Read The Best Early Stories of F. Scott Fitzgerald for Free Online Page B

has just sort of scared them at first. Do they all come in so
young?
”
    “No, some of them have knocked around, led pretty wild lives— Regan, for instance.”
    “I should think that sort would be better,” she said meditatively, “men that had
seen
life.”
    “No,” said Kieth earnestly, “I’m not sure that knocking about gives a man the sort of experience he can communicate to others. Some of the broadest men I’ve known have been absolutely rigid about themselves. And reformed libertines are a notoriously intolerant class. Don’t you think so, Lois?”
    She nodded, still meditative, and he continued:
    “It seems to me that when one weak person goes to another, it isn’t help they want; it’s a sort of companionship in guilt, Lois. After you were born, when mother began to get nervous she used to go and weep with a certain Mrs. Comstock. Lord, it used to make me shiver. She said it comforted her, poor old mother. No, I don’t think that to help others you’ve got to show yourself at all. Real help comes from a stronger person whom you respect. And their sympathy is all the bigger because it’s impersonal.”
    “But people want human sympathy,” objected Lois. “They want to feel the other person’s been tempted.”
    “Lois, in their hearts they want to feel that the other person’s been weak. That’s what they mean by human.
    “Here in this old monkery, Lois,” he continued with a smile, “they try to get all that self-pity and pride in our own wills out of us right at the first. They put us to scrubbing floors—and other things. It’s like that idea of saving your life by losing it. You see we sort of feel that the less human a man is, in your sense of human, the better servant he can be to humanity. We carry it out to the end, too. When one of us dies his family can’t even have him then. He’s buried here under a plain wooden cross with a thousand others.”
    His tone changed suddenly and he looked at her with a great brightness in his gray eyes.
    “But way back in a man’s heart there are some things he can’t get rid of—and one of them is that I’m awfully in love with my little sister.”
    With a sudden impulse she knelt beside him in the grass and, leaning over, kissed his forehead.
    “You’re hard, Kieth,” she said, “and I love you for it—and you’re sweet.”
    III
    Back in the reception-room Lois met a half-dozen more of Kieth’s particular friends; there was a young man named Jarvis, rather pale and delicate-looking, who, she knew, must be a grandson of old Mrs. Jarvis at home, and she mentally compared this ascetic with a brace of his riotous uncles.
    And there was Regan with a scarred face and piercing intent eyes that followed her about the room and often rested on Kieth with something very like worship. She knew then what Kieth had meant about “a good man to have with you in a fight.”
    He’s the missionary type—she thought vaguely—China or something.
    “I want Kieth’s sister to show us what the shimmy is,” demanded one young man with a broad grin.
    Lois laughed.
    “I’m afraid the Father Rector would send me shimmying out the gate. Besides, I’m not an expert.”
    “I’m sure it wouldn’t be best for Jimmy’s soul anyway,” said Kieth solemnly. “He’s inclined to brood about things like shimmys. They were just starting to do the—maxixe, 5 wasn’t it, Jimmy?—when he became a monk, and it haunted him his whole first year. You’d see him when he was peeling potatoes, putting his arm around the bucket and making irreligious motions with his feet.”
    There was a general laugh in which Lois joined.
    “An old lady who comes here to Mass sent Kieth this ice-cream,” whispered Jarvis under cover of the laugh, “because she’d heard you were coming. It’s pretty good, isn’t it?”
    There were tears trembling in Lois’ eyes.
    IV
    Then half an hour later over in the chapel things suddenly went all wrong. It was several years since