Wykeagy Avenue hasn’t begun to show what it can do yet
because the spring isn’t quite here. But in a few weeks,”
and he looked up most inquiringly at the sky and sniffed the
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late April air, “we must have you out. All the trees and
flowers will be in bloom then and you can see how really
nice it is. Good night.”
He smiled and put a very cordial note into his voice, and
once more Clyde felt that, whatever Gilbert Griffiths’ attitude
might be, most certainly his father was not wholly indifferent
to him.
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Chapter 11
THE days lapsed and, although no further word came from
the Griffiths, Clyde was still inclined to exaggerate the
importance of this one contact and to dream from time to
time of delightful meetings with those girls and how
wonderful if a love affair with one of them might eventuate
for him. The beauty of that world in which they moved. The
luxury and charm as opposed to this of which he was a
part. Dillard! Rita! Tush! They were really dead for him. He
aspired to this other or nothing as he saw it now and
proceeded to prove as distant to Dillard as possible, an
attitude which by degrees tended to alienate that youth
entirely for he saw in Clyde a snob which potentially he was
if he could have but won to what he desired. However, as
he began to see afterwards, time passed and he was left to
work until, depressed by the routine, meager pay and
commonplace shrinking-room contacts, he began to think
not so much of returning to Rita or Dillard,—he could not
quite think of them now with any satisfaction, but of giving
up this venture here and returning to Chicago or going to
New York, where he was sure that he could connect
himself with some hotel if need be. But then, as if to revive
his courage and confirm his earlier dreams, a thing
happened which caused him to think that certainly he was
beginning to rise in the estimation of the Griffiths—father
and son—whether they troubled to entertain him socially or
not. For it chanced that one Saturday in spring, Samuel
Griffiths decided to make a complete tour of inspection of
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the factory with Joshua Whiggam at his elbow. Reaching
the shrinking department about noon, he observed for the
first time with some dismay, Clyde in his undershirt and
trousers working at the feeding end of two of the shrinking
racks, his nephew having by this time acquired the
necessary skill to “feed” as well as “take.” And recalling how
very neat and generally presentable he had appeared at his
house but a few weeks before, he was decidedly disturbed
by the contrast. For one thing he had felt about Clyde, both
in Chicago and here at his home, was that he had
presented a neat and pleasing appearance. And he, almost
as much as his son, was jealous, not only of the name, but
the general social appearance of the Griffiths before the
employees of this factory as well as the community at large.
And the sight of Clyde here, looking so much like Gilbert
and in an armless shirt and trousers working among these
men, tended to impress upon him more sharply than at any
time before the fact that Clyde was his nephew, and that he
ought not to be compelled to continue at this very menial
form of work any longer. To the other employees it might
appear that he was unduly indifferent to the meaning of
such a relationship.
Without, however, saying a word to Whiggam or anyone
else at the time, he waited until his son returned on Monday
morning, from a trip that he had taken out of town, when he
called him into his office and observed: “I made a tour of
the factory Saturday and found young Clyde still down in
the shrinking room.”
“What of it, Dad?” replied his son, curiously interested as to
why his father should at this time wish to mention Clyde in
this special way. “Other people before him have worked
down there and it hasn’t hurt them.”
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“All true enough, but they weren’t nephews of mine. And
they didn’t look as much like you as he does”—a comment
which irritated Gilbert greatly. “It won’t do, I tell you. It
doesn’t look quite right to me, and I’m afraid it won’t look
right to other people here who see how much he looks like
you and know that he is your cousin and my nephew. I
didn’t realize that at first, because I haven’t been down
there, but I don’t think it wise to keep him down there any
longer doing that kind of thing. It won’t do. We’ll have to
make a change, switch him around somewhere else where
he won’t look like that.”
His eyes darkened and his brow wrinkled. The impression
that Clyde made in his old clothes and with beads of sweat
standing out on his forehead had not been pleasant.
“But I’ll tell you how it is, Dad,” Gilbert persisted, anxious
and determined because of his innate opposition to Clyde
to keep him there if possible. “I’m not so sure that I can find
just the right place for him now anywhere else—at least not
without moving someone else who has been here a long
time and worked hard to get there. He hasn’t had any
training in anything so far, but just what he’s doing.”
“Don’t know or don’t care anything about that,” replied
Griffiths senior, feeling that his son was a little jealous and
in consequence disposed to be unfair to Clyde. “That’s no
place for him and I won’t have him there any longer. He’s
been there long enough. And I can’t afford to have the
name of any of this family come to mean anything but just
what it does around here now—reserve and ability and
energy and good judgment. It’s not good for the business.
And anything less than that is a liability. You get me, don’t
you?”
“Yes, I get you all right, governor.”
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“Well, then, do as I say. Get hold of Whiggam and figure
out some other place for him around here, and not as piece
worker or a hand either. It was a mistake to put him down
there in the first place. There must be some little place in
one of the departments where he can be fitted in as the
head of something, first or second or third assistant to
some one, and where he can wear a decent suit of clothes
and look like somebody. And, if necessary, let him go home
on full pay until you find something for him. But I want him
changed. By the way, how much is he being paid now?”
“About fifteen, I think,” replied Gilbert blandly.
“Not enough, if he’s to make the right sort of an appearance
here. Better make it twenty-five. It’s more than he’s worth, I
know, but it can’t be helped now. He has to have enough to
live on while he’s here, and from now on, I’d rather pay him
that than have any one think we were not treating him right.”
“All right, all right, governor. Please don’t be cross about it,
will you?” pleaded Gilbert, noting his father’s irritation. “I’m
not entirely to blame. You agreed to it in the first place
when I suggested it, didn’t you? But I guess you’re right at
that. Just leave it to me. I’ll find a decent place for him,” and
turning, he proceeded in search of Whiggam, although at
the same time thinking how he was to effect all this without
permitting Clyde to get the notion that he was at all
important here—to make him feel that this was being done
as a favor to him and not for any reasons of merit in
connection with himself.
And at once, Whiggam appearing, he, after a very
diplomatic approach on the part of Gilbert, racked his
brains, scratched his head, went away and returned after a
time to say that the only thing he could think of, since Clyde
was obviously lacking in technical training, was that of
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assistant to Mr. Liggett, who was foreman in charge of five
big stitching rooms on the fifth floor, but who had under him
one small and very special, though by no means technical,
department which required the separate supervision of
either an assistant forelady or man.
This was the stamping room—a separate chamber at the
west end of the stitching floor, where were received daily
from the cutting room above from seventy-five to one
hundred thousand dozen unstitched collars of different
brands and sizes. And here they were stamped by a group
of girls according to the slips or directions attached to them