After all, a conscience like that is a good thing to have at the bottom
of a friendship. I could be friends with a man of almost any religion,
but hardly with a man of none. Certainly the intimacy that sprang up
between Talbert and me was fruitful in all the good things that cheer
life's journey from day to day, and deep enough to stand the strain of
life's earthquakes and tornadoes. There was a love-affair that might
have split us apart; but it only put the rivets into our friendship.
For both of us in that affair--yes, all three of us, thank God--played
a straight game. There was a time of loss and sorrow for me when he
proved himself more true and helpful than any brother that I ever knew.
I was best man at his wedding; and because he married a girl that
understood, his house became more like a home to me than any other
place that my wandering life has found.
I saw its amazing architectural proportions erupt into the pride of
Eastridge. I saw Cyrus himself, with all his scroll-saw tastes and
mansard-roof opinions, by virtue of sheer honesty and thorough-going
human decency, develop into the unassuming "first citizen" of the town,
trusted even by those who laughed at him, and honored most by his
opponents. I saw his aggravating family of charming children grow
around him--masterful Maria, aesthetic Charles Edward, pretty Peggy,
fairy-tale Alice, and boisterous Billy--each at heart lovable and
fairly good; but, taken in combination, bewildering and perplexing to
the last degree.
Pages:
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290