it was repugnant. No married woman,
"respectable," as such women call themselves, could have found the
boy's love-making more repugnant than she did. And certainly her
conduct in Old Chester was absolutely irreproachable: she went to
church fairly often; she gave liberally to all the good causes of the
village; she was kind to her servants, and courteous to these stupid
Old Chester people. And yet, simply because she had been forced by
Frederick's cruelty into a temporary unconventionality, this dingy,
grimy old man despised her! "He looked at me as if I were--I don't
know what!"