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perceived that the old spider, likewise not untrained, was watching for some hint of the fact that

Beauty knew of the earlier fiasco. Since Beauty didn't know what had happened on that

occasion, it was easy for her to appear innocent. Not that >t would have been difficult,

anyhow!

Lanny went down to the studio for the purpose of consulting Madame and found her pleased

with the old gentleman's new humility. She said she would be willing to visit his hotel, and Lanny

went back and made a date. Zaharoff excused himself from dinner, saying that he ate very little

and that his mind was full of the things he had heard.

He went out to his car and was driven away. Beauty said to Irma: "That poor old man! He has

so much money, yet he can't get the one thing in the world he wants!" After saying it, the

mother-in-law wondered if it mightn't sound a wee bit tactless!

9

Land Where My Fathers Died

I

IRMA had promised her mother to visit Long Island that summer and exhibit the new heiress

of the Barnes and Vandringham clans. Johannes Robin had said that they would make it another

yachting-trip, but now he wrote sorrowfully that it was impossible for him to leave Berlin;

financial conditions were becoming desperate, and he would have to be on hand every day and

perhaps every hour. With a princely gesture he offered the Budd family the yacht with all

expenses paid, but perhaps he knew that they would not accept such a favor.

Irma said: "We might rent it from him." They talked about the idea for a while, but they knew

the young Robins wouldn't come, they would feel it their duty to stick by their mother and

father. Freddi would prefer to carry on the school, for workers don't have vacations—when

they stop work, their pay stops, and this was happening to great numbers of them. Hansi and

Bess were helping by playing at low-priced concerts in large halls for the people. A violinist

doesn't promote his reputation by that kind of thing, but he helps his conscience.

There were plenty of persons who would have been pleased to be offered a free yachting-trip,

but Irma admitted that it might be a bore to be with a small group for so long a time; better to

be footloose, and free to change friends as well as places. The efficient Bureau International de

Voyage, which now consisted of Mr. and Mrs. Jerry Pendleton and nobody else, was happy to

supply them with information concerning steamers from Marseille to New York. There were

sumptuous Mediterranean cruises on which one could book for the return trip; there were

steamers making so-called de luxe tours around the world, coming by way of the Suez Canal

and Gibraltar to New York. De luxe was what Irma Barnes desired, and it was pleasant to learn

that the choicest suites of these floating hotels were vacant on account of hard times. Irma chose

the best for herself and Lanny, and a near-by one for Miss Severne, the nursemaid, and the baby;

also a second-class passage for her maid, and for the demoted Feathers, whose duty it now was

to run all the errands and accept all humiliations.

Early in May the party embarked, and Lanny found himself returned suddenly into that cafe

society from which he had fled a year and a half ago. Ten to twelve million dollars had been

expended to provide a sea-going replica of the Great White Way, and by expertly contrived

advertising exactly the right sort of crowd had been lured on board. This floating hotel included

a swimming-pool deep enough for high diving, a game room, a gymnasium with instructors, a

squash court, a playground for children, an arcade with beauty parlors and luxury shops, several

bars and barber-shops used mainly by ladies, a jazz band and a small orchestra, a motion-picture

theater, and a grill room where you could order anything you wanted if you became hungry in

between the elaborate regular meals. Here were people one had met at first nights on

Broadway, in the swanky night clubs and the Park Avenue penthouses. A sprinkling of sight-

seers and curiosity-seekers from the "sticks," which meant any place west of Seventh Avenue;

people who had "made their pile" in hogs or copper and put it into bonds, and wished to get

away from the troubles of their world. They had expected the depression to be over by the

time they got back, but they had miscalculated.

Before the vessel docked at Marseille word had got about that Irma Barnes and her husband

were coming on board; so there was a crowd lined up by the rail to spot them and watch them.

Once upon a time it had been rude to stare, but that time was gone with the daisies. Several old

friends rushed up to greet Irma, and to be introduced to the lucky young prince consort; so

right away the pair were plunged into the midst of events: supper parties, bridge parties,

dancing, sports of one sort or another. So much gossip to hear and to impart, so many new

people to meet and play with! Everybody's cabin was loaded with souvenirs; everybody had

stories of places visited. But on the whole it had been rather a bore, you know; they would be

glad to get back home, where you could play golf and ride and motor, and get rid of the people

who bored you.

II

Living under the feudal system, Irma had found herself impressed by the idea of being

exclusive; but here she was back in the easygoing world which was much less trouble and

much more fun. All sorts of people wanted to know her, and how was she to find out who they

were or what they wanted? It might be an expert thief, trying to find out what jewels she wore

and where she kept them; it might be a blackmailer on the watch for something he could put to

use; there was a good chance of its being a cardsharp, for swarms of them preyed upon the

passengers of ocean liners. Irma and a New York acquaintance played against a couple of ladies

with manners and costumes beyond criticism; quite probably the pair had some means of

signaling other than the bids which were a part of the game and which everybody studied and

argued about. They proposed a dollar a point for stakes, and Irma didn't mind; she didn't mind

especially when she found that her side was a couple of thousand dollars in the hole at the

end of an afternoon. Her partner broke down and wept, saying she didn't have the money, so

Irma paid for both, and didn't like it when Lanny insisted that all three women were probably

in cahoots.

Also there was the question of liquor. The young people were drinking all the time, and how

they managed to carry it was a problem. Lanny said: "Why not choose some friends who know

something to talk about?" But those were older persons, and Irma could only listen. Presently

along would come some of her own set and carry her off to a gaily decorated bar; or they would

order drinks while they were playing shuffleboard on deck. Lanny could no longer say: "You

have the health of our baby to think of." He was put in the unpleasant position of the sober

man at a feast; he was a wet blanket, a sorehead, a grouch. Irma didn't say these things, but

others said them behind her back, and looked them; you had either to play the game or

antagonize people. Lanny decided that he would be glad when his wife was under the sheltering

wing of Fanny Barnes, who had the right to scold her daughter and exercised it.

Among the conveniences on board this movable city was a broker's office where you could

get quotations and gamble in your favorite stocks; also a daily newspaper which reported what

was happening in Wall Street and the rest of the world. Shortly before the vessel reached New

York it was learned that the troubles in Vienna had come to a climax; there was a failure of the

Creditanstalt, biggest bank in the city. Next day the panic was spreading to Germany. Lanny

heard people say: "All right. It's time they had some troubles." But others understood that if

Germany couldn't pay reparations, Britain and France would soon be unable to pay their debts

to the United States. These financial difficulties traveled like waves of sound; they met some

obstruction and came rolling back. The world had become a vast sounding-board, filled with

clashing echoes hurled this way and that. Impossible to guess what was coming next!

III

The Statue of Liberty stood, erect and dignified, holding her torch immovable; in bright

sunlight she appeared quite sober. Lanny wondered: was she "on the wagon," or did she, like

so many of his acquaintances in cafe society, never get drunk until night? It was still the time

of Prohibition, and you couldn't buy anything on the ship after she had passed the three-mile

limit; but everybody knew that as soon as you stepped ashore you could get whatever you

wanted.

Fanny Barnes, accompanied by her brother Horace, was waiting on the pier for the first sight

of the most precious of all babies. When gangplanks were lowered and the family procession

came down, she took the soft warm bundle in her arms, and Lanny saw the first tears he had

ever seen in what he had thought were hard, worldly eyes. She refused to put the bundle down,

but carried it off to the waiting car and sat there, breaking every rule which Miss Severne had

laid down for the hygienic and psychological protection of infants. Lanny saw the

Englishwoman watching with disapproval; he feared that a first-class row was pending, for the

head nurse had explained many times that she was a professional person and considered that her

services were superfluous if her advice was disregarded.

They left Feathers to attend to the customs formalities and to bring Irma's maid and the

nursemaid and the bags in another car. The family drove away in state, with Miss Severne in

front with the chauffeur, so that she wouldn't be so aware of a grandmother coddling and

cuddling a fourteen-month-old child, poking a finger at her and talking nonsense. That went

on all the way across Fourteenth Street, and through the slums of New York's East Side, over a

great bridge, and on the new speedway. Lanny recognized what a serious action he had

committed in keeping the precious creature in Europe—and what a fight he was going to have to

get her back there!

Plenty of news to talk about: family affairs, business affairs, and all their friends who had got

married, or died, or been born. Presently Uncle Horace Vandringham was telling Lanny about

stocks. They were down again—very bad news from Germany, and rumors that the trouble might

spread to Britain. The one-time market manipulator gave it as his opinion that prices had just

about reached bottom; the very same words that Robbie Budd had said: "Look where steel is

now!" Uncle Horace had written Irma, begging her to put up a little money, so that he might

get back into the game; he would go fifty-fifty with her—it was a crime to waste the expert

knowledge which he had spent a lifetime in acquiring. Irma had said no, and had told her

husband that she would continue to say it and not let herself be bothered with importunities.

IV

Life at Shore Acres was taken up where it had been left off. The question of Baby Frances was

settled quickly, for the head nurse came to Irma, who had employed her; she didn't say that

Irma had been raised wrong, or that grandmothers were passees, but simply that modern

science had made new discoveries and that she had been trained to put them into practice. Irma

couldn't dream of losing that most conscientious of persons, so she laid down the law to her

mother, who took it with surprising meekness. Likewise, Uncle Horace made only the feeblest

of tentatives in the direction of Wall Street. Lanny perceived that they had had family

consultations; the haughty Fanny was going to be the ideal mother-in-law, her brother was

going to make himself agreeable at all costs, and everybody in the house was to do the same—

in the hope that a prince consort might be persuaded to settle down in his palace and enjoy

that state of life to which it had pleased God to call him.

All that Lanny and his royal spouse had to do was to be happy, and they had the most

expensive toys in the world to play with. The estate had been created for that purpose, and

thousands of skilled workers had applied their labor and hundreds of technicians had applied

their brains to its perfection. If the young couple wanted to ride there were horses, if they

wanted to drive there were cars, if they wanted to go out on the water there were sailboats and

launches. There were two swimming-pools, one indoors and one out, besides the whole

Atlantic Ocean. There were servants to wait upon them and clean up after them; there were

pensioners and courtiers to flatter and entertain them. The world had been so contrived that it

was extremely difficult for the pair to do any sort of useful thing.

Playmates came in swarms: boys and girls of Irma's set who were "lousy with money"—their

own phrase. Irma had romped and danced with them from childhood, and now they were in

their twenties, but lived and felt and thought as if still in their teens. The depression had hit

many of them, and a few had had to drop out, but most were still keeping up the pace. They

drove fast cars, and thought nothing of dining in one place and dancing fifty miles away; they

would come racing home at dawn—one of them would be assigned to drive and would make it

a point of honor not to get drunk. The boys had been to college and the girls to finishing-

schools, where they had acquired fashionable manners, but no ideas that troubled them. Their

conversation was that of a secret society: they had their own slang and private jokes, so that if

you didn't "belong," you had to ask what they were talking about.

It was evident to all that Irma had picked up an odd fish, but they were willing enough to

adopt him; all he had to do was to take them as they were, do what they did, and not try to

force any ideas upon them. He found it interesting for a while; the country was at its

springtime best, the estates of Long Island were elaborate and some of them elegant, and

anybody who is young and healthy enjoys tennis and swimming and eating good food. But

Lanny would pick up the newspaper and read about troubles all over the world; he would go