Free Young Mr. Keefe by Stephen; Birmingham

ghost stories.” They found a tree and sat around it, but it was soon uncomfortable. They went back to the edge of the fire and sat on the ground, back to back, and leaned against each other.
    â€œNo ghost stories? Then I’ll begin the story of my life,” Claire said.
    The fish jumped still, and there were a few night birds here and there, but all sounds were either very close or far away. “I like college week-ends,” Claire began. “And I like week-ends like this, deliriously. I like doing nothing at all. I like boys who wear dirty old scuffed-up white buck shoes in college towns, and polo coats. I used to like fraternity parties hopelessly, but now I’m jaded. They bore me. I like people—nice, silly people, who do silly things in silly places. You have to know all this before you understand the story of my life,” she said parenthetically. Her voice trailed off. “But I realize,” she said sadly, “that I am one of the silliest people who does the silliest things in some of the most ridiculous places, like the Biltmore.”
    â€œWell, you’re also one of the nicest,” Jimmy said.
    â€œAh—do you think so?”
    â€œSentimental,” Blazer said. “You and Claire are just alike. You think everybody should be nice and warm and wonderful and funny and amusing. And when you find out they’re not, you can’t take it. You act all hurt and bewildered.”
    â€œI have my serious side,” Claire said. “Do you know something that worries me? Look at us! We’re not people who have fought the wars. When the First World War was fought, we weren’t even born. When the Second World War was fought, we were children. When the Korean War was fought, we were going to football week-ends at Yale and both of you were marching around campus in the R.O.T.C. It’s all kind of an illusion with us, isn’t it? Anzio Beachhead, Heartbreak Ridge … they’re just quaint romantic names. They have no real, personal meaning to us. We weren’t there—we weren’t even aware ! We’ve contributed nothing. We’re a generation that feels the world owes us a living, just because we’re attractive.”
    â€œNow, that is a serious thought!” Blazer said.
    â€œOf course. We’ve never been tested. If we were given a challenge, how do we know we’d stand up! The biggest challenge we’ve ever had is—well, it’s climbing a mountain.”
    â€œBut don’t worry.” Blazer said, “we’ll have wars to fight before we’re through.”
    â€œI think we hope so, don’t we? We really hope so, so that we’ll have a chance to prove ourselves.”
    They were silent, thinking about this.
    â€œAnd then,” Claire said, “of course we’re idlers. We work, but only because we feel we should. It’s expected of us. We like to think of ourselves as staunch New Englanders, with lots of Puritan spirit. But we’re just living on money that our grandfathers and great-grandfathers made. Blazer and I—we don’t live on Blazer’s salary. The little dividend cheques come in every three months … we’re just spending money somebody else had to work to make. We won’t make any fortunes of our own. Our children, or our grandchildren, will have to start all over again. There won’t be any left for them.”
    â€œClaire feels guilty because her old man’s got millions,” Blazer said.
    â€œI do. Why should I feel proud? I didn’t do anything to make them.”
    â€œWell, neither did he. All he did was vote the Republican ticket.”
    â€œStill, we’re living, on the fruits of somebody else’s work, someone we don’t even understand. Jimmy, am I making any sense?”
    â€œI know what Claire means,” he said.
    â€œIn California, the fortunes are being made now. Here. To-day.”
    â€œBut who wants