And suppose it was either of
them--yes, or me, either--do you think any of us would have stopped
if we WERE sick? Not much! I hate to say it, but Bibbs Sheridan'll
never amount to anything as long as he lives."
Mary looked thoughtful. "Is there any particular reason why he
should?" she asked.
"Good gracious!" he exclaimed. "You don't mean that, do you? Don't
you believe in a man's knowing how to earn his salt, no matter how
much money his father's got? Hasn't the business of this world got
to be carried on by everybody in it? Are we going to lay back on
what we've got and see other fellows get ahead of us? If we've got
big things already, isn't it every man's business to go ahead and
make 'em bigger? Isn't it his duty? Don't we always want to get
bigger and bigger?"
"Ye-es--I don't know. But I feel rather sorry for your brother.
He looked so lonely--and sick."
"He's gettin' better every day," Jim said. "Dr. Gurney says so.
There's nothing much the matter with him, really--it's nine-tenths
imaginary. 'Nerves'! People that are willing to be busy don't have
nervous diseases, because they don't have time to imagine 'em."
"You mean his trouble is really mental?"
"Oh, he's not a lunatic," said Jim.
Pages:
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107