Финансист / The Financier
Шрифт:
“My brother and I have been especially pleased with the way you have handled the work here during the past six months. We wanted to make some acknowledgment, and we thought about five hundred dollars. From January we'll give you a regular salary of thirty dollars a week.”
“I'm certainly much obliged to you,” said Frank. “I didn't expect that much. I've learned much here.”
“Oh, don't mention it. We know you've earned it. You can stay with us as long as you like. We're glad to have you with us.”
Cowperwood smiled his hearty, genial smile. He was feeling very comfortable under this evidence of approval.
On the way home that evening he was thinking about that business. He knew he wasn't going to stay there long, even in spite of this gift and promise of salary. They were grateful, of course; butwhy shouldn't they be? He was efficient, he knew that.
After dinner that evening, Frank told his father of the gift of five hundred dollars and the promised salary.
“That's splendid,” said his father. “You're doing better than I thought. I suppose you'll stay there.”
“No, I won't. I think I'll quit sometime next year.”
“Why?”
“Well, it isn't exactly what I want to do. It's all right, but I'd rather try my hand [28] at brokerage, I think. That appeals to me.”
“Don't you think you are doing them an injustice not to tell them?”
“Not at all. They need me.”
He straightened his tie and adjusted his coat.
“Have you told your mother?”
“No. I'm going to do it now.”
He went out into the dining-room, where his mother was, and slipping his arms around her little body, said:
28
to try my hand –
“What do you think, Mammy?”
“Well, what?” she asked, looking affectionately into his eyes.
“I got five hundred dollars tonight, and I get thirty a week next year. What do you want for Christmas?”
“You don t say! [29] Isn't that nice! Isn't that fine! They must like you.”
“What do you want for Christmas?”
“Nothing. I don't want anything. I have my children.”
He smiled.
“All right. Then nothing it is.”
29
You don’t say! – Не может быть!
But she knew he would buy her something.
He went out, pausing at the door to grab playfully at his sister's waist, and saying that he'd be back about midnight, hurried to Marjorie's house, because he had promised to take her to a show.
“Anything you want for Christmas this year, Margy?” he asked, after kissing her. “I got five hundred tonight.”
She was an innocent little thing, only fifteen, no guile, no shrewdness.
“Oh, you needn't get me anything.”
“Needn't I?” he asked, squeezing her waist and kissing her mouth again.
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