The Second Generation | Page 8

was it the stranger
within him?--kept repeating: "Put your house in order. Put your house
in order."

CHAPTER II
OF SOMEBODIES AND NOBODIES
At the second turning Arthur rounded the tandem out of Jefferson
Street into Willow with a skill that delighted both him and his sister.
"But why go that way?" said she. "Why not through Monroe street? I'm
sure the horses would behave."
"Better not risk it," replied Arthur, showing that he, too, had had, but
had rejected, the temptation to parade the crowded part of town. "Even
if the horses didn't act up, the people might, they're such jays."

Adelaide's estimate of what she and her brother had acquired in the
East was as high as was his, and she had the same unflattering opinion
of those who lacked it. But it ruffled her to hear him call the home folks
jays--just as it would have ruffled him had she been the one to make the
slighting remark. "If you invite people's opinion," said she, "you've no
right to sneer at them because they don't say what you wanted."
"But _I_'m not driving for show if you are," he retorted, with a testiness
that was confession.
"Don't be silly," was her answer. "You know you wouldn't take all this
trouble on a desert island."
"Of course not," he admitted, "but I don't care for the opinion of any
but those capable of appreciating."
"And those capable of appreciating are only those who approve," teased
Adelaide. "Why drive tandem among these 'jays?'"
"To keep my hand in," replied he; and his adroit escape restored his
good humor.
"I wish I were as free from vanity as you are, Arthur, dear," said she.
"You're just as fond of making a sensation as I am," replied he. "And,
my eye, Del! but you do know how." This with an admiring glance at
her most becoming hat with its great, gracefully draped chiffon veil,
and at her dazzling white dust-coat with its deep blue facings that
matched her eyes.
She laughed. "Just wait till you see my new dresses--and hats."
"Another shock for your poor father."
"Shock of joy."
"Yes," assented Arthur, rather glumly; "he'll take anything off you. But
when I--"

"It's no compliment to me," she cut in, the prompter to admit the truth
because it would make him feel better. "He thinks I'm 'only a woman,'
fit for nothing but to look pretty as long as I'm a girl, and then to devote
myself to a husband and children, without any life or even ideas of my
own."
"Mother always seems cheerful enough," said Arthur. His content with
the changed conditions which the prosperity and easy-going generosity
of the elder generation were making for the younger generation ended
at his own sex. The new woman--idle and frivolous, ignorant of all
useful things, fit only for the show side of life and caring only for it,
discontented with everybody but her own selfish self--Arthur had a
reputation among his friends for his gloomy view of the American
woman and for his courage in expressing it.
"You are so narrow-minded, Artie!" his sister exclaimed impatiently.
"Mother was brought up very differently from the way she and father
have brought me up--"
"Have let you bring yourself up."
"No matter; I am different."
"But what would you do? What can a woman do?"
"I don't know," she admitted. "But I do know I hate a humdrum life."
There was the glint of the Ranger will in her eyes as she added:
"Furthermore, I shan't stand for it."
He looked at her enviously. "You'll be free in another year," he said.
"You and Ross Whitney will marry, and you'll have a big house in
Chicago and can do what you please and go where you please."
"Not if Ross should turn out to be the sort of man you are."
He laughed. "I can see Ross--or any man--trying to manage _you_!
You've got too much of father in you."

"But I'll be dependent until--" Adelaide paused, then added a
satisfactorily vague, "for a long time. Father won't give me anything.
How furious he'd be at the very suggestion of dowry. Parents out here
don't appreciate that conditions have changed and that it's necessary
nowadays for a woman to be independent of her husband."
Arthur compressed his lips, to help him refrain from comment. But he
felt so strongly on the subject that he couldn't let her remarks pass
unchallenged. "I don't know about that, Del," he said. "It depends on
the woman. Personally, I'd hate to be married to a woman I couldn't
control if necessary."
"You ought to be ashamed of yourself," cried Del, indignant. "Is that
your idea of control--to make a woman mercenary and hypocritical?
You'd better change your way of