‘But did they look at your teeth and tonsils, too?’ said Sara when, at home, Fred crowed over his superiority.

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Last updated Sunday, March 27, 2016 at 11:57

The Prodigal Parents, by Sinclair Lewis

Chapter 32

In all innocence and glee, Fred was playing poker at the residence of his friend and lawyer, Edward McTavish Appletree, and the conversation was hearty with humour:

‘By me.’ ‘I’ll whoop you two.’ Knock, knock. ‘What’re you trying to do with that hooch, Ed — save it for your grandchildren?’

But he was also present, though not physically, in his own house, where Hazel, Sara, Howard, Annabel and Dr. Kamerkink were sitting as comfortably as possible, which wasn’t very comfortably, on Louis Quinze. Sara was holding forth:

‘You may think I’m absolutely silly, maybe a little melodramatic, in asking you to meet, but we’ve really got to be serious and practical. I don’t mean Father is the least bit insane, of course, but I do feel he’s got some pretty queer ideas that might make him do things that, afterward, he’d be the first to regret.’

‘Oh, come down to cases. What’s so queer?’ fretted Hazel.

‘These ideas about going off and being some kind of a John Ruskin, wandering around Europe studying art. Father’s one of the dearest, most dependable men living — or at least he has been — but even you, Mother, have got to admit that he can never be anything except a completely unimaginative small-city merchant; and with all affection, we ought to keep him from making himself ridiculous.’

They spoke together:

‘Only one of the whole lot of us that HAS imagination!’ from Annabel.

‘I think there’s a lot to what Sara says,’ from Howard.

‘He’s never even pretended he wanted to go Ruskining around Europe,’ from Hazel.

‘His euphoria does kind of puzzle me,’ from Dr. Kamerkink.

‘His what? Is that one of these things you take this to your druggist now and he’ll fill it, take three times daily just before meals?’ from Annabel.

‘Euphoria. State of gaiety and well-being. I don’t,’ said the doctor resentfully, ‘see what the dickens Fred has got to be cheerful about!’

Sara took over the debate again:

‘I don’t want to be an alarmist. I suppose Father is perfectly all right, really. But you all know of cases where a man who has been a reliable husband and father has suddenly gone haywire, and at just about Father’s age, and started gambling or drinking or chasing women, and left his family . . .’

(‘With all their gimmes,’ murmured Annabel.)

‘ . . . unprovided for. Of course Father has built up a good business, but you know what can happen to any business, these days, if the responsible head starts neglecting it. So far as I know, the only real safeguard any of his family has is Father’s fifty-thousand-dollar life insurance. Now I’m the last person in the world to be grasping or dependent. I belong to the new race of women who want to carve out their own destinies, but at the same time, I have to make a start. It’s not my fault if I have to have lots more training before I can achieve a great position and get my own shop. I’m simply not going to let Father let me down! Considering that we are, after all, the only people that Father depends on, if we stick together, he’ll just have to give up any ideas of ditching us . . . And of course Howard’s career also, I suppose, and your child coming, Annabel.’