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that state of life to which it had pleased God to call him.

All that Lanny and his royal spouse had to do was to be happy, and they had the most

expensive toys in the world to play with. The estate had been created for that purpose, and

thousands of skilled workers had applied their labor and hundreds of technicians had applied

their brains to its perfection. If the young couple wanted to ride there were horses, if they

wanted to drive there were cars, if they wanted to go out on the water there were sailboats and

launches. There were two swimming-pools, one indoors and one out, besides the whole

Atlantic Ocean. There were servants to wait upon them and clean up after them; there were

pensioners and courtiers to flatter and entertain them. The world had been so contrived that it

was extremely difficult for the pair to do any sort of useful thing.

Playmates came in swarms: boys and girls of Irma's set who were "lousy with money"—their

own phrase. Irma had romped and danced with them from childhood, and now they were in

their twenties, but lived and felt and thought as if still in their teens. The depression had hit

many of them, and a few had had to drop out, but most were still keeping up the pace. They

drove fast cars, and thought nothing of dining in one place and dancing fifty miles away; they

would come racing home at dawn—one of them would be assigned to drive and would make it

a point of honor not to get drunk. The boys had been to college and the girls to finishing-

schools, where they had acquired fashionable manners, but no ideas that troubled them. Their

conversation was that of a secret society: they had their own slang and private jokes, so that if

you didn't "belong," you had to ask what they were talking about.

It was evident to all that Irma had picked up an odd fish, but they were willing enough to

adopt him; all he had to do was to take them as they were, do what they did, and not try to

force any ideas upon them. He found it interesting for a while; the country was at its

springtime best, the estates of Long Island were elaborate and some of them elegant, and

anybody who is young and healthy enjoys tennis and swimming and eating good food. But

Lanny would pick up the newspaper and read about troubles all over the world; he would go

into the swarming city where millions had no chance to play and not even enough to eat; he

would look at the apple-sellers, and the breadlines of haggard, fear-driven men—many with

clothes still retaining traces of decency. Millions wandering over the land seeking in vain for

work; families being driven from their farms because they couldn't pay the taxes. Lanny wasn't

content to read the regular newspapers, but had to seek out the Pink and Red ones, and then

tell his wealthy friends what he had found there. Not many would believe him, and not one

had any idea what to do about it.

Nobody seemed to have such ideas. The ruling classes of the various nations watched the

breakdown of their economy like spectators in the neighborhood of a volcano, seeing fiery lava

pour out of the crater and dense clouds of ashes roll down the slopes, engulfing vineyards and

fields and cottages. So it had been when the younger Pliny had stood near Mt. Vesuvius some

nineteen hundred years back, and had written to the historian Tacitus about his experience:

"I looked behind me; gross darkness pressed upon our rear, and came rolling over the land

after us like a torrent. We had scarce sat down, when darkness overspread us, not like that of a

moonless or cloudy night, but of a room when it is shut up, and the lamp put out. You could

hear the shrieks of women, the crying of children, and the shouts of men; some were seeking

their children, others their parents, others their wives or husbands, and only distinguishing them

by their voices; one lamenting his own fate, another that of his family; some praying to die,

from the very fear of dying; many lifting their hands to the gods; but the great part imagining

that there were no gods left anywhere, and that the last and eternal night was come upon the

world."

V

By way of the automobile ferry from Long Island to New London, Connecticut, Lanny drove

his wife to his father's home, and they spent a week with the family. The town of Newcastle had

been hard hit by the depression: the arms plant was shut down entirely; the hardware and

elevator and other plants were running only three days a week. The workers were living on

their savings if they had any; they were mortgaging their homes, and losing their cars and

radio sets because they couldn't meet installment payments. There were a couple of thousand

families entirely destitute, and most of them were Budd workers, so it was a strain upon the

consciences and pocketbooks of all members of the ruling family. Esther was working harder

than even during the World War; she was chairman of the finance committee of the town's soup

kitchens and children's aid, and went about among the women's clubs and churches telling

harrowing stories and making the women weep, so that private charity might not break down

entirely.

That was a crucial issue, as her husband told her. If America was forced to adopt the British

system of the dole, it would be the end of individual initiative and private enterprise. Robbie

seemed to his son like the anchor-man of a tug-of-war team, his heels dug into the ground, his

teeth set, the veins standing out purple in his forehead with the effort he was making to keep

his country from moving the wrong way. Robbie had been down to Washington to see

President Hoover, his hero and the captain of his team. The Great Engineer was literally

besieged; all the forces of disorder and destruction—so he considered them and so did Robbie—

were trying to pry him from his stand that the budget must be balanced, the value of the dollar

maintained, and business allowed to "come back" in due and regular course.

The cities and the counties, nearing the end of their resources, were clamoring for Federal

aid; the returned soldiers had organized to demand a bonus for the services they had rendered

overseas while the business men at home were filling their pocketbooks. So the agitators

charged, frothing at the mouth, and they had forced their bill through Congress over the

President's veto. Poor Herbert went on making speeches about the American system of "rugged

individualism"; it was heartening to him to have a solid business man, one who had been an oil

man like himself, come in and tell him that he was saving civilization.

Esther, of course, had to believe her husband; she told all the club ladies and church ladies

that they were saving civilization, and they put in their dimes or their dollars, and gathered

together and knitted sweaters or cooked and served hot soup. But every slump in Wall Street

threw more men out of work in Newcastle, and the ladies were at their wit's end. When Irma

wrote a check for five thousand dollars for the children, tears of gratitude ran down the cheeks

of Lanny's stepmother. He had given her great sorrow in years past, but now his credit rating

was triple-A. Even his Pinkness had been made respectable by the crimson hues of Bess,

concerning whom the mother inquired with deepest anxiety.

The Newcastle Country Club was giving a costume dance for charity. You paid twenty-five

dollars for a ticket, and if you weren't there you were nobody. Irma and Lanny had to drive to

a near-by city, since everybody who knew how to sew in Newcastle was already at work on

costumes. But it was all right, for that city likewise had its smokeless factory chimneys. Several

women worked day and night, and as a result the visiting pair appeared as a very grand

Beatrice and Benedick in red-and-purple velvet with gold linings. A delightful occasion, and

when it was over, Irma and Lanny presented the costumes to the country club's dramatics

committee, for Irma said that if you folded them and carried them in the car they'd be full of

creases and not fit to use again.

VI

Not much fun visiting a factory town in times like these. But it was the Budd town, and in

prosperous days everybody had been cordial to the young couple and their friends, even the

Jewish ones. So now it was necessary to stay, and give sympathy and a little help, and have

receptions held in their honor, and shake hands and chat with innumerable Budds—not even

Lanny could remember them all, and had to "bone up" as if it were for a college examination.

Also they played golf and tennis at the country club, and swam and went sailing in delightful

June weather. The countryside put on a show of wild roses, and all nature told them not to

worry too much, that life was going on.

Also they had to pay a visit to the president of Budd Gunmakers. The old man had told Lanny

that he would probably never see him again; but here he was, still holding on, still running the

company by telephone. His hands shook so that it was painful to watch; his cheeks hung in

flaps so that he seemed to have twice as much yellow skin as was needed to cover his shrinking

form; but he was the same grim Puritan, and still questioned Lanny to make sure he had not

forgotten his Bible texts. He had heard about Baby Frances, of course, and said he had carried

out his promise to put her in his will, though he didn't know if he really had any property any

more, or if Budd stocks would be worth the paper. He pinned the pair down on whether they

were going to have another try for a son, and Irma told him they were leaving it to the Lord;

this wasn't so, but Lanny didn't contradict her, and afterward she said it would have been a

shame to worry that old man so close to the grave.

Everybody knew that he couldn't hold on much longer, and there was an underground war

going on for control of the company; a painful struggle between Robbie and his oldest brother

Lawford, that silent, morose man who was in charge of production, and whom Lanny and Irma

saw only when they attended the First Congregational Church. The old grandfather had not

said whom he wished to have succeed him, and of course nobody liked to ask him. For some

time Lawford had been seeking out the directors and presenting his side of the case, which

involved telling them of the blunders which Robbie had committed—or what Lawford

considered blunders. Naturally, this made it necessary for Robbie to defend himself, and it was

an ugly situation. Robbie thought he had the whip hand so far. His father had renewed his

contract as European sales representative for another five years, so if Lawford got the

presidency they'd have to pay a pretty price to buy Robbie out.

VII

The business situation in Germany went from bad to worse. Robbie received a letter from

Johannes, saying that it looked like the end of everything. Foreign loans were no more, and

Germany couldn't go on without them. Johannes was taking more money out of the country,

and asking Robbie's help in investing it. Robbie told his son in strict confidence—not even Irma

was allowed to know —that President Hoover had prepared a declaration of a moratorium on

international debts; he was still hesitating about this grave step; would it help or would it cause