“A rabbit, no doubt,” said the old man.
“No sir, I’m not a magician.” Abraham Lockwood took some papers from his hat and extended them toward Hofman, who did not hold out his hand.
“Tell me what they are. My eyes are tired.”
“These are the plans of a toll bridge. Rough drawings, but the figures are accurate.”
“A toll bridge?”
“Where the river bends, between here and Swedish Haven, you know where the river bends and the road follows the curve of the river, then goes up a steep hill below Klauser’s farm?”
“I know the spot.”
“This bridge would shorten the distance between the two towns by almost a full mile, and eliminate the two steep grades that a team with a heavy wagonload has to rest on. This toll bridge could be built for about $35,000.”
“And be washed away in the first flood.”
“Not this bridge.”
“Well, go ahead and build it,” said the old man.
“It’s going to make money, Mr. Hofman. It’s going to make money now, and it will make more and more as the two towns grow. In due course the county or the Commonwealth will have to buy this bridge.”
“Well, you have $35,000. You inherited a great deal more than that from your father. It’s not all gone, is it?”
“Far from it. I have more than doubled the money I inherited from my father.”
“You have? That’s a most unusual statement to make.”
“I wouldn’t make it if I weren’t convinced that you’re well aware that it’s the truth.”
“I believe I did hear that you’ve been having some luck with some speculation of yours.”
“Not only mine. Your friends in Drexel & Company have been in on some of these speculations.”
“Have they indeed?”
“Mr. Hofman, it’s now obvious that you don’t want to hear any more that I have to say.”
“I’m only curious as to why you came to me, Mr. Lockwood. You can build this bridge without my help or anyone else’s, and I must say I think it appears to be a promising investment. Why did you come to me?”
“As a courtesy. You’re the leading citizen of Gibbsville, and this toll bridge should make our two towns come closer together. The money it will make won’t have any great effect on your fortune, nor for that matter on mine.”
“I take it then that you consider yourself the leading citizen of Swedish Haven.”
“Well, I have more money than anyone else. Than any two citizens of Swedish Haven. Possibly any three. And I’ve begun to follow the example set by you.”
“Explain that, please.”
“I give more money to the people of the town than anyone else. You do that in Gibbsville, I do it in Swedish Haven, now that I can afford to.”
“I was brought up to believe in sharing.”
“So was I, Mr. Hofman. Perhaps you don’t know it, but my father built the Lutheran church, and we put up the money for the South Ward public school. I say perhaps you don’t know it. I know you don’t know it, and very few people do. I am interested in the future of Swedish Haven, and I believe that the future of Swedish Haven and the future of Gibbsville are bound together, one with the other.”
“I should like to ask you a question. Why do you stay in Swedish Haven, when you could make your fortune in one of the large cities?”
“I suppose for the same reason that you stayed in Gibbsville. A man can love his home town, and if he doesn’t there must be some reason. I have every reason to be fond of Swedish Haven, and I’ll never leave it.”
“You surprise me, Mr. Lockwood.”
“I don’t see why I should surprise you, Mr. Hofman. You don’t know me very well. You scarcely know me at all … Well, I’ve taken up enough of your time, and we both have other things to do. Good day, sir.” He stood up, tossed the papers back in his hat, and turned to go.
“Mr. Lockwood, let me have a look at those drawings,” said the old man.
Now at last they were in a joint venture. The news caused new hostility toward Abraham Lockwood, but of a different kind; and the hostility among jealous relatives of the old man was offset by a gain in local prestige. The old man let it be known that the idea for the toll bridge had originated with his younger partner-of-the-moment, and when Peter Hofman addressed the younger man as Abraham, the minor members of the clan went him one better and called him Abe. At the ceremonies of the bridge opening, where George Lockwood cut a red ribbon, Abe Lockwood smiled in his friendliest fashion at Samuel Stokes, who would not have dared to be absent.
SIX
THE father without a plan ruled because he was the father; the father with a plan, an Abraham Lockwood, was more likely to extend the scope of his supervision to take in the small and large things as they advanced or hindered his plan. The father who confided his plan to his wife was acting voluntarily; even the most unreasonable actions often went unexplained and unjustified, for in that time and especially in that geographical-sociological area the husband and father was impervious to criticism—or the wife’s criticism was made at her own risk. Divorce was almost nonexistent, and the wife who endured the intolerable could not count on the support or encouragement of her parents, let alone of her friends, if in her desperation she went to law. Having taken that step she still had to put her case before a judge who in all probability was opposed to any and all divorce. A woman who wanted to be free of her husband at any cost could achieve her freedom at the price of her reputation : she could be so flagrantly adulterous that the husband would sue, and he would win.
Under such conditions marriage was permanent and the rule of the husband and father was absolute, and these things were understood by all nubile girls. If Adelaide Hoffner questioned her sister’s chances of compatibility with Samuel Stokes on Sarah’s wedding day, the questioning was academic. Academic and forlorn, so far as correction of a condition might be concerned. Marriage was entered into joyfully, as the realization of an ambition; but the finality of the new status was as much a source of apprehension as the hazards of the physical union. A lucky, attractive girl might have her choice of suitors, but they seldom numbered more than two or three, and the maiden’s true preference of one to the others was often discouraged. Love was not regarded seriously as a determining factor, since the girl’s mother in all probability had not been allowed to marry for love. The delightful novelty of the use of the expression, “a real love match,” was unintended evidence of the rarity of the phenomenon; it did not often apply. Sometimes love-—as always promised—came into being after the marriage was an accomplished fact, and the marriage then could be considered a happy one; but love itself could be threatened by the propinquity that had originally brought it into being.
Thus Adelaide Lockwood, in love with her husband after the first months of their marriage, was confused by his unexplained, intense concern for their children. The greatest pleasure in many women’s lives was their right to mother their young, and they mildly resented paternal interference. The father could stay out of the nursery; time enough to exercise his authority when the children were grown. Abraham Lockwood, however, had shown an interest and made decisions governing the upbringing of his sons from their birth. Their diet, their sleeping habits, the temperature of their bath water, the selection of nurses, the children’s exposure to sunlight, the degree and method of punishment and reward—nothing escaped Abraham Lockwood’s attention, and the only explanation he offered was that he was one of the “new” fathers, who took a more active part in the raising of the children. Adelaide, unable to protest on any reasonable grounds, did not accept her husband’s explanation. She deduced that her husband had ambitions for their sons, but this was as close as she ever came to comprehending his plan.