Free Abbeville by Jack Fuller Page B

had any further contact with that girl who worked here? What was her name?”
    â€œI wrote her,” said Karl. “She didn’t reply.”
    Strictly speaking, this was true. He was afraid to tell him anything more.
    â€œGood,” said Uncle John.

7
    B Y THE TIME K ARL AND C RISTINA RE -turned to Abbeville, the tough economy was beginning to ease. The price of corn rose, and Karl was ready to capitalize on it. Just as Uncle John had said, the moment to be bold had been when everyone thought you were a fool to dare.
    Foremost among Karl’s doubters was his father.
    â€œThey say you are building a monument to yourself along the right-of-way,” he said, “and a palace to go along with it.”
    â€œOne day that elevator will overflow,” Karl said.
    â€œAnd the house with all the rooms?” his father said.
    â€œThat, too,” Karl smiled.
    His father rose from his desk, using tightly clenched fists to push himself up. It was the first time Karl had ever noticed the wear of time on him.
    â€œHave you seen Harley Ansel?” Karl’s father asked.
    â€œHe hasn’t been to town since Cristina and I came home,” Karl said.
    â€œI imagined he is pleased to see you so far in debt,” said his father.
    â€œDebt creates wealth,” said Karl. “That is what your brother taught me.”
    â€œBrothers,” said his father.
    â€œI have seen it work,” said Karl.
    â€œYou have seen it,” said his father.
    â€œLook at how successful he is,” said Karl.
    His father glared at him as if Karl had just broken a perfectly good plow on a rock.
    â€œBe careful of Harley Ansel,” his father said. “He has not been pining away for loss of love. He has been bettering himself. He will go to Urbana in the fall. He plans to become a lawyer.”
    â€œGood for him,” said Karl. “When he returns, maybe I will send some business his way.”
    â€œIt won’t be business that he’ll want from you,” said Karl’s father.
    E VERY DAY K ARL and Cristina visited the site of their new house, which Cristina had dubbed the “Karlesium.” First came the hole, then the skeleton, then the skin. One particular morning as the project neared completion, Cristina went to check on the summer kitchen and Karl squatted down to watch a colony of ants that had established itself next to the front walk. The insects bustled in and out of the hill, industrious but seemingly without a purpose, like the men in the pits. So must all of our activity look to the eye of God, Karl thought. And He must want it this way, since He rewards it so richly.
    â€œThose little critters get their building done a little faster than you do,” said a voice behind him.
    When Karl had left Abbeville, Fritz had still been singing alto in the children’s choir. Now he possessed a basso as big as the pedal tones on the church organ and stood taller than Karl by almost a head. He had also become a bit of a dandy. A boater sat atop his head at a jaunty angle, and he had clad himself in a silk vest, despite the sun.
    â€œHenry said you put in copper wire for electric candles,” he said. “I suppose it’ll be electric horses next.”
    Karl stepped onto the porch and then into the house, which still lacked a front door.
    â€œI’ll show you,” he said, leading the way to the one wall that still stood open to the studs. With his hand he felt the timbers until he found the rubber-encased wire where it went through the beam in a ceramic tube.
    â€œHere,” he said.
    Fritz put out his hand hesitantly.
    â€œThere’s no electricity yet,” said Karl, “but eventually Samuel Insull’s reach will extend to Abbeville, and then there will be enough to light every room in the house.”
    â€œYou can only be in one room at a time,” said Fritz.
    â€œHe makes the electricity out of moving water,” said