Young Lonigan - James T. Farrell [149]
“I know, Paddy,” Joe said with almost miserable weakness.
Lonigan meditated. Joe waited. Both brothers looked alike, but their difference in economic status was written into their countenances. Lonigan was stouter, his face full. Joe had a frustrated, harassed look.
“All right, Joe. I can do it this time. But I can’t if anything happens again, because I got lots of expenses, with my two youngsters still in school.”
“Thanks, Paddy. The kid’s learned his lesson, I’m sure.”
“I’ll give you a check for a hundred bucks. But take it from me, what you ought to do is pound some sense into him with a horse whip.”
“Paddy, I think he’s learned his lesson. . . . But how is your oldest boy?”
“Oh, Bill is a fine kid, working with me, learning the business, a clear-headed, ambitious lad. Bill is all right; he’s turned out fine, and I’m proud of him.”
Chapter Nine
I
“Now William, please come to our December formal,” Fran said.
“Bill, I’d give anything to see you in soup-and-fish,” Lonigan said, boisterously spraying Martin with saliva as he laughed.
A blush spoiled Studs’ effort to appear noncommittal.
“A lot of fellows you know, Dan Donoghue, Johnny O’Brien, scads of them will be there, even that awful brother of Geraldine Malloy’s,” Fran said.
“Now, Frances, you needn’t go bothering William. There’s time enough for him to be getting a girl. Nowadays, all a girl wants is to get a fellow and have him spend all his money on her. William works hard for his money, and he’ll have time enough for girls. He’s young yet,” the mother said.
“Mother, please don’t be so ridic,” Fran said.
“My goodness mercy, the language you use. I was saying to Mrs. Reilley only the other day, that the way our young ones are talking, we soon won’t be able to understand a word they say,” the mother said.
“Bill, don’t let ’em fool you. I’ll bet you’ll be a real sheik, and have a winning way with the ladies. Chip off the old block, you’ll be. Now when I was young . . .”
“Father, please!” interrupted Fran in a tone nasty with boredom and disgust.
Lonigan looked hurt.
“Yes, to hear him talk! IF I hadn’t married him, he’d still be a wallflower,” the mother said.
“Is that so?” said Lonigan.
“I’ll bet Martin will be a sheik and not need any encouragement when he gets a little older,” Loretta said.
“Aw, go hop in the bowl,” Martin said.
The family paused from its supper to look aghast at Martin.
“Why, the idea!” said Fran in dudgeon.
“Martin, where do you hear language like that?” Lonigan sternly asked.
“He won’t get a girl ever if he talks like that,” Loretta said, amused.
“Now, see here, young fellow! I never want to hear you talking like that inside this house, and above all at the family table, blessed be God,” Lonigan commanded.
“You children are the life of me! I don’t know where you get your talk and your ideas,” the mother said.
“If you would send him to a refined private school, like the one Catherine Hovey’s brother goes to, he wouldn’t talk like he does,” Fran said.
“I won’t go to that dopey school,” Martin protested.
“Listen! If you want to sit at this table with your mother and sisters, you’re going to use civilized, refined language,” Lonigan said.
“All right, but gee, can’t all of you let me alone?”
“He takes after him,” Fran said, pointing at Studs.
Studs was inwardly proud. He was always being told his kid brother was just like he’d been, and plenty tough.
“Nobody asked for your two cents’ worth,” Studs said.
“Why, William Lonigan, you’re not going to talk to me in that tone of voice!”
“Children, please!” interjected the mother.
“I give him up. I don’t care what he does any more. I don’t want him at our dance, disgracing me. If he chooses to be a bum, let him! I wash my hands,” Fran said like a martyr.
“You’ve been doing that for years. I hope it’s final,” sneered Studs.
“Don’t worry. It is. You have a positive hatred of acting like a gentleman. Go your own way! You might wake up some day and be sorry,” she