A Hazard of New Fortunes | Page 9

to here,
and provisions are cheaper. But I should rather not experiment at my
time of life. If I could have been caught younger, I might have been
inured to New York, but I don't believe I could stand it now."
"How I hate to have you talk that way, Basil! You are young enough to
try anything--anywhere; but you know I don't like New York. I don't
approve of it. It's so big, and so hideous! Of course I shouldn't mind
that; but I've always lived in Boston, and the children were born and
have all their friendships and associations here." She added, with the
helplessness that discredited her good sense and did her injustice, "I
have just got them both into the Friday afternoon class at Papanti's, and
you know how difficult that is."
March could not fail to take advantage of an occasion like this. "Well,
that alone ought to settle it. Under the circumstances, it would be flying
in the face of Providence to leave Boston. The mere fact of a brilliant
opening like that offered me on 'The Microbe,' and the halcyon future
which Fulkerson promises if we'll come to New York, is as dust in the
balance against the advantages of the Friday afternoon class."
"Basil," she appealed, solemnly, "have I ever interfered with your
career?"
"I never had any for you to interfere with, my dear."
"Basil! Haven't I always had faith in you? And don't you suppose that if
I thought it would really be for your advancement I would go to New
York or anywhere with you?"
"No, my dear, I don't," he teased. "If it would be for my salvation, yes,
perhaps; but not short of that; and I should have to prove by a cloud of
witnesses that it would. I don't blame you. I wasn't born in Boston, but I
understand how you feel. And really, my dear," he added, without irony,
"I never seriously thought of asking you to go to New York. I was
dazzled by Fulkerson's offer, I'll own that; but his choice of me as
editor sapped my confidence in him."
"I don't like to hear you say that, Basil," she entreated.
"Well, of course there were mitigating circumstances. I could see that
Fulkerson meant to keep the whip-hand himself, and that was
reassuring. And, besides, if the Reciprocity Life should happen not to
want my services any longer, it wouldn't be quite like giving up a
certainty; though, as a matter of business, I let Fulkerson get that

impression; I felt rather sneaking to do it. But if the worst comes to the
worst, I can look about for something to do in Boston; and, anyhow,
people don't starve on two thousand a year, though it's convenient to
have five. The fact is, I'm too old to change so radically. If you don't
like my saying that, then you are, Isabel, and so are the children. I've no
right to take them from the home we've made, and to change the whole
course of their lives, unless I can assure them of something, and I can't
assure them of anything. Boston is big enough for us, and it's certainly
prettier than New York. I always feel a little proud of hailing from
Boston; my pleasure in the place mounts the farther I get away from it.
But I do appreciate it, my dear; I've no more desire to leave it than you
have. You may be sure that if you don't want to take the children out of
the Friday afternoon class, I don't want to leave my library here, and all
the ways I've got set in. We'll keep on. Very likely the company won't
supplant me, and if it does, and Watkins gets the place, he'll give me a
subordinate position of some sort. Cheer up, Isabel! I have put Satan
and his angel, Fulkerson, behind me, and it's all right. Let's go in to the
children."
He came round the table to Isabel, where she sat in a growing
distraction, and lifted her by the waist from her chair.
She sighed deeply. "Shall we tell the children about it?"
"No. What's the use, now?"
"There wouldn't be any," she assented. When they entered the family
room, where the boy and girl sat on either side of the lamp working out
the lessons for Monday which they had left over from the day before,
she asked, "Children, how would you like to live in New York?"
Bella made haste to get in her word first. "And give up the Friday
afternoon class?" she wailed.
Tom growled from his book, without lifting his eyes: "I shouldn't want
to go to Columbia. They haven't got any dormitories, and you have to
board round anywhere.