The Turmoil, a novel by Booth Tarkington
page 90 of 348 (25%)
page 90 of 348 (25%)
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made money for me every day right along, I don't know how many years.
I love it like I do my own business, and I'd fight for it as quick as I'd fight for my own family. It's a beautiful town. Look at our wholesale district; look at any district you want to; look at the park system we're puttin' through, and the boulevards and the public statuary. And she grows. God! how she grows!" He had become intensely grave; he spoke with solemnity. "Now, Bibbs, I can't take any of it--nor any gold or silver nor buildings nor bonds--away with me in my shroud when I have to go. But I want to leave my share in it to my boys. I've worked for it; I've been a builder and a maker; and two blades of grass have grown where one grew before, whenever I laid my hand on the ground and willed 'em to grow. I've built big, and I want the buildin' to go on. And when my last hour comes I want to know that my boys are ready to take charge; that they're fit to take charge and go ON with it. Bibbs, when that hour comes I want to know that my boys are big men, ready and fit to hold of big things. Bibbs, when I'm up above I want to know that the big share I've made mine, here below, is growin' bigger and bigger in the charge of my boys." He leaned back, deeply moved. "There!" he said, huskily. "I've never spoken more what was in my heart in my life. I do it because I want you to understand--and not think me a mean father. I never had to talk that way to Jim and Roscoe. They understood without any talk, Bibbs." "I see," said Bibbs. "At least I think I do. But--" "Wait a minute!" Sheridan raised his hand. "If you see the least bit in the world, then you understand how it feels to me to have my son |
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