Free Look Homeward, Angel - Thomas Wolfe by Thomas Wolfe

three weeks, and shamefacedly he took up
the routine of his life.  But Eliza was preparing for a change.
    It was 1904; there was in preparation a great world's
exposition at Saint Louis: it was to be the visual history of
civilization, bigger, better, and greater than anything of its kind
ever known before.  Many of the Altamont people intended to go:
Eliza was fascinated at the prospect of combining travel with profit.
    "Do you know what?" she began thoughtfully
one night, as she laid down the paper, "I've a good notion to
pack up and go."
    "Go?  Go where?"
    "To Saint Louis," she answered.  "Why,
say--if things work out all right, we might simply pull out and
settle down there."  She knew that the suggestion of a
total disruption of the established life, a voyage to new lands, a
new quest of fortune fascinated him.  It had been talked of
years before when he had broken his partnership with Will Pentland.
    "What do you intend to do out there?  How
are the children going to get along?"
    "Why, sir," she began smugly, pursing her
lips thoughtfully, and smiling cunningly, "I'll simply get me a
good big house and drum up a trade among the Altamont people who are
going."
    "Merciful God, Mrs. Gant!" he howled
tragically, "you surely wouldn't do a thing like that.  I
beg you not to."
    "Why, pshaw, Mr. Gant, don't be such a fool. 
There's nothing wrong in keeping boarders.  Some of the most
respectable people in this town do it."  She knew what a
tender thing his pride was: he could not bear to be thought incapable
of the support of his family?one of his most frequent boasts was that
he was "a good provider." Further, the residence of any one
under his roof not of his blood and bone sowed the air about with
menace, breached his castle walls.  Finally, he had a particular
revulsion against lodgers: to earn one's living by accepting the
contempt, the scorn, and the money of what he called "cheap
boarders" was an almost unendurableignominy.
    She knew this but she could not understand his
feeling.  Not merely to possess property, but to draw income
from it was part of the religion of her family, and she surpassed
them all by her willingness to rent out a part of her home.  She
alone, in fact, of all the Pentlands was willing to relinquish the
little moated castle of home; the particular secrecy and privacy of
their walls she alone did not seem to value greatly.  And she
was the only one of them that wore a skirt.
    Eugene had been fed from her breast until he was more
than three years old: during the winter he was weaned. 
Something in her stopped; something began.
    She had her way finally.  Sometimes she would
talk to Gant thoughtfully and persuasively about the World's Fair
venture. Sometimes, during his evening tirades, she would snap back
at him using the project as a threat.  Just what was to be
achieved she did not know.  But she felt it was a beginning for
her.  And she had her way finally.
    Gant succumbed to the lure of new lands.  He was
to remain at home: if all went well he would come out later. 
The prospect, too, of release for a time excited him.  Something
of the old thrill of youth touched him.  He was left behind, but
the world lurked full of unseen shadows for a lonely man.  Daisy
was in her last year at school: she stayed with him.  But it
cost him more than a pang or two to see Helen go.  She was
almost fourteen.
    In early April, Eliza departed, bearing her excited
brood about her, and carrying Eugene in her arms.  He was
bewildered at this rapid commotion, but he was electric with
curiosity and activity.
    The Tarkintons and Duncans streamed in: there were
tears and kisses.  Mrs. Tarkinton regarded her with some awe. 
The whole neighborhood was a bit bewildered at this latest turn.
    "Well, well--you never can tell," said
Eliza, smiling tearfully and enjoying the sensation she had
provided.  "If things go well we may settle down out
there."
    "You'll come back," said Mrs. Tarkinton
with