“Well, I dream I do it with this woman,” Coverly said. “I never saw this woman in real life. She’s one of those beautiful women you see on calendars in barbershops. And sometimes,” Coverly said, blushing and hanging his head, “I dream that I do it with men. Once I dreamed I did it with a horse.”
“Do you dream in color?” the doctor asked.
“I’ve never noticed,” Coverly said.
“Well, I think our time is about up,” the doctor said.
“Well, you see, sir,” Coverly said, “I don’t want you to think that I’ve had an unhappy childhood. I guess what I’ve told you doesn’t give you a true picture but I’ve heard a little about psychology and I guessed what you wanted to know about were things like that. I’ve really had an awfully good time. We live on a farm and have a boat and plenty of hunting and fishing and just about the best food in the world. I’ve had a happy time.”
“Well, thank you, Mr. Wapshot,” the doctor said, “and good-by.”
On Monday morning Coverly got up early and had his pants pressed as soon as the tailor shop opened. Then he walked to his cousin’s office in midtown. A receptionist asked if he had an appointment and when he said that he hadn’t she said that she couldn’t arrange one until Thursday. “But I’m Mr. Brewer’s cousin,” Coverly said. “I’m Coverly Wapshot.” The secretary only smiled and told him to come back on Thursday morning. Coverly was not worried. He knew that his cousin was occupied with many details and surrounded by executives and secretaries and that the problems of this distant Wapshot might have slipped his mind. His only problem was one of money. He didn’t have much left. He had a hamburger and a glass of milk for supper and gave the landlady the rent that night when he came in. On Tuesday he ate a box of raisins for breakfast, having heard somewhere that raisins were healthful and filling. For supper he had a bun and a glass of milk. On Wednesday morning he bought a paper, which left him with sixty cents. In the help-wanted advertisements there were some openings for stock clerks and he went to an employment agency and then crossed town to a department store and was told to return at the end of the week. He bought a quart of milk and marking the container off in three sections drank one section for breakfast, one for lunch and one for dinner.
The hunger pains of a young man are excruciating and when Coverly went to bed on Wednesday night he was doubled up with pain. On Thursday morning he had nothing to eat at all and spent the last of his money having his pants pressed. He walked to his cousin’s office and told the girl he had an appointment. She was cheerful and polite and asked him to sit down and wait. He waited for an hour. He was so hungry by this time that it was nearly impossible for him to sit up straight. Then the receptionist told him that no one in Mr. Brewer’s office knew about his appointment but that if he would return late in the afternoon she might be able to help him. He dozed on a park bench until four and returned to the office and while the receptionist’s manner remained cheerful her refusal this time was final. Mr. Brewer was out of town. From there Coverly went to Cousin Mildred’s apartment house but the doorman stopped him and telephoned upstairs and was told that Mrs. Brewer couldn’t see anyone; she was just leaving to keep an engagement. Coverly went outside the building and waited and in a few minutes Cousin Mildred came out and Coverly went up to her. “Oh yes, yes,” she said, when he told her what had happened. “Yes, of course. I thought Harry’s office must have told you. It’s something about your emotional picture. They think you’re unemployable. I’m so sorry but there’s nothing I can do about it, is there? Of course your grandfather was second crop.” She unfastened her purse and took out a bill and handed it to Coverly and got into a taxi and drove away. Coverly wandered over to the park.
It was dark then and he was tired, lost and despairing—no one in the city knew his name—and where was his home—the shawls from India and the crows winging their way up the river valley like businessmen with brief cases, off to catch a bus? This was on the Mall, the lights of the city burning through the trees and dimly lighting the air with the colors of reflected fire, and he saw the statues ranged along the broad walk like the tombs of kings—Columbus, Sir Walter Scott, Burns, Halleck and Morse—and he took from these dark shapes a faint comfort and hope. It was not their minds or their works he adored but the kindliness and warmth they must have possessed when they lived and so lonely and so bitter was he then that he would take those brasses and stones for company. Sir Walter Scott would be his friend, his Moses and Leander.
Then he got some supper—this friend of Sir Walter Scott—and in the morning went to work as a stock clerk for Warburton’s Department Store.
