Man in the Gray Flannel Suit by Sloan Wilson Page A

being responsible for old Edward. What are we supposed to do, pay him a salary for the rest of his life, or give him a lump sum? You can’t throw an old man like that out on the street. And I’m worried about Grandmother’s house. It would cost us at least six thousand a year to hang onto it, counting mortgage, taxes, minimum repairs, and a caretaker of some kind. You’d have to have a caretaker there, or it would go to hell in no time. Are you going to keep a house that costs you six thousand dollars a year on a salary of nine thousand? And what happens when you lose the job paying you the nine thousand?”
    “You can’t look at things like that,” Betsy said. “You’ve got to plan on things going all right. I’ve never seen you lose your self-confidence!”
    “I haven’t lost it, but maybe it’s time we started being sensible. All we’ve ever thought about is getting out of this house. The more I think about it, the more I think that’s crazy. This house is plenty comfortable enough. With nine thousand a year, we could afford some life insurance. Did you ever stop and think what would happen to you if I dropped dead some morning?”
    “Don’t think about it!” Betsy said. “I’d drop dead right alongside you.”
    “Then what would happen to the children?”
    “What’s gotten into you, Tommy? I’ve never heard you talk like this before!”
    “I think we’ve both always assumed that Grandmother would be waiting to catch us if we tripped,” he said. “Maybe it’s time we grew up. She’s not there any more.”
    “All right, get some more insurance,” Betsy said, “but when we sell Grandmother’s place, we can still afford a better home.”
    “Can we? Let’s say that after we take care of old Edward, we net twenty thousand dollars out of Grandmother’s house. Let’s say I hang onto my job, and over the years get a few small raises–I’m beginning to doubt like hell I’m going to get rich quick on a mental-health project. Let’s say, though, that in ten years I’m making fifteen thousand. How are we going to send the kids to college?”
    “On fifteen thousand it would be easy!”
    “Maybe–but we’ve never lived on a budget yet. For a while, all three kids will be in college at the same time. We ought to figure at least three thousand dollars a year for each child at college. That’snine thousand a year, after taxes. That means we’ll need thirty-six thousand dollars to send three kids through college. Do you think you could take that out of my salary?”
    “We’d manage it somehow. Anyway, they wouldn’t need three thousand a year.”
    “I needed it, and that was fifteen years ago, almost. We’ve never talked about this, Betsy, but I figure we owe our kids the same kind of education we got, and that’s what Grandmother’s money really should be used for.”
    “You plan to live the rest of our lives here? ”
    “We could do worse.”
    “I don’t give a damn,” she said. “I won’t be noble. Not unless you make me.”
    “Think it over,” he said.
    “I have thought it over. It’s not fair to the children to bring them up in a neighborhood like this!”
    “What’s wrong with this neighborhood?”
    “it’s dull. ”
    “You mean “The Senator’ wouldn’t like it?”
    “That’s cruel,” she said. “Anyway, “The Senator’ is your ancestor, not mine. I mean that I don’t like it, and I’m not ashamed to admit it!”
    “It’s time we forgot the Rath family’s dreams of glory, and your family’s dreams of glory too,” he said. “It’s time we started being sensible.”
    “My family never had any dreams of glory!”
    “Didn’t your father borrow ten thousand dollars to throw that coming-out party where I met you?”
    Betsy flushed. “Where did you hear that?”
    “He told me himself. He was very honest about explaining to me that I wasn’t marrying any money.”
    “Dad borrowed it to keep a promise,” she said. “Ever since I was a little