The Brookings register. [volume] (Brookings, Brookings County, S.D.) 1903-1971, 1920-01-15


spend in the house which the Major
had forgotten to deed to Isabel. To
morrow they were to 'move out" and
I George was to begin his work In Bron-
sons Office. He had not come to this
collapse without a fierce struggle-but
! the struggle was inward. and the roll
ing world was not agitated by 1t,
and rolled calmly on. For of all the
ideals Of life" which the world, In its
rolling inconsiderately tlattens out to
nOthingness, the least likely to retain
profile is that ideal which depends
upon inheriting money. George Am
berson in spite Of his record OF fail
ures in business, had spoken Shrewdly
when he realized at last that money,
like life, was like quicksilver in
nest of cracks" And his nephew had
the awakening experience Of seeing
the great ANDERSON estate vanishing
into such nest-in twinkling; 1t
seemed, now that 1t was indeed so ut
terly vanished.
On this last homeward walk OF his,
when George reached the entrance to
Anderson addition-that is, when he
came to where the entrance had for
merly been-he gave little start,
and halted for moment to stare.
This was the first time he had no.
ticed that the stone pillars, marl,ing
the entrance, had been removed. Tlen
he realized that for long time he had
al NJ
this corner without being aware OF
what made the difference. National
avenue met Anderson boulevard here
a: an 0btuse angle. and the removal of
the pillars made the boulevard seem q
cross street of no OverpOwering i'm
portance-certainly it did not seem to
be II boulevard.
George walked by the Mansion hur-
rledly, and came home to his mothers
house for the last time. :
Emptiness was there, too, and the
closing Of the door resounded through
bare rooms; for downstairs there was
no furniture in the house except a
kitchen table In the dining room, which
Fanny had kept "fOr dinner" she said,
though as she was to cook and serve
that meal herself George had his
| doubts about her name for il. Upstairs,
she had retained her own furniture,
and George had been living in his
mothers room, having sent everything
from his own to the auction. 1SabePS
room was still as it had been, but the
furniture would be moved with
Fanny's to new quarters in the morn
ing. Fanny had made plans for her
nephew as well as herself; she had
found "three-rOom kitchenette apart
ment" in an apartment house where
several old friends of hers had estab
ltshed thcmselves-elderly widows of
citizens once prominent" and other
retired gentry. People used their own
"kitchenettes' for breakfast and lunch
but there was a table-dhote arrange
ment for dinner on the ground floor {;
and after dinner bridge was played
all evening, an attraction powerful
with Fanny. She had "made all the
arrangements" she reported, and ner-
vously appealed for approval, asking If
she hadn't shown herself pretty prac-
tical" in such matters. George acGui-
esced absent-mindedly, not thinking Of
what she said and not realizing to
what it committed him.
He began to realize It now, as he
wandered about the dismantled house !;
he was far from sure that he was
willing to live in "three-rOOm apart
ment" with Fanny and eat breakfast
and lunch with her (prepared by her.
self in the "kitchenette'D and dinner
at the table dhOte N "such a pretty
Colonial dining room" ESQ Fanny de-
scribed iD at little round table they
would have all to themselves In the
midst Of q dozen little round tables
which other relics of disrupted fam
lilies would have all to themselves. For
the first time, now that the change
was imminent, George began to devel-
op before his minds eye pictures Of
What he was in for; and they appalled,
him. He decided that such life
vCrged upon the sheerly unbearable,
and that after all there were some
things left that he just couldn't stand.
So he made up his mind to speak to
his aunt about it at dinner and tell
| her that he preferred to ask Bronson
10 let him put sOfa-bed, a trunk and
folding rubber bathtub behind a
screen in the dark rear room Of the Of
| fee
But at "dinner" Fanny was nerv-
Gus, and so distressed about the fail
ure Of her efforts with sweetbreads
and macaroni; and she was so eager
In her talk Of how comfortable they
would be "by this time tomorrow
night
After dinner" he went upstairs,
moving his hand slowly along the
smooth walnut railing of the balus-
trade. Half way to the landing he
stopped, turned, and stood looking
down at the heavy doors masking the
| black emptiness that had been the
| library. Here he had stood on what
he now knew was the worst day of his
! LIE; here he had stood when his moth.
er passed through that doorway, hand
! in-hand with her brother, to learn what
her son had done.
! He went on more heavily, more slow