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The older man, he of the mustache, turned to look at Kate, then got up from the bench. He walked a little away and then turned and made a sign with his hand to his companion. "Come on," he said, "let's get out of here. We're wasting our time. It's a cold trail. They're a couple of highbrows. Come on, let's be on our way." The two women again walked along the street.
"That's right, he's like all these highbrows." "That's so, like all of 'em." "That's a fact." They sighed, and were silent and thoughtful and happy. The conductor came in. He had once called at Babbitt's office, to ask about houses. "H' are you, Mr. Babbitt! We going to have you with us to Chicago? This your boy?" "Yes, this is my son Ted." "Well now, what do you know about that!
You paid that score for us both, an' if ther's any debt left over to be paid, why I guess I'm ready to pay it." He chuckled. "You know, Nan, woman's a ticklish proposition. Ther's wise highbrows guess they handed out all ther' is to say 'bout women-folk, an' I figger some has used elegant langwidge, an' made pretty talk.
"That boy Paul's worth all these ballyhooing highbrows put together," he muttered; and, "I'd like to get away from everything." Even Louetta Swanson did not rouse him. Mrs. Swanson was pretty and pliant. Babbitt was not an analyst of women, except as to their tastes in Furnished Houses to Rent. He divided them into Real Ladies, Working Women, Old Cranks, and Fly Chickens.
Here were the people who really saw something richer and deeper in life than the sort of existence Amy had led great bright vistas leading off from the city as it was today to some dazzling promised land. She thought of the little history "prof." They were so cosy about it here! She did not want them to be "highbrows" Heaven forbid! But they took it all so easily!
MAURY: Why are all grooms given the title of "old"? I think marriage is an error of youth. DICK: Maury, the professional cynic. MAURY: Why, you intellectual faker! FIFTH YOUNG MAN: Battle of the highbrows here, Otis. Pick up what crumbs you can. DICK: Faker yourself! What do you know? MAURY: What do you know? LICK: Ask me anything. Any branch of knowledge. MAURY: All right.
"I don't belong," said the mucker gruffly. "Wouldn't you rather belong?" insisted the girl. All his life Billy had looked with contempt upon the hated, pusillanimous highbrows, and now to be asked if he would not rather be one! It was unthinkable, and yet, strange to relate, he realized an odd longing to be like Theriere, and Billy Mallory; yes, in some respects like Divine, even.
He knows that if he wants to keep on growing he's got to have what they call a steerer. Somebody smooth, and polished, and politic, and what the highbrows call suave. Do you pronounce that with a long a, or two dots over? Anyway, you get me. You're all those things and considerable few besides. He's wise to the fact that a business man's got to have poise these days, and balance.
But when I am in my chamber, where no one can see me read, remote from the highbrow people and all that the highbrows need, I never have known a longing to reach for the Hardy tomes; I put in a joyous evening with Watson and Sherlock Holmes.
"Thought you fellers might like t' see 'er, but she got too high an' mighty fer me, wouldn't take a pull at th' bottle 'ith me, 'n' shrieked like a catamount when I kissed 'er. Found 'er hangin' on th' water-tank. Got off 't th' wrong place. One o' yer highbrows out o' th' parlor car! Good lesson fer 'er!" The Boy looked up from his cards sternly, his keen eyes boring through the man.
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