To George F. Babbitt, as to most prosperous citizens of Zenith
, his motor car was poetry
. The office was his pirate ship
but the car his perilous excursion ashore.
Among the tremendous crises of each day none was more dramatic than starting the engine
. It was slow on cold mornings; there was the long, anxious whirr
of the starter; and sometimes he had to drip ether
into the cocks of the cylinders
, which was so very interesting that at lunch he would chronicle it drop by drop, and orally calculate how much each drop had cost him.
This morning he was darkly prepared to find something wrong, and he felt belittled when the mixture exploded sweet and strong, and the car didn't even brush the door-jamb, gouged and splintery with many bruisings by fenders, as he backed out of the garage. He was confused. He shouted "Morning!" to Sam Doppelbrau with more cordiality than he had intended.
Babbitt's green and white Dutch Colonial house
was one of three in that block on Chatham Road. To the left of it was the residence of Mr. Samuel Doppelbrau, secretary
of an excellent firm of bathroom
-fixture jobbers. His
was a comfortable
house with no architectural manners whatever; a large wooden
box with a squat tower
, a broad porch, and glossy paint yellow as a yolk. Babbitt disapproved of Mr. and Mrs. Doppelbrau as "Bohemian
." From their
house came midnight music and obscene laughter; there were neighborhood rumors of bootlegged whisky
and fast motor rides. They furnished Babbitt with many happy evenings of discussion, during which he announced firmly, "I'm not
, and I don't mind seeing a fellow throw in a drink once in a while, but when it comes to deliberately trying to get away with a lot of hell-raising all the while like the Doppelbraus do, it's too rich for my blood
On the other side of Babbitt lived Howard Littlefield, Ph.D.
, in a strictly modern house whereof the lower part was dark red tapestry brick, with a leaded oriel
, the upper part of pale stucco
like spattered clay, and the roof red-tiled. Littlefield was the Great Scholar
of the neighborhood; the authority on everything in the world except babies, cooking, and motors. He was a Bachelor of Arts
of Blodgett College
, and a Doctor of Philosophy
. He was the employment-manager and publicity-counsel of the Zenith Street Traction Company. He could, on ten hours' notice, appear before the board of aldermen
or the state legislature
and prove, absolutely, with figures all in rows and with precedents from Poland
and New Zealand
, that the street-car company loved the Public
and yearned over its employees; that all its stock was owned by Widows and Orphans; and that whatever it desired to do would benefit property-owners by increasing rental values, and help the poor
by lowering rents. All his acquaintances turned to Littlefield when they desired to know the date of the battle of Saragossa
, the definition of the
," the future of the German mark
, the translation of "hinc illae
," or the number of products of coal tar
. He awed Babbitt by confessing that he often sat up till midnight reading the figures and footnotes in Government
reports, or skimming (with amusement at the author's
mistakes) the latest volumes of chemistry
, and ichthyology
But Littlefield's great value was as a spiritual example. Despite his strange learnings he was as strict a Presbyterian
and as firm a Republican
F. Babbitt. He confirmed the business men in the faith. Where they knew only by passionate instinct that their system of industry and manners was perfect, Dr. Howard Littlefield proved it to them, out of history
, and the confessions of reformed radicals
Babbitt had a good deal of honest pride in being the neighbor of such a savant
, and in Ted's intimacy with Eunice Littlefield. At sixteen Eunice was
interested in no statistics save those regarding the ages and salaries of motion-picture stars, but--as Babbitt definitively put it--"she was her father's daughter."
The difference between a light man like Sam Doppelbrau and a really fine character like Littlefield was revealed in their appearances. Doppelbrau was disturbingly young for a man of forty-eight. He wore his derby
on the back of
his head, and his red face was wrinkled with meaningless laughter. But Littlefield was old for a man of forty-two. He was tall, broad, thick; his gold-rimmed spectacles
were engulfed in the folds of his long face; his hair
was a tossed mass of greasy blackness; he puffed and rumbled as he talked; his Phi Beta Kappa
key shone against a spotty black vest; he smelled of old pipes;
he was altogether funereal and archidiaconal
; and to real-estate brokerage and the jobbing of bathroom-fixtures he added an aroma of sanctity.
This morning he was in front of his house, inspecting the grass parking between the curb and the broad cement sidewalk. Babbitt stopped his car and leaned out to shout "Mornin'!" Littlefield lumbered over and stood with one foot up on the running-board.
"Fine morning," said Babbitt, lighting--illegally early--his second cigar
of the day.
"Yes, it's a mighty fine morning," said Littlefield.
coming along fast now."
"Yes, it's real spring now, all right," said Littlefield.
"Still cold nights, though. Had to have a couple blankets, on the sleeping-porch last night."
"Yes, it wasn't any too warm last night," said Littlefield.
"But I don't anticipate we'll have any more real cold weather now."
"No, but still, there was snow at Tiflis, Montana
, yesterday," said the Scholar, "and you remember the blizzard
they had out West three days
ago--thirty inches of snow at Greeley, Colorado
--and two years ago we had a snow-squall right here in Zenith on the twenty-fifth of April."
"Is that a fact! Say, old man, what do you think about the Republican candidate? Who'll they nominate for president
? Don't you think it's about time we had a real business administration?"
"In my opinion, what the country needs, first and foremost, is a good, sound, business-like conduct of its affairs. What we need is--a business administration!" said Littlefield.
"I'm glad to hear you say that! I certainly am glad to hear you say that! I didn't know how you'd feel about it, with all your associations with colleges and so on, and I'm glad you feel that way. What the country needs--just at
this present juncture--is neither a college president nor a lot of monkeying with foreign affairs
, but a good--sound economical--business--administration, that will give us a chance to have something like a decent turnover."
"Yes. It isn't generally realized that even in China
the schoolmen are giving way to more practical men, and of course you can see what that implies."
"Is that a fact! Well, well!" breathed Babbitt, feeling much calmer, and much happier about the way things were going in the world. "Well, it's been nice to stop and parleyvoo
a second. Guess I'll have to get down to the office now and sting a few clients. Well, so long, old man. See you tonight. So long."
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