I–Iis own wife, Iggolly, had a rich father.
He had urged me to follow his example and marry a wealthy woman. He was even more disappointed when, instead of accepting the position he offered me in his business, I took what to him seemed a menial job at Inter American. He called me a fool, and for nearly a year we did not see each other. Then he and Iva arranged a reconciliation.
We have been on fairly good terms since, however strange he thinks my choice of occupation and my ways. I–Ie tries not to disapproveof me too openly; but he has never learned that I resent his way of questioning me when we meet. He is often tactless and sometimes rude. For some reason he has not been able to accept the fact that it is possible for a member of his family to live on so little.
"Haven't they given you a raise yet? I–Iow much are you making? Well, do you need money?" I have never accepted any.
Now that I have been out of work since May, he has become more pressing. Several times he has sent me checks for large amounts, which I have returned immediately. the last time this happened he said, "I'd take it, by golly.1 wouldn't.be so proud and stiff-necked. Oh, no, not Brother Amos. Some day you just try offering me money, and see if I pass it up."
A month ago when we visited him (he invites us for meals frequently, thinking, presumably, that we do not get enough to eat), he made such a scene when I refused to take some clothes he was thrusting on me that Ira at last whispered pleadingly, "Take it, Joseph, take the stuff!" and I gave in. lggolly, my sister-in-law, is a pretty woman, still slender, large-bosomed, but attractively so, dark, with fine hair combed upward in a way designed to make the most of her neck. She has a very graceful neck; I have always admired it. It is one of the traits my fifteenddyear-old niece Etta has inherited.
To me it has always been one of the exquisite characteristics of femininity; I can well understandwhy it provoked the prophet Isaiah to utter the words: "Because the daughters of Zion are haughty, and walk with stretched forth necks and wanton eyes, walking and mincing as they go, and making a tinkling with their feet: therefore the Lord will smite with a scab the crown of the head of the daughters of Zion, and the Lord will discover their secret parts."
It astonishes me that the same association should be in both our minds, though with a different cast.
Certainly it is the "stretched forth necks," or delicacy in conjunction with the rugged ancient machinery of procreation, that has for a long time been identified in my imagination with feminine nature. Here the parallel ends, for I am the very opposite of vindictive in regard to this duality and have, indeed, foddund pleasure in recognizing it.
My niece and I are not on good terms; there is a longstanding antagonism between us. Ours was not a rich family. Amos tells frequently how he struggled, how badl he was dressed as a boy, how little my father could give him. And he and Dolly have brought up Etta to identify poverty not so much with evil as with unimportance, to feel that she, the daughter of a wealthy man, is worlds apart from those who live drably, in ill-furnished flats, without servants, who wear inferio clothing and have so little pride as to be debtors. She prefers her mother's people. Her cousins have automobiles and summer homes. I am in no way a credit to her.
In spite of our antagonism, I had until lately tried to influence the girl, sending her books and, on her birthday, record albums. I knew I could have little effect on her. But when she was twelve I undertook to tutor her in French as a means of broaching other subjects. (her father, naturally, wanted her to be accomplished.) I was unsuccessful. My missionary eagerness betrayed itself too soon, before I had her confidence. She told her mother that I was teaching her "bad things." And how was I to explain to Dolly that I was trying to "save"
Etta? It would have been insulting. Etta hated the lessons, by simple extension she hated me, and if I had not given her an excuse for discontinuing them, she would soon have found one.
Etta is a vain girl. I am sure she spends a great many hours before the mirror. I am sure, also, that she must be aware of the resemblance she bears to me. It goes beyond the obvious similarities pointed out by the family. Our eyes are exactly alike, and so are our mouths and even the shape of our ears, sharp and small-Dolly's are altogether different. And there are other similarities, less easily definable, which she cannot help recognizing and which-our enmity being what it is-must be painful to her.
At dinner the talk, in which I scarcely took part at first, was of the hardships of rationing. Dolly and Amos are coffee drinkers but, as patriots, they tempered their complaints with resignation. They turned next to shoes and elothg. Dolly's brother, Loren, who represents a large Eastern shoe firm, had warned them that the government intended to limit the sale of leather goods.
"We couldn't get along on four pairs a year," said Doily.
But that was unpatriotic, wasn't it? The contradiction was too plain to be unnoticed.
"You have to take into account what people are accustomed to," said Amos; "their standard of living. The government overlooks that. Why, even charities don't give the same amounts to any two families. It would cause too much hardship."
"Yes, that's what I meant," said Dolly.
"You couldn't call it hoarding."
"No," I replied. She had addressed herself to me..
"Later on there'll be a run on clothes, too," assertedAmos. "That's the way the consumer market is when people are earning."
"Of course, Joseph won't have to worry. The Army will take care of him. But we poor civilians @?
"@ccloseph would be indifferent, anyway," said Ira. "It wouldn't affect him. He never buys more than one pair of shoes a year."
"He isn't on his feet much," said Etta.
Her mother gave her a sharp look.
"I do lead a sedentary life," I said.
"That was all I meant, Mother," said Etta.
"He doesn't worry about any of those things too much, was what I meant," Ira continued, speaking quickly. "He doesn't particularly care what he eats, either, just so it's food. It was no problem pleasing him when I used to cook."
"It's a blessing to be that way. Amos is so hard to suit. You wouldn't think they were brought up by the same mother."
"He wasn't so easy to raise in all respects," Amos said with a smile across the table.
"When are you going into the Army, @ccoseph?" asked Etta.
"Now, Etta," said Amos reprovingly.
"Uncle Joseph, I'm sorry. When are you going?"
"I don't know. Whenever God wills."
This amused them.
"He's certainly taking His time about it," said Dolly.
"There's no hurry," Iva interposed. "The longer the better."
"Oh, of course," Dolly said, "I know how you feel."
"But Joseph doesn't feel that way about it, do you, Joseph?" Amos looked pleasantly at me. "I'm sure he'd like to find out how to hurry Him up. It isn't only the waiting, but he'll miss out on his chances for advancement. he ought to get irt there and become an Officer Candidate."
"I don't think I want to try to make an officer of myself."
"Well, I don't see why not," said Amos.
"Why not?"
"As I see it, the whole war's a misfortune.
I don't want to raise yself through it."