CHAPTER I
A RED-HAIRED GIRL 0
The residence of
Mr. Peter Pett 2
,
the well-known financier 53
, on
Riverside Drive 3
1 is one of
the leading eyesores of
that breezy and expensive boulevard 3
1 .
As
you 4
pass by in
, or while enjoying ten cents worth of fresh air on top of
a green omnibus 7
,
it 1
jumps out and bites at
you 8
.
Architects 9
, confronted with
it 1
, reel and throw up
their 9
hands defensively , and even
the lay observer 10
has a sense of shock .
The place 1
resembles in almost equal proportions
a cathedral 11
,
a suburban villa 12
,
a hotel 13
and
a Chinese pagoda 14
.
Many of
its 1
windows are of stained glass , and above
the porch 15
stand two terra-cotta lions , considerably more repulsive even than the complacent animals which guard
New York 17
's Public Library
16 .
It 1
is
a house which is impossible to overlook 55
: and it was probably for this reason that
Mrs. Pett 18
insisted on
buying
it 1
, for
she 18
was
a woman who liked to be noticed 54
.
Through the rich interior of
this mansion 1
Mr. Pett 2
,
its 1
nominal proprietor
56 , was wandering like
a lost spirit 19
.
The hour was about ten of a fine Sunday morning , but the Sabbath calm which was upon
the house 1
had not communicated itself to
him 2
.
There was a look of exasperation on
his 2
usually patient face , and a muttered oath , picked up no doubt on
the godless Stock Exchange 20
, escaped
his 2
lips .
" Darn it ! "
He 2
was afflicted by a sense of the pathos of
his 2
position .
It was not as if
he 2
demanded much from life .
He 2
asked but little here below .
At that moment all that
he 2
wanted was a quiet spot where
he 2
might read
his 2
Sunday paper in solitary peace , and
he 2
could not find one .
Intruders 21
lurked behind every door .
The place 1
was congested .
This sort of thing had been growing worse and worse ever since
his 2
marriage two years previously .
There was a strong literary virus in
Mrs. Pett 18
's system .
She 18
not only wrote voluminously
herself 18
-- the name
Nesta Ford Pett 18
is familiar to
all lovers of sensational fiction 22
-- but aimed at maintaining a salon .
Starting , in pursuance of this aim , with
a single specimen 23
, --
,
Willie Partridge 23
, who was working on a new explosive which would eventually revolutionise war --
she 18
had gradually added to
her 18
collections , until now
she 18
gave shelter beneath
her 18
terra-cotta roof to
no fewer than six young and unrecognised geniuses 24
.
Six brilliant youths 24
,
mostly novelists who had not yet started 24
and
poets who were about to begin 24
, cluttered up
on this fair June morning , while
he 2
, clutching
his 2
Sunday paper , wandered about , finding , like the dove in Genesis , no rest .
It was at such times that
he 2
was almost inclined to envy
,
a business friend of
his 2
25 named
Elmer Ford 25
, who had perished suddenly of an apoplectic seizure : and the pity which
he 2
generally felt for
the deceased 25
tended to shift its focus .
Marriage had certainly complicated life for
Mr. Pett 2
, as it frequently does for
the man who waits fifty years before trying it 26
.
In addition to
the geniuses 24
,
Mrs. Pett 18
had brought with
her 18
to
,
Ogden 59
,
a fourteen-year-old boy of a singularly unloveable type 27
.
Years of grown-up society and the absence of anything approaching discipline had given
him 27
a precocity on which the earnest efforts of a series of
private tutors 28
had expended
themselves 28
in vain .
They 28
came , full of optimism and self-confidence , to retire after a brief interval , shattered by
the boy 27
's stodgy resistance to education in any form or shape .
To
Mr. Pett 2
, never at
his 2
ease with
boys 29
,
Ogden Ford 27
was a constant irritant .
He 2
disliked
's personality , and
he 2
more than suspected
him 27
of stealing
his 2
cigarettes .
It was an additional annoyance that
he 2
was fully aware of the impossibility of ever catching
him 27
at it .
Mr. Pett 2
resumed
his 2
journey .
He 2
had interrupted it for a moment to listen at the door of
the morning-room 30
, but , a remark in a high tenor voice about the essential Christianity of
the poet Shelley 52
filtering through the oak ,
he 2
had moved on .
Silence from behind another door farther down
the passage 31
encouraged
him 2
to place
his 2
fingers on the handle , but a crashing chord from an unseen piano made
him 2
remove them swiftly .
He 2
roamed on , and a few minutes later the process of elimination had brought
him 2
to what was technically
his 2
own private library
32 --
a large , soothing room full of old books , of which
had been a great collector
60 .
Mr. Pett 2
did not read old books
himself 2
, but
he 2
liked to be among them , and it is proof of
his 2
pessimism that
he 2
had not tried
the library 32
first .
To
his 2
depressed mind it had seemed hardly possible that there could be
nobody 34
there 32
.
He 2
stood outside the door , listening tensely .
He 2
could hear nothing .
He 2
went in , and for an instant experienced that ecstatic thrill which only comes to
elderly gentlemen of solitary habit who in
find
themselves 35
alone at last
35 .
Then a voice spoke , shattering
his 2
dream of solitude .
" Hello ,
pop 2
! "
Ogden Ford 27
was sprawling in a deep chair in the shadows .
" Come in ,
pop 2
, come in .
Lots of room . "
Mr. Pett 2
stood in the doorway , regarding
with a sombre eye .
He 2
resented
the boy 27
's tone of easy patronage , all the harder to endure with philosophic calm at the present moment from the fact that
the latter 27
was lounging in
his 2
favourite chair .
Even from an aesthetic point of view the sight of
the bulging child 27
offended
him 2
.
Ogden Ford 27
was round and blobby and looked overfed .
He 27
had the plethoric habit of one to whom wholesome exercise is a stranger and the sallow complexion of the confirmed candy-fiend .
Even now , a bare half hour after breakfast ,
his 27
jaws were moving with a rhythmical , champing motion .
" What are
you 27
eating ,
boy 27
? " demanded
Mr. Pett 2
,
his 2
disappointment turning to irritability .
" Candy . "
"
I 2
wish
you 27
would not eat candy all day . "
"
Mother 18
gave it to
me 27
, " said
Ogden 27
simply .
As
he 27
had anticipated , the shot silenced
the enemy 2
's battery .
Mr. Pett 2
grunted , but made no verbal comment .
Ogden 27
celebrated
his 27
victory by putting another piece of candy in
his 27
mouth .
" Got a grouch this morning , have n't
you 2
,
pop 2
? "
"
I 2
will not be spoken to like that ! "
"
I 27
thought
you 2
had , " said
complacently .
"
I 27
can always tell .
I 27
do n't see why
you 2
want to come picking on
me 27
, though .
I 27
've done nothing . "
Mr. Pett 2
was sniffing suspiciously .
"
You 27
've been smoking . "
"
Me 27
!! "
" Smoking cigarettes . "
" No ,
sir 2
! "
" There are two butts in the ash-tray . "
"
I 27
did n't put them there . "
" One of them is warm . "
" It 's a warm day . "
"
You 27
dropped it there when
you 27
heard
me 2
come in . "
" No ,
sir 2
!
I 27
've only been
here 32
a few minutes .
I 27
guess one of
the fellows 24
was in
here 32
before
me 27
.
They 24
're always swiping
your 2
coffin-nails .
You 2
ought to do something about it ,
pop 2
.
You 2
ought to assert
yourself 2
. "
A sense of helplessness came upon
Mr. Pett 2
.
For the thousandth time
he 2
felt
himself 2
baffled by
this calm , goggle-eyed boy who treated
him 2
with such supercilious coolness
27 .
"
You 27
ought to be out in the open air this lovely morning , "
he 2
said feebly .
" All right .
Let 's go for a walk .
I 27
will if
you 2
will . "
"
I 2
--
I 2
have other things to do , " said
Mr. Pett 2
, recoiling from the prospect .
" Well , this fresh-air stuff is overrated anyway .
Where 's the sense of having
a home 1
if
you 38
do n't stop in
it 1
? "
" When
I 2
was
your 27
age ,
I 2
would have been out on a morning like this -- er -- bowling
my 2
hoop . "
" And look at
you 2
now ! "
" What do
you 27
mean ? "
" Martyr to lumbago . "
"
I 2
am not a martyr to lumbago , " said
Mr. Pett , who was touchy on the subject 2
.
" Have it
your 2
own way .
All
I 27
know is -- " " Never mind ! "
"
I 27
'm only saying
what mother 18
. . . " " Be quiet ! "
Ogden 27
made further researches in the candy box .
" Have some ,
pop 2
? "
" No . "
" Quite right .
Got to be careful at
your 2
age . "
" What do
you 27
mean ? "
" Getting on ,
you 2
know .
Not so young as
you 2
used to be .
Come in ,
pop 2
, if
you 2
're coming in .
There 's a draft from that door . "
Mr. Pett 2
retired , fermenting .
He 2
wondered how
another man 39
would have handled this situation .
The ridiculous inconsistency of the human character infuriated
him 2
.
Why should
he 2
be
a totally different man 2
on
Riverside Drive 3
from
in
Pine Street 40
?
Why should
he 2
be able to hold
his 2
own in
Pine Street 40
with
grown men 41
--
whiskered , square-jawed financiers 57
-- and yet be unable on
Riverside Drive 3
to eject
a fourteen-year-old boy 27
from an easy chair ?
It seemed to
him 2
sometimes that a curious paralysis of the will came over
him 2
out of business hours .
Meanwhile ,
he 2
had still to find a place where
he 2
could read
his 2
Sunday paper .
He 2
stood for a while in thought .
Then
his 2
brow cleared , and
he 2
began to mount
the stairs 42
.
Reaching
the top floor 43
,
he 2
walked along
the passage 44
and knocked on a door at the end of
it 44
.
From behind this door , as from behind those below , sounds proceeded , but this time they did not seem to discourage
Mr. Pett 2
.
It was the tapping of a typewriter that
he 2
heard , and
he 2
listened to it with an air of benevolent approval .
He 2
loved to hear the sound of a typewriter : it made
home 1
so like
the office 45
.
" Come in , " called
a girl 46
's voice .
The room in which
Mr. Pett 2
found
himself 2
47 was small but cosy , and
its 47
cosiness -- oddly , considering the sex of
its 47
owner -- had that peculiar quality which belongs as a rule to
.
A large bookcase almost covered one side of
it 47
, its reds and blues and browns smiling cheerfully at whoever entered .
The walls were hung with prints , judiciously chosen and arranged .
Through a window to the left , healthfully open at the bottom , the sun streamed in , bringing with it the pleasantly subdued whirring of
automobiles 50
out on
the Drive 3
.
At a desk at right angles to this window ,
her 46
vivid red-gold hair rippling in the breeze from
the river 51
, sat
the girl who had been working at the typewriter 46
.
She 46
turned as
Mr. Pett 2
entered , and smiled over
her 46
shoulder .