committee, for Irma said that if you folded them and carried them in the car they'd be full of
creases and not fit to use again.
VI
Not much fun visiting a factory town in times like these. But it was the Budd town, and in
prosperous days everybody had been cordial to the young couple and their friends, even the
Jewish ones. So now it was necessary to stay, and give sympathy and a little help, and have
receptions held in their honor, and shake hands and chat with innumerable Budds—not even
Lanny could remember them all, and had to "bone up" as if it were for a college examination.
Also they played golf and tennis at the country club, and swam and went sailing in delightful
June weather. The countryside put on a show of wild roses, and all nature told them not to
worry too much, that life was going on.
Also they had to pay a visit to the president of Budd Gunmakers. The old man had told Lanny
that he would probably never see him again; but here he was, still holding on, still running the
company by telephone. His hands shook so that it was painful to watch; his cheeks hung in
flaps so that he seemed to have twice as much yellow skin as was needed to cover his shrinking
form; but he was the same grim Puritan, and still questioned Lanny to make sure he had not
forgotten his Bible texts. He had heard about Baby Frances, of course, and said he had carried
out his promise to put her in his will, though he didn't know if he really had any property any
more, or if Budd stocks would be worth the paper. He pinned the pair down on whether they
were going to have another try for a son, and Irma told him they were leaving it to the Lord;
this wasn't so, but Lanny didn't contradict her, and afterward she said it would have been a
shame to worry that old man so close to the grave.
Everybody knew that he couldn't hold on much longer, and there was an underground war
going on for control of the company; a painful struggle between Robbie and his oldest brother
Lawford, that silent, morose man who was in charge of production, and whom Lanny and Irma
saw only when they attended the First Congregational Church. The old grandfather had not
said whom he wished to have succeed him, and of course nobody liked to ask him. For some
time Lawford had been seeking out the directors and presenting his side of the case, which
involved telling them of the blunders which Robbie had committed—or what Lawford
considered blunders. Naturally, this made it necessary for Robbie to defend himself, and it was
an ugly situation. Robbie thought he had the whip hand so far. His father had renewed his
contract as European sales representative for another five years, so if Lawford got the
presidency they'd have to pay a pretty price to buy Robbie out.
VII
The business situation in Germany went from bad to worse. Robbie received a letter from
Johannes, saying that it looked like the end of everything. Foreign loans were no more, and
Germany couldn't go on without them. Johannes was taking more money out of the country,
and asking Robbie's help in investing it. Robbie told his son in strict confidence—not even Irma
was allowed to know —that President Hoover had prepared a declaration of a moratorium on
international debts; he was still hesitating about this grave step; would it help or would it cause
more alarm? The French, who had not been consulted, would probably be furious.
The declaration was issued soon after the young couple had returned to Shore Acres, and the
French were furious, but the Germans were not much helped. In the middle of July the great
Danat Bank failed in Berlin, and there was terror such as Lanny had witnessed in New York.
Chancellor Briining went to Paris to beg for help, and Premier Laval refused it; France was
now the strongest European power financially, and was sitting on her heap of gold, lending it
only for the arming of Poland and her other eastern allies —which were blackmailing her without
mercy. Britain had made the mistake of trying to buttress German finances, and now her own
were shaky as a result. "We're not that sort of fools," wrote young Denis de Bruyne to Lanny,
who replied: "If you let the German Republic fall and you get Hitler, will that help you?"
Young Denis did not reply.
Such were the problems faced by the statesmen while two darlings of fortune were having fun all
over the northeastern states. Invitations would come, and they would order their bags packed,
step into their car in the morning, drive several hours or perhaps all day, and step out onto an
estate in Bar Harbor or Newport, the Berkshires or the Ramapo Hills, the Adirondacks or the
Thousand Islands. Wherever it was, there would be a palace—even though it was called a
"cottage" or a "camp." The way you knew a "camp" was that it was built of "slabs," and you
wore sport clothes and didn't dress for dinner; but the meal would be just as elaborate, for
nobody stayed anywhere without sending a staff of servants ahead and having all modern
