There is no question about it now.
I'm in love.
May 11
After all this thinking and worrying, I realized Alice was right. I had to trust my intuition.
At the bakery, I watched Gimpy more closely. Three times today, I saw him undercharging customers and pocketing his portion of the difference as the customers passed money back to him. It was only with me that these people were as guilty as he. Without their agreement this could never take place.
Why should Gimpy be the scapegoat?
That's when I decided on the compromise.
It might not be the perfect decision, but it was my decision, and it seemed to be the best answer under the circumstances.
I would tell Gimpy what I knew and warn him to stop.
I got him alone back by the washroom, and when I came up to him he started away.
"I've got something important to talk to you about," I said.
"I want your advice for a friend who has a problem. He's discovered that one of his fellow employees is cheating his boss, and he doesn't know what to do about it.
He doesn't like the idea of informing and getting the guy into trouble, but he won't stand by and let his boss—who has been good to both of them—be cheated."
Gimpy looked at me hard.
"What does this friend of yours plan to do about it?"
"That's the trouble. He doesn't want to do anything.
He feels if the stealing stops there would be nothing gained by doing anything at all.
He would forget about it."
"Your friend ought to keep his nose in his own business," said Gimpy, shifting off his club foot.
"He ought to keep his eyes closed to things like that and know who his friends are.
A boss is a boss, and working people got to stick together."
"My friend doesn't feel that way."
"It's none of his business."
"He feels that if he knows about it he's partly responsible.
So he's decided that if the thing stops, he's got nothing more to say.
Otherwise, he'll tell the whole story. I wanted to ask your opinion.
Do you think that under the circumstances the stealing will stop?"
It was a strain for him to conceal his anger.
I could see that he wanted to hit me, but he just kept squeezing his fist.
"Tell your friend the guy doesn't seem to have any choice."
"That's fine," I said.
"That will make my friend very happy."
Gimpy started away, and then he paused and looked back.
"Your friend—could it be maybe he's interested in a cut? Is that his reason?"
"No, he just wants the whole thing to stop."
He glared at me.
"I can tell you, you'll be sorry you stuck your nose in.
I always stood up for you. I should of had my head examined." And then he limped off.
Perhaps I ought to have told Donner the whole story and had Gimpy fired—I don't know. Doing it this way has something to be said for it.
It's over and done with.
But how many people are there like Gimpy who use other people that way?
May 15
My studies are going well.
The university library is my second home now.
They've had to get me a private room because it takes me only a second to absorb the printed page, and curious students invariably gather around me as I flip through my books.
My most absorbing interests at the present time are etymologies of ancient languages, the newer works on the calculus of variations, and Hindu history.
It's amazing the way things, apparently disconnected, hang together.
I've moved up to another plateau, and now the streams of the various disciplines seem to be closer to each other as if they flow from a single source.
Strange how when I'm in the college cafeteria and hear the students arguing about history or politics or religion, it all seems so childish.
I find no pleasure in discussing ideas any more on such an elementary level.