Young Lonigan - James T. Farrell [292]
“I’ll be all right.”
“But the Lord knows you’ll have to work when you’re married. This isn’t the best time in the world for young folks to be getting engaged and married,” she said, her voice growing faintly querulous.
Studs was tempted to tell her there would be no worry on that score if his investment came out right.
“Well, it’s a comfort to know that you have money saved up in the bank and that you won’t be going to her empty-handed.”
He drank his milk more slowly.
“And I’m grateful to God that my girls married good providers, and have the comforts your father and I always wanted them to have when they got married.” She sighed. “Of course, I wouldn’t for the world of me say anything against a fine upstanding ambitious boy like Phillip, because he is very good to my daughter, but I do wish he could get into a better business. He’s too smart a boy to be doing what he does.”
“He’s making a go of it,” Studs said.
Some day Phil Rolfe was going to be a piker alongside of Studs Lonigan!
“He’s a fine boy. He lives up to the faith, too, better than many of them that’s been born in it. And I so often think what a shame it is that he’s a gambler.”
“He doesn’t do the gambling. He’s got the law of averages on his side.”
“It would be so much nicer, and Loretta would have so much more . . . more standing with the right kind of people, if he was in something else, real estate, insurance, bonds.”
“What could anybody do in real estate these days? Look at us with our building, and what dad says about nearly all the big hotels and buildings being busted and in the hands of receivers. There’s more money today in running a race-track book, like Phil does, than in such rackets.”
“I know, but there must be something else besides gambling for a boy with as educated a girl as Loretta for his wife,” she said wistfully.
“He’s making good,” Studs said, yawning, getting up. “I guess I’ll go take a nap.”
“Yes, do, son, it will be good for you,” she said, peeling away at the potatoes.
II
“Well, dad,” Studs said, looking to his left at his father who sat at the head of the supper table, “I’m getting to feel pretty good these days.”
“That’s fine, Bill,” Lonigan said, the worried absorption seeming to lift from his ruddy face. “And I’m only sorry that I won’t be able to be giving you as much steady work to do as I used to. The deal on that apartment hotel job flopped. The fellow who was going to supply the fresh capital got cold feet. So we don’t get our contract, and it’s going to put quite a crimp in our style. I had counted a lot on getting it.”
“That’s a shame, Patrick. But you mustn’t worry. The Lord will provide for his own,” Mrs. Lonigan said.
“I hope so,” Lonigan said lifelessly, applying a knife and fork to his pork chop.
“Things will have to get better. That’s just what Mrs. Schwartz and I were saying to each other in the hall this morning,” she said.
“Maybe if we get a man in like Al Smith next year, and kick out Hoover who’s only a tool of the Jew international bankers, we’ll turn the comer. This country is too great and too rich to be going to the dogs the way it seems to be these days. And you know, I was speaking to a fellow today who seems to know what he’s talking about, and that’s just what he was saying. But we got to get a strong man in the White House, a man like Al Smith or Mussolini, to kick out the bankers and grafting politicians and racketeers, and that’ll make America a country for Americans only. If we don’t do that, we give arguments right into the hands of the Reds who want anarchy here like they got in Russia,” Lonigan said, and Studs nodded.
“Oh, Patrick, I meant to tell you, Frances telephoned today, and they’re getting a new automobile.”
“Fine! Fine! I’m glad to hear it,” he listlessly said with a mouthful of food.
“What kind?” asked Martin, a tall, thin and gawky young man in his early twenties.
“She told me the make, but I forget it now. You know, it’s such a comfort to know