VI
It may help us to understand the change in Paul Manley if we shadow him while he is in the company of Miss Molly Hazeltine. Paul had resolved well; but a long course of conduct, as many can tell, is not stably founded on any mere resolution. It must be founded on character; on some one else's character, if need be, until repetition breeds habit in the subject.
"Here's an ad in the paper today," said Molly, "that says, 'Corporation formed complete for fifty-seven dollars.' That does not look as if a corporation amounted to so much. What is a corporation anyway, Paul?"
"Gosh, Molly, you've got your asking clothes on today again! You wouldn't know any more about these matters if I was to talk to you all day."
"You know so many things that I don't," she said regretfully. "Oh, Paul, I met the nicest fellow over at the church supper last night! He's an instructor at Columbia, and he knows more than any man I ever met, excepting you, Paul. I'll ask him, Paul, but he doesn't explain half so nicely as you do."
"Well, I'm a practical business man," said Paul. "Naturally, I would understand about practical matters better than any college professor. Don't mind asking him, now."
"What is this here about Stormy Meeting In Board of Estimate? What do they do?"
"I got to run along, Molly," said Paul, frowning at his watch. "See you some more, Molly!"
That afternoon, in his free time, he strolled into the local Y. M. C. A. reading room, to pass an hour with the magazines on file. He read an exciting story of life among savages in the South Seas, and another about a young man's great fight against a grasping corporation in the Yukon country. These stories thrilled him, as ever, but the thrill was not followed by the old reaction of dissatisfaction and discouragement; he was learning that there was place and opportunity for the most strenuous young man even in New York. He put the magazine back in the rack, and sauntered to the bulletin-board.
"What's civics?" he inquired at the desk. "I see there's a course to be given in that."
"It tells you all about Government. You ought to take that, and then you'll know what you're voting about. It's free, except that you have to buy the book."
"Put me down for it, will you?" requested Paul. "Lots of questions pop into my mind about such things, and I can't think of the answer!"
One Sunday night Molly treated him to the performance at the Belvedere.
The picture had to do with the perils and triumphs of an American youth in a banana republic. The hero of the picture had been nobody in particular in the United States, but he was an American, and when he arrived in the capital of the southern country he promptly took the center of the stage by right of birth. He had failed in business in the United States, but down there he seized hold of affairs—economic, social, political—with amazing verve and ability. In due course, he married the beautiful daughter of the dictator, and arranged to take over the country in bulk—but we have only to do with the episode wherein he was rescued from man-eating land-crabs by a detail of U. S. Marines.
"Yea-a!" exhaled Paul with delight and relief when the forefront of the gallant Marines appeared on the jungle trail, spurring to the rescue with excellent horsemanship.
"You're hurting my hand," said Molly. "They do look fine, don't they? I just love soldiers!"
"Good old leathernecks," sighed Paul. "I tell you what, Molly, it takes us Americans to show those people where they get off!"
"It certainly does," said Molly. "I bet you could get to be a dictator of one of those countries, too, Paul."
"Well," said Paul slowly, "seeing that I am an American, I guess I would have the bulge on them all right."
"Some of those South Americans look awfully mean. You would have to watch out for them, Paul. That was a machine-gun that he killed Don Henriquez' army with, wasn't it? How does a machine-gun work, Paul?"
"Well, it is quite a complicated mechanism. I do not think I could explain it to you so you would understand."
"Did you ever see one?"
"Not so as to examine it. Not real close. But I learn quickly about firearms. I had a pistol once, and my mother took it off me, or I bet I would be a dead shot by now."
"You would look grand in a uniform, Paul. I always say a real tall man looks grand in a uniform!"
"Not so poor, I guess."
"Listen, Paul, Pete Forest's regiment in the National Guard has got a smoker on for next Saturday night, and Pete told me he has to bring along an outsider. So I promised him you would go with him. I told him you would carry the flag for them, and he said he would speak to the color-sergeant about it, but meanwhile for you to come around."
"You might have asked me first."
"But I knew you'd enjoy it. It's just camping out, Paul, and that's fun. Pete Forest says you'll have the time of your life, being that you are fond of walking; and if you get tired or hungry, you can tell the complaint-sergeant and he will see about it. You'll go, won't you?"
"Oh, I suppose so!"