Produced by David Widger
THE ADVENTURES OF A SUBURBANITE
By Ellis Parker Butler
Illustrator: A. B. Phelan
Garden City New York Doubleday, Page & Company
1911
I. THE PRAWLEYS
ISOBEL was born in a flat, and that was no fault of her own; but she wasborn in a flat, and reared in a flat, and married from a flat, and, fortwo years after we were married, we lived in a flat; but I am not a bornflat-dweller myself, and as soon as possible I proposed that we move tothe country. Isobel hesitated, but she hesitated so weakly that on thefirst of May we had bought the place at Westcote and moved into it.
The very day I moved into my house Millington came over and said he wasglad some one had moved in, because the last man that had lived in thehouse was afraid of automobiles, and would never take a spin withhim. He said he hoped I was not afraid; and when I said I was not, heimmediately proposed that we take a little spin out to Port Lafayetteas soon as I had my furniture straightened around. I thought it was verynice and neighbourly and unusual for a man with an automobile to beginan acquaintance that way; but I did not know Millington's automobile sowell then as I grew to know it afterward.
I liked Millington. He was a short, Napoleon-looking man, with bulldogjaws and not very much hair, and I was glad to have him for aneighbour, particularly as my neighbour on the other side was a tall,haughty-looking man. He leaned on the division fence and stared all thewhile our furniture was being moved in. I spoke to Millington about him,and all Millington said was: "Rolfs? Oh, he's no good! He won't ride inan automobile."
At first, while we were really getting settled in our house, Isobel wasbright and cheerful and seemed to have forgotten flats entirely but onthe tenth of May I saw a change coming over her, and when I spoke of itshe opened her heart to me.
"John," she said, "I am afraid I cannot stand it. I shall try to, foryour sake, but I do not think I can. I am so lonely! I feel like an atomfloating in space."
"Isobel!" I said kindly but reprovingly. "With the Millingtons on oneside and the Rolfs on the other?"
"I know," she admitted contritely enough; "but you can't understand.Always and always, since I was born, some one has lived overhead,and some one has lived underneath. Sometimes only the janitor livedunderneath--"
"Isobel," I said, "if you will try to explain what you mean--"
"I mean flats," she said dolefully. "I always lived in a flat, John, andthere was always a family above and a family below, and it frightens meto think I am in a house where there is no family above me, and not evena janitor's family below me. It makes me feel naked, or suspended inair, or as if there was no ground under my feet. It makes me gasp!"
"That is nonsense!" I said. "That is the beauty of having a house. Wehave it all to ourselves. Now, in a flat--"
"We had our flat all to ourselves, John," she reminded me; "but a flatisn't so unbounded as a house. Just think; there is nothing between usand the top of the sky! Not a single family! It makes me nervous. Andthere is nothing beneath us!"
"Now, my dear," I said soothingly, "China is beneath us, and no doubt avery respectable family is keeping house directly below."
Isobel sighed contentedly.
"I am so glad you thought of that!" she cried. "Now, when I feel lonely,I can imagine I feel the house jar as the Chinese family move theirpiano, or I can imagine that I hear their phonograph."
"Very good," I said; "and if you can imagine all that, why cannot youimagine a family overhead, too? The whole attic is there. Very well; Igive up the entire attic to your imagination."
Then I kissed her and went into the back garden. My opinion is that theman that laid out that back garden was over-sanguine. I am passionatelyfond of gardening, and believe in back gardens; but at the presentprice of seed and the present hardness of hoe handles, I think that backgarden is too large. This is not a mere flash opinion, either; it isa matter of study. The first day I stuck spade into that garden I hadgiven little thought to its size, but by the time I had spaded all dayI began to have a pretty well-defined opinion of gardens and how largethey should be, and by the end of the third day of spading I believeI may say I was well equipped to testify as an expert on garden sizes.That was the day the blisters on my hands became raw.
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The day after my little conversation with Isobel I returned home frombusiness to find her awaiting me at the gate. She wore a bright smile,and she put her hand through my arm and hopped into step with me.
"John," she said cheerfully, "the Prawleys moved in to-day."
"The Prawleys? Who are the Prawleys, and what did they move into?" Iasked.
"Why, how do I know who they are, John?" she said. "I suppose we willknow all about them soon enough, but you can't expect me to learn allabout a family the day they move in. And as for what they moved into, ofcourse there was only one vacant flat."
"Flat? One vacant flat? What flat?" I asked. I was afraid Isobel was notentirely herself.
"The one above us," she said, and then as she saw the blank look on myface she said: "The--the--oh, John, _don't_ you understand? The attic!"
"Hum!" I said suspiciously, looking at Isobel; but her face was sobright, and she looked so thoroughly contented that I did not tell herwhat I thought of this sort of pretending. Too much of it is not goodfor a person. "Very well," I said; "I only hope they will not be toonoisy."
"I don't think they will," said Isobel, smiling. "At least not while youare home." She helped me off with my light coat, and when we were seatedat the table she said: "By the way, Mr. Millington leaned over the fencethis afternoon, and said he hoped you would take a little ride to PortLafayette with him soon. He says his automobile is in almost perfectshape now."
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