Four "Jenny's on the downstairs phone." This information came from the girl who was on telephone duty,although i had not told her who i was,or why i had come to the dorm that Monday evening. "Where's the telephone box?" "Around the corner." I walked in the direction of her pointing finger.From a distance i could see Jenny on the phone.She had left the door of the telephone box open.I walked slo wly,hoping she'd catch sight of my bandaged cheek,bang down the receiver and run into my arms.As i came nearer,i heard her side of the conversation. "Yes,of course!Absolutely.Oh,yes,Phil i love you too,Phil." I stopped.Who was she talking to? I had been away only forty-eight hours,and someone called Phil had taken my place! "Yes,Phil.I love you too.Goodbye." As she was putting down the receiver,she saw me.She did not even go red.She smiled and waved and blew me a kiss.How could she be so false? She kissed me lightly on my unhurt cheek. "Hey-you look terrible." "I'm wounded,Jen." "Does the other man look worse?" "Yes,Much worse.I always make the other man look worse." I said that in a way which,i hoped,would suggest to Jenny that i was prepare d to flatten anybody who touched her while i was out of sight and /or out of min d.She took my arm and we started towards the door. "Goodnight,Jenny,"called the girl on telephone duty. "Goodnight,Sara Jane,"Jenny called back. When we were outside,ready to step into my M.G.sports car,i took a breath of evening air.Then i put the question to her as lightly and carelessly as i could . "Say,Jen..." "Yes?" "Uh-who's Phil?" "My father,"she answered as she got into the car. I wasn't going to believe a story like that. "You call your father Phil?" "That's his name.What do you call yours?" Jenny had once told me that her father had brought her up.He was some sort o f baker in Cranston,Rhode Island.When she was very young her mother was killed i n a car crash.She told me all this as an explanation of why she did not drive a car.Her father was,in every other way,"a truly good man"(her words). But he was very unhappy about letting his only daughter drive.This made things very difficu lt during her last years at high school,when she was studying music with a teach er in Providence. "What do you call yours?"she asked again.My mind had been on other things.I had not even heard her question. "My what?" "Your father.What title do you employ when you speak of your father?" "Stonyface." "You call him that,to his face?" "I never see his face." "Why not?" "Because it's covered with stone." "Go on-he must take a great pride in you.You're a big Harvard hockey star-an d you get As in exams." I looked at her.I guess she didnt know everything after all. "He was a big sportsman too,Jenny." "Bigger than you?" "Much bigger.He ran in the 1928 Olympics." "My God,"she said,"Did he win?" "No,"i replied,i think she realized that the fact that Oliver Barrett the Th ird only came sixth,actually gave me some comfort. There was a little silence.Now ,i thought,perhaps Jenny will understand that being Oliver Barrett 4 doesnt only mean living with that grey stone building in Harvard Yard.It means having to do well.At everything,all the time. "But what does he do to make you hate him so much?" "He makes me do things." "Like what,Oliver?Just what does he make you do?"Jenny's eyes were wide and puzzle now. "He makes me do'the right things',"i said. "What's wrong with'the right things'?"asked Jenny,amused and interested. I told her how i hated being prepared to be a Barrett.She had never realized that before.But she ought,for she had seen how uncomfortable i looked whenever i had to mention the number at the end of my name.I did not like being the fourt h Oliver Barrett.And i did not like having to deliver a certain amount of succes s,in work and sport'every term. "Oh,yes,i'm sure,"laughed Jenny whe i told her this."I notice how you hate g etting A's in your exams,playing for the university...." "The thing I hate is that he expects all that!"i said.I had always felt like this,but i had never put it into words before.Now,just saying it made Jenny und erstand it all."And when i do succeed in something,he isnt excited,or surprised, or anything like that.I mean,he expects it." "But he's a busy man.Doesn't he have lots of banks and things like that?" "My God,Jenny,whose side are you on?" "Is this a war?"she asked. "Most certainly,"i replied. "You're just talking nonsense,Oliver." She really did not share,or even understand ,my point of view.And i realized for the first time that her views on family life were completely different from mine.Even after three and a half years at Radcliffe,Jenny still stuck firmly to some strange Italian idea of family love.And nothing i could say about The Man with the Face of Stone would make any difference. I tried to give her and example.That stupid nonconversation about the Cornel l match.That certainly had an effect on her.But the wrong one. "He went all the way up to Ithaca just to watch a stupid hockey game?" I tried to explain that,with my father,this meant nothing.But still she coul d not understand. "You say horrible things about your father,when he traveled all that way,jus t to watch you play hockey!" "Look,Jenny,cant we just forget it?" "I'm glad you have problems with your father,"she replied."That means you're not perfect." "Oh-you mean you are?" "God,no,Preppie.If i was,would i be going out with you?" Back to business as usual.