He looked puzzled. He coughed a little. He scratched his ear. He jiggled his watch chain. The table and the guests came back to him out of the mist. He informed himself that he had returned to his senses, that the retirement notion was fantastic and that no sane fella like himself could be so anarchistic as to do something merely because he wanted and intended to do it.

He was conscious that Howard was finishing what had, apparently, been a lengthy speech:

‘ . . . and in my opinion, if you care for it, Dad, I think you’d be making a big mistake. But I agree with Mother that you don’t mean it. You couldn’t possibly retire. In one year — impossible! Because, to be specific, as my history prof says, aside from coupla months travelling in Europe, what could you DO?’

It was hard for Fred to outface their pity. He waggled his fingers while he fumbled and mumbled:

‘Do? Oh. DO. There’s a lot of things I could do. I’ve been a good salesman; I’ve helped spread mechanical conveniences among a lot of stubborn dumb-bells, and I’m glad of it. Sara thinks I’ve been a pedlar; I think I’ve been a missionary. But I’d hate to pass out thinking I couldn’t do anything else. Do? Travel, like I said, and not just two months in Europe, either. Nosir! Study it thoroughly, every corner; take an entire year! And learn things, like languages and music. And this manual stuff, carpentry and fixing clocks — nice, clean, interesting work. Maybe wind up in the country and have a crossroads store and a small farm, just to have something to fuss with.’

Hazel was worried. Better than any of them she knew that Fred had possibilities of madness, and she said luringly, ‘But, dear, you’d be bored, after the city and contacting all these different people — stimulus, you might say.’

‘Think I get so much kick out of “contacts” with Bert Whizzle and Paul Popple — and Cal and Mac Tillery, the rubber-boot twins? High-class stimulus that is!’

‘But we can’t just consider ourselves in this life, Fred. After all, we have got a duty to our family and friends.’

‘Duty! Duty! Duty!’ Was this the conservative Fred Cornplow? ‘I’m sick of hearing about duty. Duty of husbands to come home to their wives every night, when it would be better for everybody’s temper if they stayed downtown and had a little poker and liquor with the boys! Duty of wives to stay home instead of going out to the movies, just because Pa has his slippers on! Duty of Howard and Sara here to pretend they think I went to college once, and read a book. Duty of Annabel and the Kamerkinks to pretend they’re not embarrassed by this family’s undressing in public . . .’

‘Not at all,’ said Dr. Kamerkink.

‘Ought to hear the Staybridges,’ said Annabel.

‘Duty! I figger life would be a lot better for everybody if more folks did things because it was fun and not because it was their dumb duty! Remember what Chum Frink wrote: