There comes a time in every thinking man’s life when he pauses and “takes stock” of his condition; when he asks himself how it fares with his individuality as a whole, mental, moral, physical, material. This time comes after the first heedless flights of youth have passed, when the initiative and more powerful efforts have been made, and he begins to feel the uncertainty of results and final values which attaches itself to everything. There is a deadening thought of uselessness which creeps into many men’s minds—the thought which has been best expressed by the Preacher in Ecclesiastes.
Yet Lester strove to be philosophical. “What difference does it make?” he used to say to himself, “whether I live at the White House, or here at home, or at the Grand Pacific?” But in the very question was the implication that there were achievements in life which he had failed to realize in his own career. The White House represented the rise and success of a great public character. His home and the Grand Pacific were what had come to him without effort.
He decided for the time being—it was about the period of the death of Jennie’s mother—that he would make some effort to rehabilitate himself. He would cut out idling—these numerous trips with Jennie had cost him considerable time. He would make some outside investments. If his brother could find avenues of financial profit, so could he. He would endeavor to assert his authority—he would try to make himself of more importance in the business, rather than let Robert gradually absorb everything. Should he forsake Jennie?—that thought also, came to him. She had no claim on him. She could make no protest. Somehow he did not see how it could be done. It seemed cruel, useless; above all (though he disliked to admit it) it would be uncomfortable for himself. He liked her—loved her, perhaps, in a selfish way. He didn’t see how he could desert her very well.
Just at this time he had a really serious difference with Robert. His brother wanted to sever relations with an old and well established paint company in New York, which had manufactured paints especially for the house, and invest in a new concern in Chicago, which was growing and had a promising future. Lester, knowing the members of the Eastern firm, their reliability, their long and friendly relations with the house, was in opposition. His father at first seemed to agree with Lester. But Robert argued out the question in his cold, logical way, his blue eyes fixed uncompromisingly upon his brother’s face. “We can’t go on forever,” he said, “standing by old friends, just because father here has dealt with them, or you like them. We must have a change. The business must be stiffened up; we’re going to have more and stronger competition.”
“It’s just as father feels about it,” said Lester at last. “I have no deep feeling in the matter. It won’t hurt me one way or the other. You say the house is going to profit eventually. I’ve stated the arguments on the other side.”
“I’m inclined to think Robert is right,” said Archibald Kane calmly. “Most of the things he has suggested so far have worked out.”
Lester colored. “Well, we won’t have any more discussion about it then,” he said. He rose and strolled out of the office.
The shock of this defeat, coming at a time when he was considering pulling himself together, depressed Lester considerably. It wasn’t much but it was a straw, and his father’s remark about his brother’s business acumen was even more irritating. He was beginning to wonder whether his father would discriminate in any way in the distribution of the property. Had he heard anything about his entanglement with Jennie? Had he resented the long vacations he had taken from business? It did not appear to Lester that he could be justly chargeable with either incapacity or indifference, so far as the company was concerned. He had done his work well. He was still the investigator of propositions put up to the house, the student of contracts, the trusted adviser of his father and mother—but he was being worsted. Where would it end? He thought about this, but could reach no conclusion.
Later in this same year Robert came forward with a plan for reorganization in the executive department of the business. He proposed that they should build an immense exhibition and storage warehouse on Michigan Avenue in Chicago, and transfer a portion of their completed stock there. Chicago was more central than Cincinnati. Buyers from the West and country merchants could be more easily reached and dealt with there. It would be a big advertisement for the house, a magnificent evidence of its standing and prosperity. Kane senior and Lester immediately approved of this. Both saw its advantages. Robert suggested that Lester should undertake the construction of the new buildings. It would probably be advisable for him to reside in Chicago a part of the time.
The idea appealed to Lester, even though it took him away from Cincinnati, largely if not entirely. It was dignified and not unrepresentative of his standing in the company. He could live in Chicago and he could have Jennie with him. The scheme he had for taking an apartment could now be arranged without difficulty. He voted yes. Robert smiled. “I’m sure we’ll get good results from this all around,” he said.
As construction work was soon to begin, Lester decided to move to Chicago immediately. He sent word for Jennie to meet him, and together they selected an apartment on the North Side, a very comfortable suite of rooms on a side street near the lake, and he had it fitted up to suit his taste. He figured that living in Chicago he could pose as a bachelor. He would never need to invite his friends to his rooms. There were his offices, where he could always be found, his clubs and the hotels. To his way of thinking the arrangement was practically ideal.
Of course Jennie’s departure from Cleveland brought the affairs of the Gerhardt family to a climax. Probably the home would be broken up, but Gerhardt himself took the matter philosophically. He was an old man, and it did not matter much where he lived. Bass, Martha, and George were already taking care of themselves. Veronica and William were still in school, but some provision could be made for boarding them with a neighbor. The one real concern of Jennie and Gerhardt was Vesta. It was Gerhardt’s natural thought that Jennie must take the child with her. What else should a mother do?
“Have you told him yet?” he asked her, when the day of her contemplated departure had been set.
“No; but I’m going to soon,” she assured him.
“Always soon,” he said.
He shook his head. His throat swelled.
“It’s too bad,” he went on. “It’s a great sin. God will punish you, I’m afraid. The child needs some one. I’m getting old—otherwise I would keep her. There is no one here all day now to look after her right, as she should be.” Again he shook his head.
“I know,” said Jennie weakly. “I’m going to fix it now. I’m going to have her live with me soon. I won’t neglect her—you know that.”
“But the child’s name,” he insisted. “She should have a name. Soon in another year she goes to school. People will want to know who she is. It can’t go on forever like this.”
Jennie understood well enough that it couldn’t. She was crazy about her baby. The heaviest cross she had to bear was the constant separations and the silence she was obliged to maintain about Vesta’s very existence. It did seem unfair to the child, and yet Jennie did not see clearly how she could have acted otherwise. Vesta had good clothes, everything she needed. She was at least comfortable. Jennie hoped to give her a good education. If only she had told the truth to Lester in the first place. Now it was almost too late, and yet she felt that she had acted for the best. Finally she decided to find some good woman or family in Chicago who would take charge of Vesta for a consideration. In a Swedish colony to the west of La Salle Avenue she came across an old lady who seemed to embody all the virtues she required—cleanliness, simplicity, honesty. She was a widow, doing work by the day, but she was glad to make an arrangement by which she should give her whole time to Vesta. The latter was to go to kindergarten when a suitable one should be found. She was to have toys and kindly attention, and Mrs. Olsen was to inform Jennie of any change in the child’s health. Jennie proposed to call every day, and she thought that sometimes, when Lester was out of town, Vesta might be brought to the apartment. She had had her with her at Cleveland, and he had never found out anything.