Van Bibbers Life | Page 9

should be allowed to go on in that
business. A grown woman can go into it with her eyes open, or a girl
who has had decent training can too. But it's different with a child. She
has no choice in the matter; they don't ask her permission; and she isn't
old enough to know what it means; and she gets used to it and fond of it
before she grows to know what the danger is. And then it's too late. It
seemed to me that if there was any one who had a right to stop it, it
would be a very good thing to let that person know about her--about
this child, I mean; the one who made the hit--before it was too late. It
seems to me a responsibility I wouldn't care to take myself. I wouldn't
care to think that I had the chance to stop it, and had let the chance go
by. You know what the life is, and what the temptation a woman--"
Van Bibber stopped with a gasp of concern, and added, hurriedly, "I
mean we all know--every man knows."
Mr. Caruthers was looking at him with his lips pressed closely together,

and his eyebrows drawn into the shape of the letter V. He leaned
forward, and looked at Van Bibber intently.
"What is all this about?" he asked. "Did you come here, Mr. Van
Bibber, simply to tell me this? What have you to do with it? What have
I to do with it? Why did you come?"
"Because of the child."
"What child?"
"Your child," said Van Bibber.
Young Van Bibber was quite prepared for an outbreak of some sort,
and mentally braced himself to receive it. He rapidly assured himself
that this man had every reason to be angry, and that he, if he meant to
accomplish anything, had every reason to be considerate and patient.
So he faced Mr. Caruthers with shoulders squared, as though it were a
physical shock he had to stand against, and in consequence he was
quite unprepared for what followed. For Mr. Caruthers raised his face
without a trace of feeling in it, and, with his eyes still fixed on the glass
in his hand, set it carefully down on the mantel beside him, and girded
himself about with the rope of his robe. When he spoke, it was in a tone
of quiet politeness.
"Mr. Van Bibber," he began, "you are a very brave young man. You
have dared to say to me what those who are my best friends--what even
my own family--would not care to say. They are afraid it might hurt me,
I suppose. They have some absurd regard for my feelings; they hesitate
to touch upon a subject which in no way concerns them, and which
they know must be very painful to me. But you have the courage of
your convictions; you have no compunctions about tearing open old
wounds; and you come here, unasked and uninvited, to let me know
what you think of my conduct, to let me understand that it does not
agree with your own ideas of what I ought to do, and to tell me how I,
who am old enough to be your father, should behave. You have rushed
in where angels fear to tread, Mr. Van Bibber, to show me the error of
my ways. I suppose I ought to thank you for it; but I have always said

that it is not the wicked people who are to be feared in this world, or
who do the most harm. We know them; we can prepare for them, and
checkmate them. It is the well-meaning fool who makes all the trouble.
For no one knows him until he discloses himself, and the mischief is
done before he can be stopped. I think, if you will allow me to say so,
that you have demonstrated my theory pretty thoroughly, and have
done about as much needless harm for one evening as you can possibly
wish. And so, if you will excuse me," he continued, sternly, and
moving from his place, "I will ask to say good-night, and will request
of you that you grow older and wiser and much more considerate
before you come to see me again."
Van Bibber had flushed at Mr. Caruthers's first words, and had then
grown somewhat pale, and straightened himself visibly. He did not
move when the elder man had finished, but cleared his throat, and then
spoke with some little difficulty. "It is very easy to call a man a fool,"
he said, slowly, "but it is much harder to be called a fool and not to
throw the other man out of the window. But that, you see, would not do
any good, and