The Lockwood Concern (29 page)

Adelaide's graveside the younger two seemed grieved and baffled. The oldest man seemed only grieved, but then he was older and the aging learn to accept the inevitable. A nice stained glass window eventually was installed in the Lutheran Church in Adelaide's memory. Pastor Bollinger was secretly grateful that Abraham Lockwood wanted no special ceremony dedicating the window; Bollinger had his doubts about how many parishioners would attend a dedication, and what could you say about a woman who would never be missed? The widower and the bereaved son made a handsome pair on their marches between home and office, and with the departure of Adelaide Lockwood from the local scene, the all male Lockwood establishment created less resentment than hitherto had been the case. Abraham and his son George kept pretty much to themselves, as the Lockwoods had always done, but the citizens were beginning to look upon Abraham and George Lockwood as something more than individuals; they represented, or George represented, the family's third generation in the town; three generations of money, two generations of money with style, higher education, military service, imposing connections in Gibbsville and Philadelphia, and a continuity of residence in the town and of increasing earning power. The two men walking together, father and son, were now being spoken of in not altogether unfavorable tones as "our aristocracy." Bigger towns had their aristocracy, and now Swedish Haven discovered it had one of its own. The aloofness that had been resented during Adelaide's lifetime was now permissible and even admirable in the all-male Lockwood family. The Concern had been expedited by the departure of the female member of the family, and now Abraham Lockwood was ready to proceed to the next phase. The Fenstermacher fiasco, he decided, was a lucky accident. A union with the Lebanon County Fenstermachers, headed by a judge, had at first glance offered some advantages; but from his own experience Abraham Lockwood became convinced that the Concern would be better served if George could find a suitable wife who was not Pennsylvania Dutch. The Pennsylvania Dutch knew how to hold on to their money and to make more, and they were extremely respectable when they got rich; but they were stodgy. They were middle-class Germans and with few exceptions they so remained, generation after generation. Adelaide and her family had pre-Revolutionary roots, and had been rich for more than a century; but no one even in jesting tones had ever called them aristocratic. They had shown no disposition to capitalize on their long American history or their generations of wealth. The first member of Adelaide's family to have the look of an aristocrat was her son George, and it had taken Lockwood blood to achieve that. If George went to the Pennsylvania Dutch for a wife, his children might turn out to be Hoffners, and the Lockwood Concern would be dissolved in a single generation. Abraham Lockwood was determined that next time he would be more vigilant from the beginning when George took an interest in a young woman. Meanwhile he would consolidate his position in the boy's esteem, which he would do by companionability, sensible generosity, and tokens of respect for his son's judgment, and at the same time exercising early caution in the control of George's relations with young women. The boy was concupiscent and susceptible, his father knew, and obviously attractive. He had to be watched. Fortunately he had gone through college without becoming a boozer. Abraham Lockwood was careful not to turn into a bore. At the office he kept the boy busy and on many days they would have no conversation from eight-thirty until noon, so that the dinner hour was a recess for both. "How would you like to go to the crew races next week?" "Next week? I'm sorry, Father, but that's the week I'm going to that wedding," said George. "What wedding is that? Who's getting married?" "A fellow in my club, a fellow named Lassiter, is marrying a girl whose name I forget. They both live near Hazleton." "Franklin M. Lassiter's son?" "Yes. Coal mining." "Oh, I know that. The Lassiters. The Wynnes. Well, you ought to have a good time up there. Those coal millionaires know how to spend their money." "Yes, I'm catching a train here, stopping just for me. A special train that starts in Philadelphia, picks up fellows along the way. Sleeping cars, a diner, and a chair car. We use the train as a hotel while we're up there." "There was no such luxury when I was your age. Well, I'm sorry you'll miss the crew races but you'll have a better time where you're going." "See what you missed by not going to Princeton?" "It might surprise you to know that when I was at the University we used to feel sorry for the Princeton fellows. We were in a city, don't forget." "Yes, I'll bet you were a gay blade." "On that subject, silence is golden, my boy I prefer you to have some illusions about your father." "All right, if you have yours about me." "None. Absolutely none. But have your good time now." At the last minute Thomas Wynne extended a blanket invitation to the young gentlemen in town for the Lassiter-Powell wedding, and they were conveyed to the Wynne estate in mule-drawn buses. The Wynne gardens were lit by Japanese lanterns and a special pavilion had been erected for the dancing. The pavilion, in approximately the shape of a Chinese pagoda, was assembled on a slope just below the Wynne mansion and thus offered a view of the Company-owned Lake Wynne and of Lawyer - originally Loire - Valley. The location was remarkable, and visitors always exclaimed at its beauty. "You know why it's so pretty," Tom Wynne would reply. "All around here, to the east and the west and the south, are coal mines. No matter how you come here, by train or by team, you have to go through the mining patches. Then you get up here and you don't see a single breaker, no culm banks anywhere. That takes you by surprise, and that's the way I want it to be. Some day after I'm dead and gone they'll sink a shaft there where you see that little village, they'll start cutting timber. But as long as I have any say it stays this way." In the twilight before Agnes Wynne's dance George Lockwood listened to the old man's set speech. "You might say it's a very expensive view," said George Lockwood. Thomas Wynne turned to him. "Yes, if you want to reckon it in dollars and cents it is, young man. You're Mr. Phillips?" "No sir, this is Mr. Phillips. My name is Lockwood. This is Phillips, this is McCormick, this is-' "Uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh," interrupted the old man. "I knew the others, I didn't know Phillips and you. Lockwood. Are you in business, or you still studying?" "I'm in business with my father." "Would that be Abraham Lockwood? Over in Swedish Haven?" "Yes sir." "I know the name," said Tom Wynne. "Well, gentlemen, I trust you enjoy yourselves." He left the group to mingle with other guests before the serving of dinner. The evening was well along before George Lockwood's turn to dance with the guest of honor came, and she was beginning to run out of small talk. More accurately, she was tiring of repeating the same small talk to so many strangers. "And you're with the wedding?" she said, wearily. "Mary was such a pretty bride." "She was no such thing, but as long as Pudge thinks so," said George Lockwood. "I don't think that's a very nice thing to say about your friend's fiancé. Wife." "Well, if you'd said Pudge was a handsome bridegroom I wouldn't have agreed with that, either. He's a good fellow, but you must admit, not an Adonis." "I look for more than that in my friends," said Agnes. "I know. Fortunately they don't have to look for more than that in you." "Is that a compliment, or are you implying that they wouldn't find any more?" "It was meant as a compliment. I wouldn't say anything uncomplimentary at this stage of the game." "At this stage of the game? What makes you think there'll ever be any other stage of the game, as you call it?" "I withdraw that, Miss Wynne. I don't suppose I'll ever see you again after this evening. Your grandfather didn't like me, either, by the way." "My grandfather? Where did you ever know my grandfather? And which one? They're both dead." "I thought that was your grandfather, the man that's giving this ball." "He's my cousin. My father's first cousin. Why didn't he like you? What did you say to him?" "To be truthful, I think it was my father he doesn't like. As soon as I mentioned my father's name, Mr. Wynne ended the conversation. Although it could have been me, of course. I'm not famous for buttering people up." "No, I shouldn't think you were. Not that buttering people up is very commendable." "But I can make enemies without saying a word." "But you don't leave it to chance, do you? You do say a word, don't you? I think you want people to dislike you. What you said about Mary was unnecessary. And what you said about Pudge." "Why would I want people to dislike me? You, for instance. You're the belle of the ball, besides being the guest of honor. And I gave you one sincere compliment that you twisted around. You didn't have to do that." "I don't like to get personal on such short acquaintance." "I'm humbly apologetic, Miss Wynne, and I trust you'll forget the whole incident." The waltz ended here, Agnes took his arm, and he escorted her to a group of young people. During the remainder of the evening he saw her glancing at him from time to time, neither smiling nor with hostility, but unquestionably conscious of him. There was a picnic next day at the Lake Wynne boathouse, the concluding event of the wedding and ball festivities. The guests were all young people, chaperoned by Theron and Bessie Wynne, the nominal host and hostess. The water was very cold, and no one went bathing, but most of the guests took turns in the rowboats. Thus George Lockwood found himself alone with Theron and Bessie Wynne at a picnic table. "Well, I guess you'll all be glad to get home and get some sleep," said Theron Wynne. "How far do you have to go, Mr. Lockwood?" "I'm getting off at the second stop, Swedish Haven. First stop Gibbsville, then Swedish Haven." "Oh, yes. Swedish Haven. I've never been there. I've gone through it on the train, many times, but never got off. Isn't that where my friend Jacob Bollinger is? The minister? My friend - I haven't seen Jake in years, but we were friends in college." "Pastor of the Lutheran Church, yes." "I used to love to hear him talk. When he came to college you could hardly understand him, he was so Dutch." "Still is." "Do you speak Pennsylvania Dutch?" "A few words, and I can count in it. My mother was Pennsylvania Dutch. Richterville." "Oh, yes. That's in Lebanon County." "No, it's still in Lantenengo, but just over the line." "The last time I saw Jake Bollinger he'd just been called to the Lutheran Church in Swedish Haven, and I asked him if he expected to find a lot of sinful people there. He said no, but there was one family that the head of it had committed two murders, and got off scot-free. I didn't think such things happened among the Pennsylvania Dutch. That sounded more like us in the coal regions." George Lockwood rose. "The next time you see Reverend Bollinger you must get him to tell you the name of that family-" "Oh, then it's true? I thought Jake might have been pulling my leg. He had a peculiar sense of humor for a preacher. Sly little jokes." "I know the family very well. Will you excuse me? I'm on the next boat."

Theron Wynne's letter arrived a week later.

Dear Mr. Lockwood: I am writing to offer only deepest apologies for the unfortunate remarks I made Sunday last at the picnic at Lake Wynne. I cannot find words to tell you how sorry I am that my blundering, loose tongue could have inflicted such pain. To make matters worse, your gentlemanly restraint in the face of such stupid scandal-mongering set an example to me, although you are the younger man whereas I am more than old enough to be your father. I would give anything I possess to be able to make amends or to in some way wipe out all recollection of my words. In conclusion I can only say that never in my life have I been so abject in my apologies and expression of my regret. I trust you will find it in your heart to in time forgive my blunder. I remain,

Yours very truly, Theron B. Wynne

George Lockwood read the letter twice and tossed it in the wastebasket. A week passed, and he got another letter from Hilltop, Pa.

Dear Mr. Lockwood: I take the liberty of writing to you because whatever my father said to you at the picnic, he did not mean it. I know that he has written you a letter of apology but he is still upset by what he said. He will not tell me what it was because he said it was so "awful." My mother also refuses to discuss it with me as my father has forbidden her to repeat what he said to you. Whatever he said, I have never seen him so upset and I know it is preying on his mind. I would be extremely grateful if you would accept his apology (if you can do so) and write him a note to that effect. You don't know my father but I assure you that in all his life he has never intentionally caused anyone harm, he is too gentle and kind to hurt anyone.

Sincerely yours, Agnes Wynne

He was rereading her letter in his office when his father came to leave for the noon meal. "Feminine stationery," said Abraham Lockwood. "Did you make a conquest?" "Maybe, maybe not," said George Lockwood. Theron Wynne's letter had if anything annoyed George Lockwood more than the blunder; George Lockwood had been annoyed, irritated, angered, but that had passed, and the letter only served to remind him of the blunder and repeat the annoyance. It was, moreover, undignified of a middle-aged man to be, as he said, so abject, and George Lockwood failed to answer the letter because he felt Theron Wynne did not deserve an answer. But the letter from Agnes Wynne was from Agnes Wynne. Until her letter there had been no reason or excuse or opportunity to see her again. Now that was changed. Dear Mr. Wynne: I wish to thank you for your letter. I assure you that I bear no "hard feelings" as to the things that were said at the picnic, knowing that no harm was intended. I have often been in the same predicament myself. I am planning to visit Wilkes-Barre and Hilltop on business in the near future and trust that I may have the pleasure of seeing Mrs. Wynne and yourself and charming daughter. I remain,

Sincerely yours, George Lockwood

It made no difference that George Lockwood had no business to transact in Wilkes-Barre or Hilltop. Three days after he mailed his letter he was urgently invited to break his journey with an overnight stop at Lake Wynne, where the Theron Wynnes had a summer cottage. The foolishly pathetic joy of the forgiven bungler was all over Theron Wynne's pinched little face, and Bessie Wynne was pleased because her husband was pleased. They seemed to think he had come to see them, and he was not left alone with Agnes until after supper. "I have to be at the colliery at seven A. M., so I hope you'll excuse me if I go to bed with the chickens." "It's nice being here at the cottage, but the only objection is Mr. Wynne has to get up an hour earlier," said Mrs. Wynne. "Yes. I'd like to sit up and talk, but ha' past four comes early." Mr. and Mrs. Wynne at last retired. "You might have answered my letter, too," said Agnes. "I wondered what was making you so stand-offish. So that was it? If you want the honest truth, I wouldn't be here if it hadn't been for your letter. That's my answer. I would have stayed on the outs with your father, but not with you." "I wouldn't have apologized." "You wouldn't?" "No. If you didn't have the good sense to know that what he said wasn't deliberate. I mean if I'd said it. Or anyone. Nobody makes that kind of a faux pas intentionally." "Nobody makes any faux pas intentionally. That's what a faux pas is, if I remember correctly. But people ought to be more careful what they say and who they say it to." "Are you always that careful?" "I thought you didn't know what your father said." "I found out. He was so upset he finally told me," she said. "May I ask you a personal question? Did you ever know your grandfather?" "Of course I knew him. I knew him very well. He used to tell me about the War. He was wounded at Bull Run." "Was he always going around shooting people?" "I could take umbrage at that." "I can't help it. He sounds so different from the only man I really know well, my father." "Oh, come now, Miss Wynne. The only man? I saw you at your ball, don't forget." "Half of them I didn't know any better than I know you." "You will, though." "Don't know as I care to." "Have you ever been kissed?" "Certainly not." "What's the matter with the local swains in this part of the world?" "Nothing the matter with them. They know how to respect a lady, as gentlemen do everywhere." "If I asked you for a kiss would you call for help?" "No. But that's what your answer would be - no." "Then if I stole a kiss?" "Is that the real reason why you came here, Mr. Lockwood?" "You're catching on. Yes." "Then it's a good thing you're not staying long. I'd hate to think of you wasting your valuable time. I've heard that about Princeton men, that they have a very high opinion of themselves as heartbreakers. Dear me, to think that I should be so honored." "Dishonored, don't you mean? You sound as though a harmless little kiss was the next thing to a seduction." "Really, Mr. Lockwood. This is going too far." "At least I see you know the meaning of the word." "You can know the meanings of words without - I know what surgery means, too, but I don't care to undergo an operation." "I wish I'd brought my chloroform." "Your chloroform? I don't get your meaning." "You mentioned surgery. Maybe if I had some chloroform with me I could put you to sleep and then I could kiss you. "What an unpleasant thought. Your mind must be in the gutter, to have ideas like that." "My mind is often in the gutter, but at least I'm willing to admit it." "Anyone can tell that, just by listening to your conversation." "When you get into your little bed tonight, think of me in my bed and only a thin wall separating us." "Good-night, Mr. Lockwood." She was gone, but in a minute or so she came back, still angry. "Are you staying up, because otherwise I have to blow out the lamps." "I'll blow them out. Will it bother you if I leave mine on in my bedroom? Will you be able to sleep?" "I'm sure I'll be able to sleep, thank you." For an hour after he went to bed he tapped his fingernail intermittently on the thin, varnished wall. At breakfast Bessie Wynne said, "Did you sleep well, Mr. Lockwood? Sometimes the first night in the woods people have a hard time getting to sleep." "Slept like a top. Did you sleep well, Miss Wynne?" "Me? Not very. I thought I heard a mouse or a rat." "But you're not afraid of them," said her mother. "Some of the houses we've lived in when Mr. Wynne and I were first married." "Oh, I'm not afraid of them but they keep me awake." "Mr. Wynne said to say goodbye and tell you how nice it was to have you with us. And if you're coming up this way again, we wouldn't think of letting you stay in the hotel. At least not the one in Hilltop." "Well, now I may take you up on that, Mrs. Wynne. I have to pay several visits around here this summer. My father makes me do most of the traveling now that he's getting on a bit." "You must be a great help to your father," said Bessie Wynne. "Thank you. And you'll be here all summer?" "Yes, we have the cottage till the middle of September, then Cousin Tom Wynne keeps it open for his friends that go gunning. He has friends come from New York and Philadelphia and they stay till they all get a deer. One brought down a bear five or six years ago." George Lockwood's undefined hope that Agnes Wynne might show her gratitude - 'extremely grateful,' she had said in her letter - in an extreme gesture was, he now realized, foolishly romantic thinking on his part. Extremely and grateful were words without meaning to her; she might more truthfully have said, "I will thank you very much." But she was a puzzling girl, therefore an unusual one, and he had developed a theory (that had not, it is true, been tested) that an unusual girl could be seduced without matrimonial obligations. So far in his experience he had not achieved a seduction of a girl of good family. They were too well protected from seducers and from their own instincts. Lalie Fenstermacher had several times been only minutes away from giving in, and he had heard of one case of a Princeton acquaintance who had seduced a girl with the connivance of her brother. But when George Lockwood saw the girl in the flesh he ceased to regard his acquaintance as either a dashing or a lucky man, but rather as a fellow with a strong stomach. It was not then merely a question of seducing a girl of good family, but an attractive girl of good family. And Agnes Wynne was all of that. She was desirable, and it would be a real triumph to seduce her and then to abandon her to her rather haughty, somewhat intellectual independence. Agnes was nineteen years old, notably slender among her contemporaries, so much so that George Lockwood would not ordinarily have singled her out for seduction. Her lack of voluptuousness in fact indicated to him that the eventual possession of her body was not the only pleasure he anticipated. He wanted to take her down a few pegs. He had found out her exact position in the Wynne dynasty, which would discourage fortune-hunters, but he had also seen that his own contemporaries liked her, enjoyed her company, and actually competed for her approval, and so at nineteen she probably would not stay single very long. As to her position among the Wynnes, although it was discouraging to the more impatient fortune-hunters, he had heard that she was the favorite female relative of old Tom Wynne and consequently had some prospects. On the other hand, there were many young men whom he had seen being attentive to Agnes and who would not have to marry for money. Any one of them might marry her in a year or two, and George Lockwood was not interested in being second. Love was nowhere in his arrangements. Luck had provided the excuse and opportunity for his renewal of acquaintance with her, but now he would not trust to luck. It was not necessary. The invitation to revisit the cottage on the lake had come spontaneously from Theron and Bessie Wynne, and George Lockwood guessed that Agnes would not oppose her parents. Family cordiality existed, but not equality; it would have been unthinkable for her seriously to assert herself by that kind of independence - and he suspected that all her independence really amounted to nothing more than some originality of thinking. She wasn't deep, but only a little different from the others, as a Southern girl's accent made her seem different at a party in the North. He argued for and against her unusualness; was fascinated by it and repelled by it and denied its existence. But he found that whether she was deep or not, different or unusual or not, she occupied his thoughts as no girl had been able to since the parting with Lalie. On his second overnight visit to the cottage on the lake she pointedly had taken off to visit friends in the northern part of the Commonwealth, near the New York line. He revealed no annoyance, but made himself charming with her father and mother and improved the shining hours by tapping Theron Wynne for information on the Wynne Company coal and timber resources. Coal leases and the mining of coal required special knowledge and considerable financial resources, and neither George Lockwood nor Abraham had any intention of investing in anthracite, but Lockwood & Company owned two small lumber and planing mills and their timber leases would soon be worthless, when the stands of timber were exhausted. New land would have to be found, and if there was no available acreage, the next best thing was to get a good price for the milling equipment. The visit was also an opportunity to collect information on the status of the Hofmans and Stokeses. Mostly by implication Abraham Lockwood had indoctrinated his elder son to be ready to take full advantage of any situation that would be profitable to the Lockwoods and costly to the Hofmans and Stokeses. There was nothing he could put his finger on, but George Lockwood accepted it as fact that his father hated his Gibbsville cousins. On George's part the feeling was not so intense, but when Theron Wynne, unaware of the kinship, remarked that the Stokes boys were somewhat less shrewd than Old Man Hofman, George Lockwood had an unprejudiced opinion that might someday be useful. He timed his next visit for a month later, correctly assuming that Theron and Bessie Wynne would insist on Agnes's presence in order to avoid the appearance of rudeness. Transparently, as a protection, she had invited another girl to be a house guest. Ruth Hagenbeck was not a good choice for Agnes Wynne's purpose; she promptly developed a crush on George Lockwood, blushed when he spoke directly to her, and made non-sequitur interjections in the general conversation when she was at the table. At supper, for instance, Theron Wynne was saying: and the next year we moved to Hilltop." "I think so too," said Ruth Hagenbeck. "Beg pardon, Ruth?" said Theron Wynne. Ruth Hagenbeck was staring at George Lockwood. "What did you think, Miss Hagenbeck?" said George Lockwood. "Oh, she wasn't thinking. She just wanted to have something to say," said Agnes Wynne. "I don't think that's very nice, Agnes," said Bessie Wynne. "Well, if she had something to say, nobody's stopping her. What were you going to say, Ruth?" said Agnes. "Just for that I won't tell you," said Ruth Hagenbeck. Theron Wynne resumed his story, and without warning Ruth got up and left the table. "You hurt her feelings, Agnes. You go right in and tell her you're sorry," said Bessie Wynne. Agnes Wynne was gone more than ten minutes. When she returned she said, "Ruth asks to be excused. She has a headache." "From not eating, no wonder she has a headache," said Theron Wynne. "Take her in something on a tray, Agnes. Maybe some chicken broth." "She wants to be left alone, Father." "Oh. Well, too bad," said Theron Wynne. "I'll go in see how she is after supper," said Bessie Wynne. She did so, and reported that Ruth was sound asleep and that it was likewise bedtime for herself and her husband. Once again Agnes was left alone with George Lockwood. "You'd never be like Miss Hagenbeck, would you?" "If you're going to say anything against her, she's one of my closest friends." "I'm not going to say anything against her. It's against you. You're such a cold fish that you'd never get all flustered the way she did." "I don't know what you mean by all flustered, and as far as your personal remarks are concerned, Mr. Lockwood, the less said the better." "Miss Hagenbeck was very sweet. Very young and unsophisticated-" "We're both the same age," said Agnes. "In fact she's nearly a year older than I am, if you must know." "And she's flustered because I'm here." "Well - hell, I've never heard such egotism - that takes the cake, I must say." "You're just as flustered as she is, only you show it in a different way. Such as going to Scranton when you heard I was coming." "If you're referring to the time I went to Montrose, you had nothing to do with it." "Would you swear that on the Bible? Here, here's the Bible. Put your hand on it and swear." "Do no such thing. And what if I did go away because you were coming? I shouldn't think that's any proof that I was flustered by the great, charming, handsome Mr. George Lockwood. Quite the opposite, in fact. All that talk about stealing kisses, and worse." "Worse? Oh, yes. Seduction." "I just hope the rest of the younger men in Swedish Haven aren't like the one I've met. If you're any criterion, Mr. Lockwood, I feel sorry for any lady that has to live in that town." "Be careful what you say. You may be living there someday." "I'd rather die. I'd rather die. I'd sooner marry one of the hunkies than be married to you." "Just for that I'm going to make you marry me." "Not for all the money in Pennsylvania. The world." "I haven't got all the money in Pennsylvania, but I'm going to wait till you marry me, I don't care how long it takes. And I forbid you to marry anyone else. I forbid you to give yourself to any other man but me. You're going to be my wife and nobody else's." Home again he realized that in his anger he had said many things that he did not believe and would not have said except in anger. But having said them, having heard himself say them, he believed them. He began to believe, too, that his angry commitment was the right thing, and that the absence of love in the entire transaction made it a better thing, stronger and more sensible and unconfused by emotion. For the next few months she was constantly in his mind. There would be times when he found himself clenching and opening fists, and discovering that half his thoughts were on Agnes Wynne when he had not been aware he was thinking of her at all. His work did not suffer; on the contrary, he became more engrossed in it than hitherto, but Abraham Lockwood wondered. That autumn both Presidential candidates were younger men than Abraham Lockwood, Bryan so much younger that
biologically he could almost have been Abraham Lockwood's son; McKinley enough younger so that he could have been a pea-green freshman when Abraham Lockwood was a grand old senior. The outgoing President, Stephen Grover Cleveland, was Abraham Lockwood's age, and that seemed appropriate too, for Abraham Lockwood was tired and he was quitting. The task of acquainting George with details of the family holdings had been a stimulating one and a timely one; temporarily it had regenerated his own active interest in the Company, and almost daily some call had been made on his memory for details of the various family enterprises. But several times he had caught himself in errors, lapses that he did not confess to George. It was easier to let the errors cost a little money, if that had to be, or to He to George. "But Father, you told me thus-and-so." "No, George, quite the opposite. You got confused. I think I may be going too fast for you. No harm done, son. We all make mistakes, and you can't be expected to learn everything overnight.") Abraham Lockwood was not worried about money; there was now so much of it that both sons would be millionaires when he died. There was no one family or no conceivable alliance of Swedish Haven families that would challenge the Lockwood position. Abraham Lockwood's Concern now was financially secure, and on looking back he saw that it had been contemptibly easy to make the money that was the prime essential to the success of the Concern. The recurring fear that he would not live to see the human continuity of the Concern began to bother him seriously, the more so because he knew that George was not to be hurried in such matters - if in any matter. It was a relief then to discover that George was interested in a young woman of the Wynne family. The discovery was made because of as well as in spite of George's silence on the subject: George had made several unexplained trips to the coal region, and had come back in a mood that in a young man explained itself. "Find out for me who your brother is enamored of," Abraham Lockwood wrote in a letter to Penrose Lockwood. "I am convinced there is someone, but his suit is not meeting with success. Naturally I do not wish you to be blunt in your questioning or to reveal to him that I have expressed curiosity." Penrose was unimaginatively obedient, and the desired information was soon forthcoming. "You were talking last summer about getting some timber leases," said Abraham Lockwood to George." "Last fall, I believe it was." "Yes, I believe it was. Well, has anything come of it? There's a big future in lumber. The population's increasing. In the 1880 census we only had about fifty million. The 1890, only ten years later, it was over sixty million. A million a year. If that keeps up, George." "I haven't looked into it lately." "Well, maybe you ought to, before they grab everything in sight." "Who is they?" "The big mills, the mining companies. Speculators like us." "We could never do it on as big a scale as those people out in Minnesota." "No, but we could cut timber here, in a modest way, and supply the local needs without paying those high freight rates from the Northwest. We could compete." "Well, if you want me to, I'll have another look." "Otherwise we'll soon have to sell our mills, and at a loss." "What made you think of timber all of a sudden?" "Whenever I go to a funeral I think of timber, George. I'm not getting any younger." "Oh, Father, you'll live to be a hundred." "I wish I thought so, son. But I buried three college classmates in the last year. Three in one year. We're dropping off fast... Have another look around and get some prices on timberland. Would you like me to go along with you?" "No use you going to that trouble." "Suppose I made some inquiries? Or would you rather I didn't? This was your idea, so I don't want to interfere." "I'll look around some more," said George Lockwood. His father had no excuse to invade the Wynne country, but he had fortified George Lockwood with an excuse to revisit the region on his own. The rapidity with which George availed himself of the opportunity told Abraham Lockwood what he wanted to know: that George wanted to see the Wynne girl again and needed only an excuse. George Lockwood went to Hilltop, registered at the miserably uncomfortable hotel, and hired a rig with a driver, a garrulous Irishman named Kane. (George Lockwood was totally ignorant of the fact that his father had maneuvered him into a repetition of combining business with romance, as Abraham Lockwood had done with Adelaide Hoffner.) "Is it a sort of a surveyor you might be?" said Kane. "You might say that," said George Lockwood. "Is it mining properties then that-" "No, not mining properties." "Because I was about to say, not that I don't need the extra piece of change, mind you, but me conscience would never permit me to take your money under false pretenses. The truth of the matter being, to all intents and purposes, Mr. Lockwood, you won't find a square acre for miles around that the mineral rights ain't spoken for by old Tom Wynne, God damn his murderous black heart." "Murderous?" "You're a stranger, so you wouldn't be up on the misfortunate slaughter of seven innocent men some twenty years back. The Wynnes and the like of them seen to it that seven innocent men were condemned to be hung." "The Mollie Maguires?" "Then you heard of them?" "I never heard they were innocent." "And you never will, if you listen to the Wynnes and them. But you never heard of the handprint on the wall of the Carbon County jail? I daresay you wouldn't of heard of that." "No." "No. Well there's the mark of a hand on the wall of a cell in Mauch Chunk prison, and how it got there is a story in itself. One of the condemned men, the morning of the execution, he placed his hand on the wall of his cell and solemnly declared, 'As God is me judge I'm innocent, and the mark of me hand on this wall will attest to me innocence.' Well, the mark remains to this day. To this day, and no matter how many times they scrape it off and whitewash it, they can't erase the imprint of that innocent man's right hand." "Oh, you've seen it?" "Seen it? No, I haven't seen it. I've never had occasion to be on the inside of the county prison, but it's a well-known fact to Protestants as well as Catholics. No, I haven't seen it, and I'm sure neither has old Tom Wynne seen it either. But I'll wager you I sleep better nights than old Tom Wynne and them, that can't whitewash or scrape or paint out the proof of their guilt." As he anticipated, George Lockwood inevitably encountered Theron Wynne on a Hilltop street. "You didn't let us know you were here," said Theron Wynne. "I was afraid you'd think I was hinting for lodgings," said George Lockwood. "And I'm only going to be here a day or two." "Important business, no doubt. I don't know what else would bring you to Hilltop in the cold weather." "Business. I don't know how important. I trust Mrs. Wynne is well, and your daughter Agnes?" "Mrs. Wynne was down with a touch of rheumatism, every year about this time she complains. But she's up and about again, thank you. Agnes is substituting at the kindergarten, and we're all getting ready for Christmas. Agnes won't be here much through the holidays, but I'm glad of that for her sake. There isn't much in the way of a nice social life in Hilltop, for a girl that's been away at school. Come and take supper with us tomorrow? I'd ask you for tonight, but Mrs. Wynne wouldn't like to be caught unprepared." "I'm going back tomorrow, unfortunately, but thank you, and please remember me to them both." "A cup of tea. Come in for a cup of tea this afternoon," said Theron Wynne. "They often have a cup of tea, Mrs. Wynne and Agnes." "Well - if you're sure it wouldn't inconvenience Mrs. Wynne." "It'll give her an excuse to display her good tea set." George Lockwood was surprised to find a florist in Hilltop, and he took a dozen hothouse roses to Bessie Wynne, They served as a conversation piece. "You must have got these from Jimmy MacGregor," said Bessie Wynne. "I know Jimmy's roses." "Why? Is there more than one florist in Hilltop?" "There are three," said Agnes Wynne. "That's two more than we have in Swedish Haven," said George Lockwood. "Three florists, and I frankly didn't expect to find any." "Oh, don't be deceived by the surroundings," said Bessie Wynne. "In the spring and summer the backyards are full of flowers. Even if it's only a sunflower, the miners - at least the English and the Welsh-" "And the Scotch and the Irish," said Theron Wynne. "Yes. The hunkies don't plant many flowers, but all the others do. They may have a space no larger than this table, but in the evening you'll see the men cultivating their little gardens. And of course they all try to grow vegetables, even the hunkies. Cabbage. Beets. But the women grow the vegetables mostly." "Amazing. I suppose they want to brighten their lives," said George Lockwood. "A bit of bright color. I don't know much about flowers. My grandfather did. Trees, too. He should have been with me on this trip. I'm looking for timberland, for our mills." "You won't find any for sale, I'm afraid," said Theron Wynne. "Oh, everything is for sale, isn't it? If you want to go high enough?" said George Lockwood. "Yes, that's true. But as a business proposition you wouldn't want to buy any of the timberland in this section. My cousin's Company wouldn't sell, and I doubt if the other companies would either. What's more, some of those Pennsylvania Dutchmen from down around Allentown have been here ahead of you and tied up what was left." "I found that out today." "You'll have to go farther north, and even there you'll find that a few families own the best land. Some of that land got for two or three dollars an acre, I'm told. That may be an exaggeration. Up around the west branch of the Nesquehela, some of the Holland Dutch from York State bought that land from the Indians, as far back as a hundred years ago. Some of it they never cut, but now I understand they're pretty busy with logging operations." "What will happen when you've mined all the coal out of this section?" "Two hundred years from now?" "Is there that much coal still to be mined?" "So they say," said Theron Wynne. "Two hundred years of prosperity. If you have any money to invest, buy stock in any of the big coal companies. No matter how much you pay for it, it's going to be worth more. This country - the United States, that is - is going to buy more and more anthracite coal." "And in two hundred years this place won't be fit to live in. It's ugly enough now, but think of two centuries of culm banks piling up," said Agnes Wynne. "In two centuries, Agnes, the culm banks will be covered with mountain laurel. And in any case you and I will be covered with - I guess culm. Agnes doesn't realize that industry and prosperity take their toll." "Yes, I do, Father. I can remember when the coal dirt at Number Twelve was only as high as this house. Now it's a mountain." "Not quite a mountain, Agnes," said her father. "I confess I wouldn't like to live in the coal region," said George Lockwood. "But you have to admit you'd be willing to profit from coal mining. And if you got hold of your timberland, I don't know which is uglier. A culm bank, or a hundred acres of stumps after the loggers get through with their work." Theron Wynne was petulantly defensive. "Maybe we'd better change the subject," said Bessie Wynne. "I agree," said George Lockwood. "Mr. Wynne doesn't like what industry does to the landscape, and neither does Miss Wynne. But neither do I. Nobody does. Nobody likes to hear the squeals from a slaughterhouse, either, but we all like scrapple for breakfast." "Ugh. I hate scrapple," said Agnes Wynne. "Well, do you like steak? A cow doesn't make as much noise as a pig, but if you want to have steak, the cow has to be hit on the head first. Your shoes are made of leather, Miss Wynne." "Thank you for telling me." "Some religions won't allow you to wear shoes, or buttons that are made of horn-" said George Lockwood. "No, not religion," said Bessie Wynne. "Business is bad enough, but if we start talking about religion we'll spoil our tea party." "Mrs. Wynne is referring to the discussions Agnes and I have about religion, not to anything you might say, Mr. Lockwood." "Oh, Mr. Lockwood understood that, didn't you?" said Bessie Wynne. "Of course," said George Lockwood. "There's one thing I must say, if you promise not to think me forward. But every time I have a conversation with this family, it's stimulating. What you said about my grandfather last summer, Mr. Wynne-" "Oh, dear," said Theron Wynne. "Well, it was true, and I don't think we ever get anywhere by not facing the truth about ourselves. I didn't shoot two men. That was done before I was born. Before my father was born, I think. But in those days - I'm not making excuses for my grandfather - but in those days they lived more primitively, you might say. Men carried guns all the time because they had to. We have farmers that had grandfathers who wouldn't think of going out to plough a field unless they had their rifles with them. Really. I don't know about up here, but there were Indians living in the woods during my father's boyhood days, and sometimes they'd kill a farmer and make off with his wife and children." "They were desperate, those Indians," said Theron Wynne, the man who had wanted to be a missionary. "Desperate or not, you know it's true, Mr. Wynne." "Yes, I've heard tell of Indians still living in the woods over in Nesquehela County." "And white men, too. Not only in Nesquebela, but in Lantenengo County. In the Blue Mountains there are families living there that don't even speak Pennsylvania Dutch. They speak High German, same as they did a hundred years ago. They live like Indians, never come to town. I know that for a fact. The farmers know about them and they're deathly afraid of them because they're wild. They even look peculiar - you know why." "Why?" said Agnes. "Never mind why, Agnes," said Bessie Wynne. "I shouldn't have said that. I'm sorry." "Oh. Inbreeding," said Agnes. "Agnes!" said Bessie Wynne. "We don't speak of such things in polite society." "It was my fault," said George Lockwood. "Anyway, I was saying if we don't face the truth about ourselves, how can we learn about other people? For instance, knowing about my grandfather. If I didn't know that, I'd be liable to think your cousin was a terrible villain." "Cousin Tom Wynne?" said Theron Wynne. "I don't know if it's true or not, but the Irish think he had a hand in hanging those Mollie Maguires." "The Irish are notorious liars, Mr. Lockwood," said Theron Wynne. "How could they be otherwise? They confess their sins and promise to mend their ways, but the drunkards among them go right back to their drinking, the brawlers to their brawling, and so forth and so on. They're like