so long that I took it for granted. But I think that you, as a business man, must have known.
UNCLE RICHARD
You found that everything was mortgaged? Well, Richard, it pains me to recall these things. Your father, unfortunately, was a poor business man. As for the mortgage, Richard, I held that myself.
RICHARD
You did!
UNCLE RICHARD
Yes. Even your mother did not know. I acted through an agent, and the interest was two per cent.
RICHARD
But--
UNCLE RICHARD
A nominal rate. Your mother was so proud--
RICHARD
Well, but there were other matters, long ago, that I have only lately heard about. You and father once started in business together....
UNCLE RICHARD
We did. And I advised him to sell out when I did, but he thought better to hold on.
RICHARD
Poor father. You made--he lost....
UNCLE RICHARD
But if he had followed my advice--. All this is painful to me, Richard, and leads nowhere. As for yourself, I have always been interested in you, more so than you realize, and now--
RICHARD
Now?
UNCLE RICHARD
I cannot feel at fault for anything that has happened. Your father was unsuited for modern life. By the ordinary standards he was bound to fail. Still, it gives me great satisfaction that at the present time, Richard, I can offer you a home. Yes, Richard, a home.
RICHARD
It's difficult to decide.... You see, my studio--
UNCLE RICHARD
Well! I confess I can't understand all this uncertainty!
RICHARD
For three years I have worked as hard as anybody could to make a position allowing me to paint. I have succeeded. I no longer need help!
UNCLE RICHARD
Of course not! I don't question your ability to get along. At the same time, your attitude now is rather quixotic. Besides, as far as your painting is concerned, you can always go about where you require. It isn't slavery I am planning for you here, Richard!
RICHARD
Well ... but then, as I must live by my sales and commissions, I'd cut a poor figure in surroundings like these.
UNCLE RICHARD
Ha! Very quaint that, Richard, very quaint! I suppose artists are like that.... Richard, I see you do not yet understand. I shall be most happy to provide for you in every way. Yes. I have considered the whole matter carefully, and for some time have only waited an opportunity to explain to you in person. Consider, then, that you shall have an income of your own. You see, Richard?
RICHARD
No, I don't.
UNCLE RICHARD
Why, it's simple enough!
RICHARD
Yes, the facts are, but I don't understand--an income, a home. Why, I never dreamed of such a thing!
UNCLE RICHARD
And why not, my boy, why not? We haven't seen enough of each other, Richard. Perhaps I have been at fault there, not to show more clearly the interest I have always taken in you. Yes, indeed, a warm interest, Richard!
RICHARD
Why not, Uncle Richard? Three years ago you might have asked me that question. Now I ask you _why_?
UNCLE RICHARD
Why? How strange! How could that question arise between a man and his own nephew?
RICHARD
Three years ago, before Aunt Ethel died, I spent Thanksgiving with you. It was during the recess, my second year at Harvard. I came here practically from my mother's funeral. I had just learned the truth about our affairs--not a thing of ours really ours, not a penny left. How mother had kept the truth from me, I don't know. But suddenly everything changed. The ground I had been standing on gave way--my hands grasped everywhere for support. I had never lacked, never thought about money either way. I took it for granted that families like ours were provided with a decent living by some law of Providence.... I came here. I thought of course you would help me. I didn't think so consciously--I turned to you and Aunt Ethel from blind instinct.
We spent Thanksgiving together. It was very quiet, very sad. You both talked about mother and the old days. At breakfast the next morning you wished me good luck and went off to your office. Afterward Aunt Ethel and I talked in the living room while I waited for the train. She seemed ill at ease. She alluded to your affairs once or twice, saying that you were quite embarrassed by the state of politics, and how sad it was that people couldn't do all they wanted to in this world for others.
Uncle Richard, when Joseph came with the carriage, Aunt Ethel kissed me, cried, and gave me--a twenty dollar bill. Good God! and I thanked her for it. Twenty dollars--carfare and a week's board! I left the house completely dazed: it seemed like a bad dream....
UNCLE RICHARD
There, there, Richard! We never imagined for a moment. I thought your college course all provided for--and your Aunt Ethel never understood business. She doubtless exaggerated my difficulty. If either of us had dreamed you were so worried! As if I should have grudged you money!
RICHARD
That's what
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