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Can it be that they really wish to become, for an immense consideration, drawers of water and hewers of wood to all the countries and nations of the earth?" "A man must work to some end," Charles Gould said, vaguely. Mrs. Gould, frowning, surveyed him from head to foot. This combination was gratifying to Mrs. Gould's tastes. "How thin the poor boy is!" she thought. "He overworks himself."
In this furious flood of metallic uproar there was a power of suggesting images of strife and violence which blanched Mrs. Gould's cheek. Basilio, who had been waiting at table, shrinking within himself, clung to the sideboard with chattering teeth. It was impossible to hear yourself speak. "Shut these windows!" Charles Gould yelled at him, angrily.
Nor could the worst aspects of Gould's conspiracy, bad as they were, begin to vie in disastrous results with the open and insidious abominations of the factory and landlord system.
Gould's habit to withdraw quietly into a little drawing-room, especially her own, next to the great sala. She had risen, and, waiting for Antonia, listened with a slightly worried graciousness to the engineer-in-chief of the railway, who stooped over her, relating slowly, without the slightest gesture, something apparently amusing, for his eyes had a humorous twinkle.
He was carrying a gun. "You put that cat down," screamed Con, threateningly. Mary-'Gusta said nothing. Her heart was beating wildly but she held the struggling David fast. "It's that kid over to Shad Gould's," declared Con. "Make her give you a shot, Pop." Mr. Abner Bacheldor took command of the situation. "Here, you!" he ordered. "Fetch that critter here. I want him."
According to Gould's own story, an engineer who was making a map of Ulster County hired him as an assistant at "twenty dollars a month and found." Gould was forced to support himself by making "noon marks" for the farmers. These maps, if we may believe his own statement, he sold for $5,000. His farm of three hundred and sixty-five acres, at Prattsville, New York, was reputed to be a model.
And it is also in these Fielding ancestors that something of the reputed wildness of their brilliant kinsman may be detected. For in her wilful choice of Edmund Fielding for a husband, Sir Henry Gould's only daughter brought, assuredly, a disturbing element into the quiet Somersetshire home.
Galusha, of course, was not in the least aware of the East Wellmouth estimate of himself, his fortune and his activities. He would not have been interested had he known. He was enjoying himself hugely, was gaining daily in health, strength, and appetite, and was becoming thoroughly acquainted with Gould's Bluffs, its surroundings, and its people. He made many calls at the lighthouse nowadays.
Gould's employees, who was toiling at risk of life and limb for about $2 a day while his imperial master was doing the dolce far niente act for $714,000 per diem and his board, comments as follows in a letter to the ICONOCLAST: "W. C. BRANN: It might be pertinent for you to find out how the festive George, of yacht-racing, Waler-hob-nobbing fame, has managed to reap such pronounced benefits from the revival in business.
He did not seem to want to go anywhere. Contentment for him was apparently right there at Gould's Bluffs and nowhere else. Amazing but true. And no less disgraceful than amazing. It was a state of mind, of course, a psychological state due to physiological causes and doubtless was but temporary. Nevertheless, it troubled him a bit. One morning in July he received a shock.
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