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"BEING A GENTLEMAN, I SUPPOSE." Synopsis.Major Amberson has made a fortune tn 1S7S when other people waee losing fortunes, and the magnificence of the Ambersons began then. Major Amberson laid out a 200-acre "development," with roads and statuary, and In the center of a four-acre tract.on Amberson avenue, built for himself the most magnificent mansion Midland City had ever seen. When the major's daughter married young Wilbur Minafer the neighbors predicted that as Isabel could never really love Wilbur all her love would be bestowed upon the children. There is only one child, however, George Amberson Minafer, and hit upbringing and his youthful accomplishments aa a mischief maker are quite in keeping with the most pessimistic predictions. By the time George goes away to collage he does not attempt to conceal his belief that the Ambersons are about the most Important family in the world. At a ball given in his honor when he returns from college, George monopolises Lucy Morgan, a stranger and the prettiest girl present, and gets on famously with her until he learns that a "queer looking duck" at whom he had been poking much fun, is the young lady's father. He is Eugene Morgan, a former resident of Big- burg, and he is returning to erect a factory and to build horseless carriages of his own Invention. Eugene had been an old admirer of Isabel's and they had been engaged when Isabel threw him over because of a youthful indiscre- tion and married Wilbur Minafer. George makes rapid progress In his court- ship of Lucy. A cotillion helps their acquaintance along famously. Their "friendship" continues during his absences at college. George and Lucy become "almost engaged." CHAPTER XContinued. "Pootl" Aunt Amelia was evidently In a passion. "You know what's been foing on over there, well enough, Crank Bronson! I thought- you were a man of the world: don't tell me you're blind! For nearly two years Isabel's been pretending to chaperone Fanny Minafer with Eugene, and all Che time she's been dragging that poor fool Fanny around to chaperone her and Eugene! Under the circumstances, she knows people will get to thinking Fanny's a pretty slim kind of chap erone, and Isabel wants to please George because she thinks there'll be less talk If she can keep her ownknows brother around, seeming to approve. Talk!' She'd better look out! The whole town will be talking, the first thing she knows! She:" Amelia stopped, and stared at the Amelia Stopped, and Stared at the Doorway in a Panic doorway In a panic, for her nephew stood there. She kept her eyes upon his white face for a few strained moments, then, regaining her nerve, looked away and shrugged her shoulders. "You weren't Intended to hear what I've been saying, George," she said quietly. "But since yon seem" 'Yes, I did." "So!" She shrugged her shoulders again. "After all, I don't know but It's just as well. In the long run." He walked up to where she sat. "You jou" he said thickly. "It seems It seems to me you'reyou're pretty common!" Old Bronson had risen from his chair In great distress. "Your aunt was talking nonsense because she's piqued over a business matter, George," he said. "She doesn't mean what she said, and neither she noryou're anyone else gives the slightest credit to such foolishnessno one In the world!" George gulped, and wet lines shone suddenly along his lower eyelids. "Theythey'd better not!" he said, then stalked out of the room, and out of the house. Ten minutes later, George Amber awn, someWhat In the semblance of an angry person plunging out of the Man sion, found a pale nephew waiting to accost hfm. "I haven't time to talk, Georgie." "Yes. you have. You'd better "What's the matter, thenr His namesake drew him away from tie vicinity of the house. 1 want to tell you something I Just heard Aunt Amelia say. In there. She says my (other's on your side about this divi sion of the property because you're ISngene Morgan's best friend. She said" 'George paused to swallow. "She said" He faltered. "You look sick,*' said his uncle, and laughed shortly. "If It's because of anything Amelia's been saying, I don't Mame you! What else did she say TheMagnificentAmbersons I TliaMcicfiiifi/iAiif- AmK^cnnc By BOOTH TARKINGTON nausea, but under his uncle's encour agement he was able to be explicit. "She said my mother wanted you to be friendly to her about Eugene Morgan. She said my mother had been using Aunt Fanny as a chaperone." Amberson emitted a laugh of dis gust. "It's wonderful what tommy-rot a woman In a state of spite can think of! I suppose you don't doubt that Amelia Amberson created this speci men of tommy-rot herself? Of all the damn nonsense!" George looked at him haggardly. "You're sure people are not talking?" "Rubbish! Your mother's on my side about this division because she Sydney's a pig and always has been a pig, and so has his spiteful wife. I'm trying to keep them from getting the better of your mother as well as from getting the better of me, don't you suppose? Well, they're in a rage because Sydney always could do what he liked with father unless your mother Interfered, and they know I got Isabel to ask him not to do what they wanted. That's all there is to it." "But she said," George persisted wretchedly "she said there was talk. She. said" "Look here, young fellow!" Amber son laughed good-naturedly. "There probably Is some harmless talk about the way your Aunt Fanny goes after poor Eugene, and I've no doubt I've abetted it myself. Fanny was always languishing at him, twenty-odd years ago, before he left here. Well, we can't blame the poor thing If she's got her hopes up again, and I don't know that I blame her, myself, for using your mother the way she does." "How do you mean?" Amberson put his hand on George's shoulder. "You like to tease Fanny," he said, "but I wouldn't tease her about this, If I were you. Fanny hasn't got much in her life. In fact, I don't know of anything much that Fanny has got, except her feeling about Eu gene. She's always had itand what's funny to us Is pretty much llfe-and death to her, I Suspect Now, I'll net deny that Eugene Morgan la attracted to your mother. He Is and that's an other case of 'always was but I know him, and he's a knight, Georgea crazy one, perhaps, if you've read 'Don Quixote.' And I think your mother likes him better than she likes any man outside her own family, and that he Interests her more than anybody elseand 'always has.' And thafs all there Is to It, except" "Except what?" George asked quick ly, as he paused. "Except that I suspect" Amberson chuckled, and began over: Ti tell you In confidence. Fanny uses your mother for a decoy duck. She does everything in the world she can to keep your mother's friendship with Eugene going, because she thinks that's what keeps Eugene about the place, so to speak. Fanny's always with your mother, you see and when ever he sees Isabel he sees Fanny. Fanny thinks hell get used to the idea of her being around, and some day her chance may come! There I D*you see?" "WellI suppose so." George's brow was still dark, however. "If sure whatever talk there Is, is about Aunt Fanny. If that's so" "Don't be an ass," his uncle advised him lightly, moving away. Tm off for a week's fishing to forget that woman in there, and her pig of a husband." (His gesture toward the Mansion indi cated Mr. and Mrs. Sydney Amber- son.) "I recommend a like course to you, if you're silly enough to pay any attention to such rubbishings! Good- by!" George was partially reas sured, but soil troubled: a word haunt ed him like the recollection of a night mare. "Talk!" He walked rapidly toward his own front gate. The victoria was there with Fanny alone she Jumped out briskly and the victoria waited. "Where's mother?" George asked sharply. "At Lucy's. I only came back to get some eiubwldery, because we fomad the sun too hot for driving. I haven't time to talk now, Georgle I'm going right back. I promised your mother-'' "You listen!" said George. "What on earthP 'He repeated what Amelia had snld. This time, however, he CHAPTER XI. THE TOMAHAWK, WHITE EARTH, MINN. and without, the emotion he had ex'Lucy hibited during the recital to his uncle: Fanny was the one who showed agita tion during this interview, for she grew fiery red, and her eyes dilated. "What on earth do you want to bring such trash to me for?" she demanded, breathing fast. "I merely wished to know two things: whether It Is your duty or mine to speak to father of what Aunt Amelia" Fanny stamped her foot. "You lit tle fool!" she cried. "You awful little fool! Your father's a sick man, and you want to go troubling.him with an Amberson family row! it's just what that cat would love you to do!" "Well I" "Tell'your father If you like! It will only make him a little sicker to think he's got a son silly enough to listen to such craziness!" "Then you're sure there isn't any talk?" Fanny disdained a reply In words. She made a hissing sound of utter con tempt and snapped her fingers. Then she asked scornfully: "What's the other thing you wanted to know?" George's pallor increased. "Whether It mightn't be better, under the cir cumstances," he said, "if this family were not so intimate with the Morgan familyat least for a time. It might be better^-" Fanny stared at him incredulously. "You mean you'd quit seeing Lucy?" "I hadn't thought of that side of It, but if such a thing were necessary on account of talk about my mother, I I" He hesitated unhappily. "I sug gested that If all of usfor a time perhaps only for a timeit might be better if" "See here," she Interrupted. "Well settle this nonsense right now. If Eu gene Morgan comes to this house, for instance, to see me, your mother can't get'up and leave the place the minute be gets here, can she? What do you want her to do: insult him? Or per haps you'd prefer she'd insult Lucy? That would do Just as well. What is It you're up to, anyhow? Do you really love your Aunt Amelia so much that you want to please her? Or do you really hate your Aunt Fanny so much that you want tothat you want to" She choked and sought for her hand, kerchief suddenly she began to cry. "Oh, see here," George said. "I don't hate you, Aunt Fanny. That's silly. I don't" "You do! You do! You want to you want to destroy the only thing that Ithat I ever" And, unable to continue, she became inaudible in her handkerchief. George felt remorseful, and his own troubles were lightened: all at once It became clear to him that he had been worrying about nothing. He perceived that his Aunt Amelia was Indeed an old cat, and that to give her scandal ous meanderlngs another thought would be the height of folly. By no means Insusceptible to such pathos as that now exposed before him, he did not lack pity for Fanny, whose almost spoken confession was lamentable and he was granted the vision to un derstand that his mother also pitied Fanny infinitely more than he did. This seemed to explain everything. He patted the unhappy lady awk wardly upon her shoulder. "There, there!" he said. "I didn't mean any thing. Of course the only thing to do about Aunt Amelia is to pay no atten tion to her. It's all right, Aunt Fanny. Don't cry. I feel a lot better now, my self. Come on I'll drive back there with you. It's all over, and nothing's the matter. Can't you cheer up?" Fanny cheered up and presently the customarily hostile aunt and nephew were driving out Amberson boulevard amiably together in the hot sunshine. "Almost" was Lucy's last word on the last night of George's vacation that vital evening which she had half consented to agree upon for "settling things" between them. "Almost en gaged," she meant And George, dis contented with the "almost," but con tented that she seemed glad to wear a sapphire locket with a tiny photograph of George Amberson Minafer inside it, fonnd himself wonderful la new world at the final instant of their part ing. For, after declining to let him Mas her "good-by," as If his desire for such a ceremony were the most pre posterous absurdity hi the world,, she had leaned suddenly close to him and left upon his cheek the veriest feather from a fairy's wing. She wrote him a month later: "No. It must keep on being almost. "Isn't almost pretty pleasant? Ton know well enough that I care for you. I did from the first minute I saw you, and rra pretty sure you anew itI'm afraid you did. Tm afraid you always knew It But Ifs such a solemn thing It scares me. It means a good deal to a *ot of people besides you and mo* %*t that scares me. too. I shouldn't be a bit surprised to find myself an old lady, some day, still thinking of youwhile you'd be away and away with somebody else pethaps, and meseemed forgotten ages agol *Locy Morgan,' yoo'd say. when you saw say i VV Morgan? Let me see: I seem to remember the name. Didn't I know some Lucy Morgan or other, once upon a time?' Then you'd shake your big white head and stroke your long white beardyou'd have such a distinguished long white beard! and you'd say, 'No. I don't seem to remember any Lucy Morgan I wonder what made me think I did?* And poor me! I'd be deep in the ground, wondering If you'd heard about It and what you were saying! Good-by for today. Don't work too harddear!" George Immediately seized pen and paper, plaintively but vigorously re questing Lucy not to Imagine him with a beareV distinguished or otherwise, even in the extremities of age. Then, after inscribing his protest in the mat ter of this vlsioned beard, he con cluded his missive hi a tone mollified to tenderness, and proceeded to read a letter from his mother which had reached him simultaneously with Lucy's. Isabel wrote from Ashevllle, where she had Just arrived with her husband: "I think your father looks better al ready, darling, though we've been here only a few hours. It may be we've found just the place to build him .up. The doctors said they hoped It would prove to be, and if it Is, it would be worth the long struggle we had With him to get him to give up and come. I'm afraid that in my anxiety to get him to do what the doctors wanted him to, I wasn't able to back up Broth er George as I should In his difficulty with Sydney and Amelia. I'm so sorry! George is more upset than I've ever seen himthey've got what they want ed, and they're sailing before long, I hear, to live In Florence. Father said he couldn't stand the constant per suadingI'm afraid the word he used was 'nagging.' I can't understand peo ple behaving like that George says they may be Ambersons, but they're vulgar! I'm afraid I almost agree with him. At least, I think they were In considerate. "We plan to stay six weeks if the place agrees with him. It does really seem to already! He's Just called in the door to say he's waiting. Don't smoke too much, darling boy. "Devotedly, your mother, "ISABEL." But she did not keep her husband there for the six weeks she antlcpated. She did not keep him anywhere that long. Three weeks after writing this letter, she telegraphed suddenly to George that they were leaving for home at once and four days later, when he and a friend came whistling Into his study, from lunch at the club, he found another telegram upon his desk. He read It twice before he compre hended its Import "Papa left us at ten this morning, dearest "MOTHER." The friend saw the change In his face. "Not bad news?" George lifted utterly dumfounded eyes from the yellow paper. "My father," he said weakly. "She saysshe says he's dead. I've got to go home." His Uncle George and theIs Major met him at the station when he arrivedthe first time the Major had ever come to meet his grandson. The old gentleman sat In his closed car riage (which still needed paint) at the entrance to the station, but he got out and advanced to grasp George's hand There, There!" Hs Said. "I DMn*t Mean Anything." tremulously, when the latter appeared. "For fellow!" he said, and patted him repeatedly upon the shoulder. "Poor fellow I Poor Georgle!" George noticed that the Major's tremulousness did not disappear, as they droit up the street and that he much feebler than during the Principally, however, George with his or rather, with his lack of emotion and the anxious sympathy of his grand father and his uncle made him feel hypocritical. He was not grief-strick en but he felt that he ought to be, and, with a secret shame, concealed his callousness beneath an affectation of solemnity. But when he was taken into the room where lay what was left of Wil bur Minafer, George had no longer to pretend his grief was sufficient. It needed only the sight of that forever inert semblance of the quiet man who had been always so quiet apart of his son's lifeso quiet apart that George had seldom been consciously aware that his father was indeed a part of his life. As the figure lay there, its very quietness was what was most life like and suddenly struck George hard. And in that unexpected, racking grief of his son, Wilbur Minafer be came more vividly George's father than he had ever been in life. When George left the room, his arm was about his black-robed mother, his shoulders were still shaken with sobs. He leaned upon his mother she gently comforted him and presently he re covered his composure and became self-conscious enough to wonder if he had not been making an unmanly dis play of himself. "I'm all right again, mother," he said awkwardly. "Don't worry about me: you'd better go lie down, or something you look pretty pale." Isabel did look pretty pale, but not ghastly pale, as Fanny did. Fanny's grief was overwhelming she stayed In her room, and George did not see her until the next day, a few minutes be fore the funeral, when her haggard face appalled him. The annoyance gave way before a recollection of the sweet mournfulness of his mother's face, as she had said good-by to him at the station, and of how lovely she looked In her mourning. He thought of Lucy, whom he had seen only twice, and he could not help feel ing that in these quiet interviews he had appeared to her as tinged with heroismshe had shown, rather than said, how brave she thought him. When he went back to college, what came most vividly to George's mind during retrospections, was the despair ing face of his Aunt Fanny. Again and again he thought of It he could not avoid Its haunting. Her grief had been so silent, yet It had so amazed him. George felt more and more compas sion for this ancient antagonist of his, and he wrote to his mother about her: 'Tm afraid poor Aunt Fanny might think now father's gone we won't want her to live with us any longer and be cause I always teased her so much she might think I'd be for turning her out. I don't know where on earth she'd go or what she could live on if we did do something like this, and of course we never would do such a thing, butfI'm pretty sure she had1 something the kind on her mind. She didn't say any thing, but the way she looked is what makes me think so. Honestly, to me she looked Just scared sick. You tell her there Isn't any danger In the world of my treating her like that. Tell her everything Is to go on Just, as It al ways has. Tell her to cheer'up 1" Isabel did more for Fanny than tell ing her to cheer up. Everything that Fanny inherited from her father, old Aleck Minafer, had been Invested In Wilbur's business and Wilbur's busi ness, after a period of Illness corre sponding In dates to the Illness of Wil bur's body, had died Just before Wil bur did. George Amberson and Fanny were both "wiped out to a miracle of precision," as Amberson said. They "owned not a penny and owed not a penny," he continued, explaining his phrase. "It's like the moment Just be fore drowning: you're not under water and you're not out of It. All you know that you're not dead yet." He spoke philosophically, having his "prospects" from his father to fall back upon but Fanny had neither "prospects" nor philosophy. However, a legal survey of Wilbur's estate re vealed the fact that his life Insurance was left clear of the wreck and Isa bel, with the cheerful consent of her son, promptly turned this salvage over to her sister-in-law. Invested, It would yield something better than nine hun dred dollars a year, and thus she was assured of becoming neither a pauper nor a dependent, but proved to be, as Amberson ssld, adding his efforts to the cheering up of Fanny, "an heiress, after all, In spite of rolling mills and the devil." The collegian did not return to hisnight home for the holidays. Instead, Isa bel Joined him, and they went South for the two weeks. She was'proud of her stalwart good-looking son at the hotel where they stayed, and It wasabout meat and drink to her when she saw how people stared at him In the lobby and on the big verandasIndeed, her vanity in him was so dominant that she was unaware of their staring at her with more interest and an ad miration friendlier than George evoked. Both of them felt constantly the dif ference between this Christmas time and other Christmas times of theirs In all, it was a sorrowful holiday. Buf when Isabel came East for George's commencement in June, she brought Lucy with herand things began to seem different especially when George Amberson arrived with Lucy's father on class day. Eugene had been In New York, on business Amberson easily persuaded him to this outing and they made a cheerful party of It with the new graduate of course the hero and center of it all. His uncle was a fellow alumnus. "Yonder was where I roomed when I was here," he said, pointing out one of the university buildings to Eugene. "I don't know 'Whether George would let admirers plies tablet to the spot or not He owns an these buildings now, you know." "Didn't you, when you were here? Like uncle, like nephew." "I'm sure I didn't have It so badly at his age," Amberson said reflectively, as they strolled on through the com' mencement crowd. Eugene laughed. "You need only three things to explain all that's good and bad about Georgle." "Three?" "He's Isabel's only child. He's an Amberson. He's a boy/ "Well, Mister Bones, of these three things which are the good ones and which are the bad ones?" "All of them," suld Eugene. George took no conspicuous part In either the academic or the social cele brations of his class hi- seemed to re gard both sets of exercises with a tol erant amusement, his own "crowd" "not going in much for uither of those sorts of things," as he explained to Lucy. What his crowd hud gone in for remained ambiguous some negligent testimony Indicating that, except for an astonishing reliability which they ull seemed to have attained In matters relating to musical comedy, they had not gone in for anything. Certainly the question one of them put to Lucy, "I'm All Right Again, Mother," Ho Said Awkwardly. in response to investigations of hers, seemed to point that way: "Don't you think," he said, "really, don't you think that being things Is rather better than doing things?" He said "rahthuh bettuh" for "rather better," and seemed to do It deliberate* ly, with perfect knowledge of what ha was doing. Later, Lucy mocked him to George, and George refused to smile: he somewhat Inclined to such pronunciations, himself. This Inclina tion was one of the things that he had acquired In the four years. What else he had acquired, It might have puzzled him to state, had any body asked him and required a direct reply within a reasonable space ol time. He had learned how to pass ex aminations by "cramming that is, in three or four days and nights he could get Into his head enough of a selected fragment of some scientific of phllo* sophlcal or literary or linguistic sub* Ject to reply plausibly to six questions out of ten. He could retain the Infor mation necessary for such a feat Just long enough to give a successful per formance then It would evaporate ut terly from his brain, and leave him un disturbed. George, like his "crowd," not only preferred "being things" to "doing things," but had contented him self with four years of "being things'* as a preparation for going on "being things." And when Lucy rather shyly pressed htm for his friend's probable definition of the "things" It seemed so superior and beautiful to be, George raised his eyebrows slightly, meaning that she should have understood with out explanation but he did explainI "Oh, family and all thatbeing a gen tleman, I suppose." Lucy gave the horizon long look, but offered no comment. "Aunt Fanny doesn't look much bet- ter," George said to his mother, a few minutes after their arrival, on the they got home. "Doesn't she get over It at all? I thought she'd feel better when we turned over the Insur ance to hergave It to her absolutely, without any strings to It. She looks thousand years old!" "She looks quite girlish, sometime* though," his mother said. "Has she looked that way much since father" "Not so much," Isabel said thought fully. "But she will, as rime goes on." "Tliuell have to hurry, then. It seems to me," George observed, returning to his own room. "The idea of being a pro fessional man has never ap pealed to me." (TO BE CONTINUED.) Raising Foxes en Ranches. Raising ranch-bred foxes is an In dustry that Is being carried on ex tensively In all the Canadian provinces, In at least a dozen of the-northern most states of the United States, and beginning In Japan and Norway, all lying In much the same climate, belt, adapted to domesticating the black fox, under the most favoraMe mndfc