Babbitt

As he read and signed it, in his correct flowing business-college hand, Babbitt reflected, “Now that’s a good, strong letter, and clear’s a bell. Now what the’ I never told McGoun to make a third paragraph there! Wish she’d quit trying to improve on my dictation! But what I can’t understand is: why can’t Stan Graff or Chet Laylock write a letter like that? With punch! With a kick! —

Say, old man!

I just want to know can I do you a whaleuva favor? Honest! No kidding! I know you’re interested in getting a house, not merely a place where you hang up the old bonnet but a love-nest for the wife and kiddies’and maybe for the flivver out beyant (be sure and spell that b-e-y-a-n-t, Miss McGoun) the spud garden. Say, did you ever stop to think that we’re here to save you trouble? That’s how we make a living’folks don’t pay us for our lovely beauty! Now take a look:

Yours for service,

P.S. — Just a hint of some plums we can pick for you’some genuine bargains that came in to-day:

Silver Grove. — Cute four-room California bungalow, a.m.i., garage, dandy shade tree, swell neighborhood, handy car line. $3700, $780 down and balance liberal, Babbitt-Thompson terms, cheaper than rent.

Dorchester. — A corker! Artistic two-family house, all oak trim, parquet floors, lovely gas log, big porches, colonial, Heated All-Weather Garage, a bargain at $11,250.

He was conscious of her as a girl, of black bobbed hair against demure cheeks. A longing which was indistinguishable from loneliness enfeebled him. While she waited, tapping a long, precise pencil-point on the desk-tablet, he half identified her with the fairy girl of his dreams. He imagined their eyes meeting with terrifying recognition; imagined touching her lips with frightened reverence and’ She was chirping, “Any more, Mist’ Babbitt? — He grunted, “That winds it up, I guess, — and turned heavily away. For all his wandering thoughts, they had never been more intimate than this. He often reflected, “Nev’ forget how old Jake Offutt said a wise bird never goes love-making in his own office or his own home.

In twenty-three years of married life he had peered uneasily at every graceful ankle, every soft shoulder; in thought he had treasured them; but not once had he hazarded respectability by adventuring. Now, as he calculated the cost of repapering the Styles house, he was restless again, discontented about nothing and everything, ashamed of his discontentment, and lonely for the fairy girl.

CHAPTER IV

I

“Say, I think I got a peach of an ad for the Glen, Mr. Babbitt. Why don’t we try something in poetry? Honest, it’d have wonderful pulling-power. Listen:

“Yes, yes, yes, hell yes, of course I get it. But’ Oh, I think we’d better use something more dignified and forceful, like “We lead, others follow, — or “Eventually, why not now? — Course I believe in using poetry and humor and all that junk when it turns the trick, but with a high-class restricted development like the Glen we better stick to the more dignified approach, see how I mean? Well, I guess that’s all, this morning, Chet. —

II

DO YOU RESPECT YOUR LOVED ONES?

When the last sad rites of bereavement are over, do you know for certain that you have done your best for the Departed? You haven’t unless they lie in the Cemetery Beautiful.

LINDEN LANE

the only strictly up-to-date burial place in or near Zenith, where exquisitely gardened plots look from daisy-dotted hill-slopes across the smiling fields of Dorchester.

Sole agents
BABBITT-THOMPSON REALTY COMPANY
Reeves Building

He rejoiced, “I guess that’ll show Chan Mott and his weedy old Wildwood Cemetery something about modern merchandizing! —

III