"Yes, sir; a pretty big job--a pretty big job. Got men at it on all four floors and on the roof. They're doin' it RIGHT.""Who's doing it?"
"Lord! I d' know. Some o' these here big manufacturing corporations, I guess.""What's it going to be?"
"They tell ME," the workman answered--"they tell ME she's goin'
to be a butterine factory again. Anyways, I hope she won't be anything to smell like that glue-works you got over there not while I'm workin' around her, anyways!""That smell's all right," Adams said. "You soon get used to it.""You do?" The man appeared incredulous. "Listen! I was over in France: it's a good thing them Dutchmen never thought of it; we'd of had to quit!"Adams laughed, and went back to his sheds. "I guess my foreman was right," he told his wife, that evening, with a little satisfaction. "As soon as one man shows enterprise enough to found an industry in a broken-down neighbourhood, somebody else is sure to follow. I kind of like the look of it: it'll help make our place seem sort of more busy and prosperous when it comes to getting a loan from the bank--and I got to get one mighty soon, too. I did think some that if things go as well as there's every reason to think they OUGHT to, I might want to spread out and maybe get hold of that old factory myself; but Ihardly expected to be able to handle a proposition of that size before two or three years from now, and anyhow there's room enough on the lot I got, if we need more buildings some day.
Things are going about as fine as I could ask: I hired some girls to-day to do the bottling--coloured girls along about sixteen to twenty years old. Afterwhile, I expect to get a machine to put the stuff in the little bottles, when we begin to get good returns; but half a dozen of these coloured girls can do it all right now, by hand. We're getting to have really quite a little plant over there: yes, sir, quite a regular little plant!"He chuckled, and at this cheerful sound, of a kind his wife had almost forgotten he was capable of producing, she ventured to put her hand upon his arm. They had gone outdoors, after dinner, taking two chairs with them, and were sitting through the late twilight together, keeping well away from the "front porch,"which was not yet occupied, however Alice was in her room changing her dress.
"Well, honey," Mrs. Adams said, taking confidence not only to put her hand upon his arm, but to revive this disused endearment;--"it's grand to have you so optimistic. Maybe some time you'll admit I was right, after all. Everything's going so well, it seems a pity you didn't take this--this step--long ago.
Don't you think maybe so, Virgil?"
"Well--if I was ever going to, I don't know but I might as well of. I got to admit the proposition begins to look pretty good: Iknow the stuff'll sell, and I can't see a thing in the world to stop it. It does look good, and if--if----" He paused.
"If what?" she said, suddenly anxious.
He laughed plaintively, as if confessing a superstition. "It's funny--well, it's mighty funny about that smell. I've got so used to it at the plant I never seem to notice it at all over there. It's only when I get away. Honestly, can't you notice----?""Virgil!" She lifted her hand to strike his arm chidingly. "Do quit harping on that nonsense!""Oh, of course it don't amount to anything," he said. "A person can stand a good deal of just smell. It don't WORRY me any.""I should think not especially as there isn't any.""Well," he said, "I feel pretty fair over the whole thing--a lot better'n I ever expected to, anyhow. I don't know as there's any reason I shouldn't tell you so."She was deeply pleased with this acknowledgment, and her voice had tenderness in it as she responded: "There, honey! Didn't Ialways say you'd be glad if you did it?"
Embarrassed, he coughed loudly, then filled his pipe and lit it.
"Well," he said, slowly, "it's a puzzle. Yes, sir, it's a puzzle.""What is?"
"Pretty much everything, I guess."
As he spoke, a song came to them from a lighted window over their heads. Then the window darkened abruptly, but the song continued as Alice went down through the house to wait on the little veranda. "Mi chiamo Mimi," she sang, and in her voice throbbed something almost startling in its sweetness. Her father and mother listened, not speaking until the song stopped with the click of the wire screen at the front door as Alice came out.
"My!" said her father. "How sweet she does sing! I don't know as I ever heard her voice sound nicer than it did just then.""There's something that makes it sound that way," his wife told him.
"I suppose so," he said, sighing. "I suppose so. You think----""She's just terribly in love with him!"
"I expect that's the way it ought to be," he said, then drew upon his pipe for reflection, and became murmurous with the symptoms of melancholy laughter. "It don't make things less of a puzzle, though, does it?""In what way, Virgil?"
"Why, here," he said--"here we go through all this muck and moil to help fix things nicer for her at home, and what's it all amount to? Seems like she's just gone ahead the way she'd 'a'
gone anyhow; and now, I suppose, getting ready to up and leave us! Ain't that a puzzle to you? It is to me.""Oh, but things haven't gone that far yet.""Why, you just said----"
She gave a little cry of protest. "Oh, they aren't ENGAGED yet.
Of course they WILL be; he's just as much interested in her as she is in him, but----""Well, what's the trouble then?"
"You ARE a ****** old fellow!" his wife exclaimed, and then rose from her chair. "That reminds me," she said.
"What of?" he asked. "What's my being ****** remind you of?""Nothing!" she laughed. "It wasn't you that reminded me. It was just something that's been on my mind. I don't believe he's actually ever been inside our house!""Hasn't he?"
"I actually don't believe he ever has," she said. "Of course we must----" She paused, debating.
"We must what?"
"I guess I better talk to Alice about it right now," she said.
"He don't usually come for about half an hour yet; I guess I've got time." And with that she walked away, leaving him to his puzzles.
