Free Young Hearts Crying by Richard Yates Page A

waist, wearing only a pair of brief khaki shorts, sturdy work shoes with no socks, and a blue bandana tied low and tight around his brow. When he saw he would be introduced to strangers his eyes and mouth took on a look of pleased expectancy.
    “This is Ben Duane,” Ann Blake announced, and after a moment’s futile fumbling for the Davenports’ name she said “These nice people came to look at the guesthouse, Ben, so I’ve been showing them around.”
    “Oh, the little guest house, yes,” he said. “Very nice. Still, I think you’ll find the real advantage here is the place itself – the acreage, the grass and the trees, the privacy.”
    “That’s just what I’ve tried to tell them,” she said, and looked at the Davenports for confirmation. “Isn’t it?”
    “We’re well away from the world here, you see,” Ben Duane went on, absently scratching one armpit. “The world can go about its brutal business every day and we’re shielded from it. We’re safe.”
    “What’re the bricks for, Ben?” she asked him.
    “Oh, one or two of the terraces could use a little shoring up,” he said. “Thought I’d better get it done before the frost sets in. Well. So nice to’ve met you both. Hope it works out.”
    And as Ann Blake led them away she seemed scarcely able to wait until the old man was out of earshot before talking about him: “You
are
aware of Ben’s work, of course, aren’t you?”
    “Oh, yes, certainly,” Lucy said, allowing Michael to nod and keep his mouth shut. He had never heard the name.
    “Well, it’d be really surprising if you weren’t,” she told them. “He’s one of the real – he’s an ornament of the American stage. His readings from Walt Whitman alone were enough to make him famous – he toured every major city in the United States with that production – and then of course he created the role of Abraham Lincoln in
Mr. Lincoln’s Difficulties
on Broadway. And he’s marvelously versatile: he even took an important singing part with the original Broadway cast of
Stake Your Claim! –
oh, what a lighthearted, fun show that was. Now he’s been blacklisted, as I expect you know – one more vile, unspeakable act of Senator McCarthy, you see – and we’re deeply honored that he’s chosen to spend his time of exile here. He’s one of the finest – one of the finest human beings I know.”
    They were walking on a gravel road or driveway now, but Mrs. Blake was out of breath again and had to stop for a few seconds, with a hand under one breast, before she could resume her monologue.
    “So. Now if you’ll look down through the trees, down into that clearing, you’ll see our picnic area. See the lovely big outdoor fireplace? And the long tables? My husband built all those tables himself. We’d have wonderful parties there sometimes, with Japanese lanterns strung up all around. My husband used to say the only thing we lacked was a swimming pool, but I never minded that because I’m not a swimmer anyway.
    “And now coming up here, straight ahead, is the annex of the dorm. There were times when we’d have so many theater people, you see, that we needed an extra building. Most of it’s been closed off and boarded-up for years, but one section of it makes a really nice apartment, so we’ve been renting the apartment to a pleasant young family named Smith. They have four small children, and they love it here. They’re the salt of the earth.”
    A girl of about seven sat carefully changing her doll’s clothes on the fringe of grass that bordered the gravel road. Beside her was a baby’s playpen in which a boy of four or five stood sucking his thumb, holding onto the railing with his free hand.
    “Hello, Elaine,” Mrs. Blake called brightly to the girl. “Or wait – are you Elaine or Anita?”
    “No, I’m Anita.”
    “Well, you’re all growing up so fast it’s really hard for a person to keep track. And you,” she said to the boy. “What’s a big guy like you