U.S.A_ - John Dos Passos [437]
"Aw, let it ride," said Charley.
"Little pitchers, Joe," said Grace, rapping on the table
-219-for order. "I guess we al need a rest. Now this summer, Joe, you'l take a vacation. I need a vacation in the worst way myself, especial y from entertaining Joe's dead cats. He hasn't had anybody to talk to since you've been away, Charley, and the house has been ful of dead cats.""That's just a couple of guys I've been trying to fix up with jobs. Grace thinks they're no good because they haven't much social smal talk.""I don't think, I know they are dead cats," said Grace. The little girls started to giggle some more. Charley got to his feet and pushed back his. chair.
"Comin', Joe?" he said. "I've got to get back to my wreckin'crew." It was a couple of weeks before Charley got away from the plant except to sleep. At the end of that time Stauch was back with his quiet regretful manner like the manner of an assisting physician in a hospital operatingroom, and things began to straighten out. The day Stauch final y came to Charley's office door saying, "Production is now again smooth, Mr. Anderson," Charley decided he'd knock off at noon. He cal ed up Nat Benton to wait for him for lunch and slipped out by the employees' entrance so that he wouldn't meet Joe in the entry.
In Nat's office they had a couple of drinks before going out to lunch. At the restaurant after they'd ordered, he said, "Wel , Nat, how's the intel igence service going."
"How many shares have you got?"
"Five hundred."
"Any other stock, anything you could put up for mar-gin?"
"A little. . . . I got a couple of grand in cash."
"Cash," said Nat scornful y. "For a rainy day . . . stuff and nonsense. . . . Why not put it to work?"
"That's what I'm talkin' about."
"Suppose you try a little flyer in Auburn just to get your hand in."
"But how about Merritt?"
-220-"Hold your horses. . . . What I want to do is get you a little capital so you can fight those birds on an equal basis. . . . If you don't they'l freeze you out sure as fate."
"Joe wouldn't," said Charley.
"I don't know the man personal y but I do know men and there are darn few who won't look out for number one first."
"I guess' they'l al rook you if they can."
"I wouldn't put it just that way, Charley. There are some magnificent specimens of American manhood in the business world." That night Charley got drunk al by him-self at a speak in the Fifties. By the time Doris landed from Europe in the fal Charley had made two kil ings in Auburn and was buying up al the Askew-Merritt stock he could lay his hands on. At the same time he discovered he had credit, for a new car, for suits at Brooks Brothers, for meals at speakeasies. The car was a Packard sport phaeton with a long low cus-tombody upholstered in red leather. He drove down to the dock to meet Doris and Mrs. Humphries when they came in on the Leviathan. The ship had already docked when Charley got to Hoboken. Charley parked his car and hurried through the shabby groups at the thirdclass to the big swirl of wel dressed people chattering round piles of pigskin suitcases, patentleather hatboxes, wardrobetrunks with the labels of Ritz hotels on them, in the central part of the wharfbuilding. Under the H he caught sight of old Mrs. Humphries. Above the big furcol ar her face looked like a faded edition of Doris's, he had never before no-ticed how much. She didn't recognize him for a moment. "Why, Charles Anderson, how very nice." She held her hand out to him without smiling. "This is most trying. Doris of course had to leave her jewelcase in the cabin. . . . You are meeting someone, I presume." Charley blushed. "I thought I
-221-might give you a lift . . . I got a big car now. I thought it would take your bags better than a taxi." Mrs. Hum-phries wasn't paying much attention. "There she is. . . ." She waved a gloved hand with an al igatorskin bag in it.
"Here I am."
Doris came running through the crowd. She was flushed and her lips were very red. Her little hat and her fur were. just the color of her hair. "I've got it, Mother . . . what a sil