the conflict-第4章
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ch to be done in the worldand you and I could have such a splendid happy life doing our share of it。''
She was once more looking at him with an encouraging interest。 But she said； gently： ‘‘Let's not talk about that any more to…day； Davy。''
‘‘But you'll think about it？'' urged he。
‘‘Yes；'' said she。 ‘‘Let's be friendsandand see what happens。''
Hull strolled up to the house with her； but refused to stop for lunch。 He pleaded an engagement； but it was one that couldand in other circumstances would have been broken by telephone。 His real reason for hurrying away was fear lest Jane should open out on the subject of Victor Dorn with her father； and； in her ignorance of the truth as to the situation； should implicate him。
She found her father already at home and having a bowl of crackers and milk in a shady corner of the west veranda。 He was chewing in the manner of those whose teeth are few and not too secure。 His brows were knitted and he looked as if not merely joy but everything except disagreeable sensation had long since fled his life beyond hope of returnan air not uncommon among the world's successful men。 However； at sight of his lovely young daughter his face cleared somewhat and he shot at her from under his wildly and savagely narrowed eyebrows a glance of admiration and tendernessa quaint expression for those cold； hard features。
Everyone spoke of him behind his back as ‘‘Old Morton Hastings。''
In fact； he was barely past sixty； was at an age at which city men of the modern style count themselves young and even entertainnot without reason hope of being desired of women for other than purely practical reasons。 He was born on a farm was born with an aversion to physical exertion as profound as was his passion for mental exertion。 We never shall know how much of its progress the world owes to the physically lazy； mentally tireless men。 Those are they who； to save themselves physical exertion； have devised all manner of schemes and machines to save labor。 And； at bottom； what is progress but man's success in his effort to free himself from manual labor to get everything for himself by the labor of other men and animals and of machines？ Naturally his boyhood of toil on the farm did not lessen Martin Hastings' innate horror of ‘‘real work。'' He was not twenty when he dropped tools never to take them up again。 He was shoeing a horse in the heat of the cool side of the barn on a frightful August day。 Suddenly he threw down the hammer and said loudly： ‘‘A man that works is a damn fool。 I'll never work again。'' And he never did。
As soon as he could get together the moneyand it was not long after he set about making others work for himhe bought a buggy； a kind of phaeton； and a safe horse。 Thenceforth he never walked a step that could be driven。 The result of thirty…five years of this life； so unnatural to an animal that is designed by Nature for walking and is punished for not doing so the result of a lifetime of this folly was a body shrivelled to a lean brown husk； legs incredibly meagre and so tottery that they scarcely could bear him about。 His headlarge and finely shapedseemed so out of proportion that he looked at a glance senile。 But no one who had business dealings with him suspected him of senility or any degree of weakness。 He spoke in a thin dry voice； shrouded in sardonic humor。
‘‘I don't care for lunch；'' said Jane； dropping to a chair near the side of the table opposite her father。 ‘‘I had breakfast too late。 Besides； I've got to look out for my figure。 There's a tendency to fat in our family。''
The old man chuckled。 ‘‘Me； for instance；'' said he。
‘‘Martha； for instance；'' replied Jane。 Martha was her one sistermarried and ten years older than she and spaciously matronly。
‘‘Wasn't that Davy Hull you were talking to； down in the woods？'' inquired her father。
Jane laughed。 ‘‘You see everything；'' said she。
‘‘I didn't see much when I saw him；'' said her father。
Jane was hugely amused。 Her father watched her laughterthe dazzling display of fine teethwith delighted eyes。 ‘‘You've got mighty good teeth； Jenny；'' observed he。 ‘‘Take care of 'em。
You'll never know what misery is till you've got no teethor next to none。'' He looked disgustedly into his bowl。 ‘‘Crackers and milk！'' grunted he。 ‘‘No teeth and no digestion。 The only pleasure a man of my age can have left is eating； and I'm cheated out of that。''
‘‘So； you wouldn't approve of my marrying Davy？'' said the girl。
Her father gruntedchuckled。 ‘‘I didn't say that。 Does he want to marry you？''
‘‘I didn't say that；'' retorted Jane。 ‘‘He's an unattached young manand I； being merely a woman； have got to look out for a husband。''
Martin looked gloomy。 ‘‘There's no hurry；'' said he。 ‘‘You've been away six years。 Seems to me you might stay at home a while。''
‘‘Oh； I'd bring him here； popsy I've no intention of leaving you。
You were in an awful state； when I came home。 That mustn't ever happen again。 And as you won't live with Martha and Hugowhy； I've got to be the victim。''
‘‘Yesit's up to you； Miss； to take care of me in my declining years。 。 。 。 You can marry Davyif you want to。 Davyor anybody。 I trust to your good sense。''
‘‘If I don't like him； I can get rid of him；'' said the girl。
Her father smiled indulgently。 ‘‘That's A LEETLE too up…to…date for an old man like me；'' observed he。 ‘‘The world's moving fast nowadays。 It's got a long ways from where it was when your ma and I were young。''
‘‘Do you think Davy Hull will make a career？'' asked Jane。 She had heard from time to time as much as she cared to hear about the world of a generation before of its bareness and discomfort； its primness； its repulsive piety； its ignorance of all that made life bright and attractivehow it quite overlooked this life in its agitation about the extremely problematic life to come。 ‘‘I mean a career in politics；'' she explained。
The old man munched and smacked for full a minute before he said； ‘‘Well； he can make a pretty good speech。 YesI reckon he could be taken in hand and pushed。 He's got a lot of fool college…bred ideas about reforming things。 But he'd soon drop them； if he got into the practical swing。 As soon as he had a taste of success； he'd stop being finicky。 Just now； he's one of those nice； pure chaps who stand off and tell how things ought to be done。 But he'd get over that。''
Jane smiled peculiarlyhalf to herself。 ‘‘YesI think he would。 In fact； I'm sure he would。'' She looked at her father。 ‘‘Do you think he amounts to as much as Victor Dorn？'' she asked； innocently。
The old man dropped a half raised spoonful of milk and crackers into the bowl with a splash。 ‘‘Dorn he's a scoundrel！'' he exclaimed； shaking with passion。 ‘‘I'm going to have that dirty little paper of his stopped and him put out of town。 Impudent puppy！foul… mouthed demagogue！ I'll SHOW him！''
‘‘Why； he doesn't amount to anything； father；'' remonstrated the girl。 ‘‘He's nothing but a common working manisn't he？''
‘‘That's all he isthe hound！'' replied Martin Hastings。 A look of cruelty； of tenacious cruelty； had come into his face。 It would have startled a stranger。 But his daughter had often seen it； and it did not disturb her； as it had never appeared for anything that in any way touched her life。 ‘‘I've let him hang on here too long；'' went on the old man； to himself rather than to her。 ‘‘First thing I know he'll be dangerous。''
‘‘If he's worth while I should think you'd hire him；'' remarked Jane shrewdly。
‘‘I wouldn't have such a scoundrel in my employ；'' cried her father。
‘‘Oh； maybe；'' pursued the daughter； ‘‘maybe you couldn't hire him。''
‘‘Of course I could；'' scoffed Hastings。 ‘‘Anybody can be hired。''
‘‘I don't believe it；'' said the girl bluntly。
‘‘One way or another；'' declared the old man。 ‘‘That Dorn boy isn't worth the price he'd want。''
‘‘What price would he want？'' asked Jane。
‘‘How should I know？'' retorted her father angrily。
‘‘You've tried to hire himhaven't you？'' persisted she。
The father concentrated on his crackers and milk。 Presently he said： ‘‘What did that fool Hull boy say about Dorn to you？''
