Mrs. Waterman pinched her young Amzi, who sweetly chirruped, "We'd love to have you use it, Uncle Amzi."
"If Uncle Amzi falls off and breaks hims neck, it would be so fun-nee," piped Susan delightedly.
"Susan!" exclaimed Susan's mother, lifting a severe finger.
"It would be fun-nee. Wouldn't it be fun-nee, Aunt Katie? Danny Holton, he fell off hims bicycle going down hims toboggan and breaked one leg; and it ain't got mended yet. And papa says Uncle Amzi's so fat an' he tumble on the ice it would smash him like a old cucumber. Yes, I did, too, hear him say it. Didn't you hear him say it, mamma?"
Mrs. Fosdick had heard nothing of the kind, for the excellent reason, as her husband declared, that no such impious thought had ever crossed his mind, much less expressed itself in Susan's presence.
Amzi roared with delight, caught up Susan and planted her on his shoulder. Even if Paul Fosdick really had compared him to a mature cucumber it did not greatly matter. Fanny Fosdick glared at her Paul. All the adults present except Amzi were plainly distressed. Mrs. Hastings, being childless and therefore entitled to her opinions as to the rearing of children, resolved that at last she must speak to Fanny about Susie. And all this embarrassment and irritation by the guileless Susie had not disturbed Amzi one whit. Amzi had no intention of rewriting his will to punish Susie, or her forbears.
Hastings, gloomily inhaling a cigarette, turned over the pages of the book which Amzi had given him. It was a late study of the art of Henry Irving, and its bestowal had been a conscious flattery on Amzi's part. Still, it touched unhappy chords in Hastings's bosom. Who was better equipped than he to catch up the fallen mantle of Irving? And here he lay impotent in the hands of the fates that had set him down in a dull village, without means even to hang a moving-picture screen upon the deserted stage of his theater.
Amzi, having crawled over the floor with Susie at some personal inconvenience and distress, was now helping his namesakes to set up the engines he had given them, while their mothers murmured suggestions and warnings. Waterman stood at the window looking out upon the snow-covered lawn. Fosdick scanned the market page in Amzi's copy of the Indianapolis "Advertiser." It was in Waterman's mind that if he had the essential funds he might the next year renew his assaults upon the halls of Congress. The brothers-in-law distrusted and disliked each other. Each, after his fashion, was a failure; and the angle of their several failures had become acute. Their wives made a brave showing to the public and to each other; there was always the Montgomery pride to be sustained.
Amzi, having abandoned the field of engineering to his nephews, contemplated the scene philosophically with his back to the fire. His sisters discussed the annual ball to be given in January by the Sons of Montgomery. They were on the invitation committee, and were confronted with the usual problems of elimination. There was a standard to maintain, and the Newells, who had just moved from Ladoga, and set up a new house and a six-cylinder automobile, were, as every one was saying, such nice people; and Newell undoubtedly made a lot of money out of his sawmills; and all that. They were painfully conscious that their husbands were not amusing Amzi or each other.
"Where's Phil, Amzi?" asked Mrs. Waterman.