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+The Project Gutenberg eBook of Oh, Money! Money!, by Eleanor Hodgman Porter
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
+most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
+whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
+of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at
+www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you
+will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before
+using this eBook.
+
+Title: Oh, Money! Money!
+
+Author: Eleanor Hodgman Porter
+
+Release Date: June 1, 2004 [eBook #5962]
+[Most recently updated: May 2, 2021]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+Produced by: Charles Franks, Charles Aldarondo, and the
+Online Distributed Proofreading Team.
+Revised by Richard Tonsing.
+
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OH, MONEY! MONEY! ***
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: Helen Mason Grose
+“I WAS THINKING—OF MR. STANLEY G. FULTON”]
+
+
+
+
+                           OH, MONEY! MONEY!
+
+                                A NOVEL
+
+
+                                  BY
+
+                           ELEANOR H. PORTER
+
+                               Author of
+
+              The Road to Understanding, Just David, Etc.
+
+                WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY HELEN MASON GROSE
+
+
+
+
+                               _To_
+
+                          MY FRIEND
+
+                          EVA BAKER
+
+
+
+
+                               CONTENTS
+
+
+     I. EXIT MR. STANLEY G. FULTON
+
+    II. ENTER MR. JOHN SMITH
+
+   III. THE SMALL BOY AT THE KEYHOLE
+
+    IV. IN SEARCH OF SOME DATES
+
+     V. IN MISS FLORA’S ALBUM
+
+    VI. POOR MAGGIE
+
+   VII. POOR MAGGIE AND SOME OTHERS
+
+  VIII. A SANTA CLAUS HELD UP
+
+    IX. “DEAR COUSIN STANLEY”
+
+     X. WHAT DOES IT MATTER?
+
+    XI. SANTA CLAUS ARRIVES
+
+   XII. THE TOYS RATTLE OUT
+
+  XIII. THE DANCING BEGINS
+
+   XIV. FROM ME TO YOU WITH LOVE
+
+    XV. IN SEARCH OF REST
+
+   XVI. THE FLY IN THE OINTMENT
+
+  XVII. AN AMBASSADOR OF CUPID’S
+
+ XVIII. JUST A MATTER OF BEGGING
+
+   XIX. STILL OTHER FLIES
+
+    XX. FRANKENSTEIN: BEING A LETTER FROM JOHN SMITH TO EDWARD D.
+        NORTON, ATTORNEY AT LAW
+
+   XXI. SYMPATHIES MISPLACED
+
+  XXII. WITH EVERY JIM A JAMES
+
+ XXIII. REFLECTIONS—MIRRORED AND OTHERWISE
+
+  XXIV. THAT MISERABLE MONEY
+
+   XXV. EXIT MR. JOHN SMITH
+
+  XXVI. REENTER MR. STANLEY G. FULTON
+
+
+
+
+                             ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+
+“I WAS THINKING—OF MR. STANLEY G. FULTON” Frontispiece
+
+“I CAN’T HELP IT, AUNT MAGGIE. I’VE JUST GOT TO BE AWAY!”
+
+“JIM, YOU’LL HAVE TO COME!”
+
+“AND LOOK INTO THOSE BLESSED CHILDREN’S FACES”
+
+
+_From drawings by Mrs. Howard B. Grose, Jr._
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+EXIT MR. STANLEY G. FULTON
+
+
+There was a thoughtful frown on the face of the man who was the
+possessor of twenty million dollars. He was a tall, spare man, with a
+fringe of reddish-brown hair encircling a bald spot. His blue eyes,
+fixed just now in a steady gaze upon a row of ponderous law books
+across the room, were friendly and benevolent in direct contradiction
+to the bulldog, never-let-go fighting qualities of the square jaw below
+the firm, rather thin lips.
+
+The lawyer, a youthfully alert man of sixty years, trimly gray as to
+garb, hair, and mustache, sat idly watching him, yet with eyes that
+looked so intently that they seemed to listen.
+
+For fully five minutes the two men had been pulling at their cigars in
+silence when the millionaire spoke.
+
+“Ned, what am I going to do with my money?”
+
+Into the lawyer’s listening eyes flashed, for a moment, the keenly
+scrutinizing glance usually reserved for the witness on the other side.
+Then quietly came the answer.
+
+“Spend it yourself, I hope—for some years to come, Stanley.”
+
+Mr. Stanley G. Fulton was guilty of a shrug and an uplifted eyebrow.
+
+“Thanks. Very pretty, and I appreciate it, of course. But I can’t wear
+but one suit of clothes at a time, nor eat but one dinner—which, by
+the way, just now consists of somebody’s health biscuit and hot water.
+Twenty millions don’t really what you might call melt away at that
+rate.”
+
+The lawyer frowned.
+
+“Shucks, Fulton!” he expostulated, with an irritable twist of his hand.
+“I thought better of you than that. This poor rich man’s ‘one-suit,
+one-dinner, one-bed-at-a-time’ hard-luck story doesn’t suit your style.
+Better cut it out!”
+
+“All right. Cut it is.” The man smiled good-humoredly. “But you see I
+was nettled. You didn’t get me at all. I asked you what was to become
+of my money after I’d done spending it myself—the little that is left,
+of course.”
+
+Once more from the lawyer’s eyes flashed that keenly scrutinizing
+glance.
+
+“What was it, Fulton? A midnight rabbit, or a wedge of mince pie
+_not_ like mother used to make? Why, man alive, you’re barely over
+fifty, yet. Cheer up! It’s only a little matter of indigestion. There
+are a lot of good days and good dinners coming to you, yet.”
+
+The millionaire made a wry face.
+
+“Very likely—if I survive the biscuits. But, seriously, Ned, I’m in
+earnest. No, I don’t think I’m going to die—yet awhile. But I ran
+across young Bixby last night—got him home, in fact. Delivered him to
+his white-faced little wife. Talk about your maudlin idiots!”
+
+“Yes, I know. Too bad, too bad!”
+
+“Hm-m; well, that’s what one million did—inherited. It set me to
+thinking—of mine, when I get through with them.”
+
+“I see.” The lawyer’s lips came together a little grimly. “You’ve not
+made your will, I believe.”
+
+“No. Dreaded it, somehow. Funny how a man’ll fight shy of a little
+thing like that, isn’t it? And when we’re so mighty particular where it
+goes while we’re living!”
+
+“Yes, I know; you’re not the only one. You have relatives—somewhere, I
+surmise.”
+
+“Nothing nearer than cousins, third or fourth, back East. They’d get
+it, I suppose—without a will.”
+
+“Why don’t you marry?”
+
+The millionaire repeated the wry face of a moment before.
+
+“I’m not a marrying man. I never did care much for women; and—I’m not
+fool enough to think that a woman would be apt to fall in love with my
+bald head. Nor am I obliging enough to care to hand the millions over
+to the woman that falls in love with _them_, taking me along as
+the necessary sack that holds the gold. If it comes to that, I’d rather
+risk the cousins. They, at least, are of my own blood, and they didn’t
+angle to get the money.”
+
+“You know them?”
+
+“Never saw ’em.”
+
+“Why not pick out a bunch of colleges and endow them?”
+
+The millionaire shook his head.
+
+“Doesn’t appeal to me, somehow. Oh, of course it ought to, but—it just
+doesn’t. That’s all. Maybe if I was a college man myself; but—well, I
+had to dig for what education I got.”
+
+“Very well—charities, then. There are numberless organizations that—”
+He stopped abruptly at the other’s uplifted hand.
+
+“Organizations! Good Heavens, I should think there were! I tried ’em
+once. I got that philanthropic bee in my bonnet, and I gave thousands,
+tens of thousands to ’em. Then I got to wondering where the money went.”
+
+Unexpectedly the lawyer chuckled.
+
+“You never did like to invest without investigating, Fulton,” he
+observed.
+
+With only a shrug for an answer the other plunged on.
+
+“Now, understand. I’m not saying that organized charity isn’t all
+right, and doesn’t do good, of course. Neither am I prepared to propose
+anything to take its place. And maybe the two or three I dealt with
+were particularly addicted to the sort of thing I objected to. But,
+honestly, Ned, if you’d lost heart and friends and money, and were just
+ready to chuck the whole shooting-match, how would you like to become a
+‘Case,’ say, number twenty-three thousand seven hundred and forty-one,
+ticketed and docketed, and duly apportioned off to a six-by-nine rule
+of ‘do this’ and ‘do that,’ while a dozen spectacled eyes watched you
+being cleaned up and regulated and wound up with a key made of just so
+much and no more pats and preachments carefully weighed and labeled?
+How _would_ you like it?”
+
+The lawyer laughed.
+
+“I know; but, my dear fellow, what would you have? Surely,
+_un_organized charity and promiscuous giving is worse—”
+
+“Oh, yes, I’ve tried that way, too,” shrugged the other. “There was a
+time when every Tom, Dick, and Harry, with a run-down shoe and a ragged
+coat, could count on me for a ten-spot by just holding out his hand,
+no questions asked. Then a serious-eyed little woman sternly told me
+one day that the indiscriminate charity of a millionaire was not only a
+curse to any community, but a corruption to the whole state. I believe
+she kindly included the nation, as well, bless her! And I thought I was
+doing good!” “What a blow—to you!” There was a whimsical smile in the
+lawyer’s eyes.
+
+“It was.” The millionaire was not smiling. “But she was right. It set
+me to thinking, and I began to follow up those ten-spots—the ones that
+I could trace. Jove! what a mess I’d made of it! Oh, some of them were
+all right, of course, and I made _those_ fifties on the spot. But
+the others—! I tell you, Ned, money that isn’t earned is the most risky
+thing in the world. If I’d left half those wretches alone, they’d have
+braced up and helped themselves and made men of themselves, maybe.
+As it was—Well, you never can tell as to the results of a so-called
+‘good’ action. From my experience I should say they are every whit as
+dangerous as the bad ones.”
+
+The lawyer laughed outright.
+
+“But, my dear fellow, that’s just where the organized charity comes in.
+Don’t you see?”
+
+“Oh, yes, I know—Case number twenty-three thousand seven hundred
+and forty-one! And that’s all right, of course. Relief of some sort
+is absolutely necessary. But I’d like to see a little warm sympathy
+injected into it, some way. Give the machine a heart, say, as well as
+hands and a head.”
+
+“Then why don’t you try it yourself?”
+
+“Not I!” His gesture of dissent was emphatic. “I have tried it, in a
+way, and failed. That’s why I’d like some one else to tackle the job.
+And that brings me right back to my original question. I’m wondering
+what my money will do, when I’m done with it. I’d like to have one of
+my own kin have it—if I was sure of him. Money is a queer proposition,
+Ned, and it’s capable of—’most anything.”
+
+“It is. You’re right.”
+
+“What I can do with it, and what some one else can do with it, are
+two quite different matters. I don’t consider my efforts to circulate
+it wisely, or even harmlessly, exactly what you’d call a howling
+success. Whatever I’ve done, I’ve always been criticized for not doing
+something else. If I gave a costly entertainment, I was accused of
+showy ostentation. If I didn’t give it, I was accused of not putting
+money into honest circulation. If I donated to a church, it was called
+conscience money; and if I didn’t donate to it, they said I was mean
+and miserly. So much for what I’ve done. I was just wondering—what the
+other fellow’d do with it.”
+
+“Why worry? ’Twon’t be your fault.”
+
+“But it will—if I give it to him. Great Scott, Ned! what money does
+for folks, sometimes—folks that aren’t used to it! Look at Bixby; and
+look at that poor little Marston girl, throwing herself away on that
+worthless scamp of a Gowing who’s only after her money, as everybody
+(but herself) knows! And if it doesn’t make knaves and martyrs of them,
+ten to one it does make fools of ’em. They’re worse than a kid with a
+dollar on circus day; and they use just about as much sense spending
+their pile, too. You should have heard dad tell about his pals in the
+eighties that struck it rich in the gold mines. One bought up every
+grocery store in town and instituted a huge free grab-bag for the
+populace; and another dropped his hundred thousand in the dice box
+before it was a week old. I wonder what those cousins of mine back East
+are like!”
+
+“If you’re fearful, better take Case number twenty-three thousand seven
+hundred and forty-one,” smiled the lawyer.
+
+“Hm-m; I suppose so,” ejaculated the other grimly, getting to his feet.
+“Well, I must be off. It’s biscuit time, I see.”
+
+A moment later the door of the lawyer’s sumptuously appointed office
+closed behind him. Not twenty-four hours afterward, however, it opened
+to admit him again. He was alert, eager-eyed, and smiling. He looked
+ten years younger. Even the office boy who ushered him in cocked a
+curious eye at him.
+
+The man at the great flat-topped desk gave a surprised ejaculation.
+
+“Hullo, Fulton! Those biscuits must be agreeing with you,” he laughed.
+“Mind telling me their name?”
+
+“Ned, I’ve got a scheme. I think I can carry it out.” Mr. Stanley G.
+Fulton strode across the room and dropped himself into the waiting
+chair. “Remember those cousins back East? Well, I’m going to find out
+which of ’em I want for my heir.”
+
+“Another case of investigating before investing, eh?”
+
+“Exactly.”
+
+“Well, that’s like you. What is it, a little detective work? Going to
+get acquainted with them, I suppose, and see how they treat you. Then
+you can size them up as to hearts and habits, and drop the golden plum
+into the lap of the worthy man, eh?”
+
+“Yes, and no. But not the way you say. I’m going to give ’em say fifty
+or a hundred thousand apiece, and—”
+
+“_Give_ it to them—_now_?”
+
+“Sure! How’m I going to know how they’ll spend money till they have it
+to spend?”
+
+“I know; but—”
+
+“Oh, I’ve planned all that. Don’t worry. Of course you’ll have to fix
+it up for me. I shall leave instructions with you, and when the time
+comes all you have to do is to carry them out.”
+
+The lawyer came erect in his chair.
+
+“_Leave_ instructions! But you, yourself—?”
+
+“Oh, I’m going to be there, in Hillerton.”
+
+“There? Hillerton?”
+
+“Yes, where the cousins live, you know. Of course I want to see how it
+works.”
+
+“Humph! I suppose you think you’ll find out—with you watching their
+every move!” The lawyer had settled back in his chair, an ironical
+smile on his lips.
+
+“Oh, they won’t know me, of course, except as John Smith.”
+
+“John Smith!” The lawyer was sitting erect again.
+
+“Yes. I’m going to take that name—for a time.”
+
+“Nonsense, Fulton! Have you lost your senses?”
+
+“No.” The millionaire still smiled imperturbably. “Really, my dear Ned,
+I’m disappointed in you. You don’t seem to realize the possibilities of
+this thing.”
+
+“Oh, yes, I do—perhaps better than you, old man,” retorted the other
+with an expressive glance.
+
+“Oh, come, Ned, listen! I’ve got three cousins in Hillerton. I never
+saw them, and they never saw me. I’m going to give them a tidy little
+sum of money apiece, and then have the fun of watching them spend it.
+Any harm in that, especially as it’s no one’s business what I do with
+my money?”
+
+“N—no, I suppose not—if you can carry such a wild scheme through.”
+
+“I can, I think. I’m going to be John Smith.”
+
+“Nice distinctive name!”
+
+“I chose a colorless one on purpose. I’m going to be a colorless
+person, you see.”
+
+“Oh! And—er—do you think Mr. Stanley G. Fulton, multi-millionaire, with
+his pictured face in half the papers and magazines from the Atlantic to
+the Pacific, _can_ hide that face behind a colorless John Smith?”
+
+“Maybe not. But he can hide it behind a nice little close-cropped
+beard.” The millionaire stroked his smooth chin reflectively.
+
+“Humph! How large is Hillerton?”
+
+“Eight or ten thousand. Nice little New England town, I’m told.”
+
+“Hm-m. And your—er—business in Hillerton, that will enable you to be
+the observing fly on your cousins’ walls?”
+
+“Yes, I’ve thought that all out, too; and that’s another brilliant
+stroke. I’m going to be a genealogist. I’m going to be at work tracing
+the Blaisdell family—their name is Blaisdell. I’m writing a book which
+necessitates the collection of an endless amount of data. Now how about
+that fly’s chances of observation. Eh?”
+
+“Mighty poor, if he’s swatted—and that’s what he will be! New England
+housewives are death on flies, I understand.”
+
+“Well, I’ll risk this one.”
+
+“You poor fellow!” There were exasperation and amusement in the
+lawyer’s eyes, but there was only mock sympathy in his voice. “And to
+think I’ve known you all these years, and never suspected it, Fulton!”
+
+The man who owned twenty millions still smiled imperturbably.
+
+“Oh, yes, I know what you mean, but I’m not crazy. And really I’m
+interested in genealogy, too, and I’ve been thinking for some time I’d
+go digging about the roots of my ancestral tree. I have dug a little,
+in years gone. My mother was a Blaisdell, you know. Her grandfather was
+brother to some ancestor of these Hillerton Blaisdells; and I really
+am interested in collecting Blaisdell data. So that’s all straight. I
+shall be telling no fibs. And think of the opportunity it gives me!
+Besides, I shall try to board with one of them. I’ve decided that.”
+
+“Upon my word, a pretty little scheme!”
+
+“Yes, I knew you’d appreciate it, the more you thought about it.” Mr.
+Stanley G. Fulton’s blue eyes twinkled a little.
+
+With a disdainful gesture the lawyer brushed this aside.
+
+“Do you mind telling me how you happened to think of it, yourself?”
+
+“Not a bit. ’Twas a little booklet got out by a Trust Company.”
+
+“It sounds like it!”
+
+“Oh, they didn’t suggest exactly this, I’ll admit; but they did suggest
+that, if you were fearful as to the way your heirs would handle their
+inheritance, you could create a trust fund for their benefit while you
+were living, and then watch the way the beneficiaries spent the income,
+as well as the way the trust fund itself was managed. In this way you
+could observe the effects of your gifts, and at the same time be able
+to change them if you didn’t like results. That gave me an idea. I’ve
+just developed it. That’s all. I’m going to make my cousins a little
+rich, and see which, if any of them, can stand being very rich.”
+
+“But the money, man! How are you going to drop a hundred thousand
+dollars into three men’s laps, and expect to get away without an
+investigation as to the why and wherefore of such a singular
+proceeding?”
+
+“That’s where your part comes in,” smiled the millionaire blandly.
+“Besides, to be accurate, one of the laps is—er—a petticoat one.”
+
+“Oh, indeed! So much the worse, maybe. But—And so this is where I come
+in, is it? Well, and suppose I refuse to come in?”
+
+“Regretfully I shall have to employ another attorney.”
+
+“Humph! Well?”
+
+“But you won’t refuse.” The blue eyes opposite were still twinkling.
+“In the first place, you’re my good friend—my best friend. You wouldn’t
+be seen letting me start off on a wild-goose chase like this without
+your guiding hand at the helm to see that I didn’t come a cropper.”
+
+“Aren’t you getting your metaphors a trifle mixed?” This time the
+lawyer’s eyes were twinkling.
+
+“Eh? What? Well, maybe. But I reckon you get my meaning. Besides, what
+I want you to do is a mere routine of regular business, with you.”
+
+“It sounds like it. Routine, indeed!”
+
+“But it is—your part. Listen. I’m off for South America, say, on an
+exploring tour. In your charge I leave certain papers with instructions
+that on the first day of the sixth month of my absence (I being
+unheard from), you are to open a certain envelope and act according to
+instructions within. Simplest thing in the world, man. Now isn’t it?”
+
+“Oh, very simple—as you put it.”
+
+“Well, meanwhile I’ll start for South America—alone, of course; and,
+so far as you’re concerned, that ends it. If on the way, somewhere, I
+determine suddenly on a change of destination, that is none of your
+affair. If, say in a month or two, a quiet, inoffensive gentleman by
+the name of Smith arrives in Hillerton on the legitimate and perfectly
+respectable business of looking up a family pedigree, that also is none
+of your concern.” With a sudden laugh the lawyer fell back in his chair.
+
+“By Jove, Fulton, if I don’t believe you’ll pull this absurd thing off!”
+
+“There! Now you’re talking like a sensible man, and we can get
+somewhere. Of course I’ll pull it off! Now here’s my plan. In order
+best to judge how my esteemed relatives conduct themselves under the
+sudden accession of wealth, I must see them first without it, of
+course. Hence, I plan to be in Hillerton some months before your letter
+and the money arrive. I intend, indeed, to be on the friendliest terms
+with every Blaisdell in Hillerton before that times comes.”
+
+“But can you? Will they accept you without references or introduction?”
+
+“Oh, I shall have the best of references and introductions. Bob
+Chalmers is the president of a bank there. Remember Bob? Well, I shall
+take John Smith in and introduce him to Bob some day. After that,
+Bob’ll introduce John Smith? See? All I need is a letter as to my
+integrity and respectability, I reckon, so my kinsmen won’t suspect me
+of designs on their spoons when I ask to board with them. You see, I’m
+a quiet, retiring gentleman, and I don’t like noisy hotels.”
+
+With an explosive chuckle the lawyer clapped his knee. “Fulton, this is
+absolutely the richest thing I ever heard of! I’d give a farm to be a
+fly on _your_ wall and see you do it. I’m blest if I don’t think
+I’ll go to Hillerton myself—to see Bob. By George, I will go and see
+Bob!”
+
+“Of course,” agreed the other serenely. “Why not? Besides, it will be
+the most natural thing in the world—business, you know. In fact, I
+should think you really ought to go, in connection with the bequests.”
+
+“Why, to be sure.” The lawyer frowned thoughtfully. “How much are you
+going to give them?”
+
+“Oh, a hundred thousand apiece, I reckon.”
+
+“That ought to do—for pin money.”
+
+“Oh, well, I want them to have enough, you know, for it to be a
+real test of what they would do with wealth. And it must be cash—no
+securities. I want them to do their own investing.”
+
+“But how are you going to fix it? What excuse are you going to give for
+dropping a hundred thousand into their laps like that? You can’t tell
+your real purpose, naturally! You’d defeat your own ends.”
+
+“That part we’ll have to fix up in the letter of instructions. I think
+we can. I’ve got a scheme.”
+
+“I’ll warrant you have! I’ll believe anything of you now. But what are
+you going to do afterward—when you’ve found out what you want to know,
+I mean? Won’t it be something of a shock, when John Smith turns into
+Mr. Stanley G. Fulton? Have you thought of that?”
+
+“Y-yes, I’ve thought of that, and I will confess my ideas are a
+little hazy, in spots. But I’m not worrying. Time enough to think of
+that part. Roughly, my plan is this now. There’ll be two letters of
+instructions: one to open in six months, the other to be opened in,
+say, a couple of years, or so. (I want to give myself plenty of time
+for my observations, you see.) The second letter will really give you
+final instructions as to the settling of my estate—my will. I’ll have
+to make some sort of one, I suppose.”
+
+“But, good Heavens, Stanley, you—you—” the lawyer came to a helpless
+pause. His eyes were startled.
+
+“Oh, that’s just for emergency, of course, in case
+anything—er—happened. What I really intend is that long before the
+second letter of instructions is due to be opened, Mr. Stanley G.
+Fulton will come back from his South American explorations. He’ll then
+be in a position to settle his affairs to suit himself, and—er—make a
+new will. Understand?”
+
+“Oh, I see. But—there’s John Smith? How about Smith?”
+
+The millionaire smiled musingly, and stroked his chin again.
+
+“Smith? Oh! Well, Smith will have finished collecting Blaisdell data,
+of course, and will be off to parts unknown. We don’t have to trouble
+ourselves with Smith any longer.”
+
+“Fulton, you’re a wizard,” laughed the lawyer. “But now about the
+cousins. Who are they? You know their names, of course.”
+
+“Oh, yes. You see I’ve done a little digging already—some years
+ago—looking up the Blaisdell family. (By the way, that’ll come in fine
+now, won’t it?) And an occasional letter from Bob has kept me posted
+as to deaths and births in the Hillerton Blaisdells. I always meant
+to hunt them up some time, they being my nearest kith and kin. Well,
+with what I already had, and with what Bob has written me, I know these
+facts.”
+
+He paused, pulled a small notebook from his pocket, and consulted it.
+
+“There are two sons and a daughter, children of Rufus Blaisdell. Rufus
+died years ago, and his widow married a man by the name of Duff. But
+she’s dead now. The elder son is Frank Blaisdell. He keeps a grocery
+store. The other is James Blaisdell. He works in a real estate office.
+The daughter, Flora, never married. She’s about forty-two or three,
+I believe, and does dressmaking. James Blaisdell has a son, Fred,
+seventeen, and two younger children. Frank Blaisdell has one daughter,
+Mellicent. That’s the extent of my knowledge, at present. But it’s
+enough for our purpose.”
+
+“Oh, anything’s enough—for your purpose! What are you going to do
+first?”
+
+“I’ve done it. You’ll soon be reading in your morning paper that Mr.
+Stanley G. Fulton, the somewhat eccentric multi-millionaire, is about
+to start for South America, and that it is hinted he is planning to
+finance a gigantic exploring expedition. The accounts of what he’s
+going to explore will vary all the way from Inca antiquities to the
+source of the Amazon. I’ve done a lot of talking to-day, and a good
+deal of cautioning as to secrecy, etc. It ought to bear fruit by
+to-morrow, or the day after, at the latest. I’m going to start next
+week, and I’m really going _exploring_, too—though not exactly
+as they think. I came in to-day to make a business appointment for
+to-morrow, please. A man starting on such a hazardous journey must be
+prepared, you understand. I want to leave my affairs in such shape that
+you will know exactly what to do—in emergency. I may come to-morrow?”
+
+The lawyer hesitated, his face an odd mixture of determination and
+irresolution.
+
+“Oh, hang it all—yes. Of course you may come. To-morrow at ten—if they
+don’t shut you up before.”
+
+With a boyish laugh Mr. Stanley G. Fulton leaped to his feet.
+
+“Thanks. To-morrow at ten, then.” At the door he turned back jauntily.
+“And, say, Ned, what’ll you bet I don’t grow fat and young over this
+thing? What’ll you bet I don’t get so I can eat real meat and ’taters
+again?”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+ENTER MR. JOHN SMITH
+
+
+It was on the first warm evening in early June that Miss Flora
+Blaisdell crossed the common and turned down the street that led to her
+brother James’s home.
+
+The common marked the center of Hillerton. Its spacious green lawns
+and elm-shaded walks were the pride of the town. There was a trellised
+band-stand for summer concerts, and a tiny pond that accommodated a few
+boats in summer and a limited number of skaters in winter. Perhaps,
+most important of all, the common divided the plebeian East Side from
+the more pretentious West. James Blaisdell lived on the West Side. His
+wife said that everybody did who _was_ anybody. They had lately
+moved there, and were, indeed, barely settled.
+
+Miss Blaisdell did dressmaking. Her home was a shabby little rented
+cottage on the East Side. She was a thin-faced little woman with an
+anxious frown and near-sighted, peering eyes that seemed always to be
+looking for wrinkles. She peered now at the houses as she passed slowly
+down the street. She had been only twice to her brother’s new home,
+and she was not sure that she would recognize it, in spite of the fact
+that the street was still alight with the last rays of the setting sun.
+Suddenly across her worried face flashed a relieved smile.
+
+“Well, if you ain’t all here out on the piazza!” she exclaimed,
+turning, in at the walk leading up to one of the ornate little houses.
+“My, ain’t this grand!”
+
+“Oh, yes, it’s grand, all right,” nodded the tired-looking man in
+the big chair, removing his feet from the railing. He was in his
+shirt-sleeves, and was smoking a pipe. The droop of his thin mustache
+matched the droop of his thin shoulders—and both indefinably but
+unmistakably spelled disillusion and discouragement. “It’s grand, but
+I think it’s too grand—for us. However, daughter says the best is none
+too good—in Hillerton. Eh, Bess?”
+
+Bessie, the pretty, sixteen-year-old daughter of the family, only
+shrugged her shoulders a little petulantly. It was Harriet, the
+wife, who spoke—a large, florid woman with a short upper lip, and a
+bewilderment of bepuffed light hair. She was already on her feet,
+pushing a chair toward her sister-in-law.
+
+“Of course it isn’t too grand, Jim, and you know it. There aren’t
+any really nice houses in Hillerton except the Pennocks’ and the old
+Gaylord place. There, sit here, Flora. You look tired.”
+
+“Thanks. I be—turrible tired. Warm, too, ain’t it?” The little
+dressmaker began to fan herself with the hat she had taken off. “My,
+’tis fur over here, ain’t it? Not much like ’twas when you lived right
+’round the corner from me! And I had to put on a hat and gloves, too.
+Someway, I thought I ought to—over here.”
+
+Condescendingly the bepuffed head threw an approving nod in her
+direction.
+
+“Quite right, Flora. The East Side is different from the West Side, and
+no mistake. And what will do there won’t do here at all, of course.”
+
+“How about father’s shirt-sleeves?” It was a scornful gibe from Bessie
+in the hammock. “I don’t notice any of the rest of the men around here
+sitting out like that.”
+
+“Bessie!” chided her mother wearily. “You know very well I’m not to
+blame for what your father wears. I’ve tried hard enough, I’m sure!”
+
+“Well, well, Hattie,” sighed the man, with a gesture of abandonment. “I
+supposed I still had the rights of a freeborn American citizen in my
+own home; but it seems I haven’t.” Resignedly he got to his feet and
+went into the house. When he returned a moment later he was wearing his
+coat.
+
+Benny, perched precariously on the veranda railing, gave a sudden
+indignant snort. Benny was eight, the youngest of the family.
+
+“Well, I don’t think I like it here, anyhow,” he chafed. “I’d rather go
+back an’ live where we did. A feller can have some fun there. It hasn’t
+been anything but ‘Here, Benny, you mustn’t do that over here, you
+mustn’t do that over here!’ ever since we came. I’m going home an’ live
+with Aunt Flora. Say, can’t I, Aunt Flo?”
+
+“Bless the child! Of course you can,” beamed his aunt. “But you won’t
+want to, I’m sure. Why, Benny, I think it’s perfectly lovely here.”
+
+“Pa don’t.”
+
+“Indeed I do, Benny,” corrected his father hastily. “It’s very nice
+indeed here, of course. But I don’t think we can afford it. We had to
+squeeze every penny before, and how we’re going to meet this rent I
+don’t know.” He drew a profound sigh.
+
+“You’ll earn it, just being here—more business,” asserted his wife
+firmly. “Anyhow, we’ve just got to be here, Jim! We owe it to ourselves
+and our family. Look at Fred to-night!”
+
+“Oh, yes, where is Fred?” queried Miss Flora.
+
+“He’s over to Gussie Pennock’s, playing tennis,” interposed Bessie,
+with a pout. “The mean old thing wouldn’t ask me!”
+
+“But you ain’t old enough, my dear,” soothed her aunt. “Wait; your turn
+will come by and by.”
+
+“Yes, that’s exactly it,” triumphed the mother. “Her turn _will_
+come—if we live here. Do you suppose Fred would have got an invitation
+to Gussie Pennock’s if we’d still been living on the East Side? Not
+much he would! Why, Mr. Pennock’s worth fifty thousand, if he’s worth a
+dollar! They are some of our very first people.”
+
+“But, Hattie, money isn’t everything, dear,” remonstrated her husband
+gently. “We had friends, and good friends, before.”
+
+“Yes; but you wait and see what kind of friends we have now!”
+
+“But we can’t keep up with such people, dear, on our income; and—”
+
+“Ma, here’s a man. I guess he wants—somebody.” It was a husky whisper
+from Benny.
+
+James Blaisdell stopped abruptly. Bessie Blaisdell and the little
+dressmaker cocked their heads interestedly. Mrs. Blaisdell rose to her
+feet and advanced toward the steps to meet the man coming up the walk.
+
+He was a tall, rather slender man, with a close-cropped, sandy beard,
+and an air of diffidence and apology. As he took off his hat and came
+nearer, it was seen that his eyes were blue and friendly, and that his
+hair was reddish-brown, and rather scanty on top of his head.
+
+“I am looking for Mr. Blaisdell—Mr. James Blaisdell,” he murmured
+hesitatingly.
+
+Something in the stranger’s deferential manner sent a warm glow of
+importance to the woman’s heart. Mrs. Blaisdell was suddenly reminded
+that she was Mrs. James D. Blaisdell of the West Side.
+
+“I am Mrs. Blaisdell,” she replied a bit pompously. “What can we do for
+you, my good man?” She swelled again, half unconsciously. She had never
+called a person “my good man” before. She rather liked the experience.
+
+The man on the steps coughed slightly behind his hand—a sudden
+spasmodic little cough. Then very gravely he reached into his pocket
+and produced a letter.
+
+“From Mr. Robert Chalmers—a note to your husband,” he bowed, presenting
+the letter.
+
+A look of gratified surprise came into the woman’s face.
+
+“Mr. Robert Chalmers, of the First National? Jim!” She turned to her
+husband joyously. “Here’s a note from Mr. Chalmers. Quick—read it!”
+
+Her husband, already on his feet, whisked the sheet of paper from the
+unsealed envelope, and adjusted his glasses. A moment later he held out
+a cordial hand to the stranger.
+
+“Ah, Mr. Smith, I’m glad to see you. I’m glad to see any friend of Bob
+Chalmers’. Come up and sit down. My wife and children, and my sister,
+Miss Blaisdell. Mr. Smith, ladies—Mr. John Smith.” (Glancing at the
+open note in his hand.) “He is sent to us by Mr. Chalmers, of the First
+National.”
+
+“Yes, thank you. Mr. Chalmers was so kind.” Still with that deference
+so delightfully heart-warming, the newcomer bowed low to the ladies,
+and made his way to the offered chair. “I will explain at once my
+business,” he said then. “I am a genealogist.”
+
+“What’s that?” It was an eager question from Benny on the veranda
+railing. “Pa isn’t anything, but ma’s a Congregationalist.”
+
+“Hush, child!” protested a duet of feminine voices softly; but the
+stranger, apparently ignoring the interruption, continued speaking.
+
+“I am gathering material for a book on the Blaisdell family.”
+
+“The Blaisdell family!” repeated Mr. James Blaisdell, with cordial
+interest.
+
+“Yes,” bowed the other. “It is my purpose to remain some time in
+your town. I am told there are valuable records here, and an old
+burying-ground of particular interest in this connection. The
+neighboring towns, too, have much Blaisdell data, I understand. As
+I said, I am intending to make this place my headquarters, and I am
+looking for an attractive boarding-place. Mr. Chalmers was good enough
+to refer me to you.”
+
+“To us—for a _boarding_-place!” There was an unmistakable frown on
+Mrs. James D. Blaisdell’s countenance as she said the words. “Well, I’m
+sure I don’t see why he should. _we_ don’t keep boarders!”
+
+“But, Hattie, we could,” interposed her husband eagerly. “There’s that
+big front room that we don’t need a bit. And it would help a lot if—”
+At the wrathful warning in his wife’s eyes he fell back silenced.
+
+“I said that we didn’t keep boarders,” reiterated the lady distinctly.
+“Furthermore, we do need the room ourselves.”
+
+“Yes, yes, of course; I understand,” broke in Mr. Smith, as if in
+hasty conciliation. “I think Mr. Chalmers meant that perhaps one of
+you”—he glanced uncertainly at the anxious-eyed little woman at his
+left—“might—er—accommodate me. Perhaps you, now—” He turned his eyes
+full upon Miss Flora Blaisdell, and waited.
+
+The little dressmaker blushed painfully.
+
+“Me? Oh, mercy, no! Why, I live all alone—that is, I mean, I couldn’t,
+you know,” she stammered confusedly. “I dressmake, and I don’t get
+any sort of meals—not fit for a man, I mean. Just women’s things—tea,
+toast, and riz biscuit. I’m so fond of riz biscuit! But, of course,
+you—” She came to an expressive pause.
+
+“Oh, I could stand the biscuit, so long as they’re not health biscuit,”
+laughed Mr. Smith genially. “You see, I’ve been living on those and hot
+water quite long enough as it is.”
+
+“Oh, ain’t your health good, sir?” The little dressmaker’s face wore
+the deepest concern.
+
+“Well, it’s better than it was, thank you. I think I can promise to be
+a good boarder, all right.”
+
+“Why don’t you go to a hotel?” Mrs. James D. Blaisdell still spoke
+with a slightly injured air.
+
+Mr. Smith lifted a deprecatory hand.
+
+“Oh, indeed, that would not do at all—for my purpose,” he murmured. “I
+wish to be very quiet. I fear I should find it quite disturbing—the
+noise and confusion of a public place like that. Besides, for my work,
+it seemed eminently fitting, as well as remarkably convenient, if I
+could make my home with one of the Blaisdell family.”
+
+With a sudden exclamation the little dressmaker sat erect.
+
+“Say, Harriet, how funny we never thought! He’s just the one for poor
+Maggie! Why not send him there?”
+
+“Poor Maggie?” It was the mild voice of Mr. Smith.
+
+“Our sister—yes. She lives—”
+
+“Your _sister_!” Into Mr. Smith’s face had come a look of startled
+surprise—a look almost of terror. “But there weren’t but three—that
+is, I thought—I understood from Mr. Chalmers that there were but three
+Blaisdells, two brothers, and one sister—you, yourself.”
+
+“Oh, poor Maggie ain’t a Blaisdell,” explained the little dressmaker,
+with a smile. “She’s just Maggie Duff, father Duff’s daughter by his
+first wife, you know. He married our mother years ago, when we children
+were little, so we were brought up with Maggie, and always called her
+sister; though, of course, she really ain’t any relation to us at all.”
+
+“Oh, I see. Yes, to be sure. Of course!” Mr. Smith seemed oddly
+thoughtful. He appeared to be settling something in his mind. “She
+isn’t a Blaisdell, then.”
+
+“No, but she’s so near like one, and she’s a splendid cook, and—”
+
+“Well, I shan’t send him to Maggie,” cut in Mrs. James D. Blaisdell
+with emphasis. “Poor Maggie’s got quite enough on her hands, as it is,
+with that father of hers. Besides, she isn’t a Blaisdell at all.”
+
+“And she couldn’t come and cook and take care of us near so much,
+either, could she,” plunged in Benny, “if she took this man ter feed?”
+
+“That will do, Benny,” admonished his mother, with nettled dignity.
+“You forget that children should be seen and not heard.”
+
+“Yes’m. But, please, can’t I be heard just a minute for this? Why don’t
+ye send the man ter Uncle Frank an’ Aunt Jane? Maybe they’d take him.”
+
+“The very thing!” cried Miss Flora Blaisdell. “I wouldn’t wonder a mite
+if they did.”
+
+“Yes, I was thinking of them,” nodded her sister-in-law. “And they’re
+always glad of a little help,—especially Jane.”
+
+“Anybody should be,” observed Mr. James Blaisdell quietly.
+
+Only the heightened color in his wife’s cheeks showed that she had
+heard—and understood.
+
+“Here, Benny,” she directed, “go and show the gentleman where Uncle
+Frank lives.”
+
+“All right!” With a spring the boy leaped to the lawn and pranced to
+the sidewalk, dancing there on his toes. “I’ll show ye, Mr. Smith.”
+
+The gentleman addressed rose to his feet.
+
+“I thank you, Mr. Blaisdell,” he said, “and you, ladies. I shall hope
+to see you again soon. I am sure you can help me, if you will, in my
+work. I shall want to ask—some questions.”
+
+“Certainly, sir, certainly! We shall be glad to see you,” promised his
+host. “Come any time, and ask all the questions you want to.”
+
+“And we shall be so interested,” fluttered Miss Flora. “I’ve always
+wanted to know about father’s folks. And are you a Blaisdell, too?”
+
+There was the briefest of pauses. Mr. Smith coughed again twice behind
+his hand.
+
+“Er—ah—oh, yes, I may say that I am. Through my mother I am descended
+from the original immigrant, Ebenezer Blaisdell.”
+
+“Immigrant!” exclaimed Miss Flora.
+
+“An _immigrant_!” Mrs. James Blaisdell spoke the word as if her
+tongue were a pair of tongs that had picked up a noxious viper.
+
+“Yes, but not exactly as we commonly regard the term nowadays,” smiled
+Mr. Smith. “Mr. Ebenezer Blaisdell was a man of means and distinction.
+He was the founder of the family in this country. He came over in 1647.”
+
+“My, how interesting!” murmured the little dressmaker, as the visitor
+descended the steps.
+
+“Good-night—good-night! And thank you again,” bowed Mr. John Smith
+to the assembled group on the veranda. “And now, young man, I’m at
+your service,” he smiled, as he joined Benny, still prancing on the
+sidewalk.
+“Now he’s what I call a real nice pleasant-spoken gentleman,” avowed
+Miss Flora, when she thought speech was safe. “I do hope Jane’ll take
+him.”
+
+“Oh, yes, he’s well enough,” condescended Mrs. Hattie Blaisdell, with a
+yawn.
+
+“Hattie, why wouldn’t you take him in?” reproached her husband. “Just
+think how the pay would help! And it wouldn’t be a bit of work, hardly,
+for you. Certainly it would be a lot easier than the way we are doing.”
+
+The woman frowned impatiently.
+
+“Jim, don’t, please! Do you suppose I got over here on the West Side to
+open a boarding-house? I guess not—yet!”
+
+“But what shall we do?”
+
+“Oh, we’ll get along somehow. Don’t worry!”
+
+“Perhaps if you’d worry a little more, I wouldn’t worry so much,”
+sighed the man deeply.
+
+“Well, mercy me, I must be going,” interposed the little dressmaker,
+springing to her feet with a nervous glance at her brother and his
+wife. “I’m forgetting it ain’t so near as it used to be. Good-night!”
+
+“Good-night, good-night! Come again,” called the three on the veranda.
+Then the door closed behind them, as they entered the house.
+
+Meanwhile, walking across the common, Benny was entertaining Mr. Smith.
+
+“Yep, they’ll take ye, I bet ye—Aunt Jane an’ Uncle Frank will!”
+
+“Well, that’s good, I’m sure.”
+
+“Yep. An’ it’ll be easy, too. Why, Aunt Jane’ll just tumble over
+herself ter get ye, if ye just mention first what yer’ll _pay_.
+She’ll begin ter reckon up right away then what she’ll save. An’ in a
+minute she’ll say, ‘Yes, I’ll take ye.’”
+
+“Indeed!”
+
+The uncertainty in Mr. Smith’s voice was palpable even to
+eight-year-old Benny.
+
+“Oh, you don’t need ter worry,” he hastened to explain. “She won’t
+starve ye; only she won’t let ye waste anythin’. You’ll have ter eat
+all the crusts to yer pie, and finish ‘taters before you can get any
+puddin’, an’ all that, ye know. Ye see, she’s great on savin’—Aunt Jane
+is. She says waste is a sinful extravagance before the Lord.”
+
+“Indeed!” Mr. Smith laughed outright this time. “But are you sure, my
+boy, that you ought to talk—just like this, about your aunt?”
+
+Benny’s eyes widened.
+
+“Why, that’s all right, Mr. Smith. Ev’rybody in town knows Aunt Jane.
+Why, Ma says folks say she’d save ter-day for ter-morrer, if she could.
+But she couldn’t do that, could she? So that’s just silly talk. But you
+wait till you see Aunt Jane.”
+
+“All right. I’ll wait, Benny.”
+
+“Well, ye won’t have ter wait long, Mr. Smith, ’cause here’s her house.
+She lives over the groc’ry store, ter save rent, ye know. It’s Uncle
+Frank’s store. An’ here we are,” he finished, banging open a door and
+leading the way up a flight of ill-lighted stairs.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+THE SMALL BOY AT THE KEYHOLE
+
+
+At the top of the stairs Benny tried to open the door, but as it did
+not give at his pressure, he knocked lustily, and called “Aunt Jane,
+Aunt Jane!”
+
+“Isn’t this the bell?” hazarded Mr. Smith, his finger almost on a small
+push-button near him.
+
+“Yep, but it don’t go now. Uncle Frank wanted it fixed, but Aunt Jane
+said no; knockin’ was just as good, an’ ’twas lots cheaper, ’cause
+’twould save mendin’, and didn’t use any ’lectricity. But Uncle Frank
+says—”
+
+The door opened abruptly, and Benny interrupted himself to give eager
+greeting.
+
+“Hullo, Aunt Jane! I’ve brought you somebody. He’s Mr. Smith. An’
+you’ll be glad. You see if yer ain’t!”
+
+In the dim hallway Mr. Smith saw a tall, angular woman with graying
+dark hair and high cheek bones. Her eyes were keen and just now
+somewhat sternly inquiring, as they were bent upon himself.
+
+Perceiving that Benny considered his mission as master of ceremonies
+at an end, Mr. Smith hastened to explain.
+
+“I came from your husband’s brother, madam. He—er—sent me. He thought
+perhaps you had a room that I could have.”
+
+“A room?” Her eyes grew still more coldly disapproving.
+
+“Yes, and board. He thought—that is, _they_ thought that
+perhaps—you would be so kind.”
+
+“Oh, a boarder! You mean for pay, of course?”
+
+“Most certainly!”
+
+“Oh!” She softened visibly, and stepped back. “Well, I don’t know. I
+never have—but that isn’t saying I couldn’t, of course. Come in. We can
+talk it over. _that_ doesn’t cost anything. Come in; this way,
+please.” As she finished speaking she stepped to the low-burning gas
+jet and turned it carefully to give a little more light down the narrow
+hallway.
+
+“Thank you,” murmured Mr. Smith, stepping across the threshold.
+
+Benny had already reached the door at the end of the hall. The woman
+began to tug at her apron strings.
+
+“I hope you’ll excuse my gingham apron, Mr.—er—Smith. Wasn’t that the
+name?”
+
+“Yes.” The man bowed with a smile.
+
+“I thought that was what Benny said. Well, as I was saying, I hope
+you’ll excuse this apron.” Her fingers were fumbling with the knot at
+the back. “I take it off, mostly, when the bell rings, evenings or
+afternoons; but I heard Benny, and I didn’t suppose ’twas anybody but
+him. There, that’s better!” With a jerk she switched off the dark blue
+apron, hung it over her arm, and smoothed down the spotless white apron
+which had been beneath the blue. The next instant she hurried after
+Benny with a warning cry. “Careful, child, careful! Oh, Benny, you’re
+always in such a hurry!”
+
+Benny, with a cheery “Come on!” had already banged open the door before
+him, and was reaching for the gas burner.
+
+A moment later the feeble spark above had become a flaring sputter of
+flame.
+
+“There, child, what did I tell you?” With a frown Mrs. Blaisdell
+reduced the flaring light to a moderate flame, and motioned Mr. Smith
+to a chair. Before she seated herself, however, she went back into the
+hall to lower the gas there.
+
+During her momentary absence the man, Smith, looked about him, and
+as he looked he pulled at his collar. He felt suddenly a choking,
+suffocating sensation. He still had the curious feeling of trying to
+catch his breath when the woman came back and took the chair facing
+him. In a moment he knew why he felt so suffocated—it was because that
+nowhere could he see an object that was not wholly or partially covered
+with some other object, or that was not serving as a cover itself.
+
+The floor bore innumerable small rugs, one before each chair, each
+door, and the fireplace. The chairs themselves, and the sofa, were
+covered with gray linen slips, which, in turn, were protected by
+numerous squares of lace and worsted of generous size. The green silk
+spread on the piano was nearly hidden beneath a linen cover, and the
+table showed a succession of layers of silk, worsted, and linen, topped
+by crocheted mats, on which rested several books with paper-enveloped
+covers. The chandelier, mirror, and picture frames gleamed dully from
+behind the mesh of pink mosquito netting. Even through the doorway into
+the hall might be seen the long, red-bordered white linen path that
+carried protection to the carpet beneath.
+
+“I don’t like gas myself.” (With a start the man pulled himself
+together to listen to what the woman was saying.) “I think it’s a
+foolish extravagance, when kerosene is so good and so cheap; but my
+husband will have it, and Mellicent, too, in spite of anything I
+say—Mellicent’s my daughter. I tell ’em if we were rich, it would be
+different, of course. But this is neither here nor there, nor what you
+came to talk about! Now just what is it that you want, sir?”
+
+“I want to board here, if I may.”
+
+“How long?”
+
+“A year—two years, perhaps, if we are mutually satisfied.”
+
+“What do you do for a living?”
+
+Smith coughed suddenly. Before he could catch his breath to answer
+Benny had jumped into the breach.
+
+“He sounds something like a Congregationalist, only he ain’t that, Aunt
+Jane, and he ain’t after money for missionaries, either.”
+
+Jane Blaisdell smiled at Benny indulgently. Then she sighed and shook
+her head.
+
+“You know, Benny, very well, that nothing would suit Aunt Jane better
+than to give money to all the missionaries in the world, if she only
+had it to give!” She sighed again as she turned to Mr. Smith. “You’re
+working for some church, then, I take it.”
+
+Mr. Smith gave a quick gesture of dissent.
+
+“I am a genealogist, madam, in a small way. I am collecting data for a
+book on the Blaisdell family.”
+
+“Oh!” Mrs. Blaisdell frowned slightly. The look of cold disapproval
+came back to her eyes. “But who pays you? _we_ couldn’t take the
+book, I’m sure. We couldn’t afford it.”
+
+“That would not be necessary, madam, I assure you,” murmured Mr. Smith
+gravely.
+
+“But how do you get money to live on? I mean, how am I to know that
+I’ll get my pay?” she persisted. “Excuse me, but that kind of business
+doesn’t sound very good-paying; and, you see, I don’t know you. And in
+these days—” An expressive pause finished her sentence.
+
+Mr. Smith smiled.
+
+“Quite right, madam. You are wise to be cautious. I had a letter of
+introduction to your brother from Mr. Robert Chalmers. I think he will
+vouch for me. Will that do?”
+
+“Oh, that’s all right, then. But that isn’t saying how _much_
+you’ll pay. Now, I think—”
+
+There came a sharp knock at the outer door. The eager Benny jumped to
+his feet, but his aunt shook her head and went to the door herself.
+There was a murmur of voices, then a young man entered the hall and
+sat down in the chair near the hatrack. When Mrs. Blaisdell returned
+her eyes were very bright. Her cheeks showed two little red spots. She
+carried herself with manifest importance.
+
+“If you’ll just excuse me a minute,” she apologized to Mr. Smith, as
+she swept by him and opened a door across the room, nearly closing it
+behind her.
+
+Distinctly then, from beyond the imperfectly closed door, came to the
+ears of Benny and Mr. Smith these words, in Mrs. Blaisdell’s most
+excited accents:—“Mellicent, it’s Carl Pennock. He wants you to go
+auto-riding with him down to the Lake with Katie Moore and that crowd.”
+
+“Mother!” breathed an ecstatic voice.
+
+What followed Mr. Smith did not hear, for a nearer, yet more excited,
+voice demanded attention.
+
+“Gee! Carl Pennock!” whispered Benny hoarsely. “Whew! Won’t my sister
+Bess be mad? She thinks Carl Pennock’s the cutest thing going. All the
+girls do!”
+
+With a warning “Sh-h!” and an expressive glance toward the hall, Mr.
+Smith tried to stop further revelations; but Benny was not to be
+silenced.
+
+“They’re rich—awful rich—the Pennocks are,” he confided still more
+huskily. “An’ there’s a girl—Gussie. She’s gone on Fred. He’s my
+brother, ye know. He’s seventeen; an’ Bess is mad ’cause she isn’t
+seventeen, too, so she can go an’ play tennis same as Fred does. She’ll
+be madder ’n ever now, if Mell goes auto-riding with Carl, an’—”
+
+“Sh-h!” So imperative were Mr. Smith’s voice and gesture this time that
+Benny fell back subdued.
+
+At once then became distinctly audible again the voices from the other
+room. Mr. Smith, forced to hear in spite of himself, had the air of one
+who finds he has abandoned the frying pan for the fire.
+
+“No, dear, it’s quite out of the question,” came from beyond the door,
+in Mrs. Blaisdell’s voice. “I can’t let you wear your pink. You will
+wear the blue or stay at home. Just as you choose.”
+
+“But, mother, dear, it’s all out of date,” wailed a young girl’s voice.
+
+“I can’t help that. It’s perfectly whole and neat, and you must save
+the pink for best.”
+
+“But I’m always saving things for best, mother, and I never wear my
+best. I never wear a thing when it’s in style! By the time you let me
+wear the pink I shan’t want to wear it. Sleeves’ll be small then—you
+see if they aren’t—I shall be wearing big ones. I want to wear big ones
+now, when other girls do. Please, mother!”
+
+“Mellicent, why will you tease me like this, when you know it will do
+no good?—when you know I can’t let you do it? Don’t you think I want
+you to be as well-dressed as anybody, if we could afford it? Come, I’m
+waiting. You must wear the blue or stay at home. What shall I tell him?”
+
+There was a pause, then there came an inarticulate word and a choking
+half-sob. The next moment the door opened and Mrs. Blaisdell appeared.
+The pink spots in her cheeks had deepened. She shut the door firmly,
+then hurried through the room to the hall beyond. Another minute and
+she was back in her chair.
+
+“There,” she smiled pleasantly. “I’m ready now to talk business, Mr.
+Smith.”
+
+And she talked business. She stated plainly what she expected to do
+for her boarder, and what she expected her boarder would do for her.
+She enlarged upon the advantages and minimized the discomforts, with
+the aid of a word now and then from the eager and interested Benny.
+
+Mr. Smith, on his part, had little to say. That that little was most
+satisfactory, however, was very evident; for Mrs. Blaisdell was soon
+quite glowing with pride and pleasure. Mr. Smith was not glowing. He
+was plainly ill at ease, and, at times, slightly abstracted. His eyes
+frequently sought the door which Mrs. Blaisdell had closed so firmly
+a short time before. They were still turned in that direction when
+suddenly the door opened and a young girl appeared.
+
+She was a slim little girl with long-lashed, starlike eyes and a
+wild-rose flush in her cheeks. Beneath her trim hat her light brown
+hair waved softly over her ears, glinting into gold where the light
+struck it. She looked excited and pleased, yet not quite happy. She
+wore a blue dress, plainly made.
+
+“Don’t stay late. Be in before ten, dear,” cautioned Mrs. Blaisdell.
+“And Mellicent, just a minute, dear. This is Mr. Smith. You might as
+well meet him now. He’s coming here to live—to board, you know. My
+daughter, Mr. Smith.”
+
+Mr. Smith, already on his feet, bowed and murmured a conventional
+something. From the starlike eyes he received a fleeting glance that
+made him suddenly conscious of his fifty years and the bald spot on the
+top of his head. Then the girl was gone, and her mother was speaking
+again.
+
+“She’s going auto-riding—Mellicent is—with a young man, Carl
+Pennock—one of the nicest in town. There are four others in the party.
+They’re going down to the Lake for cake and ice cream, and they’re
+all nice young people, else I shouldn’t let her go, of course. She’s
+eighteen, for all she’s so small. She favors my mother in looks, but
+she’s got the Blaisdell nose, though. Oh, and ’twas the Blaisdells
+you said you were writing a book about, wasn’t it? You don’t mean
+_our_ Blaisdells, right here in Hillerton?”
+
+“I mean all Blaisdells, wherever I find them,” smiled Mr. Smith.
+
+“Dear me! What, _us_? You mean _we_’ll be in the book?”
+Now that the matter of board had been satisfactorily settled, Mrs.
+Blaisdell apparently dared to show some interest in the book.
+
+“Certainly.”
+
+“You don’t say! My, how pleased Hattie’ll be—my sister-in-law, Jim’s
+wife. She just loves to see her name in print—parties, and club
+banquets, and where she pours, you know. But maybe you don’t take
+women, too.”
+
+“Oh, yes, if they are Blaisdells, or have married Blaisdells.”
+
+“Oh! That’s where we’d come in, then, isn’t it? Mellicent and I? And
+Frank, my husband, he’ll like it, too,—if you tell about the grocery
+store. And of course you would, if you told about him. You’d have
+to—’cause that’s all there is to tell. He thinks that’s about all there
+is in the world, anyway,—that grocery store. And ’tis a good store, if
+I do say it. And there’s his sister, Flora; and Maggie—But, there! Poor
+Maggie! She won’t be in it, will she, after all? She isn’t a Blaisdell,
+and she didn’t marry one. Now that’s too bad!”
+
+“Ho! She won’t mind.” Benny spoke with conviction. “She’ll just laugh
+and say it doesn’t matter; and then Grandpa Duff’ll ask for his drops
+or his glasses, or something, and she’ll forget all about it. She won’t
+care.”
+
+“Yes, I know; but—Poor Maggie! Always just her luck.” Mrs. Blaisdell
+sighed and looked thoughtful. “But Maggie _knows_ a lot about the
+Blaisdells,” she added, brightening; “so she could tell you lots of
+things—about when they were little, and all that.”
+
+“Yes. But—that isn’t—er—” Mr. Smith hesitated doubtfully, and Mrs.
+Blaisdell jumped into the pause.
+
+“And, really, for that matter, she knows about us _now_, too,
+better than ’most anybody else. Hattie’s always sending for her, and
+Flora, too, if they’re sick, or anything. Poor Maggie! Sometimes I
+think they actually impose upon her. And she’s such a good soul, too!
+I declare, I never see her but I wish I could do something for her.
+But, of course, with my means—But, there! Here I am, running on as
+usual. Frank says I never do know when to stop, when I get started
+on something; and of course you didn’t come here to talk about poor
+Maggie. Now I’ll go back to business. When is it you want to start
+in—to board, I mean?”
+
+“To-morrow, if I may.” With some alacrity Mr. Smith got to his feet.
+“And now we must be going—Benny and I. I’m at the Holland House. With
+your permission, then, Mrs. Blaisdell, I’ll send up my trunks to-morrow
+morning. And now good-night—and thank you.”
+
+“Why—but, Mr. Smith!” The woman, too, came to her feet, but her face
+was surprised. “Why, you haven’t even seen your room yet! How do you
+know you’ll like it?”
+
+“Eh? What? Oh!” Mr. Smith laughed. There was a quizzical lift to his
+eyebrows. “So I haven’t, have I? And people usually do, don’t they?
+Well—er—perhaps I will just take a look at—the room, though I’m not
+worrying any, I assure you. I’ve no doubt it will be quite right, quite
+right,” he finished, as he followed Mrs. Blaisdell to a door halfway
+down the narrow hall.
+
+Five minutes later, once more on the street, he was walking home with
+Benny. It was Benny who broke the long silence that had immediately
+fallen between them.
+
+“Say, Mr. Smith, I’ll bet ye _you_’ll never be rich!”
+
+Mr. Smith turned with a visible start.
+
+“Eh? What? I’ll never be—What do you mean, boy?”
+
+Benny giggled cheerfully.
+
+“’Cause you paid Aunt Jane what she asked the very first time. Why,
+Aunt Jane never expects ter get what she asks, pa says. She sells him
+groceries in the store, sometimes, when Uncle Frank’s away, ye know.
+Pa says what she asks first is for practice—just ter get her hand in;
+an’ she expects ter get beat down. But you paid it, right off the bat.
+Didn’t ye see how tickled Aunt Jane was, after she’d got over bein’
+surprised?”
+
+“Why—er—really, Benny,” murmured Mr. Smith.
+
+But Benny had yet more to say.
+
+“Oh, yes, sir, you could have saved a lot every week, if ye hadn’t bit
+so quick. An’ that’s why I say you won’t ever get rich. Savin’ ’s what
+does it, ye know—gets folks rich. Aunt Jane says so. She says a penny
+saved ’s good as two earned, an’ better than four spent.”
+
+“Well, really, indeed!” Mr. Smith laughed lightly. “That does look as
+if there wasn’t much chance for me, doesn’t it?”
+
+“Yes, sir.” Benny spoke soberly, and with evident sympathy. He spoke
+again, after a moment, but Mr. Smith did not seem to hear at once. Mr.
+Smith was, indeed, not a little abstracted all the way to Benny’s home,
+though his good-night was very cheerful at parting. Benny would have
+been surprised, indeed, had he known that Mr. Smith was thinking, not
+about his foolishly extravagant agreement for board, but about a pair
+of starry eyes with wistful lights in them, and a blue dress, plainly
+made.
+
+In the hotel that night, Mr. John Smith wrote the following letter to
+Edward D. Norton, Esq., Chicago:
+
+  MY DEAR NED,—Well, I’m here. I’ve been here exactly six
+  hours, and already I’m in possession of not a little Blaisdell data
+  for my—er—book. I’ve seen Mr. and Mrs. James, their daughter, Bessie,
+  and their son, Benny. Benny, by the way, is a gushing geyser of
+  current Blaisdell data which, I foresee, I shall find interesting,
+  but embarrassing, perhaps, at times. I’ve also seen Miss Flora, and
+  Mrs. Jane Blaisdell and her daughter, Mellicent.
+
+  There’s a “Poor Maggie” whom I haven’t seen. But she isn’t a
+  Blaisdell. She’s a Duff, daughter of the man who married Rufus
+  Blaisdell’s widow, some thirty years or more ago. As I said,
+  I haven’t seen her yet, but she, too, according to Mrs. Frank
+  Blaisdell, must be a gushing geyser of Blaisdell data, so I probably
+  soon shall see her. Why she’s “poor” I don’t know.
+
+  As for the Blaisdell data already in my possession—I’ve no comment
+  to make. Really, Ned, to tell the truth, I’m not sure I’m going to
+  relish this job, after all. In spite of a perfectly clear conscience,
+  and the virtuous realization that I’m here to bring nothing worse
+  than a hundred thousand dollars apiece with the possible addition of
+  a few millions on their devoted heads—in spite of all this, I yet
+  have an uncomfortable feeling that I’m a small boy listening at the
+  keyhole.
+
+  However, I’m committed to the thing now, so I’ll stuff it out, I
+  suppose,—though I’m not sure, after all, that I wouldn’t chuck the
+  whole thing if it wasn’t that I wanted to see how Mellicent will
+  enjoy her pink dresses. How many pink dresses will a hundred thousand
+  dollars buy, anyway,—I mean _pretty_ pink dresses, all fixed up
+  with frills and furbelows?
+
+                        As ever yours,
+                                  STAN—er—JOHN SMITH.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+IN SEARCH OF SOME DATES
+
+
+Very promptly the next morning Mr. John Smith and his two trunks
+appeared at the door of his new boarding-place. Mrs. Jane Blaisdell
+welcomed him cordially. She wore a high-necked, long-sleeved gingham
+apron this time, which she neither removed nor apologized for—unless
+her cheerful “You see, mornings you’ll find me in working trim, Mr.
+Smith,” might be taken as an apology.
+
+Mellicent, her slender young self enveloped in a similar apron, was
+dusting his room as he entered it. She nodded absently, with a casual
+“Good-morning, Mr. Smith,” as she continued at her work. Even the
+placing of the two big trunks, which the shuffling men brought in, won
+from her only a listless glance or two. Then, without speaking again,
+she left the room, as her mother entered it.
+
+“There!” Mrs. Blaisdell looked about her complacently. “With this
+couch-bed with its red cover and cushions, and all the dressing things
+moved to the little room in there, it looks like a real sitting-room in
+here, doesn’t it?”
+
+“It certainly does, Mrs. Blaisdell.”
+
+“And you had ’em take the trunks in there, too. That’s good,” she
+nodded, crossing to the door of the small dressing-room beyond. “I
+thought you would. Well, I hope you’ll be real happy with us, Mr.
+Smith, and I guess you will. And you needn’t be a mite afraid of
+hurting anything. I’ve covered everything with mats and tidies and
+spreads.”
+
+“Yes, I see.” A keen listener would have noticed an odd something in
+Mr. Smith’s voice; but Mrs. Blaisdell apparently noticed nothing.
+
+“Yes, I always do—to save wearing and soiling, you know. Of course, if
+we had money to buy new all the time, it would be different. But we
+haven’t. And that’s what I tell Mellicent when she complains of so many
+things to dust and brush. Now make yourself right at home, Mr. Smith.
+Dinner’s at twelve o’clock, and supper is at six—except in the winter.
+We have it earlier then, so’s we can go to bed earlier. Saves gas, you
+know. But it’s at six now. I do like the long days, don’t you? Well,
+I’ll be off now, and let you unpack. As I said before, make yourself
+perfectly at home, perfectly at home.”
+
+Left alone, Mr. Smith drew a long breath and looked about him. It was
+a pleasant room, in spite of its cluttered appearance. There was an
+old-fashioned desk for his papers, and the chairs looked roomy and
+comfortable. The little dressing-room carried many conveniences, and
+the windows of both rooms looked out upon the green of the common.
+
+“Oh, well, I don’t know. This might be lots worse—in spite of the
+tidies!” chuckled Mr. John Smith, as he singled out the keys of his
+trunks.
+
+At the noon dinner-table Mr. Smith met Mr. Frank Blaisdell. He was a
+portly man with rather thick gray hair and “mutton-chop” gray whiskers.
+He ate very fast, and a great deal, yet he still found time to talk
+interestedly with his new boarder.
+
+He was plainly a man of decided opinions—opinions which he did not
+hesitate to express, and which he emphasized with resounding thumps of
+his fists on the table. The first time he did this, Mr. Smith, taken
+utterly by surprise, was guilty of a visible start. After that he
+learned to accept them with the serenity evinced by the rest of the
+family.
+
+When the dinner was over, Mr. Smith knew (if he could remember them)
+the current market prices of beans, corn, potatoes, sugar, and flour;
+and he knew (again if he could remember) why some of these commodities
+were higher, and some lower, than they had been the week before. In a
+way, Mr. John Smith was interested. That stocks and bonds fluctuated,
+he was well aware. That “wheat” could be cornered, he realized. But of
+the ups and downs of corn and beans as seen by the retail grocer he
+knew very little. That is, he had known very little until after that
+dinner with Mr. Frank Blaisdell.
+
+It was that afternoon that Mr. Smith began systematically to gather
+material for his Blaisdell book. He would first visit by turns all the
+Hillerton Blaisdells, he decided; then, when he had exhausted their
+resources, he would, of course, turn to the town records and cemeteries
+of Hillerton and the neighboring villages.
+
+Armed with a pencil and a very businesslike looking notebook,
+therefore, he started at two o’clock for the home of James Blaisdell.
+Remembering Mr. Blaisdell’s kind permission to come and ask all the
+questions he liked, he deemed it fitting to begin there.
+
+He had no trouble in finding the house, but there was no one in
+sight this time, as he ascended the steps. The house, indeed, seemed
+strangely quiet. He was just about to ring the bell when around the
+corner of the veranda came a hurried step and a warning voice.
+
+“Oh, please, don’t ring the bell! What is it? Isn’t it something that I
+can do for you?”
+
+Mr. Smith turned sharply. He thought at first, from the trim, slender
+figure, and the waving hair above the gracefully poised head, that he
+was confronting a young woman. Then he saw the silver threads at the
+temples, and the fine lines about the eyes.
+
+“I am looking for Mrs. Blaisdell—Mrs. James Blaisdell,” he answered,
+lifting his hat.
+
+“Oh, you’re Mr. Smith. Aren’t you Mr. Smith?” She smiled brightly, then
+went on before he could reply. “You see, Benny told me. He described
+you perfectly.”
+
+The man’s eyebrows went up.
+
+“Oh, did he? The young rascal! I fancy I should be edified to hear
+it—that description.”
+
+The other laughed. Then, a bit roguishly, she demanded:—“Should you
+like to hear it—really?”
+
+“I certainly should. I’ve already collected a few samples of Benny’s
+descriptive powers.”
+
+“Then you shall have this one. Sit down, Mr. Smith.” She motioned him
+to a chair, and dropped easily into one herself. “Benny said you were
+tall and not fat; that you had a wreath of light hair ’round a bald
+spot, and whiskers that were clipped as even as Mr. Pennock’s hedge;
+and that your lips, without speaking, said, ‘Run away, little boy,’ but
+that your eyes said, ‘Come here.’ Now I think Benny did pretty well.”
+“So I judge, since you recognized me without any difficulty,” rejoined
+Mr. Smith, a bit dryly. “But—YOU—? You see you have the advantage of
+me. Benny hasn’t described you to me.” He paused significantly.
+
+“Oh, I’m just here to help out. Mrs. Blaisdell is ill upstairs—one of
+her headaches. That is why I asked you not to ring. She gets so nervous
+when the bell rings. She thinks it’s callers, and that she won’t be
+ready to receive them; and she hurries up and begins to dress. So I
+asked you not to ring.”
+
+“But she isn’t seriously ill?”
+
+“Oh, no, just a headache. She has them often. You wanted to see her?”
+
+“Yes. But it’s not important at all. Another time, just as well. Some
+questions—that is all.”
+
+“Oh, for the book, of course. Oh, yes, I have heard about that, too.”
+She smiled again brightly. “But can’t you wait? Mr. Blaisdell will soon
+be here. He’s coming early so I can go home. I _have_ to go home.”
+
+“And you are—”
+
+“Miss Duff. My name is Duff.”
+
+“You don’t mean—‘Poor Maggie’!” (Not until the words were out did Mr.
+Smith realize quite how they would sound.) “Er—ah—that is—” He stumbled
+miserably, and she came to his rescue.
+
+“Oh, yes, I’m—‘Poor Maggie.’” There was an odd something in her
+expressive face that Mr. Smith could not fathom. He was groping for
+something—anything to say, when suddenly there was a sound behind them,
+and the little woman at his side sprang to her feet.
+
+“Oh, Hattie, you came down!” she exclaimed as Mrs. James Blaisdell
+opened the screen door and stepped out on to the veranda. “Here’s Mrs.
+Blaisdell now, Mr. Smith.”
+
+“Oh, it’s only Mr. Smith!” With a look very like annoyance Mrs.
+Blaisdell advanced and held out her hand. She looked pale, and her hair
+hung a bit untidily about one ear below a somewhat twisted pyramid of
+puffs. Her dress, though manifestly an expensive one, showed haste in
+its fastenings. “Yes, I heard voices, and I thought some one had come—a
+caller. So I came down.”
+
+“I’m glad—if you’re better,” smiled Miss Maggie. “Then I’ll go, if
+you don’t mind. Mr. Smith has come to ask you some questions, Hattie.
+Good-bye!” With another cheery smile and a nod to Mr. Smith, she
+disappeared into the house. A minute later Mr. Smith saw her hurrying
+down a side path to the street.
+
+“You called to ask some questions?” Mrs. Blaisdell sank languidly into
+a chair.
+
+“About the Blaisdell family—yes. But perhaps another day, when you are
+feeling better, Mrs. Blaisdell.”
+
+“Oh, no.” She smiled a little more cordially. “I can answer to-day as
+well as any time—though I’m not sure I can tell you very much, ever. I
+think it’s fine you are making the book, though. Some way it gives a
+family such a standing, to be written up like that. Don’t you think so?
+And the Blaisdells are really a very nice family—one of the oldest in
+Hillerton, though, of course, they haven’t much money.”
+
+“I ought to find a good deal of material here, then, if they have lived
+here so long.”
+
+“Yes, I suppose so. Now, what can I tell you? Of course I can tell
+you about my own family. My husband is in the real estate business.
+You knew that, didn’t you? Perhaps you see ‘The Real Estate Journal.’
+His picture was in it a year ago last June. There was a write-up on
+Hillerton. I was in it, too, though there wasn’t much about me. But
+I’ve got other clippings with more, if you’d like to see them—where
+I’ve poured, and been hostess, and all that, you know.”
+
+Mr. Smith took out his notebook and pencil.
+
+“Let me see, Mrs. Blaisdell, your husband’s father’s name was Rufus, I
+believe. What was his mother’s maiden name, please?”
+
+“His mother’s maiden name? Oh, ‘Elizabeth.’ Our little girl is named
+for her—Bessie, you know—you saw her last night. Jim wanted to, so
+I let him. It’s a pretty name—Elizabeth—still, it sounds a little
+old-fashioned now, don’t you think? Of course we are anxious to have
+everything just right for our daughter. A young lady soon coming out,
+so,—you can’t be too particular. That’s one reason why I wanted to get
+over here—on the West Side, I mean. Everybody who is anybody lives on
+the West Side in Hillerton. You’ll soon find that out.”
+
+“No doubt, no doubt! And your mother Blaisdell’s surname?” Mr. Smith’s
+pencil was poised over the open notebook.
+“Surname? Mother Blaisdell’s? Oh, before she was married. I see.
+But, dear me, I don’t know. I suppose Jim will, or Flora, or maybe
+Frank—though I don’t believe _he_ will, unless her folks kept
+groceries. Did you ever see anybody that didn’t know anything but
+groceries like Frank Blaisdell?” The lady sighed and shrugged her
+somewhat heavy shoulders with an expressive glance.
+
+Mr. Smith smiled understandingly.
+
+“Oh, well, it’s good—to be interested in one’s business, you know.”
+
+“But such a business!” murmured the lady, with another shrug.
+
+“Then you can’t tell me Mrs. Rufus Blaisdell’s surname?”
+
+“No. But Jim—Oh, I’ll tell you who will know,” she broke off
+interestedly; “and that’s Maggie Duff. You saw her here a few minutes
+ago, you know. Father Duff’s got all of Mother Blaisdell’s papers and
+diaries. Oh, Maggie can tell you a lot of things. Poor Maggie! Benny
+says if we want _anything_ we ask Aunt Maggie, and I don’t know
+but he’s right. And here I am, sending you to her, so soon!”
+
+“Very well, then,” smiled Mr. Smith. “I don’t see but what I shall have
+to interview Miss Maggie, and Miss Flora. Is there nothing more, then,
+that you can tell me?”
+
+“Well, there’s Fred, my son. You haven’t seen him yet. We’re very proud
+of Fred. He’s at the head of his class, and he’s going to college
+and be a lawyer. And that’s another reason why I wanted to come over
+to this side—on Fred’s account. I want him to meet the right sort of
+people. You know it helps so much! We think we’re going to have Fred a
+big man some day.”
+
+“And he was born, when?” Mr. Smith’s pencil still poised above an
+almost entirely blank page.
+
+“He’s seventeen. He’ll be eighteen the tenth of next month.”
+
+“And Miss Bessie, and Benny?”
+
+“Oh, she’s sixteen. She’ll be seventeen next winter. She wants to come
+out then, but I think I shall wait—a little, she’s so very young;
+though Gussie Pennock’s out, and she’s only seventeen, and the Pennocks
+are some of our very best people. They’re the richest folks in town,
+you know.”
+
+“And Benny was born—when?”
+
+“He’s eight—or rather nine, next Tuesday. Dear me, Mr. Smith, don’t you
+want _anything_ but dates? They’re tiresome things, I think,—make
+one feel so old, you know, and it shows up how many years you’ve been
+married. Don’t you think so? But maybe you’re a bachelor.”
+
+“Yes, I’m a bachelor.”
+
+“Are you, indeed? Well, you miss a lot, of course,—home and wife and
+children. Still, you gain some things. You aren’t tied down, and you
+don’t have so much to worry about. Is your mother living, or your
+father?”
+
+“No. I have no—near relatives.” Mr. Smith stirred a little uneasily,
+and adjusted his book. “Perhaps, now, Mrs. Blaisdell, you can give me
+your own maiden name.”
+
+“Oh, yes, I can give you that!” She laughed and bridled
+self-consciously. “But you needn’t ask when I was born, for I shan’t
+tell you, if you do. My name was Hattie Snow.”
+
+“‘Harriet,’ I presume.” Mr. Smith’s pencil was busily at work.
+
+“Yes—Harriet Snow. And the Snows were just as good as the
+Blaisdells, if I do say it. There were a lot that wanted me—oh, I
+was pretty _then_, Mr. Smith.” She laughed, and bridled again
+self-consciously. “But I took Jim. He was handsome then, very—big
+dark eyes and dark hair, and so dreamy and poetical-looking; and
+there wasn’t a girl that hadn’t set her cap for him. And he’s been
+a good husband to me. To be sure, he isn’t quite so ambitious as he
+might be, perhaps. _I_ always did believe in being somebody, and
+getting somewhere. Don’t you? But Jim—he’s always for hanging back and
+saying how much it’ll cost. Ten to one he doesn’t end up by saying we
+can’t afford it. He’s like Jane,—Frank’s wife, where you board, you
+know,—only Jane’s worse than Jim ever thought of being. She won’t spend
+even what she’s got. If she’s got ten dollars, she won’t spend but five
+cents, if she can help it. Now, I believe in taking some comfort as you
+go along. But Jane—greatest saver I ever did see. Better look out, Mr.
+Smith, that she doesn’t try to save feeding you at all!” she finished
+merrily.
+
+“I’m not worrying!” Mr. Smith smiled cheerily, snapped his book shut
+and got to his feet.
+
+“Oh, won’t you wait for Mr. Blaisdell? He can tell you more, I’m sure.”
+
+“Not to-day, thank you. At his office, some time, I’ll see Mr.
+Blaisdell,” murmured Mr. Smith, with an odd haste. “But I thank you
+very much, Mrs. Blaisdell,” he bowed in farewell.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+IN MISS FLORA’S ALBUM
+
+
+It was the next afternoon that Mr. Smith inquired his way to the home
+of Miss Flora Blaisdell. He found it to be a shabby little cottage on
+a side street. Miss Flora herself answered his knock, peering at him
+anxiously with her near-sighted eyes.
+
+Mr. Smith lifted his hat.
+
+“Good-afternoon, Miss Blaisdell,” he began with a deferential bow. “I
+am wondering if you could tell me something of your father’s family.”
+Miss Flora, plainly pleased, but flustered, stepped back for him to
+enter.
+
+“Oh, Mr. Smith, come in, come in! I’m sure I’m glad to tell you
+anything I know,” she beamed, ushering him into the unmistakably
+little-used “front room.” “But you really ought to go to Maggie. I can
+tell you some things, but Maggie’s got the Bible. Mother had it, you
+know, and it’s all among her things. And of course we had to let it
+stay, as long as Father Duff lives. He doesn’t want anything touched.
+Poor Maggie—she tried to get ’em for us; but, mercy! she never tried
+but once. But I’ve got some things. I’ve got pictures of a lot of them,
+and most of them I know quite a lot about.”
+
+As she spoke she nicked up from the table a big red plush photograph
+album. Seating herself at his side she opened it, and began to tell him
+of the pictures, one by one.
+
+She did, indeed, know “quite a lot” of most of them. Tintypes,
+portraying stiffly held hands and staring eyes, ghostly reproductions
+of daguerreotypes of stern-lipped men and women, in old-time stock
+and kerchief; photographs of stilted family groups after the
+“he-is-mine-and-I-am-his” variety; snap-shots of adorable babies with
+blurred thumbs and noses—never had Mr. John Smith seen their like
+before.
+
+Politely he listened. Busily, from time to time, he jotted down a name
+or date. Then, suddenly, as she turned a page, he gave an involuntary
+start. He was looking at a pictured face, evidently cut from a magazine.
+
+“Why, what—who—” he stammered.
+
+“That? Oh, that’s Mr. Fulton, the millionaire, you know.” Miss Flora’s
+hands fluttered over the page a little importantly, adjusting a corner
+of the print. “You must have seen his picture. It’s been everywhere.
+He’s our cousin, too.”
+
+“Oh, is he?”
+
+“Yes, ’way back somewhere. I can’t tell you just how, only I know
+he is. His mother was a Blaisdell. That’s why I’ve always been so
+interested in him, and read everything I could—in the papers and
+magazines, you know.”
+
+“Oh, I see.” Mr. John Smith’s voice had become a little uncertain.
+
+“Yes. He ain’t very handsome, is he?” Miss Flora’s eyes were musingly
+fixed on the picture before her—which was well, perhaps: Mr. John
+Smith’s face was a study just then.
+
+“Er—n-no, he isn’t.”
+
+“But he’s turribly rich, I s’pose. I wonder how it feels to have so
+much money.”
+
+There being no reply to this, Miss Flora went on after a moment.
+
+“It must be awful nice—to buy what you want, I mean, without fretting
+about how much it costs. I never did. But I’d like to.”
+
+“What would you do—if you could—if you had the money, I mean?” queried
+Mr. Smith, almost eagerly.
+
+Miss Flora laughed.
+
+“Well, there’s three things I know I’d do. They’re silly, of course,
+but they’re what I _want_. It’s a phonygraph, and to see Niagara
+Falls, and to go into Noell’s restaurant and order what I want without
+even looking at the prices after ’em. Now you’re laughing at me!”
+
+“Laughing? Not a bit of it!” There was a curious elation in Mr. Smith’s
+voice. “What’s more, I hope you’ll get them—some time.”
+
+Miss Flora sighed. Her face looked suddenly pinched and old.
+
+“I shan’t. I couldn’t, you know. Why, if I had the money, I shouldn’t
+spend it—not for them things. I’d be needing shoes or a new dress. And
+I _couldn’t_ be so rich I wouldn’t notice what the prices was—of
+what I ate. But, then, I don’t believe anybody’s that, not even him.”
+She pointed to the picture still open before them.
+
+“No?” Mr. Smith, his eyes bent upon the picture, was looking
+thoughtful. He had the air of a man to whom has come a brand-new,
+somewhat disconcerting idea.
+
+Miss Flora, glancing from the man to the picture, and back again, gave
+a sudden exclamation.
+“There, now I know who it is that you remind me of, Mr. Smith. It’s
+him—Mr. Fulton, there.”
+
+“Eh? What?” Mr. Smith looked not a little startled.
+
+“Something about the eyes and nose.” Miss Flora was still interestedly
+comparing the man and the picture, “But, then, that ain’t so strange.
+You’re a Blaisdell yourself. Didn’t you say you was a Blaisdell?”
+
+“Er—y-yes, oh, yes. I’m a Blaisdell,” nodded Mr. Smith hastily. “Very
+likely I’ve got the—er—Blaisdell nose. Eh?” Then he turned a leaf of
+the album abruptly, decidedly. “And who may this be?” he demanded,
+pointing to the tintype of a bright-faced young girl.
+
+“That? Oh, that’s my cousin Grace when she was sixteen. She died; but
+she was a wonderful girl. I’ll tell you about her.”
+
+“Yes, do,” urged Mr. Smith; and even the closest observer, watching his
+face, could not have said that he was not absorbedly interested in Miss
+Flora’s story of “my cousin Grace.”
+
+It was not until the last leaf of the album was reached that they came
+upon the picture of a small girl, with big, hungry eyes looking out
+from beneath long lashes.
+
+“That’s Mellicent—where you’re boarding, you know—when she was little.”
+Miss Flora frowned disapprovingly. “But it’s horrid, poor child!”
+
+“But she looks so—so sad,” murmured Mr. Smith.
+
+“Yes, I know. She always did.” Miss Flora sighed and frowned again. She
+hesitated, then burst out, as if irresistibly impelled from within.
+“It’s only just another case of never having what you want _when_
+you want it, Mr. Smith. And it ain’t ’cause they’re poor, either. They
+_ain’t_ poor—not like me, I mean. Frank’s always done well, and
+he’s been a good provider; but it’s my sister-in-law—her way, I mean.
+Not that I’m saying anything against Jane. I ain’t. She’s a good woman,
+and she’s very kind to me. She’s always saying what she’d do for me if
+she only had the money. She’s a good housekeeper, too, and her house is
+as neat as wax. But it’s just that she never thinks she can _use_
+anything she’s got till it’s so out of date she don’t want it. I
+dressmake for her, you see, so I know—about her sleeves and skirts, you
+know. And if she ever does wear a decent thing she’s so afraid it will
+rain she never takes any comfort in it!”
+
+“Well, that is—unfortunate.”
+
+“Yes, ain’t it? And she’s brought up that poor child the same way. Why,
+from babyhood, Mellicent never had her rattles till she wanted blocks,
+nor her blocks till she wanted dolls, nor her dolls till she was big
+enough for beaus! And that’s what made the poor child always look so
+wall-eyed and hungry. She was hungry—even if she did get enough to eat.”
+
+“Mrs. Blaisdell probably believed in—er—economy,” hazarded Mr. Smith.
+
+“Economy! My stars, I should think she did! But, there, I ought not
+to have said anything, of course. It’s a good trait. I only wish some
+other folks I could mention had more of it. There’s Jim’s wife, for
+instance. Now, if she’s got ten cents, she’ll spend fifteen—and five
+more to show _how_ she spent it. She and Jane ought to be shaken
+up in a bag together. Why, Mr. Smith, Jane doesn’t let herself enjoy
+anything. She’s always keeping it for a better time. Though sometimes I
+think she _does_ enjoy just seeing how far she can make a dollar
+go. But Mellicent don’t, nor Frank; and it’s hard on them.”
+
+“I should say it might be.” Mr. Smith was looking at the wistful eyes
+under the long lashes.
+
+“’Tis; and ’tain’t right, I believe. There _is_ such a thing
+as being too economical. I tell Jane she’ll be like a story I read
+once about a man who pinched and saved all his life, not even buying
+peanuts, though he just doted on ’em. And when he did get rich, so he
+could buy the peanuts, he bought a big bag the first thing. But he
+didn’t eat ’em. He hadn’t got any teeth left to chew ’em with.”
+
+“Well, that was a catastrophe!” laughed Mr. Smith, as he pocketed his
+notebook and rose to his feet. “And now I thank you very much, Miss
+Blaisdell, for the help you’ve been to me.”
+
+“Oh, you’re quite welcome, indeed you are, Mr. Smith,” beamed Miss
+Blaisdell. “It’s done me good, just to talk to you about all these
+folks and pictures. I we enjoyed it. I do get lonesome sometimes, all
+alone, so! and I ain’t so busy as I wish I was, always. But I’m afraid
+I haven’t helped you much—just this.”
+
+“Oh, yes, you have—perhaps more than you think,” smiled the man, with
+an odd look in his eyes.
+
+“Have I? Well, I’m glad, I’m sure. And don’t forget to go to Maggie’s,
+now. She’ll have a lot to tell you. Poor Maggie! And she’ll be so glad
+to show you!”
+
+“All right, thank you; I’ll surely interview—Miss Maggie,” smiled the
+man in good-bye.
+
+He had almost said “poor” Maggie himself, though why she should be
+_poor_ Maggie had come to be an all-absorbing question with him.
+He had been tempted once to ask Miss Flora, but something had held him
+back. That evening at the supper-table, however, in talking with Mrs.
+Jane Blaisdell, the question came again to his lips; and this time it
+found utterance.
+
+Mrs. Jane herself had introduced Miss Maggie’s name, and had said an
+inconsequential something about her when Mr. Smith asked:—
+
+“Mrs. Blaisdell, please,—may I ask? I must confess to a great curiosity
+as to why Miss Duff is always ‘poor Maggie.’”
+
+Mrs. Blaisdell laughed pleasantly.
+
+“Why, really, I don’t know,” she answered, “only it just comes natural,
+that’s all. Poor Maggie’s been so unfortunate. There! I did it again,
+didn’t I? That only goes to show how we all do it, unconsciously.”
+
+Frank Blaisdell, across the table, gave a sudden emphatic sniff.
+
+“Humph! Well, I guess if you had to live with Father Duff, Jane, it
+would be ‘poor Jane’ with you, all right!”
+
+“Yes, I know.” His wife sighed complacently.
+
+“Father Duff’s a trial, and no mistake. But Maggie doesn’t seem to
+mind.”
+
+“Mind! Aunt Maggie’s a saint—that’s what she is!” It was Mellicent who
+spoke, her young voice vibrant with suppressed feeling. “She’s the
+dearest thing ever! There _couldn’t_ be anybody better than Aunt
+Maggie!”
+
+Nothing more was said just then, but in the evening, later, after
+Mellicent had gone to walk with young Pennock, and her father had gone
+back down to the store, Mrs. Blaisdell took up the matter of “Poor
+Maggie” again.
+
+“I’ve been thinking what you said,” she began, “about our calling her
+‘poor Maggie,’ and I’ve made up my mind it’s because we’re all so
+sorry for her. You see, she’s been so unfortunate, as I said. Poor
+Maggie! I’ve so often wished there was something I could do for her. Of
+course, if we only had money—but we haven’t; so I can’t. And even money
+wouldn’t take away her father, either. Oh, mercy! I didn’t mean that,
+really,—not the way it sounded,” broke off Mrs. Blaisdell, in shocked
+apology. “I only meant that she’d have her father to care for, just the
+same.”
+
+“He’s something of a trial, I take it, eh?” smiled Mr. Smith.
+
+“Trial! I should say he was. Poor Maggie! How ever she endures it, I
+can’t imagine. Of course, we call him Father Duff, but he’s really
+not any relation to us—I mean to Frank and the rest. But their mother
+married him when they were children, and they never knew their own
+father much, so he’s the only father they know. When their mother died,
+Maggie had just entered college. She was eighteen, and such a pretty
+girl! I knew the family even then. Frank was just beginning to court me.
+
+“Well, of course Maggie had to come home right away. None of the
+rest wanted to take care of him and Maggie had to. There was another
+Duff sister then—a married sister (she’s died since), but _she_
+wouldn’t take him, so Maggie had to. Of course, none of the Blaisdells
+wanted the care of him—and he wasn’t their father, anyway. Frank was
+wanting to marry me, and Jim and Flora were in school and wanted to
+stay there, of course. So Maggie came. Poor girl! It was real hard for
+her. She was so ambitious, and so fond of books. But she came, and went
+right into the home and kept it so Frank and Jim and Flora could live
+there just the same as when their mother was alive. And she had to do
+all the work, too. They were too poor to keep a girl. Kind of hard,
+wasn’t it?—and Maggie only eighteen!”
+
+“It was, indeed!” Mr. Smith’s lips came together a bit grimly.
+
+“Well, after a time Frank and Jim married, and there was only Flora and
+Father Duff at home. Poor Maggie tried then to go to college again. She
+was over twenty-one, and supposed to be her own mistress, of course.
+She found a place where she could work and pay her way through college,
+and Flora said she’d keep the house and take care of Father Duff. But,
+dear me; it wasn’t a month before that ended, and Maggie had to come
+home again. Flora wasn’t strong, and the work fretted her. Besides, she
+never could get along with Father Duff, and she was trying to learn
+dressmaking, too. She stuck it out till she got sick, though, then of
+course Maggie had to come back.”
+
+“Well, by Jove!” ejaculated Mr. Smith.
+
+“Yes, wasn’t it too bad? Poor Maggie, she tried it twice again. She
+persuaded her father to get a girl. But that didn’t work, either. The
+first girl and her father fought like cats and dogs, and the last time
+she got one her father was taken sick, and again she had to come home.
+Some way, it’s always been that way with poor Maggie. No sooner does
+she reach out to take something than it’s snatched away, just as she
+thinks she’s got it. Why, there was her father’s cousin George—he was
+going to help her once. But a streak of bad luck hit him at just that
+minute, and he gave out.”
+
+“And he never tried—again?”
+
+“No. He went to Alaska then. Hasn’t ever been back since. He’s done
+well, too, they say, and I always thought he’d send back something; but
+he never has. There was some trouble, I believe, between him and Father
+Duff at the time he went to Alaska, so that explains it, probably.
+Anyway, he’s never done anything for them. Well, when he gave out,
+Maggie just gave up college then, and settled down to take care of her
+father, though I guess she’s always studied some at home; and I know
+that for years she didn’t give up hope but that she could go some time.
+But I guess she has now. Poor Maggie!”
+
+“How old is she?”
+
+“Why, let me see—forty-three, forty-four—yes, she’s forty-five. She
+had her forty-third birthday here—I remember I gave her a handkerchief
+for a birthday present—when she was helping me take care of Mellicent
+through the pneumonia; and that was two years ago. She used to come
+here and to Jim’s and Flora’s days at a time; but she isn’t quite so
+free as she was—Father Duff’s worse now, and she don’t like to leave
+him nights, much, so she can’t come to us so often. See?”
+
+“Yes, I—see.” There was a queer something in Mr. Smith’s voice. “And
+just what is the matter with Mr. Duff?”
+
+“Matter!” Mrs. Jane Blaisdell gave a short laugh and shrugged her
+shoulders. “Everything’s the matter—with Father Duff! Oh, it’s nerves,
+mostly, the doctor says, and there are some other things—long names
+that I can’t remember. But, as I said, everything’s the matter with
+Father Duff. He’s one of those men where there isn’t anything quite
+right. Frank says he’s got so he just objects to everything—on general
+principles. If it’s blue, he says it ought to be black, you know. And,
+really, I don’t know but Frank’s right. How Maggie stands him I don’t
+see; but she’s devotion itself. Why, she even gave up her lover years
+ago, for him. She wouldn’t leave her father, and, of course, nobody
+would think of taking _him_ into the family, when he wasn’t
+_born_ into it, so the affair was broken off. I don’t know,
+really, as Maggie cared much. Still, you can’t tell. She never was one
+to carry her heart on her sleeve. Poor Maggie! I’ve always so wished I
+could do something for her!
+
+“There, how I have run on! But, then, you asked, and you’re interested,
+I know, and that’s what you’re here for—to find out about the
+Blaisdells.”
+
+“To—to—f-find out—” stammered Mr. Smith, grown suddenly very red.
+
+“Yes, for your book, I mean.”
+
+“Oh, yes—of course; for my book,” agreed Mr. Smith, a bit hastily. He
+had the guilty air of a small boy who has almost been caught in a raid
+on the cooky jar.
+
+“And although poor Maggie isn’t really a Blaisdell herself, she’s
+nearly one; and they’ve got lots of Blaisdell records down there—among
+Mother Blaisdell’s things, you know. You’ll want to see those.”
+
+“Yes; yes, indeed. I’ll want to see those, of course,” declared Mr.
+Smith, rising to his feet, preparatory to going to his own room.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+POOR MAGGIE
+
+
+It was some days later that Mr. Smith asked Benny one afternoon to show
+him the way to Miss Maggie Duff’s home.
+
+“Sure I will,” agreed Benny with alacrity. “You don’t ever have ter do
+any teasin’ ter get me ter go ter Aunt Maggie’s.”
+
+“You’re fond of Aunt Maggie, then, I take it.”
+
+Benny’s eyes widened a little.
+
+“Why, of course! Everybody’s fond of Aunt Maggie. Why, I don’t know
+anybody that don’t like Aunt Maggie.”
+
+“I’m sure that speaks well—for Aunt Maggie,” smiled Mr. Smith.
+
+“Yep! A feller can take some comfort at Aunt Maggie’s,” continued
+Benny, trudging along at Mr. Smith’s side. “She don’t have anythin’
+just for show, that you can’t touch, like ’tis at my house, and there
+ain’t anythin’ but what you can use without gettin’ snarled up in a
+mess of covers an’ tidies, like ’tis at Aunt Jane’s. But Aunt Maggie
+don’t save anythin’, Aunt Jane says, an’ she’ll die some day in the
+poor-house, bein’ so extravagant. But I don’t believe she will. Do you,
+Mr. Smith?”
+
+“Well, really, Benny, I—er—” hesitated the man.
+
+“Well, I don’t believe she will,” repeated Benny. “I hope she won’t,
+anyhow. Poorhouses ain’t very nice, are they?”
+
+“I—I don’t think I know very much about them, Benny.”
+
+“Well, I don’t believe they are, from what Aunt Jane says. And if they
+ain’t, I don’t want Aunt Maggie ter go. She hadn’t ought ter have
+anythin’—but Heaven—after Grandpa Duff. Do you know Grandpa Duff?”
+
+“No, my b-boy.” Mr. Smith was choking over a cough.
+
+“He’s sick. He’s got a chronic grouch, ma says. Do you know what that
+is?”
+
+“I—I have heard of them.”
+
+“What are they? Anything like chronic rheumatism? I know what chronic
+means. It means it keeps goin’ without stoppin’—the rheumatism, I mean,
+not the folks that’s got it. _they_ don’t go at all, sometimes.
+Old Dr. Cole don’t, and that’s what he’s got. But when I asked ma what
+a grouch was, she said little boys should be seen and not heard. Ma
+always says that when she don’t want to answer my questions. Do you?
+Have you got any little boys, Mr. Smith?”
+
+“No, Benny. I’m a poor old bachelor.”
+
+“Oh, are you _poor_, too? That’s too bad.”
+
+“Well, that is, I—I—”
+
+“Ma was wonderin’ yesterday what you lived on. Haven’t you got any
+money, Mr. Smith?”
+
+“Oh, yes, Benny, I’ve got money enough—to live on.” Mr. Smith spoke
+promptly, and with confidence this time.
+
+“Oh, that’s nice. You’re glad, then, ain’t you? Ma says we haven’t—got
+enough ter live on, I mean; but pa says we have, if we didn’t try ter
+live like everybody else lives what’s got more.”
+
+Mr. Smith bit his lip, and looked down a little apprehensively at the
+small boy at his side.
+
+“I—I’m not sure, Benny, but _I_ shall have to say little boys should
+be seen and not—” He stopped abruptly. Benny, with a stentorian shout,
+had run ahead to a gate before a small white cottage. On the cozy,
+vine-shaded porch sat a white-haired old man leaning forward on his
+cane.
+
+“Hi, there, Grandpa Duff, I’ve brought somebody ter see ye!” The gate
+was open now, and Benny was halfway up the short walk. “It’s Mr. Smith.
+Come in, Mr. Smith. Here’s grandpa right here.”
+
+With a pleasant smile Mr. Smith doffed his hat and came forward.
+
+“Thank you, Benny. How do you do, Mr. Duff?”
+
+The man on the porch looked up sharply from beneath heavy brows.
+
+“Humph! Your name’s Smith, is it?”
+
+“That’s what they call me.” The corners of Mr. Smith’s mouth twitched a
+little.
+
+“Humph! Yes, I’ve heard of you.”
+
+“You flatter me!” Mr. Smith, on the topmost step, hesitated. “Is
+your—er—daughter in, Mr. Duff?” He was still smiling cheerfully.
+
+Mr. Duff was not smiling. His somewhat unfriendly gaze was still bent
+upon the newcomer.
+
+“Just what do you want of my daughter?”
+
+“Why, I—I—” Plainly nonplused, the man paused uncertainly. Then, with
+a resumption of his jaunty cheerfulness, he smiled straight into the
+unfriendly eyes. “I’m after some records, Mr. Duff,—records of the
+Blaisdell family. I’m compiling a book on—
+
+“Humph! I thought as much,” interrupted Mr. Duff curtly, settling back
+in his chair. “As I said, I’ve heard of you. But you needn’t come here
+asking your silly questions. I shan’t tell you a thing, anyway, if you
+do. It’s none of your business who lived and died and what they did
+before you were born. If the Lord had wanted you to know he’d ‘a’ put
+you here then instead of now!”
+
+Looking very much as if he had received a blow in the face, Mr. Smith
+fell back.
+
+“Aw, grandpa”—began Benny, in grieved expostulation. But a cheery voice
+interrupted, and Mr. Smith turned to see Miss Maggie Duff emerging from
+the doorway.
+
+“Oh, Mr. Smith, how do you do?” she greeted him, extending a cordial
+hand. “Come up and sit down.”
+
+For only the briefest of minutes he hesitated. Had she heard? Could she
+have heard, and yet speak so unconcernedly? It seemed impossible. And
+yet—He took the chair she offered—but with a furtive glance toward the
+old man. He had only a moment to wait.
+
+Sharply Mr. Duff turned to his daughter.
+
+“This Mr. Smith tells me he has come to see those records. Now, I’m—”
+
+“Oh, father, dear, you couldn’t!” interrupted his daughter with
+admonishing earnestness. “You mustn’t go and get all those down!” (Mr.
+Smith almost gasped aloud in his amazement, but Miss Maggie did not
+seem to notice him at all.) “Why, father, you couldn’t—they’re too
+heavy for you! There are the Bible, and all those papers. They’re too
+heavy father. I couldn’t let you. Besides, I shouldn’t think you’d want
+to get them!”
+If Mr. Smith, hearing this, almost gasped aloud in his amazement, he
+quite did so at what happened next. His mouth actually fell open as he
+saw the old man rise to his feet with stern dignity.
+
+“That will do, Maggie. I’m not quite in my dotage yet. I guess I’m
+still able to fetch downstairs a book and a bundle of papers.” With
+his thumping cane a resolute emphasis to every other step, the old man
+hobbled into the house.
+
+“There, grandpa, that’s the talk!” crowed Benny. “But you said—”
+
+“Er—Benny, dear,” interposed Miss Maggie, in a haste so precipitate
+that it looked almost like alarm, “run into the pantry and see what you
+can find in the cooky jar.” The last of her sentence was addressed to
+Benny’s flying heels as they disappeared through the doorway.
+
+Left together, Mr. Smith searched the woman’s face for some hint, some
+sign that this extraordinary shift-about was recognized and understood;
+but Miss Maggie, with a countenance serenely expressing only cheerful
+interest, was over by the little stand, rearranging the pile of books
+and newspapers on it.
+
+“I think, after all,” she began thoughtfully, pausing in her work,
+“that it will be better indoors. It blows so out here that you’ll be
+bothered in your copying, I am afraid.”
+
+She was still standing at the table, chatting about the papers,
+however, when at the door, a few minutes later, appeared her father, in
+his arms a big Bible, and a sizable pasteboard box.
+
+“Right here, father, please,” she said then, to Mr. Smith’s dumfounded
+amazement. “Just set them down right here.”
+
+The old man frowned and cast disapproving eyes on his daughter and the
+table.
+
+“There isn’t room. I don’t want them there,” he observed coldly. “I
+shall put them in here.” With the words he turned back into the house.
+
+Once again Mr. Smith’s bewildered eyes searched Miss Maggie’s face and
+once again they found nothing but serene unconcern. She was already at
+the door.
+
+“This way, please,” she directed cheerily. And, still marveling, he
+followed her into the house.
+
+Mr. Smith thought he had never seen so charming a living-room. A
+comfortable chair invited him, and he sat down. He felt suddenly rested
+and at home, and at peace with the world. Realizing that, in some way,
+the room had produced this effect, he looked curiously about him,
+trying to solve the secret of it.
+
+Reluctantly to himself he confessed that it was a very ordinary room.
+The carpet was poor, and was badly worn. The chairs, while comfortable
+looking, were manifestly not expensive, and had seen long service.
+Simple curtains were at the windows, and a few fair prints were on the
+walls. Two or three vases, of good lines but cheap materials, held
+flowers, and there was a plain but roomy set of shelves filled with
+books—not immaculate, leather-backed, gilt-lettered “sets” but rows of
+dingy, worn volumes, whose very shabbiness was at once an invitation
+and a promise. Nowhere, however, could Mr. Smith see protecting cover
+mat, or tidy. He decided then that this must be why he felt suddenly so
+rested and at peace with all mankind. Even as the conviction came to
+him, however he was suddenly aware that everything was not, after all,
+peaceful or harmonious.
+
+At the table Mr. Duff and his daughter were arranging the Bible and
+the papers. Miss Maggie suggested piles in a certain order: her father
+promptly objected, and arranged them otherwise. Miss Maggie placed the
+papers first for perusal: her father said “Absurd!” and substituted the
+Bible. Miss Maggie started to draw up a chair to the table: her father
+derisively asked her if she expected a man to sit in that—and drew up
+a different one. Yet Mr. Smith, when he was finally invited to take
+a seat at the table, found everything quite the most convenient and
+comfortable possible.
+
+Once more into Miss Maggie’s face he sent a sharply inquiring glance,
+and once more he encountered nothing but unruffled cheerfulness.
+
+With a really genuine interest in the records before him, Mr. Smith
+fell to work then. The Bible had been in the Blaisdell family for
+generations, and it was full of valuable names and dates. He began at
+once to copy them.
+
+Mr. Duff, on the other side of the table, was arranging into piles the
+papers before him. He complained of the draft, and Miss Maggie shut the
+window. He said then that he didn’t mean he wanted to suffocate, and
+she opened the one on the other side. The clock had hardly struck three
+when he accused her of having forgotten his medicine. Yet when she
+brought it he refused to take it. She had not brought the right kind
+of spoon, he said, and she knew perfectly well he never took it out of
+that narrow-bowl kind. He complained of the light, and she lowered the
+curtain; but he told her that he didn’t mean he didn’t want to see at
+all, so she put it up halfway. He said his coat was too warm, and she
+brought another one. He put it on grudgingly, but he declared that it
+was as much too thin as the other was too thick.
+
+Mr. Smith, in spite of his efforts to be politely deaf and blind, found
+himself unable to confine his attention to birth, death, and marriage
+notices. Once he almost uttered an explosive “Good Heavens, how do you
+stand it?” to his hostess. But he stopped himself just in time, and
+fiercely wrote with a very black mark that Submit Blaisdell was born
+in eighteen hundred and one. A little later he became aware that Mr.
+Duff’s attention was frowningly turned across the table toward himself.
+
+“If you will spend your time over such silly stuff, why don’t you use a
+bigger book?” demanded the old man at last.
+
+“Because it wouldn’t fit my pocket,” smiled Mr. Smith.
+
+“Just what business of yours is it, anyhow, when these people lived and
+died?”
+
+“None, perhaps,” still smiled Mr. Smith good-humoredly.
+
+“Why don’t you let them alone, then? What do you expect to find?”
+
+“Why, I—I—” Mr. Smith was plainly nonplused.
+
+“Well, I can tell you it’s a silly business, whatever you find. If you
+find your grandfather’s a bigger man than you are, you’ll be proud
+of it, but you ought to be ashamed of it—’cause you aren’t bigger
+yourself! On the other hand, if you find he _isn’t_ as big as you
+are, you’ll be ashamed of that, when you ought to be proud of it—’cause
+you’ve gone him one better. But you won’t. I know your kind. I’ve seen
+you before. But can’t you do any work, real work?”
+
+“He is doing work, real work, now, father,” interposed Miss Maggie
+quickly. “He’s having a woeful time, too. If you’d only help him, now,
+and show him those papers.”
+
+A real terror came into Mr. Smith’s eyes, but Mr. Duff was already on
+his feet.
+
+“Well, I shan’t,” he observed tartly. “I’M not a fool, if he is. I’m
+going out to the porch where I can get some air.”
+
+“There, work as long as you like, Mr. Smith. I knew you’d rather work
+by yourself,” nodded Miss Maggie, moving the piles of papers nearer him.
+
+“But, good Heavens, how do you stand—” exploded Mr. Smith before he
+realized that this time he had really said the words aloud. He blushed
+a painful red.
+
+Miss Maggie, too, colored. Then, abruptly, she laughed. “After all, it
+doesn’t matter. Why shouldn’t I be frank with you? You couldn’t help
+seeing—how things were, of course, and I forgot, for a moment, that you
+were a stranger. Everybody in Hillerton understands. You see, father is
+nervous, and not at all well. We have to humor him.”
+
+“But do you mean that you always have to tell him to do what you don’t
+want, in order to—well—that is—” Mr. Smith, finding himself in very
+deep water, blushed again painfully.
+
+Miss Maggie met his dismayed gaze with cheerful candor.
+
+“Tell him to do what I _don’t_ want in order to get him to do what
+I do want him to? Yes, oh, yes. But I don’t mind; really I don’t. I’m
+used to it now. And when you know how, what does it matter? After all,
+where is the difference? To most of the world we say, ‘Please do,’ when
+we want a thing, while to him we have to say, ‘Please don’t.’ That’s
+all. You see, it’s really very simple—when you know how.”
+
+“Simple! Great Scott!” muttered Mr. Smith. He wanted to say more; but
+Miss Maggie, with a smiling nod, turned away, so he went back to his
+work.
+
+Benny, wandering in from the kitchen, with both hands full of cookies,
+plumped himself down on the cushioned window-seat, and drew a sigh of
+content.
+
+“Say, Aunt Maggie.”
+
+“Yes, dear.”
+
+“Can I come ter live with you?”
+
+“Certainly not!” The blithe voice and pleasant smile took all the sting
+from the prompt refusal.
+
+“What would father and mother do?”
+
+“Oh, they wouldn’t mind.”
+
+“Benny!”
+
+“They wouldn’t. Maybe pa would—a little; but Bess and ma wouldn’t. And
+I’D like it.”
+
+“Nonsense, Benny!” Miss Maggie crossed to a little stand and picked up
+a small box. “Here’s a new picture puzzle. See if you can do it.”
+
+Benny shifted his now depleted stock of cookies to one hand, dropped
+to his knees on the floor, and dumped the contents of the box upon the
+seat before him.
+
+“They won’t let me eat cookies any more at home—in the house, I mean.
+Too many crumbs.”
+
+“But you know you have to pick up your crumbs here, dear.”
+
+“Yep. But I don’t mind—after I’ve had the fun of eatin’ first. But they
+won’t let me drop ’em ter begin with, there, nor take any of the boys
+inter the house. Honest, Aunt Maggie, there ain’t anything a feller can
+do, ’seems so, if ye live on the West Side,” he persisted soberly.
+
+Mr. Smith, copying dates at the table, was conscious of a slightly
+apprehensive glance in his direction from Miss Maggie’s eyes, as she
+murmured:—
+
+“But you’re forgetting your puzzle, Benny. You’ve put only five pieces
+together.”
+
+“I can’t do puzzles there, either.” Benny’s voice was still mournful.
+
+“All the more reason, then, why you should like to do them here. See,
+where does this dog’s head go?”
+
+Listlessly Benny took the bit of pictured wood in his fingers and began
+to fit it into the pattern before him.
+
+“I used ter do ’em an’ leave ’em ’round, but ma says I can’t now.
+Callers might come and find ’em, an’ what would they say—on the West
+Side! An’ that’s the way ’tis with everything. Ma an’ Bess are always
+doin’ things, or not doin’ ’em, for those callers. An’ I don’t see why.
+They never come—not new ones.”
+
+“Yes, yes, dear, but they will, when they get acquainted. You haven’t
+found where the dog’s head goes yet.”
+
+“Pa says he don’t want ter get acquainted. He’d rather have the old
+friends, what don’t mind baked beans, an’ shirt-sleeves, an’ doin’
+yer own work, an’ what thinks more of yer heart than they do of yer
+pocketbook. But ma wants a hired girl. An’ say, we have ter wash
+our hands every meal now—on the table, I mean—in those little glass
+wash-dishes. Ma went down an’ bought some, an’ she’s usin’ ’em every
+day, so’s ter get used to ’em. She says everybody that is anybody has
+’em nowadays. Bess thinks they’re great, but I don’t. I don’t like ’em
+a mite.”
+
+“Oh, come, come, Benny! It doesn’t matter—it doesn’t really matter,
+does it, if you do have to use the little dishes? Come, you’re not half
+doing the puzzle.”
+
+“I know it.” Benny shifted his position, and picked up a three-cornered
+bit of wood carrying the picture of a dog’s paw. “But I was just
+thinkin’. You see, things are so different—on the West Side. Why even
+pa—he’s different. He isn’t there hardly any now. He’s got a new job.”
+
+“What?” Miss Maggie turned from the puzzle with a start.
+
+“Oh, just for evenin’s. It’s keepin’ books for a man. It brings in
+quite a lot extry, ma says; but she wouldn’t let me have some new
+roller skates when mine broke. She’s savin’ up for a chafin’ dish.
+What’s a chafin’ dish? Do you know? You eat out of it, some way—I mean,
+it cooks things ter eat; an’ Bess wants one. Gussie Pennock’s got one.
+_all_ our eatin’s different, ’seems so, on the West Side. Ma has
+dinners nights now, instead of noons. She says the Pennocks do, an’
+everybody does who is anybody. But I don’t like it. Pa don’t, either,
+an’ half the time he can’t get home in time for it, anyhow, on account
+of gettin’ back to his new job, ye know, an’—”
+
+“Oh, I’ve found where the dog’s head goes,” cried Miss Maggie, There
+was a hint of desperation in her voice. “I shall have your puzzle all
+done for you myself, if you don’t look out, Benny. I don’t believe you
+can do it, anyhow.”
+
+“I can, too. You just see if I can’t!” retorted Benny, with sudden
+spirit, falling to work in earnest. “I never saw a puzzle yet I
+couldn’t do!”
+
+Mr. Smith, bending assiduously over his work at the table, heard Miss
+Maggie’s sigh of relief—and echoed it, from sympathy.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+POOR MAGGIE AND SOME OTHERS
+
+
+It was half an hour later, when Mr. Smith and Benny were walking across
+the common together, that Benny asked an abrupt question.
+
+“Is Aunt Maggie goin’ ter be put in your book, Mr. Smith?”
+
+“Why—er—yes; her name will be entered as the daughter of the man who
+married the Widow Blaisdell, probably. Why?”
+
+“Nothin’. I was only thinkin’. I hoped she was. Aunt Maggie don’t have
+nothin’ much, yer know, except her father an’ housework—housework
+either for him or some of us. An’ I guess she’s had quite a lot of
+things ter bother her, an’ make her feel bad, so I hoped she’d be in
+the book. Though if she wasn’t, she’d just laugh an’ say it doesn’t
+matter, of course. That’s what she always says.”
+
+“Always says?” Mr. Smith’s voice was mildly puzzled.
+“Yes, when things plague, an’ somethin’ don’t go right. She says it
+helps a lot ter just remember that it doesn’t matter. See?”
+
+“Well, no,—I don’t think I do see,” frowned Mr. Smith.
+
+“Oh, yes,” plunged in Benny; “’cause, you see, if yer stop ter think
+about it—this thing that’s plaguin’ ye—you’ll see how really small an’
+no-account it is, an’ how, when you put it beside really big things it
+doesn’t matter at all—it doesn’t _really_ matter, ye know. Aunt
+Maggie says she’s done it years an’ years, ever since she was just a
+girl, an’ somethin’ bothered her; an’ it’s helped a lot.”
+
+“But there are lots of things that _do_ matter,” persisted Mr.
+Smith, still frowning.
+
+“Oh, yes!” Benny swelled a bit importantly, “I know what you mean. Aunt
+Maggie says that, too; an’ she says we must be very careful an’ not
+get it wrong. It’s only the little things that bother us, an’ that we
+wish were different, that we must say ‘It doesn’t matter’ about. It
+_does_ matter whether we’re good an’ kind an’ tell the truth an’
+shame the devil; but it _doesn’t_ matter whether we have ter live
+on the West Side an’ eat dinner nights instead of noons, an’ not eat
+cookies any of the time in the house,—see?”
+
+“Good for you, Benny,—and good for Aunt Maggie!” laughed Mr. Smith
+suddenly.
+
+“Aunt Maggie? Oh, you don’t know Aunt Maggie, yet. She’s always tryin’
+ter make people think things don’t matter. You’ll see!” crowed Benny.
+
+A moment later he had turned down his own street, and Mr. Smith was
+left to go on alone.
+
+Very often, in the days that followed, Mr. Smith thought of this speech
+of Benny’s. He had opportunity to verify it, for he was seeing a good
+deal of Miss Maggie, and it seemed, indeed, to him that half the town
+was coming to her to learn that something “didn’t matter”—though very
+seldom, except to Benny, did he hear her say the words themselves. It
+was merely that to her would come men, women, and children, each with
+a sorry tale of discontent or disappointment. And it was always as if
+they left with her their burden, for when they turned away, head and
+shoulders were erect once more, eyes were bright, and the step was
+alert and eager.
+
+He used to wonder how she did it. For that matter, he wondered how she
+did—a great many things.
+
+Mr. Smith was, indeed, seeing a good deal of Miss Maggie these days. He
+told himself that it was the records that attracted him. But he did not
+always copy records. Sometimes he just sat in one of the comfortable
+chairs and watched Miss Maggie, content if she gave him a word now and
+then.
+
+He liked the way she carried her head, and the way her hair waved away
+from her shapely forehead. He liked the quiet strength of the way her
+capable hands lay motionless in her lap when their services were not
+required. He liked to watch for the twinkle in her eye, and for the
+dimple in her cheek that told a smile was coming. He liked to hear her
+talk to Benny. He even liked to hear her talk to her father—when he
+could control his temper sufficiently. Best of all he liked his own
+comfortable feeling of being quite at home, and at peace with all the
+world—the feeling that always came to him now whenever he entered the
+house, in spite of the fact that the welcome accorded him by Mr. Duff
+was hardly more friendly than at the first.
+
+To Mr. Smith it was a matter of small moment whether Mr. Duff welcomed
+him cordially or not. He even indulged now and then in a bout of his
+own with the gentleman, chuckling inordinately when results showed that
+he had pitched his remark at just the right note of contrariety to get
+what he wanted.
+
+For the most part, however, Mr. Smith, at least nominally, spent his
+time at his legitimate task of studying and copying the Blaisdell
+family records, of which he was finding a great number. Rufus Blaisdell
+apparently had done no little “digging” himself in his own day, and Mr.
+Smith told Miss Maggie that it was all a great “find” for him.
+
+Miss Maggie seemed pleased. She said that she was glad if she could be
+of any help to him, and she told him to come whenever he liked. She
+arranged the Bible and the big box of papers on a little table in the
+corner, and told him to make himself quite at home; and she showed so
+plainly that she regarded him as quite one of the family, that Mr.
+Smith might be pardoned for soon considering himself so.
+
+It was while at work in this corner that he came to learn so much of
+Miss Maggie’s daily life, and of her visitors.
+
+Although many of these visitors were strangers to him, some of them he
+knew.
+
+One day it was Mrs. Hattie Blaisdell, with a countenance even more
+florid than usual. She was breathless and excited, and her eyes were
+worried. She was going to give a luncheon, she said. She wanted
+Miss Maggie’s silver spoons, and her forks, and her hand painted
+sugar-and-creamer, and Mother Blaisdell’s cut-glass dish.
+
+Mr. Smith, supposing that Miss Maggie herself was to be at the
+luncheon, was just rejoicing within him that she was to have this
+pleasant little outing, when he heard Mrs. Blaisdell telling her to be
+sure to come at eleven to be in the kitchen, and asking where could
+she get a maid to serve in the dining-room, and what should she do with
+Benny. He’d have to be put somewhere, or else he’d be sure to upset
+everything.
+
+Mr. Smith did not hear Miss Maggie’s answer to all this, for she
+hurried her visitor to the kitchen at once to look up the spoons, she
+said. But indirectly he obtained a very conclusive reply; for he found
+Miss Maggie gone one day when he came; and Benny, who was in her place,
+told him all about it, even to the dandy frosted cake Aunt Maggie had
+made for the company to eat.
+
+Another day it was Mrs. Jane Blaisdell who came. Mrs. Jane had a tired
+frown between her brows and a despairing droop to her lips. She carried
+a large bundle which she dropped unceremoniously into Miss Maggie’s lap.
+
+“There, I’m dead beat out, and I’ve brought it to you. You’ve just got
+to help me,” she finished, sinking into a chair.
+
+“Why, of course, if I can. But what is it?” Miss Maggie’s deft fingers
+were already untying the knot.
+
+“It’s my old black silk. I’m making it over.”
+
+“_Again?_ But I thought the last time it couldn’t ever be done again.”
+
+“Yes, I know; but there’s lots of good in it yet,” interposed Mrs. Jane
+decidedly; “and I’ve bought new velvet and new lace, and some buttons
+and a new lining. I _thought_ I could do it alone, but I’ve
+reached a point where I just have got to have help. So I came right
+over.”
+
+“Yes, of course, but”—Miss Maggie was lifting a half-finished sleeve
+doubtfully—“why didn’t you go to Flora? She’d know exactly—”
+
+Mrs. Jane stiffened.
+
+“Because I can’t afford to go to Flora,” she interrupted coldly. “I
+have to pay Flora, and you know it. If I had the money I should be glad
+to do it, of course. But I haven’t, and charity begins at home I think.
+Besides, I do go to her for _new_ dresses. But this old thing—! Of
+course, if you don’t _want_ to help me—”
+
+“Oh, but I do,” plunged in Miss Maggie hurriedly. “Come out into the
+kitchen where we’ll have more room,” she exclaimed, gathering the
+bundle into her arms and springing to her feet.
+
+“I’ve got some other lace at home—yards and yards. I got a lot, it was
+so cheap,” recounted Mrs. Jane, rising with alacrity. “But I’m afraid
+it won’t do for this, and I don’t know as it will do for anything, it’s
+so—”
+
+The kitchen door slammed sharply, and Mr. Smith heard no more. Half an
+hour later, however, he saw Mrs. Jane go down the walk. The frown was
+gone from her face and the droop from the corners of her mouth. Her
+step was alert and confident. She carried no bundle.
+
+The next day it was Miss Flora. Miss Flora’s thin little face looked
+more pinched than ever, and her eyes more anxious, Mr. Smith thought.
+Even her smile, as she acknowledged Mr. Smith’s greeting, was so wan he
+wished she had not tried to give it.
+
+She sat down then, by the window, and began to chat with Miss Maggie;
+and very soon Mr. Smith heard her say this:—
+
+“No, Maggie, I don’t know, really, what I am going to do—truly I don’t.
+Business is so turrible dull! Why, I don’t earn enough to pay my rent,
+hardly, now, ter say nothin’ of my feed.”
+
+Miss Maggie frowned.
+
+“But I thought that Hattie—ISN’T Hattie having some new dresses—and
+Bessie, too?”
+
+A sigh passed Miss Flora’s lips.
+
+“Yes, oh, yes; they are having three or four. But they don’t come to
+_me_ any more. They’ve gone to that French woman that makes the
+Pennocks’ things, you know, with the queer name. And of course it’s
+all right, and you can’t blame ’em, livin’ on the West Side, as they
+do now. And, of course, I ain’t so up ter date as she is. And just her
+name counts.”
+
+“Nonsense! Up to date, indeed!” (Miss Maggie laughed merrily, but Mr.
+Smith, copying dates at the table, detected a note in the laugh that
+was not merriment.) “You’re up to date enough for me. I’ve got just
+the job for you, too. Come out into the kitchen.” She was already
+almost at the door. “Why, Maggie, you haven’t, either!” (In spite of
+the incredulity of voice and manner, Miss Flora sprang joyfully to her
+feet.) “You never had me make you a—” Again the kitchen door slammed
+shut, and Mr. Smith was left to finish the sentence for himself.
+
+But Mr. Smith was not finishing sentences. Neither was his face
+expressing just then the sympathy which might be supposed to be
+showing, after so sorry a tale as Miss Flora had been telling. On
+the contrary, Mr. Smith, with an actual elation of countenance, was
+scribbling on the edge of his notebook words that certainly he had
+never found in the Blaisdell records before him: “Two months more,
+then—a hundred thousand dollars. And may I be there to see it!”
+
+Half an hour later, as on the previous day, Mr. Smith saw a
+metamorphosed woman hurrying down the little path to the street. But
+the woman to-day was carrying a bundle—and it was the same bundle that
+the woman the day before had brought.
+
+But not always, as Mr. Smith soon learned, were Miss Maggie’s visitors
+women. Besides Benny, with his grievances, young Fred Blaisdell came
+sometimes, and poured into Miss Maggie’s sympathetic ears the story of
+Gussie Pennock’s really remarkable personality, or of what he was going
+to do when he went to college—and afterwards.
+
+Mr. Jim Blaisdell drifted in quite frequently Sunday afternoons,
+though apparently all he came for was to smoke and read in one of the
+big comfortable chairs. Mr. Smith himself had fallen into the way of
+strolling down to Miss Maggie’s almost every Sunday after dinner.
+
+One Saturday afternoon Mr. Frank Blaisdell rattled up to the door in
+his grocery wagon. His face was very red, and his mutton-chop whiskers
+were standing straight out at each side.
+
+Jane had collapsed, he said, utterly collapsed. All the week she had
+been house-cleaning and doing up curtains; and now this morning,
+expressly against his wishes, to save hiring a man, she had put down
+the parlor carpet herself. Now she was flat on her back, and supper to
+be got for the boarder, and the Saturday baking yet to be done. And
+could Maggie come and help them out?
+
+Before Miss Maggie could answer, Mr. Smith hurried out from his corner
+and insisted that “the boarder” did not want any supper anyway—and
+could they not live on crackers and milk for the coming few days?
+
+But Miss Maggie laughed and said, “Nonsense!” And in an incredibly
+short time she was ready to drive back in the grocery wagon. Later,
+when he went home, Mr. Smith found her there, presiding over one of
+the best suppers he had eaten since his arrival in Hillerton. She came
+every day after that, for a week, for Mrs. Jane remained “flat on her
+back” seven days, with a doctor in daily attendance, supplemented by a
+trained nurse peremptorily ordered by that same doctor from the nearest
+city.
+
+Miss Maggie, with the assistance of Mellicent, attended to the
+housework. But in spite of the excellence of the cuisine, meal time was
+a most unhappy period to everybody concerned, owing to the sarcastic
+comments of Mr. Frank Blaisdell as to how much his wife had “saved” by
+not having a man to put down that carpet.
+
+Mellicent had little time now to go walking or auto-riding with Carl
+Pennock. Her daily life was, indeed, more pleasure-starved than
+ever—all of which was not lost on Mr. Smith. Mr. Smith and Mellicent
+were fast friends now. Given a man with a sympathetic understanding on
+one side, and a girl hungry for that same sympathy and understanding,
+and it could hardly be otherwise. From Mellicent’s own lips Mr. Smith
+knew now just how hungry a young girl can be for fun and furbelows.
+
+“Of course I’ve got my board and clothes, and I ought to be thankful
+for them,” she stormed hotly to him one day. “And I _am_ thankful
+for them. But sometimes it seems as if I’d actually be willing to
+go hungry for meat and potato, if for once—just once—I could buy a
+five-pound box of candy, and eat it up all at once, if I wanted to! But
+now, why now I can’t even treat a friend to an ice-cream soda without
+seeing mother’s shocked, reproachful eyes over the rim of the glass!”
+
+It was not easy then (nor many times subsequently) for Mr. Smith to
+keep from asking Mellicent the utterly absurd question of how many
+five-pound boxes of candy she supposed one hundred thousand dollars
+would buy. But he did keep from it—by heroic self-sacrifice and the
+comforting recollection that she would know some day, if she cared to
+take the trouble to reckon it up.
+
+In Mellicent’s love affair with young Pennock Mr. Smith was enormously
+interested. Not that he regarded it as really serious, but because it
+appeared to bring into Mellicent’s life something of the youth and
+gayety to which he thought she was entitled. He was almost as concerned
+as was Miss Maggie, therefore, when one afternoon, soon after Mrs.
+Jane Blaisdell’s complete recovery from her “carpet tax” (as Frank
+Blaisdell termed his wife’s recent illness), Mellicent rushed into
+the Duff living-room with rose-red cheeks and blazing eyes, and an
+explosive:—“Aunt Maggie, Aunt Maggie, can’t you get mother to let me go
+away somewhere—anywhere, right off?”
+
+[Illustration caption: “I CAN’T HELP IT, AUNT MAGGIE. I’VE JUST GOT TO
+BE AWAY!”]
+
+“Why, Mellicent! Away? And just to-morrow the Pennocks’ dance?”
+
+“But that’s it—that’s why I want to go,” flashed Mellicent. “I don’t
+want to be at the dance—and I don’t want to be in town, and _not_
+at the dance.”
+
+Mr. Smith, at his table in the corner, glanced nervously toward the
+door, then bent assiduously over his work, as being less conspicuous
+than the flight he had been tempted for a moment to essay. But even
+this was not to be, for the next moment, to his surprise, the girl
+appealed directly to him.
+
+“Mr. Smith, please, won’t _you_ take me somewhere to-morrow?”
+
+“Mellicent!” Even Miss Maggie was shocked now, and showed it.
+
+“I can’t help it, Aunt Maggie. I’ve just got to be away!” Mellicent’s
+voice was tragic.
+
+“But, my dear, to _ask_ a gentleman—” reproved Miss Maggie. She
+came to an indeterminate pause. Mr. Smith had crossed the room and
+dropped into a chair near them.
+
+“See here, little girl, suppose you tell us just what is behind—all
+this,” he began gently.
+
+Mellicent shook her head stubbornly.
+
+“I can’t. It’s too—silly. Please let it go that I want to be away.
+That’s all.”
+
+“Mellicent, we can’t do that.” Miss Maggie’s voice was quietly firm.
+“We can’t do—anything, until you tell us what it is.”
+
+There was a brief pause. Mellicent’s eyes, still mutinous, sought first
+the kindly questioning face of the man, then the no less kindly but
+rather grave face of the woman. Then in a little breathless burst it
+came.
+
+“It’s just something they’re all saying Mrs. Pennock said—about me.”
+
+“What was it?” Two little red spots had come into Miss Maggie’s cheeks.
+
+“Yes, what was it?” Mr. Smith was looking actually belligerent.
+
+“It was just that—that they weren’t going to let Carl Pennock go with
+me any more—anywhere, or come to see me, because I—I didn’t belong to
+their set.”
+
+“Their set!” exploded Mr. Smith.
+
+Miss Maggie said nothing, but the red spots deepened.
+
+“Yes. It’s just—that we aren’t rich like them. I haven’t got—money
+enough.”
+
+“That you haven’t got—got—Oh, ye gods!” For no apparent reason whatever
+Mr. Smith threw back his head suddenly and laughed. Almost instantly,
+however, he sobered: he had caught the expression of the two faces
+opposite.
+
+“I beg your pardon,” he apologized promptly. “It was only that to
+me—there was something very funny about that.”
+
+“But, Mellicent, are you sure? I don’t believe she ever said it,”
+doubted Miss Maggie.
+
+“He hasn’t been near me—for a week. Not that I care!” Mellicent turned
+with flashing eyes. “I don’t care a bit—not a bit—about _that_!”
+
+“Of course you don’t! It’s not worth even thinking of either. What does
+it matter if she did say it, dear? Forget it!”
+
+“But I can’t bear to have them all talk—and notice,” choked Mellicent.
+“And we were together such a lot before; and now—I tell you I
+_can’t_ go to that dance to-morrow night!”
+
+“And you shan’t, if you don’t want to,” Mr. Smith assured her. “Right
+here and now I invite you and your Aunt Maggie to drive with me
+to-morrow to Hubbardville. There are some records there that I want to
+look up. We’ll get dinner at the hotel. It will take all day, and we
+shan’t be home till late in the evening. You’ll go?”
+
+“Oh, Mr. Smith, you—you _dear_! Of course we’ll go! I’ll go
+straight now and telephone to somebody—everybody—that I shan’t be
+there; that I’m going to be _out of town_!” She sprang joyously to
+her feet—but Miss Maggie held out a restraining hand.
+
+“Just a minute, dear. You don’t care—you _said_ you didn’t
+care—that Carl Pennock doesn’t come to see you any more?”
+
+“Indeed I don’t!”
+
+“Then you wouldn’t want others to think you did, would you?”
+
+“Of course not!” The red dyed Mellicent’s forehead.
+
+“You have said that you’d go to this party, haven’t you? That is, you
+accepted the invitation, didn’t you, and people know that you did,
+don’t they?”
+
+“Why, yes, of course! But that was before—Mrs. Pennock said what she
+did.”
+
+“Of course. But—just what do you think these people are going to say
+to-morrow night, when you aren’t there?”
+
+“Why, that I—I—” The color drained from her face and left it white.
+“They wouldn’t _expect_ me to go after that—insult.”
+
+“Then they’ll understand that you—_care_, won’t they?”
+
+“Why, I—I—They—I _can’t_—” She turned sharply and walked to the
+window. For a long minute she stood, her back toward the two watching
+her. Then, with equal abruptness, she turned and came back. Her cheeks
+were very pink now, her eyes very bright. She carried her head with a
+proud little lift.
+
+“I think, Mr. Smith, that I won’t go with you to-morrow, after all,”
+she said steadily. “I’ve decided to go—to that dance.”
+
+The next moment the door shut crisply behind her.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+A SANTA CLAUS HELD UP
+
+
+It was about five months after the multi-millionaire, Mr. Stanley G.
+Fulton, had started for South America, that Edward D. Norton, Esq.,
+received the following letter:—
+
+  DEAR NED:—I’m glad there’s only one more month to wait. I
+  feel like Santa Claus with a box of toys, held up by a snowdrift, and
+  I just can’t wait to see the children dance—when they get them.
+
+  And let me say right here and now how glad I am that I did this
+  thing. Oh, yes, I’ll admit I still feel like the small boy at the
+  keyhole, at times, perhaps; but I’ll forget that—when the children
+  begin to dance.
+
+  And, really, never have I seen a bunch of people whom I thought
+  a little money would do more good to than the Blaisdells here in
+  Hillerton. My only regret is that I didn’t know about Miss Maggie
+  Duff, so that she could have had some, too. (Oh, yes, I’ve found
+  out all about “Poor Maggie” now, and she’s a dear—the typical
+  self-sacrificing, self-effacing bearer of everybody’s burdens,
+  including a huge share of her own!) However, she isn’t a Blaisdell,
+  of course, so I couldn’t have worked her into my scheme very well,
+  I suppose, even if I had known about her. They are all fond of
+  her—though they impose on her time and her sympathies abominably. But
+  I reckon she’ll get some of the benefits of the others’ thousands.
+  Mrs. Jane, in particular, is always wishing she could do something
+  for “Poor Maggie,” so I dare say she’ll be looked out for all right.
+
+  As to who will prove to be the wisest handler of the hundred
+  thousand, and thus my eventual heir, I haven’t the least idea. As
+  I said before, they all need money, and need it badly—need it to
+  be comfortable and happy, I mean. They aren’t really poor, any of
+  them, except, perhaps, Miss Flora. She is a little hard up, poor
+  soul. Bless her heart! I wonder what she’ll get first, Niagara, the
+  phonograph, or something to eat without looking at the price. Did I
+  ever write you about those “three wishes” of hers?
+
+  I can’t see that any of the family are really extravagant unless,
+  perhaps, it’s Mrs. James—“Hattie.” She _is_ ambitious, and is
+  inclined to live on a scale a little beyond her means, I judge. But
+  that will be all right, of course, when she has the money to gratify
+  her tastes. Jim—poor fellow, I shall be glad to see him take it easy,
+  for once. He reminds me of the old horse I saw the other day running
+  one of those infernal treadmill threshing machines—always going, but
+  never getting there. He works, and works hard, and then he gets a
+  job nights and works harder; but he never quite catches up with his
+  bills, I fancy. What a world of solid comfort he’ll take with that
+  hundred thousand! I can hear him draw the long breath now—for once
+  every bill paid!
+
+  Of course, the Frank Blaisdells are the most thrifty of the bunch—at
+  least, Mrs. Frank, “Jane,” is—and I dare say they would be the most
+  conservative handlers of my millions. But time will tell. Anyhow, I
+  shall be glad to see them enjoy themselves meanwhile with the hundred
+  thousand. Maybe Mrs. Jane will be constrained to clear my room of
+  a few of the mats and covers and tidies! I have hopes. At least, I
+  shall surely have a vacation from her everlasting “We can’t afford
+  it,” and her equally everlasting “Of course, if I had the money I’d
+  do it.” Praise be for that!—and it’ll be worth a hundred thousand to
+  me, believe me, Ned.
+
+  As for her husband—I’m not sure how he will take it. It isn’t corn
+  or peas or flour or sugar, you see, and I’m not posted as to his
+  opinion of much of anything else. He’ll spend some of it, though,—I’m
+  sure of that. I don’t think he always thoroughly appreciates his
+  wife’s thrifty ideas of economy. I haven’t forgotten the night I
+  came home to find Mrs. Jane out calling, and Mr. Frank rampaging
+  around the house with every gas jet at full blast. It seems he
+  was packing his bag to go on a hurried business trip. He laughed
+  a little sheepishly—I suppose he saw my blinking amazement at the
+  illumination—and said something about being tired of always feeling
+  his way through pitch-dark rooms. So, as I say, I’m not quite sure of
+  Mr. Frank when he comes into possession of the hundred thousand. He’s
+  been cooped up in the dark so long he may want to blow in the whole
+  hundred thousand in one grand blare of light. However, I reckon I
+  needn’t worry—he’ll still have Mrs. Jane—to turn some of the gas jets
+  down!
+
+  As for the younger generation—they’re fine, every one of them;
+  and just think what this money will mean to them in education and
+  advantages! Jim’s son, Fred, eighteen, is a fine, manly boy. He’s
+  got his mother’s ambitions, and he’s keen for college—even talks of
+  working his way (much to his mother’s horror) if his father can’t
+  find the money to send him. Of course, that part will be all right
+  now—in a month.
+
+  The daughter, Bessie (almost seventeen), is an exceedingly pretty
+  girl. She, too, is ambitious—almost too much so, perhaps, for
+  her happiness, in the present state of their pocketbook. But of
+  course that, too, will be all right, after next month. Benny, the
+  nine-year-old, will be concerned as little as any one over that
+  hundred thousand dollars, I imagine. The real value of the gift he
+  will not appreciate, of course; in fact, I doubt if he even approves
+  of it—lest his privileges as to meals and manners be still further
+  curtailed. Poor Benny! Now, Mellicent—
+
+  Perhaps in no one do I expect to so thoroughly rejoice as I do in
+  poor little pleasure-starved Mellicent. I realize, of course, that
+  it will mean to her the solid advantages of college, music-culture,
+  and travel; but I must confess that in my dearest vision, the child
+  is reveling in one grand whirl of pink dresses and chocolate bonbons.
+  Bless her dear heart! I _gave_ her one five-pound box of candy,
+  but I never repeated the mistake. Besides enduring the manifestly
+  suspicious disapproval of her mother because I had made the gift, I
+  have had the added torment of seeing that box of chocolates doled
+  out to that poor child at the rate of two pieces a day. They aren’t
+  gone yet, but I’ll warrant they’re as hard as bullets—those wretched
+  bonbons. I picked the box up yesterday. You should have heard it
+  rattle!
+
+  But there is yet another phase of the money business in connection
+  with Mellicent that pleases me mightily. A certain youth by the
+  name of Carl Pennock has been beauing her around a good deal, since
+  I came. The Pennocks have some money—fifty thousand, or so, I
+  believe—and it is reported that Mrs. Pennock has put her foot down
+  on the budding romance—because the Blaisdells _have not got money
+  enough_! (Begin to see where my chuckles come in?) However true
+  this report may be, the fact remains that the youth has not been near
+  the house for a month past, nor taken Mellicent anywhere. Of course,
+  it shows him and his family up—for just what they are; but it has
+  been mortifying for poor Mellicent. She’s showing her pluck like a
+  little trump, however, and goes serenely on her way with her head
+  just enough in the air—but not too much.
+
+  I don’t think Mellicent’s real heart is affected in the least—she’s
+  only eighteen, remember—but her pride _is_. And her mother—!
+  Mrs. Jane is thoroughly angry as well as mortified. She says
+  Mellicent is every whit as good as those Pennocks, and that the woman
+  who would let a paltry thing like money stand in the way of her son’s
+  affections is a pretty small specimen. For her part, she never did
+  have any use for rich folks, anyway, and she is proud and glad that
+  she’s poor! I’m afraid Mrs. Jane was very angry when she said that.
+  However, so much for her—and she may change her opinion one of these
+  days.
+
+  My private suspicion is that young Pennock is already repentant,
+  and is pulling hard at his mother’s leading-strings; for I was with
+  Mellicent the other day when we met the lad face to face on the
+  street. Mellicent smiled and nodded casually, but Pennock—he turned
+  all colors of the rainbow with terror, pleading, apology, and assumed
+  indifference all racing each other across his face. Dear, dear, but
+  he was a sight!
+
+  There is, too, another feature in the case. It seems that a new
+  family by the name of Gaylord have come to town and opened up the
+  old Gaylord mansion. Gaylord is a son of old Peter Gaylord, and is a
+  millionaire. They are making quite a splurge in the way of balls and
+  liveried servants, and motor cars, and the town is agog with it all.
+  There are young people in the family, and especially there is a girl,
+  Miss Pearl, whom, report says, the Pennocks have selected as being a
+  suitable mate for Carl. At all events the Pennocks and the Gaylords
+  have struck up a furious friendship, and the young people of both
+  families are in the forefront of innumerable social affairs—in most
+  of which Mellicent is left out.
+
+  So now you have it—the whole story. And next month comes to
+  Mellicent’s father one hundred thousand dollars. Do you wonder I say
+  the plot thickens?
+
+  As for myself—you should see me! I eat whatever I like. (The man
+  who says health biscuit to me now gets knocked down—and I’ve got
+  the strength to do it, too!) I can walk miles and not know it.
+  I’ve gained twenty pounds, and I’m having the time of my life. I’m
+  even enjoying being a genealogist—a little. I’ve about exhausted
+  the resources of Hillerton, and have begun to make trips to the
+  neighboring towns. I can even spend an afternoon in an old cemetery
+  copying dates from moss-grown gravestones, and not entirely lose my
+  appetite for dinner—I mean, supper. I was even congratulating myself
+  that I was really quite a genealogist when, the other day, I met the
+  _real thing_. Heavens, Ned, that man had fourteen thousand four
+  hundred and seventy-two dates at his tongue’s end, and he said them
+  all over to me. He knows the name of every Blake (he was a Blake)
+  back to the year one, how many children they had (and they had some
+  families then, let me tell you!), and when they all died, and why. I
+  met him one morning in a cemetery. I was hunting for a certain stone
+  and I asked him a question. Heavens! It was like setting a match
+  to one of those Fourth-of-July flower-pot sky-rocket affairs. That
+  question was the match that set him going, and thereafter he was a
+  gushing geyser of names and dates. I never heard anything like it.
+
+  He began at the Blaisdells, but skipped almost at once to the
+  Blakes—there were a lot of them near us. In five minutes he had me
+  dumb from sheer stupefaction. In ten minutes he had made a century
+  run, and by noon he had got to the Crusades. We went through the Dark
+  Ages very appropriately, waiting in an open tomb for a thunderstorm
+  to pass. We had got to the year one when I had to leave to drive
+  back to Hillerton. I’ve invited him to come to see Father Duff. I
+  thought I’d like to have them meet. He knows a lot about the Duffs—a
+  Blake married one, ’way back somewhere. I’d like to hear him and
+  Father Duff talk—or, rather, I’d like to hear him _try_ to
+  talk to Father Duff. Did I ever write you Father Duff’s opinion of
+  genealogists? I believe I did.
+
+  I’m not seeing so much of Father Duff these days. Now that it’s grown
+  a little cooler he spends most of his time in his favorite chair
+  before the cook stove in the kitchen.
+
+  Jove, what a letter this is! It should be shipped by freight and
+  read in sections. But I wanted you to know how things are here. You
+  can appreciate it the more—when you come.
+
+  You’re not forgetting, of course, that it’s on the first day of
+  November that Mr. Stanley G. Fulton’s envelope of instructions is to
+  be opened.
+
+                                        As ever yours,
+                                                   JOHN SMITH.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+“DEAR COUSIN STANLEY”
+
+
+It was very early in November that Mr. Smith, coming home one
+afternoon, became instantly aware that something very extraordinary had
+happened.
+
+In the living-room were gathered Mr. Frank Blaisdell, his wife, Jane,
+and their daughter, Mellicent. Mellicent’s cheeks were pink, and her
+eyes more starlike than ever. Mrs. Jane’s cheeks, too, were pink. Her
+eyes were excited, but incredulous. Mr. Frank was still in his white
+work-coat, which he wore behind the counter, but which he never wore
+upstairs in his home. He held an open letter in his hand.
+
+It was an ecstatic cry from Mellicent that came first to Mr. Smith’s
+ears.
+
+“Oh, Mr. Smith, Mr. Smith, you can’t guess what’s happened! You
+couldn’t guess in a million years!”
+
+“No? Something nice, I hope.” Mr. Smith was looking almost as happily
+excited as Mellicent herself.
+
+“Nice—NICE!” Mellicent clasped her hands before her. “Why, Mr. Smith,
+we are going to have a hundred thousand—”
+
+“Mellicent, I wouldn’t talk of it—yet,” interfered her mother sharply.
+
+“But, mother, it’s no secret. It can’t be kept secret!”
+
+“Of course not—if it’s true. But it isn’t true,” retorted the woman,
+with excited emphasis. “No man in his senses would do such a thing.”
+
+“Er—ah—w-what?” stammered Mr. Smith, looking suddenly a little less
+happy.
+
+“Leave a hundred thousand dollars apiece to three distant relations he
+never saw.”
+
+“But he was our cousin—you said he was our cousin,” interposed
+Mellicent, “and when he died—”
+
+“The letter did not say he had died,” corrected her mother. “He just
+hasn’t been heard from. But he will be heard from—and then where will
+our hundred thousand dollars be?”
+
+“But the lawyer’s coming to give it to us,” maintained Mr. Frank
+stoutly. Then abruptly he turned to Mr. Smith. “Here, read this,
+please, and tell us if we have lost our senses—or if somebody else has.”
+
+Mr. Smith took the letter. A close observer might have noticed that his
+hand shook a little. The letterhead carried the name of a Chicago law
+firm, but Mr. Smith did not glance at that. He plunged at once into the
+text of the letter.
+
+“Aloud, please, Mr. Smith. I want to hear it again,” pleaded Mellicent.
+
+  DEAR SIR (read Mr. Smith then, after clearing his throat),—I
+  understand that you are a distant kinsman of Mr. Stanley G. Fulton,
+  the Chicago millionaire.
+
+  Some six months ago Mr. Fulton left this city on what was reported to
+  be a somewhat extended exploring tour of South America. Before his
+  departure he transferred to me, as trustee, certain securities worth
+  about $300,000. He left with me a sealed envelope, entitled “Terms of
+  Trust,” and instructed me to open such envelope in six months from
+  the date written thereon—if he had not returned—and thereupon to
+  dispose of the securities according to the terms of the trust. I will
+  add that he also left with me a second sealed envelope entitled “Last
+  Will and Testament,” but instructed me not to open such envelope
+  until two years from the date written thereon.
+
+  The period of six months has now expired. I have opened the envelope
+  entitled “Terms of Trust,” and find that I am directed to convert
+  the securities into cash with all convenient speed, and forthwith
+  to pay over one third of the net proceeds to his kinsman, Frank G.
+  Blaisdell; one third to his kinsman, James A. Blaisdell; and one
+  third to his kinswoman, Flora B. Blaisdell, all of Hillerton.
+
+  I shall, of course, discharge my duty as trustee under this
+  instrument with all possible promptness. Some of the securities have
+  already been converted into cash, and within a few days I shall come
+  to Hillerton to pay over the cash in the form of certified checks;
+  and I shall ask you at that time to be so good as to sign a receipt
+  for your share. Meanwhile this letter is to apprise you of your good
+  fortune and to offer you my congratulations.
+
+                                Very truly yours,
+                                             EDWARD D. NORTON.
+
+“Oh-h!” breathed Mellicent.
+
+“Well, what do you think of it?” demanded Mr. Frank Blaisdell, his arms
+akimbo.
+
+“Why, it’s fine, of course. I congratulate you,” cried Mr. Smith,
+handing back the letter.
+
+“Then it’s all straight, you think?”
+
+“Most assuredly!”
+
+“Je-hos-a-phat!” exploded the man.
+
+“But he’ll come back—you see if he don’t!” Mrs. Jane’s voice was still
+positive.
+
+“What if he does? You’ll still have your hundred thousand,” smiled Mr.
+Smith.
+
+“He won’t take it back?”
+
+“Of course not! I doubt if he could, if he wanted to.”
+
+“And we’re really going to have a whole hundred thousand dollars?”
+breathed Mellicent.
+
+“I reckon you are—less the inheritance tax, perhaps.”
+
+“What’s that? What do you mean?” demanded Mrs. Jane. “Do you mean we’ve
+got to _pay_ because we’ve got that money?”
+
+“Why, y-yes, I suppose so. Isn’t there an inheritance tax in this
+State?”
+
+“How much does it cost?” Mrs. Jane’s lips were at their most economical
+pucker. “Do we have to pay a _great_ deal? Isn’t there any way to
+save doing that?”
+
+“No, there isn’t,” cut in her husband crisply. “And I guess we can pay
+the inheritance tax—with a hundred thousand to pay it out of. We’re
+going to _spend_ some of this money, Jane.”
+
+The telephone bell in the hall jangled its peremptory summons, and Mr.
+Frank answered it. In a minute he returned, a new excitement on his
+face.
+
+“It’s Hattie. She’s crazy, of course. They’re coming right over.”
+
+“Oh, yes! And they’ve got it, too, haven’t they?” remembered Mellicent.
+“And Aunt Flora, and—” She stopped suddenly, a growing dismay in her
+eyes. “Why, he didn’t—he didn’t leave a cent to _Aunt Maggie_!”
+she cried.
+
+“Gosh! that’s so. Say, now, that’s too bad!” There was genuine concern
+in Frank Blaisdell’s voice.
+
+“But why?” almost wept Mellicent.
+
+Her mother sighed sympathetically.
+
+“Poor Maggie! How she is left out—always!”
+
+“But we can give her some of ours, mother,—we can give her some of
+ours,” urged the girl.
+
+“It isn’t ours to give—yet,” remarked her mother, a bit coldly.
+
+“But, mother, you _will_ do it,” importuned Mellicent. “You’ve
+always said you would, if you had it to give.”
+
+“And I say it again, Mellicent. I shall never see her suffer, you may
+be sure,—if I have the money to relieve her. But—” She stopped abruptly
+at the sound of an excited voice down the hall. Miss Flora, evidently
+coming in through the kitchen, was hurrying toward them.
+
+“Jane—Mellicent—where are you? Isn’t anybody here? Mercy me!” she
+panted, as she reached the room and sank into a chair. “Did you ever
+hear anything like it in all your life? You had one, too, didn’t you?”
+she cried, her eyes falling on the letter in her brother’s hand. “But
+’tain’t true, of course!”
+
+Miss Flora wore no head-covering. She wore one glove (wrong side out),
+and was carrying the other one. Her dress, evidently donned hastily for
+the street, was unevenly fastened, showing the topmost button without a
+buttonhole.
+
+“Mr. Smith says it’s true,” triumphed Mellicent.
+
+“How does he know? Who told him ’twas true?” demanded Miss Flora.
+
+So almost accusing was the look in her eyes that Mr. Smith actually
+blinked a little. He grew visibly confused.
+
+“Why—er—ah—the letter speaks for itself Miss Flora,” he stammered.
+
+“But it _can’t_ be true,” reiterated Miss Flora. “The idea of a
+man I never saw giving me a hundred thousand dollars like that!—and
+Frank and Jim, too!”
+
+“But he’s your cousin—you said he was your cousin,” Mr. Smith reminded
+her. “And you have his picture in your album. You showed it to me.”
+
+“I know it. But, my sakes! I didn’t know _he_ knew I was his
+cousin. I don’t s’pose he’s got _my_ picture in _his_ album!
+But how did he know about us? It’s some other Flora Blaisdell, I tell
+you.”
+
+“There, I never thought of that,” cried Jane. “It probably is some
+other Blaisdells. Well, anyhow, if it is, we won’t have to pay that
+inheritance tax. We can save that much.”
+
+“Save! Well, what do we lose?” demanded her husband apoplectically.
+
+At this moment the rattling of the front-door knob and an imperative
+knocking brought Mrs. Jane to her feet.
+
+“There’s Hattie, now, and that door’s locked,” she cried, hurrying into
+the hall.
+
+When she returned a moment later Harriet Blaisdell and Bessie were with
+her.
+
+There was about Mrs. Harriet Blaisdell a new, indescribable air of
+commanding importance. To Mr. Smith she appeared to have grown inches
+taller.
+
+“Well, I do hope, Jane, _now_ you’ll live in a decent place,” she
+was saying, as they entered the room, “and not oblige your friends to
+climb up over a grocery store.”
+
+“Well, I guess you can stand the grocery store a few more days,
+Hattie,” observed Frank Blaisdell dryly. “How long do you s’pose we’d
+live—any of us—if ’twa’n’t for the grocery stores to feed us? Where’s
+Jim?”
+
+“Isn’t he here? I told him I was coming here, and to come right over
+himself at once; that the very first thing we must have was a family
+conclave, just ourselves, you know, so as to plan what to give out to
+the public.”
+
+“Er—ah—” Mr. Smith was on his feet, looking somewhat embarrassed;
+“perhaps, then, you would rather I were not present at the—er—family
+conclave.”
+
+“Nonsense!” shouted Frank Blaisdell.
+
+“Why, you _are_ one of the family, ’seems so,” cried Mellicent.
+
+“No, indeed, Mr. Smith, don’t go,” smiled Mrs. Hattie pleasantly.
+“Besides, you are interested in what concerns us, I know—for the book;
+so, of course, you’ll be interested in this legacy of dear Cousin
+Stanley’s.”
+
+Mr. Smith collapsed suddenly behind his handkerchief, with one of the
+choking coughs to which he appeared to be somewhat addicted.
+
+“Ain’t you getting a little familiar with ‘dear Cousin Stanley,’
+Hattie?” drawled Frank Blaisdell.
+
+Miss Flora leaned forward earnestly.
+
+“But, Hattie, we were just sayin’, ’fore you came, that it couldn’t be
+true; that it must mean some other Blaisdells somewhere.”
+
+“Absurd!” scoffed Harriet. “There couldn’t be any other Frank and Jim
+and Flora Blaisdell, in a Hillerton, too. Besides, Jim said over the
+telephone that that was one of the best law firms in Chicago. Don’t
+you suppose they know what they’re talking about? I’m sure, I think
+it’s quite the expected thing that he should leave his money to his own
+people. Come, don’t let’s waste any more time over that. What we’ve
+got to decide is what to _do_. First, of course, we must order
+expensive mourning all around.”
+
+“Mourning!” ejaculated an amazed chorus.
+
+“Oh, great Scott!” spluttered Mr. Smith, growing suddenly very red. “I
+never thought—” He stopped abruptly, his face almost purple.
+
+But nobody was noticing Mr. Smith. Bessie Blaisdell had the floor.
+
+“Why, mother, I look perfectly horrid in black, you know I do,” she was
+wailing. “And there’s the Gaylords’ dance just next week; and if I’m in
+mourning I can’t go there, nor anywhere. What’s the use in having all
+that money if we’ve got to shut ourselves up like that, and wear horrid
+stuffy black, and everything?”
+
+“For shame, Bessie!” spoke up Miss Flora, with unusual sharpness
+for her. “I think your mother is just right. I’m sure the least we
+can do in return for this wonderful gift is to show our respect and
+appreciation by going into the very deepest black we can. I’m sure I’d
+be glad to.”
+
+“Wait!” Mrs. Harriet had drawn her brows together in deep thought.
+“I’m not sure, after all, that it would be best. The letter did not
+say that dear Cousin Stanley had died—he just hadn’t been heard from.
+In that case, I don’t think we ought to do it. And it would be too
+bad—that Gaylord dance is going to be the biggest thing of the season,
+and of course if we _were_ in black—No; on the whole, I think we
+won’t, Bessie. Of course, in two years from now, when we get the rest,
+it will be different.”
+
+“When you—what?” It was a rather startled question from Mr. Smith.
+
+“Oh, didn’t you know? There’s another letter to be opened in two years
+from now, disposing of the rest of the property. And he was worth
+millions, you know, millions!”
+
+“But maybe he—er—Did it say you were to—to get those millions then?”
+
+“Oh, no, it didn’t _say_ it, Mr. Smith.” Mrs. Harriet Blaisdell’s
+smile was a bit condescending. “But of course we will. We are his
+kinsmen. He said we were. He just didn’t give it all now because he
+wanted to give himself two more years to come back in, I suppose. You
+know he’s gone exploring. And, of course, if he hadn’t come back by
+then, he would be dead. Then we’d get it all. Oh, yes, we shall get it,
+I’m sure.”
+
+“Oh-h!” Mr. Smith settled back in his chair. He looked somewhat
+nonplused.
+
+“Humph! Well, I wouldn’t spend them millions—till I’d got ’em, Hattie,”
+advised her brother-in-law dryly.
+
+“I wasn’t intending to, Frank,” she retorted with some dignity. “But
+that’s neither here nor there. What we’re concerned with now is what to
+do with what we have got. Even this will make a tremendous sensation in
+Hillerton. It ought to be written up, of course, for the papers, and
+by some one who knows. We want it done just right. Why, Frank, do you
+realize? We shall be rich—RICH—and all in a flash like this! I wonder
+what the Pennocks will say _now_ about Mellicent’s not having
+money enough for that precious son of theirs! Oh, I can hardly believe
+it yet. And it’ll mean—everything to us. Think what we can do for the
+children. Think—”
+
+“Aunt Jane, Aunt Jane, is ma here?” Wide open banged the front door
+as Benny bounded down the hall. “Oh, here you are! Say, is it true?
+Tommy Hooker says our great-grandfather in Africa has died an’ left
+us a million dollars, an’ that we’re richer’n Mr. Pennock or even the
+Gaylords, or anybody! Is it true? Is it?”
+
+His mother laughed indulgently.
+
+“Not quite, Benny, though we have been left a nice little fortune by
+your cousin, Stanley G. Fulton—remember the name, dear, your cousin,
+Stanley G. Fulton. And it wasn’t Africa, it was South America.”
+
+“And did you all get some, too?” panted Benny, looking eagerly about
+him.
+
+“We sure did,” nodded his Uncle Frank, “all but poor Mr. Smith here.
+I guess Mr. Stanley G. Fulton didn’t know he was a cousin, too,” he
+joked, with a wink in Mr. Smith’s direction.
+
+“But where’s Aunt Maggie? Why ain’t she here? She got some, too, didn’t
+she?” Benny began to look anxious.
+
+His mother lifted her eyebrows.
+
+“No. You forget, my dear. Your Aunt Maggie is not a Blaisdell at all.
+She’s a Duff—a very different family.”
+
+“I don’t care, she’s just as good as a Blaisdell,” cut in Mellicent;
+“and she seems like one of us, anyway.”
+
+“And she didn’t get anything?” bemoaned Benny. “Say,” he turned
+valiantly to Mr. Smith, “shouldn’t you think he might have given Aunt
+Maggie a little of that money?”
+
+“I should, indeed!” Mr. Smith spoke with peculiar emphasis.
+
+“I guess he would if he’d known her!”
+
+“I’m sure he would!” Once more the peculiar earnestness vibrated
+through Mr. Smith’s voice.
+
+“But now he’s dead, an’ he can’t. I guess if he could see Aunt Maggie
+he’d wish he hadn’t died ’fore he could fix her up just as good as the
+rest.”
+
+“I’m _very_ sure he would!” Mr. Smith was laughing now, but his
+voice was just as emphatic, and there was a sudden flame of color in
+his face.
+
+“Your Cousin Stanley isn’t dead, my dear,—that is, we are not sure he
+is dead,” spoke up Benny’s mother quickly. “He just has not been heard
+from for six months.”
+
+“But he must be dead, or he’d have come back,” reasoned Miss Flora,
+with worried eyes; “and I, for my part, think we _ought_ to go
+into mourning, too.”
+
+“Of course he’d have come back,” declared Mrs. Jane, “and kept the
+money himself. Don’t you suppose he knew what he’d written in that
+letter, and don’t you suppose he’d have saved those three hundred
+thousand dollars if he could? Well, I guess he would! The man is dead.
+That’s certain enough.”
+
+“Well, anyhow, we’re not going into mourning till we have to.” Mrs.
+Harriet’s lips snapped together with firm decision.
+
+“Of course not. I’m sure I don’t see any use in having the money if
+we’ve got to wear black and not go anywhere,” pouted Bessie.
+
+“Are we rich, then, really, ma?” demanded Benny.
+
+“We certainly are, Benny.”
+
+“Richer ’n the Pennocks?”
+
+“Very much.”
+
+“An’ the Gaylords?”
+
+“Well—hardly that”—her face clouded perceptibly—“that is, not until we
+get the rest—in two years.” She brightened again.
+
+“Then, if we’re rich we can have everything we want, can’t we?” Benny’s
+eyes were beginning to sparkle.
+
+“Well—” hesitated his mother.
+
+“I guess there’ll be enough to satisfy your wants, Benny,” laughed his
+Uncle Frank.
+
+Benny gave a whoop of delight.
+
+“Then we can go back to the East Side and live just as we’ve a mind
+to, without carin’ what other folks do, can’t we?” he crowed. “Cause
+if we _are_ rich we won’t have ter keep tryin’ ter make folks
+_think_ we are. They’ll know it without our tryin’.”
+
+“Benny!” The rest were laughing; but Benny’s mother had raised shocked
+hands of protest. “You are incorrigible, child. The East Side, indeed!
+We shall live in a house of our own, now, of course—but it won’t be on
+the East Side.”
+
+“And Fred’ll go to college,” put in Miss Flora eagerly.
+
+“Yes; and I shall send Bessie to a fashionable finishing school,” bowed
+Mrs. Harriet, with a shade of importance.
+
+“Hey, Bess, you’ve got ter be finished,” chuckled Benny.
+
+“What’s Mell going to do?” pouted Bessie, looking not altogether
+pleased. “Hasn’t she got to be finished, too?”
+
+“Mellicent hasn’t got the money to be finished—yet,” observed Mrs. Jane
+tersely.
+
+“Oh, I don’t know what I’m going to do,” breathed Mellicent, drawing
+an ecstatic sigh. “But I hope I’m going to do—just what I want to, for
+once!”
+
+“And I’ll make you some pretty dresses that you can wear right off,
+while they’re in style,” beamed Miss Flora.
+
+Frank Blaisdell gave a sudden laugh.
+
+“But what are _you_ going to do, Flo? Here you’ve been telling
+what everybody else is going to do with the money.”
+
+A blissful sigh, very like Mellicent’s own, passed Miss Flora’s lips.
+
+“Oh, I don’t know,” she breathed in an awe-struck voice. “It don’t seem
+yet—that it’s really mine.”
+
+“Well, ’tisn’t,” declared Mrs. Jane tartly, getting to her feet. “And
+I, for one, am going back to work—in the kitchen, where I belong.
+And—Well, if here ain’t Jim at last,” she broke off, as her younger
+brother-in-law appeared in the doorway.
+
+“You’re too late, pa, you’re too late! It’s all done,” clamored Benny.
+“They’ve got everything all settled.”
+
+The man in the doorway smiled.
+
+“I knew they would have, Benny; and I haven’t been needed, I’m
+sure,—your mother’s here.”
+
+Mrs. Harriet bridled, but did not look unpleased.
+
+“But, say, Jim,” breathed Miss Flora, “ain’t it wonderful—ain’t it
+perfectly wonderful?”
+
+“It is, indeed,—very wonderful,” replied Mr. Jim
+
+A Babel of eager voices arose then, but Mr. Smith was not listening
+now. He was watching Mr. Jim’s face, and trying to fathom its
+expression.
+
+A little later, when the women had gone into the kitchen and Mr. Frank
+had clattered back to his work downstairs, Mr. Smith thought he had
+the explanation of that look on Mr. Jim’s face. Mr. Jim and Benny were
+standing over by the fireplace together.
+“Pa, ain’t you glad—about the money?” asked Benny.
+
+“I should be, shouldn’t I, my son?”
+
+“But you look—so funny, and you didn’t say anything, hardly.”
+
+There was a moment’s pause. The man, with his eyes fixed on the glowing
+coals in the grate, appeared not to have heard. But in a moment he
+said:—
+
+“Benny, if a poor old horse had been climbing a long, long hill all
+day with the hot sun on his back, and a load that dragged and dragged
+at his heels, and if he couldn’t see a thing but the dust of the road
+that blinded and choked him, and if he just felt that he couldn’t go
+another step, in spite of the whip that snapped ‘Get there—get there!’
+all day in his ears—how do you suppose that poor old horse would
+feel if suddenly the load, and the whip, and the hill, and the dust
+disappeared, and he found himself in a green pasture with the cool
+gurgle of water under green trees in his ears—how do you suppose that
+poor old horse would feel?”
+
+“Say, he’d like it great, wouldn’t he? But, pa, you didn’t tell me yet
+if you liked the money.”
+
+The man stirred, as if waking from a trance. He threw his arm around
+Benny’s shoulders.
+
+“Like it? Why, of course, I like it, Benny, my boy! Why, I’m going to
+have time now—to get acquainted with my children!”
+
+Across the room Mr. Smith, with a sudden tightening of his throat,
+slipped softly into the hall and thence to his own room. Mr. Smith,
+just then, did not wish to be seen.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+WHAT DOES IT MATTER?
+
+
+The days immediately following the receipt of three remarkable letters
+by the Blaisdell family were nerve-racking for all concerned. Held
+by Mrs. Jane’s insistence that they weren’t sure yet that the thing
+was true, the family steadfastly refused to give out any definite
+information. Even the eager Harriet yielded to Jane on this point,
+acknowledging that it _would_ be mortifying, of course, if they
+_should_ talk, and nothing came of it.
+
+Their enigmatic answers to questions, and their expressive shrugs and
+smiles, however, were almost as exciting as the rumors themselves; and
+the Blaisdells became at once a veritable storm center of surmises and
+gossip—a state of affairs not at all unpleasing to some of them, Mrs.
+Harriet in particular.
+
+Miss Maggie Duff, however, was not so well pleased. To Mr. Smith, one
+day, she freed her mind—and Miss Maggie so seldom freed her mind that
+Mr. Smith was not a little surprised.
+
+“I wish,” she began, “I do wish that if that Chicago lawyer is coming,
+he’d come, and get done with it! Certainly the present state of affairs
+is almost unbearable.”
+
+“It does make it all the harder for you, to have it drag along like
+this, doesn’t it?” murmured Mr. Smith uneasily.
+
+“For—ME?”
+
+“That you are not included in the bequest, I mean.”
+
+She gave an impatient gesture.
+
+“I didn’t mean that. I wasn’t thinking of myself. Besides, as I’ve told
+you before, there is no earthly reason why I should have been included.
+It’s the delay, I mean, for the Blaisdells—for the whole town, for that
+matter. This eternal ‘Did you know?’ and ‘They say’ is getting on my
+nerves!”
+
+“Why, Miss Maggie, I didn’t suppose you _had_ any nerves,”
+bantered the man.
+
+She threw him an expressive glance.
+
+“Haven’t I!” she retorted. Then again she gave the impatient gesture.
+“But even the gossip and the questioning aren’t the worst. It’s the
+family themselves. Between Hattie’s pulling one way and Jane the other,
+I feel like a bone between two quarrelsome puppies. Hattie is already
+house-hunting, on the sly, and she’s bought Bessie an expensive watch
+and a string of gold beads. Jane, on the other hand, insists that Mr.
+Fulton will come back and claim the money, so she’s running her house
+now on the principle that she’s _lost_ a hundred thousand dollars,
+and so must economize in every possible way. You can imagine it!”
+
+“I don’t have to—imagine it,” murmured the man.
+
+Miss Maggie laughed.
+
+“I forgot. Of course you don’t. You do live there, don’t you? But that
+isn’t all. Flora, poor soul, went into a restaurant the other day and
+ordered roast turkey, and now she’s worrying for fear the money won’t
+come and justify her extravagance. Mellicent, with implicit faith that
+the hundred thousand is coming wants to wear her best frocks every day.
+And, as if she were not already quite excited enough, young Pennock has
+very obviously begun to sit up and take notice.”
+
+“You don’t mean he is trying to come back—so soon!” disbelieved Mr.
+Smith.
+
+“Well, he’s evidently caught the glitter of the gold from afar,” smiled
+Miss Maggie. “At all events, he’s taking notice.”
+
+“And—Miss Mellicent?” There was a note of anxiety in Mr. Smith’s voice.
+
+“Doesn’t see him, _apparently_. But she comes and tells me his
+every last move (and he’s making quite a number of them just now!), so
+I think she does see—a little.”
+
+“The young rascal! But she doesn’t—care?”
+
+“I think not—really. She’s just excited now, as any young girl would
+be; and I’m afraid she’s taking a little wicked pleasure in—not seeing
+him.”
+
+“Humph! I can imagine it,” chuckled Mr. Smith.
+
+“But it’s all bad—this delay,” chafed Miss Maggie again. “Don’t you
+see? It’s neither one thing nor another. That’s why I do wish that
+lawyer would come, if he’s coming.”
+
+“I reckon he’ll be here before long,” murmured Mr. Smith, with an
+elaborately casual air. “But—I wish you were coming in on the deal.”
+His kindly eyes were gazing straight into her face now.
+
+She shook her head.
+
+“I’m a Duff, not a Blaisdell—except when they want—” She bit her lip. A
+confused red suffused her face. “I mean, I’m not a Blaisdell at all,”
+she finished hastily.
+
+“Humph! That’s exactly it!” Mr. Smith was sitting energetically erect.
+“You’re not a Blaisdell—except when they want something of you!”
+
+“Oh _please_, I didn’t mean to say—I _didn’t_
+say—_that_,” cried Miss Maggie, in very genuine distress.
+
+“No, I know you didn’t, but I did,” flared the man. “Miss Maggie, it’s
+a downright shame—the way they impose on you sometimes.”
+
+“Nonsense! I like to have them—I mean, I like to do what I can for
+them,” she corrected hastily, laughing in spite of herself.
+
+“You like to get all tired out, I suppose.”
+
+“I get rested—afterward.”
+
+“And it doesn’t matter, anyway, of course,” he gibed.
+
+“Not a bit,” she smiled.
+
+“Yes, I suspected that.” Mr. Smith was still sitting erect, still
+speaking with grim terseness. “But let me tell you right here and now
+that I don’t approve of that doctrine of yours.”
+
+“‘Doctrine’?”
+
+“That ‘It-doesn’t-matter’ doctrine of yours. I tell you it’s very
+pernicious—very! I don’t approve of it at all.”
+
+There was a moment’s silence.
+
+“No?” Miss Maggie said then, demurely. “Oh, well—it doesn’t matter—if
+you don’t.”
+
+He caught the twinkle in her eyes and threw up his hands despairingly.
+
+“You are incorrigible!”
+
+With a sudden businesslike air of determination Miss Maggie faced him.
+
+“Just what is the matter with that doctrine, please, and what do you
+mean?” she smiled.
+
+“I mean that things _do_ matter, and that we merely shut our eyes
+to the real facts in the case when we say that they don’t. War, death,
+sin, evil—the world is full of them, and they do matter.”
+
+“They do matter, indeed.” Miss Maggie was speaking very gravely now.
+“They matter—woefully. I never say ‘It doesn’t matter’ to war, or
+death, or sin, or evil. But there are other things—”
+
+“But the other things matter, too,” interrupted the man irritably.
+“Right here and now it matters that you don’t share in the money; it
+matters that you slave half your time for a father who doesn’t anywhere
+near appreciate you; it matters that you slave the rest of the time for
+every Tom and Dick and Harry and Jane and Mehitable in Hillerton that
+has run a sliver under a thumb, either literally or metaphorically. It
+matters that—”
+
+But Miss Maggie was laughing merrily. “Oh, Mr. Smith, Mr. Smith, you
+don’t know what you are saying!”
+
+“I do, too. It’s _you_ who don’t know what you are saying!”
+
+“But, pray, what would you have me say?” she smiled.
+
+“I’d have you say it _does_ matter, and I’d have you insist on
+having your rights, every time.”
+
+“And what if I had?” she retaliated sharply. “My rights, indeed!”
+
+The man fell back, so sudden and so astounding was the change that had
+come to the woman opposite him. She was leaning forward in her chair,
+her lips trembling, her eyes a smouldering flame.
+
+“What if I had insisted on my rights, all the way up?” she quivered.
+“Would I have come home that first time from college? Would I have
+stepped into Mother Blaisdell’s shoes and kept the house? Would I have
+swept and baked and washed and ironed, day in and day out, to make a
+home for father and for Jim and Frank and Flora? Would I have come
+back again and again, when my beloved books were calling, calling,
+always calling? Would I have seen other girls love and marry and go to
+homes of their own, while I—Oh, what am I saying, what am I saying?”
+she choked, covering her eyes with the back of her hand, and turning
+her face away. “Please, if you can, forget what I said. Indeed, I
+_never_—broke out like that—before. I am so—ashamed!”
+
+“Ashamed! Well, you needn’t be.” Mr. Smith, on his feet, was trying to
+work off his agitation by tramping up and down the small room.
+
+“But I am ashamed,” moaned Miss Maggie, her face still averted. “And I
+can’t think why I should have been so—so wild. It was just something
+that you said—about my rights, I think. You see—all my life I’ve just
+_had_ to learn to say ‘It doesn’t matter,’ when there were so many
+things I wanted to do, and couldn’t. And—don’t you see?—I found out,
+after a while, that it didn’t really matter, half so much—college and
+my own little wants and wishes as that I should do—what I had to do,
+willingly and pleasantly at home.”
+
+“But, good Heavens, how could you keep from tearing ’round and throwing
+things?”
+
+“I couldn’t—all the time. I—I smashed a bowl once, and two cups.” She
+laughed shamefacedly, and met his eyes now. “But I soon found—that
+it didn’t make me or anybody else—any happier, and that it didn’t
+help things at all. So I tried—to do the other way. And now, please,
+_please_ say you’ll forget all this—what I’ve been saying. Indeed,
+Mr. Smith I am very much ashamed.”
+
+“Forget it!” Mr. Smith turned on his heel and marched up and down the
+room again. “Confound that man!”
+
+“What man?”
+
+“Mr. Stanley G. Fulton, if you must know, for not giving you any of
+that money.”
+
+“Money, money, money!” Miss Maggie threw out both her hands with a
+gesture of repulsion. “If I’ve heard that word once, I’ve heard it a
+hundred times in the last week. Sometimes I wish I might never hear it
+again.”
+
+“You don’t want to be deaf, do you? Well, you’d have to be, to escape
+hearing that word.”
+
+“I suppose so. But—” again she threw out her hands.
+
+“You don’t mean—” Mr. Smith was regarding her with curious interest.
+“Don’t you _want_—money, really?”
+
+She hesitated; then she sighed.
+
+“Oh, yes, of course. We all want money. We have to have money, too; but
+I don’t think it’s—everything in the world, by any means.”
+
+“You don’t think it brings happiness, then?”
+
+“Sometimes. Sometimes not.”
+
+“Most of—er—us would be willing to take the risk.”
+
+“Most of us would.”
+
+“Now, in the case of the Blaisdells here—don’t you think this money is
+going to bring happiness to them?”
+
+There was no answer. Miss Maggie seemed to be thinking.
+
+“Miss Maggie,” exclaimed Mr. Smith, with a concern all out of
+proportion to his supposed interest in the matter, “you don’t mean to
+say you _don’t_ think this money is going to bring them happiness!”
+
+Miss Maggie laughed a little.
+
+“Oh, no! This money’ll bring them happiness all right, of
+course,—particularly to some of them. But I was just wondering; if you
+don’t know how to spend five dollars so as to get the most out of it,
+how will you spend five hundred, or five hundred thousand—and get the
+most out of that?”
+“What do you mean?”
+
+But Miss Maggie shook her head.
+
+“Nothing. I was just thinking,” she said.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+SANTA CLAUS ARRIVES
+
+
+It was not long after this that Mr. Smith found a tall, gray-haired
+man, with keen gray eyes, talking with Mrs. Jane Blaisdell and
+Mellicent in the front room over the grocery store.
+
+“Well—” began Mr. Smith, a joyful light of recognition in his eyes.
+Then suddenly he stooped and picked up something from the floor. When
+he came upright his face was very red. He did not look at the tall,
+gray-haired man again as he advanced into the room.
+
+Mellicent turned to him eagerly.
+
+“Oh, Mr. Smith, it’s the lawyer—he’s come. And it’s true. It _is_
+true!”
+
+“This is Mr. Smith, Mr. Norton,” murmured Mrs. Jane Blaisdell to the
+keen-eyed man, who, also, for no apparent reason, had grown very
+red. “Mr. Smith’s a Blaisdell, too,—distant, you know. He’s doing a
+Blaisdell book.”
+
+“Indeed! How interesting! How are you, Mr.—Smith?” The lawyer smiled
+and held out his hand, but there was an odd constraint in his manner.
+“So you’re a Blaisdell, too, are you?”
+
+“Er—yes,” said Mr. Smith, smiling straight into the lawyer’s eyes.
+
+“But not near enough to come in on the money, of course,” explained
+Mrs. Jane. “He isn’t a Hiller-Blaisdell. He’s just boarding here, while
+he writes his book.”
+
+“Oh I see. So he isn’t near enough to come in—on the money.” This time
+it was the lawyer who was smiling straight into Mr. Smith’s eyes.
+
+But he did not smile for long. A sudden question from Mellicent seemed
+to freeze the smile on his lips.
+
+“Mr. Norton, please, what was Mr. Stanley G. Fulton like?” she begged.
+
+“Why—er—you must have seen his pictures in the papers,” stammered the
+lawyer.
+
+“Yes, what was he like? Do tell us,” urged Mr. Smith with a bland
+smile, as he seated himself.
+
+“Why—er—” The lawyer came to a still more unhappy pause.
+
+“Of course, we’ve seen his pictures,” broke in Mellicent, “but those
+don’t tell us anything. And _you knew him_. So won’t you tell us
+what he was like, please, while we’re waiting for father to come up?
+Was he nice and jolly, or was he stiff and haughty? What was he like?”
+
+“Yes, what was he like?” coaxed Mr. Smith again. Mr. Smith, for some
+reason, seemed to be highly amused.
+
+The lawyer lifted his head suddenly. An odd flash came to his eyes.
+
+“Like? Oh, just an ordinary man, you know,—somewhat conceited, of
+course.” (A queer little half-gasp came from Mr. Smith, but the lawyer
+was not looking at Mr. Smith.) “Eccentric—you’ve heard that, probably.
+And he _has_ done crazy things, and no mistake. Of course, with
+his money and position, we won’t exactly say he had bats in his
+belfry—isn’t that what they call it?—but—”
+
+Mr. Smith gave a real gasp this time, and Mrs. Jane Blaisdell
+ejaculated:—
+
+“There, I told you so! I knew something was wrong. And now he’ll come
+back and claim the money. You see if he don’t! And if we’ve gone and
+spent any of it—” A gesture of despair finished her sentence.
+
+“Give yourself no uneasiness on that score, madam,” the lawyer assured
+her gravely. “I think I can safely guarantee he will not do that.”
+
+“Then you think he’s—dead?”
+
+“I did not say that, madam. I said I was very sure he would not come
+back and claim this money that is to be paid over to your husband and
+his brother and sister. Dead or alive, he has no further power over
+that money now.”
+
+“Oh-h!” breathed Mellicent. “Then it _is_—ours!”
+
+“It is yours,” bowed the lawyer.
+
+“But Mr. Smith says we’ve probably got to pay a tax on it,” thrust in
+Mrs. Jane, in a worried voice. “Do you know how much we’ll _have_
+to pay? And isn’t there any way we can save doing that?”
+Before Mr. Norton could answer, a heavy step down the hall heralded
+Mr. Frank Blaisdell’s advance, and in the ensuing confusion of his
+arrival, Mr. Smith slipped away. As he passed the lawyer, however,
+Mellicent thought she heard him mutter, “You rascal!” But afterwards
+she concluded she must have been mistaken, for the two men appeared to
+become at once the best of friends. Mr. Norton remained in town several
+days, and frequently she saw him and Mr. Smith chatting pleasantly
+together, or starting off apparently for a walk. Mellicent was very
+sure, therefore, that she must have been mistaken in thinking she had
+heard Mr. Smith utter so remarkable an exclamation as he left the room
+that first day.
+
+During the stay of Mr. Norton in Hillerton, and for some days
+afterward, the Blaisdells were too absorbed in the mere details of
+acquiring and temporarily investing their wealth to pay attention to
+anything else. Under the guidance of Mr. Norton, Mr. Robert Chalmers,
+and the heads of two other Hillerton banks, the three legatees set
+themselves to the task of “finding a place to put it,” as Miss Flora
+breathlessly termed it.
+
+Mrs. Hattie said that, for her part, she should like to leave their
+share all in the bank: then she’d have it to spend whenever she wanted
+it. She yielded to the shocked protestations of the others, however,
+and finally consented that her husband should invest a large part of it
+in the bonds he so wanted, leaving a generous sum in the bank in her
+own name. She was assured that the bonds were just as good as money,
+anyway, as they were the kind that were readily convertible into cash.
+
+Mrs. Jane, when she understood the matter, was for investing every cent
+of theirs where it would draw the largest interest possible. Mrs. Jane
+had never before known very much about interest, and she was fascinated
+with its delightful possibilities. She spent whole days joyfully
+figuring percentages, and was awakened from her happy absorption only
+by the unpleasant realization that her husband was not in sympathy with
+her ideas at all. He said that the money was his, not hers, and that,
+for once in his life, he was going to have his way. “His way” in this
+case proved to be the prompt buying-out of the competing grocery on the
+other corner, and the establishing of good-sized bank account. The rest
+of the money he said Jane might invest for a hundred per cent, if she
+wanted to.
+
+Jane was pleased to this extent, and asked if it were possible that she
+could get such a splendid rate as one hundred per cent. She had not
+figured on that! She was not so pleased later, when Mr. Norton and the
+bankers told her what she _could_ get—with safety; and she was
+very angry because they finally appealed to her husband and she was
+obliged to content herself with a paltry five or six per cent, when
+there were such lovely mining stocks and oil wells everywhere that
+would pay so much more.
+
+She told Flora that she ought to thank her stars that _she_ had
+the money herself in her own name, to do just as she pleased with,
+without any old-fogy men bossing her.
+
+But Flora only shivered and said “Mercy me!” and that, for her part,
+she wished she didn’t have to say what to do with it. She was scared
+of her life of it, anyway, and she was just sure she should lose it,
+whatever she did with it; and she ’most wished she didn’t have it, only
+it would be nice, of course, to buy things with it—and she supposed she
+would buy things with it, after a while, when she got used to it, and
+was not afraid to spend it.
+
+Miss Flora was, indeed, quite breathless most of the time, these days.
+She tried very hard to give the kind gentlemen who were helping her
+no trouble, and she showed herself eager always to take their advice.
+But she wished they would not ask her opinion; she was always afraid
+to give it, and she didn’t have one, anyway; only she did worry, of
+course, and she had to ask them sometimes if they were real sure the
+places they had put her money were perfectly safe, and just couldn’t
+blow up. It was so comforting always to see them smile, and hear them
+say: “Perfectly, my dear Miss Flora, perfectly! Give yourself no
+uneasiness.” To be sure, one day, the big fat man, not Mr. Chalmers,
+did snap out: “No, madam; only the Lord Almighty can guarantee a
+government bond—the whole country may be blown to atoms by a volcano
+to-morrow morning!”
+
+She was startled, terribly startled; but she saw at once, of course,
+that it must be just his way of joking, for of course there wasn’t any
+volcano big enough to blow up the whole United States; and, anyway,
+she did not think it was nice of him, and it was almost like swearing,
+to say “the Lord Almighty” in that tone of voice. She never liked that
+fat man again. After that she always talked to Mr. Chalmers, or to the
+other man with a wart on his nose.
+
+Miss Flora had never had a check-book before, but she tried very
+hard to learn how to use it, and to show herself not too stupid. She
+was glad there were such a lot of checks in the book, but she didn’t
+believe she’d ever spend them all—such a lot of money! She had had a
+savings-bank book, to be sure, but she not been able to put anything in
+the bank for a long time, and she had been worrying a good deal lately
+for fear she would have to draw some out, business had been so dull.
+But she would not have to do that now, of course, with all this money
+that had come to her.
+
+They told her that she could have all the money she wanted by just
+filling out one of the little slips in her check-book the way they had
+told her to do it and taking it to Mr. Chalmers’s bank—that there were
+a good many thousand dollars there waiting for her to spend, just as
+she liked; and that, when they were gone, Mr. Chalmers would tell her
+how to sell some of her bonds and get more. It seemed very wonderful!
+
+There were other things, too, that they had told her—too many for her
+to remember—something about interest, and things called coupons that
+must be cut off the bonds at certain times. She tried to remember it
+all; but Mr. Chalmers had been very kind and had told her not to fret.
+He would help her when the time came. Meanwhile, he had rented her a
+nice tin box (that pulled out like a drawer) in the safety-deposit
+vault under the bank, where she could keep her bonds and all the other
+papers—such a lot of them!—that Mr. Chalmers told her she must keep
+very carefully.
+
+But it was all so new and complicated, and everybody was always talking
+at once, so!
+
+No wonder, indeed, that Miss Flora was quite breathless with it all.
+
+By the time the Blaisdells found themselves able to pay attention
+to Hillerton, or to anything outside their own astounding personal
+affairs, they became suddenly aware of the attention Hillerton was
+paying to _them_.
+
+The whole town was agog. The grocery store, the residence of Frank
+Blaisdell, and Miss Flora’s humble cottage might be found at nearly
+any daylight hour with from one to a dozen curious-eyed gazers on the
+sidewalk before them. The town paper had contained an elaborate account
+of the bequest and the remarkable circumstances attending it; and
+Hillerton became the Mecca of wandering automobiles for miles around.
+Big metropolitan dailies got wind of the affair, recognized the magic
+name of Stanley G. Fulton, and sent reporters post-haste to Hillerton.
+
+Speculation as to whether the multi-millionaire was really dead was
+prevalent everywhere, and a search for some clue to his reported South
+American exploring expedition was undertaken in several quarters.
+Various rumors concerning the expedition appeared immediately, but
+none of them seemed to have any really solid foundation. Interviews
+with the great law firm having the handling of Mr. Fulton’s affairs
+were printed, but even here little could be learned save the mere fact
+of the letter of instructions, upon which they had acted according
+to directions, and the other fact that there still remained one more
+packet—understood to be the last will and testament—to be opened in
+two years’ time if Mr. Fulton remained unheard from. The lawyers were
+bland and courteous, but they really had nothing to say, they declared,
+beyond the already published facts.
+
+In Hillerton the Blaisdells accepted this notoriety with characteristic
+variation. Miss Flora, after cordially welcoming one “nice young man,”
+and telling him all about how strange and wonderful it was, and how
+frightened she felt, was so shocked and distressed to find all that she
+said (and a great deal that she did not say!) staring at her from the
+first page of a big newspaper, that she forthwith barred her doors, and
+refused to open them till she satisfied herself, by surreptitious peeps
+through the blinds, that it was only a neighbor who was knocking for
+admittance. An offer of marriage from a Western ranchman and another
+from a Vermont farmer (both entire strangers) did not tend to lessen
+her perturbation of mind.
+
+Frank, at the grocery store, rather welcomed questioners—so long as
+there was a hope of turning them into customers; but his wife and
+Mellicent showed almost as much terror of them as did Miss Flora
+herself.
+
+James Blaisdell and Fred stoically endured such as refused to be
+silenced by their brusque non-committalism. Benny, at first welcoming
+everything with the enthusiasm he would accord to a circus, soon
+sniffed his disdain, as at a show that had gone stale.
+
+Of them all, perhaps Mrs. Hattie was the only one that found in it any
+real joy and comfort. Even Bessie, excited and interested as she was,
+failed to respond with quite the enthusiasm that her mother showed.
+Mrs. Hattie saw every reporter, talked freely of “dear Cousin Stanley”
+and his wonderful generosity, and explained that she would go into
+mourning, of course, if she knew he was really dead. She sat for two
+new portraits for newspaper use, besides graciously posing for staff
+photographers whenever requested to do so; and she treasured carefully
+every scrap of the printed interviews or references to the affair that
+she could find. She talked with the townspeople, also, and told Al
+Smith how fine it was that he could have something really worth while
+for his book.
+
+Mr. Smith, these days, was keeping rather closely to his work,
+especially when reporters were in evidence. He had been heard to
+remark, indeed, that he had no use for reporters. Certainly he fought
+shy of those investigating the Fulton-Blaisdell legacy. He read the
+newspaper accounts, though, most attentively, particularly the ones
+from Chicago that Mr. Norton kindly sent him sometimes. It was in one
+of these papers that he found this paragraph:—
+
+There seems to be really nothing more that can be learned about the
+extraordinary Stanley G. Fulton-Blaisdell affair. The bequests have
+been paid, the Blaisdells are reveling in their new wealth, and Mr.
+Fulton is still unheard from. There is nothing now to do but to await
+the opening of the second mysterious packet two years hence. This,
+it is understood, is the final disposition of his estate; and if he
+is really dead, such will doubtless prove to be the case. There are
+those, however, who, remembering the multi-millionaire’s well-known
+eccentricities, are suspecting him of living in quiet retirement
+somewhere, laughing in his sleeve at the tempest in the teapot that
+he has created; and that long before the two years are up, he will
+be back on Chicago’s streets, debonair and smiling as ever. The fact
+that so little can be found in regard to the South American exploring
+expedition might give color to this suspicion; but where on this
+terrestrial ball could Mr. Stanley G. Fulton find a place to live in
+_unreported_ retirement?
+
+Mr. Smith did not show this paragraph to the Blaisdells. He destroyed
+the paper containing it, indeed, promptly and effectually—with a
+furtive glance over his shoulder as he did so. It was at about this
+time, too, that Mr. Smith began to complain of his eyes and to wear
+smoked glasses. He said he found the new snow glaring.
+
+“But you look so funny, Mr. Smith,” said Benny, the first time he saw
+him. “Why, I didn’t hardly know you!”
+
+“Didn’t you, Benny?” asked Mr. Smith, with suddenly a beaming
+countenance. “Oh, well, that doesn’t matter, does it?” And Mr. Smith
+gave an odd little chuckle as he turned away.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+THE TOYS RATTLE OUT
+
+
+Early in December Mrs. Hattie, after an extended search, found a
+satisfactory home. It was a somewhat pretentious house, not far
+from the Gaylord place. Mrs. Hattie had it repapered and repainted
+throughout and two new bathrooms put in. (She said that everybody
+who was anybody always had lots of bathrooms.) Then she set herself
+to furnishing it. She said that, of course, very little of their old
+furniture would do at all. She was talking to Maggie Duff about it one
+day when Mr. Smith chanced to come in. She was radiant that afternoon
+in a handsome silk dress and a new fur coat.
+
+“You’re looking very well—and happy, Mrs. Blaisdell,” smiled Mr. Smith
+as he greeted her.
+
+“I am well, and I’m perfectly happy, Mr. Smith,” she beamed. “How
+could I help it? You know about the new home, of course. Well, it’s
+all ready, and I’m ordering the furnishings. Oh, you don’t know what
+it means to me to be able at last to surround myself with all the
+beautiful things I’ve so longed for all my life!”
+
+“I’m very glad, I’m sure.” Mr. Smith said the words as if he meant them.
+
+“Yes, of course; and poor Maggie here, she says she’s glad, too,—though
+I don’t see how she can be, when she never got a cent, do you, Mr.
+Smith? But, poor Maggie, she’s got so used to being left out—”
+
+“Hush, hush!” begged Miss Maggie.
+
+“You’ll find money isn’t everything in this world, Hattie Blaisdell,”
+growled Mr. Duff, who, to-day, for some unknown reason, had deserted
+the kitchen cookstove for the living-room base-burner. “And when I see
+what a little money does for some folks I’m glad I’m poor. I wouldn’t
+be rich if I could. Furthermore, I’ll thank you to keep your sympathy
+at home. It ain’t needed nor wanted—here.”
+
+“Why, Father Duff,” bridled Mrs. Hattie indignantly, “you know how poor
+Maggie has had to—”
+
+“Er—but tell us about the new home,” interrupted Mr. Smith quickly,
+“and the fine new furnishings.”
+
+“Why, there isn’t much to tell yet—about the furnishings, I mean. I
+haven’t got them yet. But I can tell you what I’m _going_ to
+have.” Mrs. Hattie settled herself more comfortably, and began to look
+happy again. “As I was saying to Maggie, when you came in, I shall get
+almost everything new—for the rooms that show, I mean,—for, of course,
+my old things won’t do at all. And I’m thinking of the pictures. I
+want oil paintings, of course, in gilt frames.” She glanced a little
+disdainfully at the oak-framed prints on Miss Maggie’s walls.
+
+“Going in for old masters, maybe,” suggested Mr. Duff, with a sarcasm
+that fell pointless at Mrs. Hattie’s feet.
+
+“Old masters?”
+
+“Yes—oil paintings.”
+
+“Certainly not.” Her chin came up a little. “I’m not going to have
+anything old in my house—where it can be seen—For once I’m going to
+have _new_ things—all new things. You have to make a show or you
+won’t be recognized by the best people.”
+
+“But, Hattie, my dear,” began Miss Maggie, flushing a little, and
+carefully avoiding Mr. Smith’s eyes, “old masters are—are very
+valuable, and—”
+
+“I don’t care if they are,” retorted Mrs. Hattie, with decision. “If
+they’re old, I don’t want them, and that settles it. I’m going to have
+velvet carpets and the handsomest lace curtains that I can find; and
+I’m going to have some of those gold chairs, like the Pennocks have,
+only nicer. Theirs are awfully dull, some of them. And I’m going to
+buy—”
+
+“Humph! Pity you can’t buy a little common sense—somewhere!” snarled
+old man Duff, getting stiffly to his feet. “You’ll need it, to swing
+all that style.”
+
+“Oh, father!” murmured Miss Maggie.
+
+“Oh, I don’t mind what Father Duff says,” laughed Mrs. Hattie. But
+there was a haughty tilt to her chin and an angry sparkle in her eyes
+as she, too, arose. “I’m just going, anyway, so you don’t need to
+disturb yourself, Father Duff.”
+
+But Father Duff, with another “Humph!” and a muttered something about
+having all he wanted already of “silly chatter,” stamped out into the
+kitchen, with the usual emphasis of his cane at every other step.
+
+It was just as well, perhaps, that he went, for Mrs. Hattie Blaisdell
+had been gone barely five minutes when her sister-in-law, Mrs. Jane,
+came in.
+
+“I’ve come to see you about a very important matter, Maggie,” she
+announced, as she threw off her furs—not new ones—and unbuttoned her
+coat—which also was not new.
+
+“Then certainly I will take myself out of the way,” said Mr. Smith,
+with a smile, making a move to go.
+
+“No, please don’t.” Mrs. Jane held up a detaining hand. “Part of it
+concerns you, and I’m glad you’re here, anyway. I should like your
+advice.”
+
+“Concerns me?” puzzled the man.
+
+“Yes. I’m afraid I shall have to give up boarding you, and one thing I
+came to-day for was to ask Maggie if she’d take you. I wanted to give
+poor Maggie the first chance at you, of course.”
+
+“_Chance_ at me!” Mr. Smith laughed,—but unmistakably he blushed. “The
+first—But, my dear woman, it is just possible that Miss Maggie may
+wish to—er—decline this great honor which is being conferred upon her,
+and she may hesitate, for the sake of my feelings, to do it before me.
+_now_ I’m very sure I ought to have left at once.”
+
+“Nonsense!” (Was Miss Maggie blushing the least bit, too?) “I shall
+be very glad to take Mr. Smith as a boarder if he wants to come—but
+_he’s_ got something to say about it, remember. But tell me,
+why are you letting him go, Jane?” “Now this surely _will_ be
+embarrassing,” laughed Mr. Smith again nervously. “Do I eat too much,
+or am I merely noisy, and a nuisance generally?”
+
+But Mrs. Jane did not appear to have heard him. She was looking at Miss
+Maggie, her eyes somber, intent.
+
+“Well, I’ll tell you. It’s Hattie.” “Hattie!” exclaimed two amazed
+voices.
+
+“Yes. She says it’s perfectly absurd for me to take boarders, with all
+our money; and she’s making a terrible fuss about where we live. She
+says she’s ashamed—positively ashamed of us—that we haven’t moved into
+a decent place yet.”
+
+Miss Maggie’s lips puckered a little.
+
+“Do you want to go?”
+
+“Y-yes, only it will cost so much. I’ve always wanted a house—with a
+yard, I mean; and ’twould be nice for Mellicent, of course.”
+
+“Well, why don’t you go? You have the money.”
+
+“Y-yes, I know I have; but it’ll cost so much, Maggie. Don’t you see?
+It costs not only the money itself, but all the interest that the money
+could be earning. Why, Maggie, I never saw anything like it.” Her face
+grew suddenly alert and happy. “I never knew before how much money,
+just _money_, could earn, while you didn’t have to do a thing but
+sit back and watch it do it. It’s the most fascinating thing I ever
+saw. I counted up the other day how much we’d have if we didn’t spend a
+cent of it for ten years—the legacy, I mean.”
+
+“But, great Scott, madam!” expostulated Mr. Smith. “Aren’t you going to
+spend any of that money before ten years’ time?”
+
+Mrs. Jane fell back in her chair. The anxious frown came again to her
+face.
+
+“Oh, yes, of course. We have spent a lot of it, already. Frank has
+bought out that horrid grocery across the street, and he’s put a
+lot in the bank, and he spends from that every day, I know. And I’m
+_willing_ to spend some, of course. But we had to pay so much
+inheritance tax and all that it would be my way not to spend much
+till the interest had sort of made that up, you know; but Frank and
+Mellicent—they won’t hear to it a minute. They want to move, too, and
+they’re teasing me all the time to get new clothes, both for me and for
+her. But Hattie’s the worst. I can’t do a thing with Hattie. Now what
+shall I do?”
+
+“I should move. You say yourself you’d like to,” answered Miss Maggie
+promptly.
+
+“What do you say, Mr. Smith?”
+
+Mr. Smith leaped to his feet and thrust his hands into his pockets as
+he took a nervous turn about the room, before he spoke.
+
+“Good Heavens, woman, that money was given you to—that is, it was
+probably given you to use. Now, why don’t you use it?”
+
+“But I am using it,” argued Mrs. Jane earnestly. “I think I’m making
+the very best possible use of it when I put it where it will earn more.
+Don’t you see? Besides, what does the Bible say about that man with one
+talent that didn’t make it earn more?”
+
+With a jerk Mr. Smith turned on his heel and renewed his march.
+
+“I think the only thing money is good for is to exchange it for
+something you want,” observed Miss Maggie sententiously.
+
+“There, that’s it!” triumphed Mr. Smith, wheeling about. “That’s
+exactly it!”
+
+Mrs. Jane sighed and shook her head. She gazed at Miss Maggie with
+fondly reproving eyes.
+
+“Yes, we all know your ideas of money, Maggie. You’re very sweet and
+dear, and we love you; but you _are_ extravagant.”
+
+“Extravagant!” demurred Miss Maggie.
+
+“Yes. You use everything you have every day; and you never protect a
+thing. Actually, I don’t believe there’s a tidy or a linen slip in this
+house.” (DID Mr. Smith breathe a fervent “Thank the Lord!” Miss Maggie
+wondered.) “And that brings me right up to something else I was going
+to say. I want you to know that I’m going to help you.”
+
+Miss Maggie looked distressed and raised a protesting hand; but Mrs.
+Jane smilingly shook her head and went on.
+
+“Yes, I am. I always said I should, if I had money, and I shall—though
+I must confess that I’d have a good deal more heart to do it if you
+weren’t quite so extravagant. I’ve already given you Mr. Smith to
+board.”
+
+“Oh, I say!” spluttered Mr. Smith.
+
+But again she only smilingly shook her head and continued speaking.
+
+“And if we move, I’m going to give you the parlor carpet, and some rugs
+to protect it.”
+
+“Thank you; but, really, I don’t want the parlor carpet,” refused Miss
+Maggie, a tiny smouldering fire in her eyes.
+
+“And I shall give you some money, too,” smiled Mrs. Jane, very
+graciously,—“when the interest begins to come in, you know. I shall
+give you some of that. It’s too bad you should have nothing while I
+have so much.”
+
+“Jane, _please_!” The smouldering fire in Miss Maggie’s eyes had
+become a flame now.
+
+“Nonsense, Maggie, you mustn’t be so proud. It’s no shame to be poor.
+Wasn’t I poor just the other day? However, since it distresses you so,
+we won’t say any more about it now. I’ll go back to my own problems.
+Then, you advise me—you both advise me—to move, do you?”
+
+“I do, most certainly,” bowed Miss Maggie, still with a trace of
+constraint.
+
+“And you, Mr. Smith?”
+
+Mr. Smith turned and threw up both his hands.
+
+“For Heaven’s sake, lady, go home, and spend—some of that money!”
+
+Mrs. Jane laughed a bit ruefully.
+
+“Well, I don’t see but what I shall have to, with everybody against me
+like this,” she sighed, getting slowly to her feet. “But if you knew—if
+either of you knew—how really valuable money is, and how much it would
+earn for you, if you’d only let it, I don’t believe you’d be quite so
+fast to tell me to go and spend it.”
+
+“Perhaps not; but then, you see, we don’t know,” smiled Miss Maggie,
+once again her cheery self.
+
+Mr. Smith said nothing. Mr. Smith had turned his back just then.
+
+When Mrs. Jane was gone, Mr. Smith faced Miss Maggie with a quizzical
+smile.
+
+“Well?” he hazarded.
+
+“You mean—”
+
+“I’m awaiting orders—as your new boarder.”
+
+“Oh! They’ll not be alarming, I assure you. Do you really want to come?”
+
+“Indeed I do! And I think it’s mighty good of you to take me.
+But—_should_ you, do you think? Haven’t you got enough, with your
+father to care for? Won’t it be too hard for you?”
+
+She shook her head.
+
+“I think not. Besides, I’m going to have help. Annabelle and Florence
+Martin, a farmer’s daughters are very anxious to be in town to attend
+school this winter, and I have said that I would take them. They will
+work for their board.”
+
+The man gave a disdainful sniff.
+
+“I can imagine how much work you’ll let them do! It strikes me the
+‘help’ is on the other foot. However, we’ll let that pass. I shall be
+glad enough to come, and I’ll stay—unless I find you’re doing too much
+and going beyond your strength. But, how about—your father?”
+
+“Oh, he won’t mind. I’ll arrange that he proposes the idea himself.
+Besides,”—she twinkled merrily—“you really get along wonderfully with
+father, you know. And, as for the work—I shall have more time now:
+Hattie will have some one else to care for her headaches, and Jane
+won’t put down any more carpets, I fancy, for a while.”
+
+“Well, I should hope!” he shrugged. “Honestly, Miss Maggie, one of the
+best things about this Blaisdell money, in my eyes, is that it may give
+you a little rest from being chief cook and bottle washer and head
+nurse combined, on tap for any minute. But, say, that woman _will_
+spend some of that money, won’t she?”
+
+Miss Maggie smiled significantly.
+
+“I think she will. I saw Frank last evening—though I didn’t think it
+necessary to say so to her. He came to see me. I think you’ll find that
+they move very soon, and that the ladies of the family have some new
+clothes.”
+
+“Well, I hope so.”
+
+“You seem concerned.”
+
+“Concerned? Er—ah—well, I am,” he asserted stoutly. “Such a windfall
+of wealth ought to bring happiness, I think; and it seemed to, to Mrs.
+Hattie, though, of course, she’ll learn better, as time goes on how
+to spend her money. But Mrs. Jane—And, by the way, how is Miss Flora
+bearing up—under the burden?”
+
+Miss Maggie laughed.
+
+“Poor Flora!”
+
+“‘Poor Flora’! And do I hear ‘Poor Maggie’ say ‘Poor Flora’?”
+
+“Oh, she won’t be ‘poor’ long,” smiled Miss Maggie. “She’ll get used to
+it—this stupendous sum of money—one of these days. But just now she’s
+nearly frightened to death.”
+
+“Frightened!”
+
+“Yes-both because she’s got it, and because she’s afraid she’ll lose
+it. That doesn’t sound logical, I know, but Flora isn’t being logical
+just now. To begin with, she hasn’t the least idea how to spend money.
+Under my careful guidance, however, she has bought her a few new
+dresses—though they’re dead black—”
+
+“Black!” interrupted the man.
+
+“Yes, she’s put on mourning,” smiled Miss Maggie, as he came to a
+dismayed stop. “She would do it. She declared she wouldn’t feel half
+decent unless she did, with that poor man dead, and giving her all that
+money.”
+
+“But he isn’t dead—that is, they aren’t sure he’s dead,” amended Mr.
+Smith hastily.
+
+“But Flora thinks he is. She says he must be, or he would have appeared
+in time to save all that money. She’s very much shocked, especially at
+Hattie, that there is so little respect being shown his memory. So she
+is all the more determined to do the best she can on her part.”
+
+“But she—she didn’t know him, so she can’t—er—really _mourn_ for
+him,” stammered the man. There was a most curious helplessness on Mr.
+Smith’s face.
+
+“No, she says she can’t really mourn,” smiled Miss Maggie again, “and
+that’s what worries her the most of anything—because she _can’t_
+mourn, and when he’s been so good to her—and he with neither wife nor
+chick nor child _to_ mourn for him, she says. But she’s determined
+to go through the outward form of it, at least. So she’s made herself
+some new black dresses, and she’s bought a veil. She’s taken Mr.
+Fulton’s picture (she had one cut from a magazine, I believe), and has
+had it framed and, hung on her wall. On the mantel beneath it she keeps
+fresh flowers always. She says it’s the nearest she can come to putting
+flowers on his grave, poor man!”
+
+“Good Heavens!” breathed Mr. Smith, falling limply into a chair.
+
+“And she doesn’t go anywhere, except to church, and for necessary
+errands.”
+
+“That explains why I haven’t seen her. I had wondered where she was.”
+
+“Yes. She’s very conscientious. But she _is_ going later to
+Niagara. I’ve persuaded her to do that. She’ll go with a party, of
+course,—one of those ‘personally conducted’ affairs, you know. Poor
+dear! she’s so excited! All her life she’s wanted to see Niagara.
+Now she’s going, and she can hardly believe it’s true. She wants a
+phonograph, too, but she’s decided not to get that until after six
+months’ mourning is up—it’s too frivolous and jolly for a house of
+mourning.”
+
+“Oh, good Heavens!” breathed Mr. Smith again.
+
+“It is funny, isn’t it, that she takes it quite so seriously? Bessie
+suggested (I’m afraid Bessie was a little naughty!) that she get the
+phonograph, but not allow it to play anything but dirges and hymn
+tunes.”
+
+“But isn’t the woman going to take _any_ comfort with that money?”
+demanded Mr. Smith.
+
+“Indeed, she is! She’s taking comfort now. You have no idea, Mr. Smith,
+what it means to her, to feel that she need never want again, and
+that she can buy whatever she pleases, without thinking of the cost.
+That’s why she’s frightened—because she _is_ so happy. She thinks
+it can’t be right to be so happy. It’s too pleasant—to be right. When
+she isn’t being frightened about that, she’s being frightened for fear
+she’ll lose it, and thus not have it any more. I don’t think she quite
+realizes yet what a big sum of money it is, and that she’d have to lose
+a great deal before she lost it all.”
+
+“Oh, well, she’ll get used to that, in time. They’ll all get used to
+it—in time,” declared Mr. Smith, his face clearing a little. “Then
+they’ll begin to live sanely and sensibly, and spend the money as it
+should be spent. Of course, you couldn’t expect them to know what to
+do, at the very first, with a sum like that dropped into their laps.
+What would you do yourself? Yes, what would you do?” repeated Mr.
+Smith, his face suddenly alert and interested again. “What would you do
+if you should fall heir to a hundred thousand dollars—to-morrow?”
+
+“What would I do? What wouldn’t I do?” laughed Miss Maggie. Then
+abruptly her face changed. Her eyes became luminous, unfathomable.
+“There is so much that a hundred thousand dollars could do—so much!
+Why, I would—” Her face changed again abruptly. She sniffed as at an
+odor from somewhere. Then lightly she sprang to her feet and crossed
+to the stove. “What would I do with a hundred thousand dollars?”
+she demanded, whisking open a damper in the pipe. “I’d buy a new
+base-burner that didn’t leak gas! That’s what I’d do with a hundred
+thousand dollars. Are you going to give it to me?”
+
+“Eh? Ah-what?” Mr. Smith was visibly startled.
+
+Miss Maggie laughed merrily.
+
+“Don’t worry. I wasn’t thinking of charging quite that for your board.
+But you seemed so interested, I didn’t know but what you were going to
+hand over the hundred thousand, just to see what I would do with it,”
+she challenged mischievously. “However, I’ll stop talking nonsense, and
+come down to business. If you’ll walk this way, Mr. New Boarder, I’ll
+let you choose which of two rooms you’d like.”
+
+And Mr. Smith went. But, as had occurred once or twice before, Mr.
+Smith’s face, as he followed her, was a study.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+THE DANCING BEGINS
+
+
+Christmas saw many changes in the Blaisdell families.
+
+The James Blaisdells had moved into the big house near the Gaylord
+place. Mrs. Hattie had installed two maids in the kitchen, bought a
+handsome touring car, and engaged an imposing-looking chauffeur. Fred
+had entered college, and Bessie had been sent to a fashionable school
+on the Hudson. Benny, to his disgust, had also been sent away to an
+expensive school. Christmas, however, found them all at home for the
+holidays, and for the big housewarming that their parents were planning
+to give on Christmas night.
+
+The Frank Blaisdells had also moved. They were occupying a new house
+not too far from the grocery store. They had not bought it yet. Mrs.
+Jane said that she wished to live in it awhile, so as to be sure she
+would really like it. Besides, it would save the interest on the money
+for that much time, anyway. True, she had been a little disturbed when
+her husband reminded her that they would be paying rent meanwhile. But
+she said that didn’t matter; she was not going to put all that money
+into a house just yet, anyway,—not till she was sure it was the best
+they could do for the price.
+
+They, too, were planning a housewarming. Theirs was to come the night
+after Christmas. Mrs. Jane told her husband that they should not want
+theirs the same night, of course, as Hattie’s, and that if she had
+hers right away the next night, she could eat up any of the cakes or
+ice cream that was left from Hattie’s party, and thus save buying so
+much new for herself. But her husband was so indignant over the idea
+of eating “Hattie’s leavings” that she had to give up this part of her
+plan, though she still arranged to have her housewarming on the day
+following her sister-in-law’s.
+
+Mellicent, like Bessie, was home from school, though not from the
+same school. Mrs. Jane had found another one that was just as good as
+Bessie’s, she said, and which did not cost near so much money. Mr.
+Smith was not living with them now, of course. He was boarding at Miss
+Maggie Duff’s.
+
+Miss Flora was living in the same little rented cottage she had
+occupied for many years. She said that she should move, of course,
+when she got through her mourning, but, until then she thought it more
+suitable for her to stay where she was. She had what she wanted to eat,
+now, however, and she did not do dressmaking any longer. She still did
+her own housework, in spite of Harriet Blaisdell’s insistence that
+she get a maid. She said that there was plenty of time for all those
+things when she had finished her mourning. She went out very little,
+though she did go to the housewarming at her brother James’s—“being a
+relative, so,” she decided that no criticism could be made.
+
+It seemed as if all Hillerton went to that housewarming. Those who were
+not especially invited to attend went as far as the street or the gate,
+and looked on enviously. Mrs. Hattie had been very generous with her
+invitations, however. She said that she had asked everybody who ever
+pretended to go anywhere. She told Maggie Duff that, of course, after
+this, she should be more exclusive—very exclusive, in fact; but that
+this time Jim wanted to ask everybody, and she didn’t mind so much—she
+was really rather glad to have all these people see the house, and
+all—they certainly never would have the chance again.
+
+Mr. Smith attended with Miss Maggie. Mrs. Hattie had very kindly
+included him in the invitation. She had asked Father Duff, too,
+especially, though she said she knew, of course, that he would not
+go—he never went anywhere. Father Duff bristled up at this, and
+declared that he guessed he would go, after all, just to show them that
+he could, if he wanted to. Mrs. Hattie grew actually pale, but Miss
+Maggie exclaimed joyfully that, of course, he would go—he ought to
+go, to show proper respect! Father Duff said no then, very decidedly;
+that nothing could hire him to go, and that he had no respect to show.
+He declared that he had no use for gossip and gabble and unwholesome
+eating; and he said that he should not think Maggie would care to go,
+either,—unless she could be in the kitchen, where it would seem natural
+to her!
+
+Mrs. Hattie, however, smiled kindly, and said, of course, now she could
+afford to hire better help than Maggie (caterers from the city and all
+that), so Maggie would not have to be in the kitchen, and that with
+practice she would soon learn not to mind at all being ’round among
+folks in the parlor.
+
+Father Duff had become so apoplectically angry at this that Mr. Smith,
+who chanced to be present, and who also was very angry, was forced to
+forget his own wrath in his desire to make the situation easier for
+Miss Maggie.
+
+He had not supposed that Miss Maggie would go at all, after that. He
+had even determined not to go himself. But Miss Maggie, after a day’s
+thought, had laughed and had said, with her eyes twinkling: “Oh, well,
+it doesn’t matter, you know,—it doesn’t _really_ matter, does it?”
+And they had gone.
+
+It was a wonderful party. Mr. Smith enjoyed it hugely. He saw almost
+everybody he knew in Hillerton, and many that he did not know. He heard
+the Blaisdells and their new wealth discussed from all viewpoints,
+and he heard some things about the missing millionaire benefactor
+that were particularly interesting—to him. The general opinion seemed
+to be that the man was dead; though a few admitted that there was a
+possibility, of course, that he was merely lost somewhere in darkest
+South America and would eventually get back to civilization, certainly
+long before the time came to open the second letter of instructions.
+Many professed to know the man well, through magazine and newspaper
+accounts (there were times when Mr. Smith adjusted more carefully the
+smoked glasses which he was still wearing); and some had much to say of
+the millionaire’s characteristics, habits, and eccentricities; all of
+which Mr. Smith enjoyed greatly.
+
+Then, too, there were the Blaisdells themselves. They were all there,
+even to Miss Flora, who was in dead black; and Mr. Smith talked with
+them all.
+
+Miss Flora told him that she was so happy she could not sleep nights,
+but that she was rather glad she couldn’t sleep, after all, for she
+spent the time mourning for poor Mr. Fulton, and thinking how good
+he had been to her. And _that_ made it seem as if she was doing
+_something_ for him. She said, Yes, oh, yes, she was going to stop
+black mourning in six months, and go into grays and lavenders; and she
+was glad Mr. Smith thought that was long enough, quite long enough for
+the black, but she could not think for a moment of putting on colors
+now, as he suggested. She said, too, that she had decided not to go to
+Niagara for the present. And when he demurred at this, she told him
+that really she would rather not. It would be warmer in the spring, and
+she would much rather wait till she could enjoy every minute without
+feeling that—well, that she was almost dancing over the poor man’s
+grave, as it were.
+
+Mr. Smith did not urge her after that. He turned away, indeed, rather
+precipitately—so precipitately that Miss Flora wondered if she could
+have said anything to offend him.
+
+Mr. Smith talked next with Mrs. Jane Blaisdell. Mrs. Jane was looking
+particularly well that evening. Her dress was new, and in good style,
+yet she in some way looked odd to Mr. Smith. In a moment he knew
+the reason: she wore no apron. Mr. Smith had never seen her without
+an apron before. Even on the street she wore a black silk one. He
+complimented her gallantly on her fine appearance. But Mrs. Jane did
+not smile. She frowned.
+
+“Yes, I know. Thank you, of course,” she answered worriedly. “But it
+cost an awful lot—this dress did; but Frank and Mellicent would have
+it. That child!—have you seen her to-night?”
+
+“Miss Mellicent? Yes, in the distance. She, too is looking most
+charming, Mrs. Blaisdell.”
+
+The woman tapped her foot impatiently.
+
+“Yes, I know she is—and some other folks so, too, I notice. Was she
+with that Pennock boy?”
+
+“Not when I saw her.”
+
+“Well, she will be, if she isn’t now. He follows her everywhere.”
+
+“But I thought—that was broken up.” Mr. Smith now was frowning.
+
+“It was. _you_ know what that woman said—the insult! But now,
+since this money came—” She let an expressive gesture complete the
+sentence.
+
+Mr. Smith laughed.
+
+“I wouldn’t worry, Mrs. Blaisdell. I don’t think he’ll make much
+headway—now.”
+
+“Indeed, he won’t—if I can help myself!” flashed the woman indignantly.
+
+“I reckon he won’t stand much show with Miss Mellicent—after what’s
+happened.”
+
+“I guess he won’t,” snapped the woman. “He isn’t worth half what
+_she_ is now. As if I’d let her look at _him_!”
+
+“But I meant—” Mr. Smith stopped abruptly. There was an odd expression
+on his face.
+
+Mrs. Blaisdell filled the pause.
+
+“But, really, Mr. Smith, I don’t know what I am going to do—with
+Mellicent,” she sighed.
+
+“Do with her?”
+
+“Yes. She’s as wild as a hawk and as—as flighty as a humming-bird,
+since this money came. She’s so crazy with joy and excited.”
+
+“What if she is?” challenged Mr. Smith, looking suddenly very happy
+himself. “Youth is the time for joy and laughter; and I’m sure I’m glad
+she is taking a little pleasure in life.”
+
+Mrs. Blaisdell frowned again.
+
+“But, Mr. Smith, you know as well as I do that life isn’t all pink
+dresses and sugar-plums. It is a serious business, and I have tried
+to bring her up to understand it. I have taught her to be thrifty and
+economical, and to realize the value of a dollar. But now—she doesn’t
+_see_ a dollar but what she wants to spend it. What can I do?”
+
+“You aren’t sorry—the money came?” Mr. Smith was eyeing her with a
+quizzical smile.
+
+“Oh, no, no, indeed!” Mrs. Blaisdell’s answer was promptly emphatic.
+“And I hope I shall be found worthy of the gift, and able to handle it
+wisely.”
+
+“Er-ah—you mean—” Mr. Smith was looking slightly taken aback.
+
+“I mean that I regard wealth as one of the greatest of trusts, to be
+wisely administered, Mr. Smith,” she amplified a bit importantly.
+
+“Oh-h!” subsided the man.
+
+“That is why it distresses me so to see my daughter so carried away
+with the mere idea of spending. I thought I’d taught her differently,”
+sighed the woman.
+
+“Perhaps you taught her—too well. But I wouldn’t worry,” smiled Mr.
+Smith, as he turned away.
+
+Deliberately then Mr. Smith went in search of Mellicent. He found
+her in the music-room, which had been cleared for dancing. She was
+surrounded by four young men. One held her fan, one carried her white
+scarf on his arm, a third was handing her a glass of water. The fourth
+was apparently writing his name on her dance card. The one with the
+scarf Mr. Smith recognized as Carl Pennock. The one writing on the
+dance programme he knew was young Hibbard Gaylord.
+
+Mr. Smith did not approach at once. Leaning against a window-casing
+near by, he watched the kaleidoscopic throng, bestowing a not too
+conspicuous attention upon the group about Miss Mellicent Blaisdell.
+
+Mellicent was the picture of radiant loveliness. The rose in her cheeks
+matched the rose of her gown, and her eyes sparkled with happiness.
+So far as Mr. Smith could see, she dispensed her favors with rare
+impartiality; though, as he came toward them finally, he realized at
+once that there was a merry wrangle of some sort afoot. He had not
+quite reached them when, to his surprise, Mellicent turned to him in
+very evident relief.
+
+“There, here’s Mr. Smith,” she cried gayly. “I’m going to sit it out
+with him. I shan’t dance it with either of you.”
+
+“Oh, Miss Blaisdell!” protested young Gaylord and Carl Pennock abjectly.
+
+But Mellicent shook her head.
+
+“No. If you _will_ both write your names down for the same dance,
+it is nothing more than you ought to expect.”
+
+“But divide it, then. Please divide it,” they begged. “We’ll be
+satisfied.”
+
+“_I_ shan’t be!” Mellicent shook her head again merrily.
+
+“I shan’t be satisfied with anything—but to sit it out with Mr. Smith.
+Thank you, Mr. Smith,” she bowed, as she took his promptly offered arm.
+
+And Mr. Smith bore her away followed by the despairing groans of the
+two disappointed youths and the taunting gibes of their companions.
+
+“There! Oh, I’m so glad you came,” sighed Mellicent. “You didn’t mind?”
+
+“Mind? I’m in the seventh heaven!” avowed Mr. Smith with exaggerated
+gallantry. “And it looked like a real rescue, too.”
+
+Mellicent laughed. Her color deepened.
+
+“Those boys—they’re so silly!” she pouted.
+
+“Wasn’t one of them young Pennock?”
+
+“Yes, the tall, dark one.”
+
+“He’s come back, I see.”
+
+She flashed an understanding look into his eyes.
+
+“Oh, yes, he’s come back. I wonder if he thinks I don’t
+know—_why_!”
+
+“And—you?” Mr. Smith was smiling quizzically.
+
+She shrugged her shoulders with a demure dropping of her eyes.
+
+“Oh, I let him come back—to a certain extent. I shouldn’t want him to
+think I cared or noticed enough to keep him from coming back—some.”
+
+“But there’s a line beyond which he may not pass, eh?”
+
+“There certainly is!—but let’s not talk of him. Oh, Mr. Smith, I’m so
+happy!” she breathed ecstatically.
+
+“I’m very glad.”
+
+In a secluded corner they sat down on a gilt settee.
+
+“And it’s all so wonderful, this—all this! Why Mr. Smith, I’m so happy
+I—I want to cry all the time. And that’s so silly—to want to cry! But
+I do. So long—all my life—I’ve had to _wait_ for things so. It
+was always by and by, in the future, that I was going to have—anything
+that I wanted. And now to have them like this, all at once, everything
+I want—why, Mr. Smith, it doesn’t seem as if it could be true. It just
+can’t be true!”
+
+“But it is true, dear child; and I’m so glad—you’ve got your five-pound
+box of candy all at once at last. And I _hope_ you can treat your
+friends to unlimited soda waters.”
+
+“Oh, I can! But that isn’t all. Listen!” A new eagerness came to her
+eyes. “I’m going to give mother a present—a frivolous, foolish present,
+such as I’ve always wanted to. I’m going to give her a gold breast-pin
+with an amethyst in it. She’s always wanted one. And I’m going to take
+my own money for it, too,—not the new money that father gives me,
+but some money I’ve been saving up for years—dimes and quarters and
+half-dollars in my baby-bank. Mother always made me save ’most every
+cent I got, you see. And I’m going to take it now for this pin. She
+won’t mind if I do spend it foolishly now—with all the rest we have.
+And she’ll be so pleased with the pin!”
+
+“And she’s always wanted one?”
+
+“Yes, always; but she never thought she could afford it. But now—! I’m
+going to open the bank to-morrow and count it; and I’m so excited over
+it!” She laughed shamefacedly. “I don’t believe Mr. Fulton himself ever
+took more joy counting his millions than I shall take in counting those
+quarters and half-dollars to-morrow.”
+
+“I don’t believe he ever did.” Mr. Smith spoke with confident emphasis,
+yet in a voice that was not quite steady. “I’m sure he never did.”
+
+“What a comfort you are, Mr. Smith,” smiled Mellicent, a bit mistily.
+“You always _understand_ so! And we miss you terribly—honestly we
+do!—since you went away. But I’m glad Aunt Maggie’s got you. Poor Aunt
+Maggie! That’s the only thing that makes me feel bad,—about the money,
+I mean,—and that is that she didn’t have some, too. But mother’s going
+to give her some. She _says_ she is, and—”
+
+But Mellicent did not finish her sentence. A short, sandy-haired youth
+came up and pointed an accusing finger at her dance card; and Mellicent
+said yes, the next dance was his. But she smiled brightly at Mr. Smith
+as she floated away, and Mr. Smith, well content, turned and walked
+into the adjoining room.
+
+He came face to face then with Mrs. Hattie and her daughter. These
+two ladies, also, were pictures of radiant loveliness—especially were
+they radiant, for every beam of light found an answering flash in the
+shimmering iridescence of their beads and jewels and opalescent sequins.
+
+“Well, Mr. Smith, what do you think of my party?”
+
+As she asked the question Mrs. Hattie tapped his shoulder with her fan.
+
+“I think a great deal—of your party,” smiled the man. “And you?” He
+turned to Miss Bessie.
+
+“Oh, it’ll do—for Hillerton.” Miss Bessie smiled mischievously into
+her mother’s eyes, shrugged her shoulders, and passed on into the
+music-room.
+
+“As if it wasn’t quite the finest thing Hillerton ever had—except
+the Gaylord parties, of course,” bridled Mrs. Hattie, turning to Mr.
+Smith. “That’s just daughter’s way of teasing me—and, of course, now
+she _is_ where she sees the real thing in entertaining—she goes
+home with those rich girls in her school, you know. But this is a nice
+party, isn’t it Mr. Smith?”
+
+“It certainly is.”
+
+“Daughter says we should have wine; that everybody who is anybody has
+wine now—champagne, and cigarettes for the ladies. Think of it—in
+Hillerton! Still, I’ve heard the Gaylords do. I’ve never been there
+yet, though, of course, we shall be invited now. I’m crazy to see the
+inside of their house; but I don’t believe it’s _much_ handsomer
+than this. Do you? But there! You don’t know, of course. You’ve never
+been there, any more than I have, and you’re a man of simple tastes,
+I judge, Mr. Smith.” She smiled graciously. “Benny says that Aunt
+Maggie’s got the nicest house he ever saw, and that Mr. Smith says so,
+too. So, you see, I have grounds for my opinion.”
+
+Mr. Smith laughed.
+
+“Well, I’m not sure I ever said just that to Benny, but I’ll not
+dispute it. Miss Maggie’s house is indeed wonderfully delightful—to
+live in.”
+
+“I’ve no doubt of it,” conceded Mrs. Hattie complacently. “Poor Maggie!
+She always did contrive to make the most of everything she had. But
+she’s never been ambitious for really nice things, I imagine. At least,
+she always seems contented enough with her shabby chairs and carpets.
+While I—” She paused, looked about her, then drew a blissful sigh.
+“Oh, Mr. Smith, you don’t know—you _can’t_ know what it is to me
+to just look around and realize that they are all mine—these beautiful
+things!”
+
+“Then you’re very happy, Mrs. Blaisdell?”
+
+“Oh, yes. Why, Mr. Smith, there isn’t a piece of furniture in this room
+that didn’t cost more than the Pennocks’—I know, because I’ve been
+there. And my curtains are nicer, too, and my pictures, they’re so much
+brighter—some of her oil paintings are terribly dull-looking. And my
+Bessie—did you notice her dress to-night? But, there! You didn’t, of
+course. And if you had, you wouldn’t have realized how expensive it
+was. What do you know about the cost of women’s dresses?” she laughed
+archly. “But I don’t mind telling you. It was one hundred and fifty
+dollars, a _hundred and fifty dollars_, and it came from New York.
+I don’t believe that white muslin thing of Gussie Pennock’s cost fifty!
+You know Gussie?”
+
+“I’ve seen her.”
+
+“Yes, of course you have—with Fred. He used to go with her a lot. He
+goes with Pearl Gaylord more now. There, you can see them this minute,
+dancing together—the one in the low-cut, blue dress. Pretty, too, isn’t
+she? Her father’s worth a million, I suppose. I wonder how ’twould feel
+to be worth—a million.” She spoke musingly, her eyes following the
+low-cut blue dress. “But, then, maybe I shall know, some time,—from
+Cousin Stanley, I mean,” she explained smilingly, in answer to the
+question she thought she saw behind Mr. Smith’s smoked glasses. “Oh, of
+course, there’s nothing sure about it. But he gave us _some_, and
+if he’s dead, of course, that other letter’ll be opened in two years;
+and I don’t see why he wouldn’t give us the rest, as long as he’d shown
+he remembered he’d got us. Do you?”
+
+“Well—er—as to that—” Mr. Smith hesitated. He had grown strangely red.
+
+“Well, there aren’t any other relations so near, anyway, so I can’t
+help thinking about it, and wondering,” she interposed. “And ’twould be
+_millions_, not just one million. He’s worth ten or twenty, they
+say. But, then, we shall know in time.”
+
+“Oh, yes, you’ll know—in time,” agreed Mr. Smith with a smile, turning
+away as another guest came up to his hostess.
+
+Mr. Smith’s smile had been rather forced, and his face was still
+somewhat red as he picked his way through the crowded rooms to the
+place where he could see Frank Blaisdell standing alone, surveying the
+scene, his hands in his pockets.
+
+“Well, Mr. Smith, this is some show, ain’t it?” greeted the grocer, as
+Mr. Smith approached.
+“It certainly is.”
+
+“Gee! I should say so—though I can’t say I’m stuck on the brand,
+myself. But, as for this money business, do you know? I’m as bad as
+Flo. I can’t sense it yet—that it’s true. Gosh! Look at Hattie, now.
+Ain’t she swingin’ the style to-night?”
+
+“She certainly is looking handsome and very happy.”
+
+“Well, she ought to. I believe in lookin’ happy. I believe in takin’
+some comfort as you go along—not that I’ve taken much, in times past.
+But I’m goin’ to now.”
+
+“Good! I’m glad to hear it.”
+
+“Well, I _am_. Why, man, I’m just like a potato-top grown in a
+cellar, and I’m comin’ out and get some sunshine. And Mellicent is,
+too. Poor child! _she’s_ been a potato-top in a cellar all right.
+But now—Have you seen her to-night?”
+
+“I have—and a very charming sight she was,” smiled Mr. Smith.
+
+“Ain’t she, now?” The father beamed proudly. “Well, she’s goin’ to be
+that right along now. She’s _goin’_ where she wants to go, and
+_do_ what she wants to do; and she’s goin’ to have all the fancy
+fluma-diddles to wear she wants.”
+
+“Good! I’m glad to hear that, too,” laughed Mr. Smith.
+
+“Well, she is. This savin’ an’ savin’ is all very well, of course, when
+you have to. But I’ve saved all my life and, by jingo, I’m goin’ to
+spend now! You see if I don’t.”
+
+“I hope you will.”
+
+“Thank you. I’m glad to have one on my side, anyhow. I only wish—You
+couldn’t talk my wife ’round to your way of thinkin’, could you?” he
+shrugged, with a whimsical smile. “My wife’s eaten sour cream to save
+the sweet all her life, an’ she hain’t learned yet that if she’d eat
+the sweet to begin with she wouldn’t have no sour cream—’twouldn’t have
+time to get sour. An’ there’s apples, too. She eats the specked ones
+always; so she don’t never eat anything but the worst there is. An’ she
+says they’re the meanest apples she ever saw. Now I tell her if she’ll
+only pick out the best there is every time, as I do she’ll not only
+enjoy every apple she eats, but she’ll think they’re the nicest apples
+that ever grew. Funny, ain’t it? Here I am havin’ to urge my wife to
+spend money, while my sister-in-law here—Talk about ducks takin’ to the
+water! That ain’t no name for the way she sails into Jim’s little pile.”
+
+Mr. Smith laughed.
+
+“By the way, where is Mr. Jim?” he asked.
+
+The other shook his head.
+
+“Hain’t seen him—but I can guess where he is, pretty well. You go down
+that hall and turn to your left. In a little room at the end you’ll
+find him. That’s his den. He told Hattie ’twas the only room in the
+house he’d ask for, but he wanted to fix it up himself. Hattie, she
+wanted to buy all sorts of truck and fix it up with cushions and
+curtains and Japanese gimcracks like she see a den in a book, and
+make a showplace of it. But Jim held out and had his way. There ain’t
+nothin’ in it but books and chairs and a couch and a big table; and
+they’re all old—except the books—so Hattie don’t show it much, when
+she’s showin’ off the house. You’ll find him there all right. You see
+if you don’t. Jim always would rather read than eat, and he hates
+shindigs of this sort a little worse ’n I do.” “All right. I’ll look
+him up,” nodded Mr. Smith, as he turned away.
+
+Deliberately, but with apparent carelessness, strolled Mr. Smith
+through the big drawing-rooms, and down the hall. Then to the left—the
+directions were not hard to follow, and the door of the room at the end
+was halfway open, giving a glimpse of James Blaisdell and Benny before
+the big fireplace.
+
+With a gentle tap and a cheerful “Do you allow intruders?” Mr. Smith
+pushed open the door.
+
+James Blaisdell sprang to his feet.
+
+“Er—I—oh, Mr. Smith, come in, come right in!” The frown on his face
+gave way to a smile. “I thought—Well, never mind what I thought. Sit
+down, won’t you?”
+
+“Thank you, if you don’t mind.”
+
+Mr. Smith dropped into a chair and looked about him.
+
+“Ain’t it great?” beamed Benny. “It’s ’most as nice as Aunt Maggie’s,
+ain’t it? And I can eat all the cookies here I want to, and come in
+even if my shoes are muddy, and bring the boys in, too.”
+
+“It certainly is—great,” agreed Mr. Smith, his admiring eyes sweeping
+the room again.
+
+To Mr. Smith it was like coming into another world. The deep,
+comfortable chairs, the shaded lights, the leaping fire on the hearth,
+the book-lined walls—even the rhythmic voices of the distant violins
+seemed to sing of peace and quietness and rest.
+
+“Dad’s been showin’ me the books he used ter like when he was a little
+boy like me,” announced Benny. “Hain’t he got a lot of ’em?—books, I
+mean.”
+
+“He certainly has.”
+
+Mr. James Blaisdell stirred a little in his chair.
+
+“I suppose I have—crowded them a little,” he admitted. “But, you see,
+there were so many I’d always wanted, and when the chance came—well, I
+just bought them; that’s all.”
+
+“And you have the time now to read them.”
+
+“I have, thank—Well, I suppose I should say thanks to Mr. Stanley G.
+Fulton,” he laughed, with some embarrassment. “I wish Mr. Fulton could
+know—how much I do thank him,” he finished soberly, his eyes caressing
+the rows of volumes on the shelves. “You see, when you’ve wanted
+something all your life—” He stopped with an expressive gesture.
+
+“You don’t care much for—that, then, I take it,” inferred Mr. Smith,
+with a wave of his hand toward the distant violins.
+
+“Dad says there’s only one thing worse than a party, and that’s two
+parties,” piped up Benny from his seat on the rug.
+
+Mr. Smith laughed heartily, but the other looked still more discomfited.
+
+“I’m afraid Benny is—is telling tales out of school,” he murmured.
+
+“Well, ’tis out of school, ain’t it?” maintained Benny. “Say, Mr.
+Smith, did you have ter go ter a private school when you were a
+little boy? Ma says everybody does who is anybody. But if it’s Cousin
+Stanley’s money that’s made us somebody, I wished he’d kept it at
+home—’fore I had ter go ter that old school.”
+
+“Oh, come, come, my boy,” remonstrated the father, drawing his son into
+the circle of his arm. “That’s neither kind nor grateful; besides, you
+don’t know what you’re talking about. Come, suppose we show Mr. Smith
+some of the new books.”
+
+From case to case, then, they went, the host eagerly displaying and
+explaining, the guest almost as eagerly watching and listening. And
+in the kindling eye and reverent fingers of the man handling the
+volumes, Mr. Smith caught some inkling of what those books meant to Jim
+Blaisdell.
+
+“You must be fond of—books, Mr. Blaisdell,” he said somewhat awkwardly,
+after a time.
+
+“Ma says dad’d rather read than eat,” giggled Benny; “but pa says
+readin’ _is_ eatin’. But I’d rather have a cookie, wouldn’t you,
+Mr. Smith?”
+
+“You wait till you find what there _is_ in these books, my son,”
+smiled his father. “You’ll love them as well as I do, some day. And
+your brother—” He paused, a swift shadow on his face. He turned to
+Mr. Smith. “My boy, Fred, loves books, too. He helped me a lot in
+my buying. He was in here—a little while ago. But he couldn’t stay,
+of course. He said he had to go and dance with the girls—his mother
+expected it.”
+
+“Ho! _Mother_! Just as if he didn’t want ter go himself!”
+grinned Benny derisively. “You couldn’t _hire_ him ter stay
+away—’specially if Pearl Gaylord’s ’round.”
+
+“Oh, well, he’s young, and young feet always dance When Pan pipes,”
+explained the father, with a smile that was a bit forced. “But Pan
+doesn’t always pipe, and he’s ambitious—Fred is.” The man turned
+eagerly to Mr. Smith again. “He’s going to be a lawyer—you see, he’s
+got a chance now. He’s a fine student. He led his class in high school,
+and he’ll make good in college, I’m sure. He can have the best there is
+now, too, without killing himself with work to get it. He’s got a fine
+mind, and—” The man stopped abruptly, with a shamed laugh. “But—enough
+of this. You’ll forgive ‘the fond father,’ I know. I always forget
+myself when I’m talking of that boy—or, rather perhaps it’s that I’m
+_remembering_ myself. You see, I want him to do all that I wanted
+to do—and couldn’t. And—”
+
+“Jim, _jim_!” It was Mrs. Hattie in the doorway. “There, I might
+have known where I’d find you. Come, the guests are going, and are
+looking for you to say good-night. Jim, you’ll have to come! Why,
+what’ll people say? They’ll think we don’t know anything—how to behave,
+and all that. Mr. Smith, you’ll excuse him, I know.”
+
+“Most certainly,” declared Mr. Smith. “I must be going myself, for that
+matter,” he finished, as he followed his hostess through the doorway.
+
+Five minutes later he had found Miss Maggie, and was making his adieus.
+
+Miss Maggie, on the way home, was strangely silent.
+
+“Well, that was some party,” began Mr. Smith after waiting for her to
+speak.
+
+“It was, indeed.”
+
+“Quite a house!”
+“Yes.”
+
+[Illustration with caption: “JIM, YOU’LL HAVE TO COME!”]
+
+“How pretty Miss Mellicent looked!”
+
+“Very pretty.”
+
+“I’m glad at last to see that poor child enjoying herself.”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+Mr. Smith frowned and stole a sidewise glance at his companion. Was
+it possible? Could Miss Maggie be showing at last a tinge of envy and
+jealousy? It was so unlike her! And yet—
+
+“Even Miss Flora seemed to be having a good time, in spite of that
+funereal black,” he hazarded again.
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“And I’m sure Mrs. James Blaisdell and Miss Bessie were very radiant
+and shining.”
+
+“Oh, yes, they—shone.”
+
+Mr. Smith bit his lip, and stole another sidewise glance.
+
+“Er—how did you enjoy it? Did you have a good time?”
+
+“Oh, yes, very.”
+
+There was a brief silence. Mr. Smith drew a long breath and began again.
+
+“I had no idea Mr. James Blaisdell was so fond of—er—books. I had quite
+a chat with him in his den.”
+
+No answer.
+
+“He says Fred—”
+
+“Did you see that Gaylord girl?” Miss Maggie was galvanized into sudden
+life. “He’s perfectly bewitched with her. And she—that ridiculous
+dress—and for a young girl! Oh, I wish Hattie would let those people
+alone!”
+
+“Oh, well, he’ll be off to college next week,” soothed Mr. Smith.
+
+“Yes, but whom with? Her brother!—and he’s worse than she is, if
+anything. Why, he was drunk to-night, actually drunk, when he came! I
+don’t want Fred with him. I don’t want Fred with any of them.”
+
+“No, I don’t like their looks myself very well, but—I fancy young
+Blaisdell has a pretty level head on him. His father says—”
+
+“His father worships him,” interrupted Miss Maggie. “He worships all
+those children. But into Fred—into Fred he’s pouring his whole lost
+youth. You don’t know. You don’t understand, of course, Mr. Smith. You
+haven’t known him all the way, as I have.” Miss Maggie’s voice shook
+with suppressed feeling. “Jim was always the dreamer. He fairly lived
+in his books. They were food and drink to him. He planned for college,
+of course. From boyhood he was going to write—great plays, great poems,
+great novels. He was always scribbling—something. I think he even
+tried to sell his things, in his ‘teens; but of course nothing came of
+that—but rejection slips.
+
+“At nineteen he entered college. He was going to work his way. Of
+course, we couldn’t send him. But he was too frail. He couldn’t stand
+the double task, and he broke down completely. We sent him into the
+country to recuperate, and there he met Hattie Snow, fell head over
+heels in love with her blue eyes and golden hair, and married her on
+the spot. Of course, there was nothing to do then but to go to work,
+and Mr. Hammond took him into his real estate and insurance office.
+He’s been there ever since, plodding, plodding, plodding.”
+
+“By George!” murmured Mr. Smith sympathetically.
+
+“You can imagine there wasn’t much time left for books. I think, when
+he first went there, he thought he was still going to write the great
+poem, the great play, the great novel, that was to bring him fame and
+money. But he soon learned better. Hattie had little patience with his
+scribbling, and had less with the constant necessity of scrimping and
+economizing. She was always ambitious to get ahead and be somebody,
+and, of course, as the babies came and the expenses increased, the
+demand for more money became more and more insistent. But Jim, poor
+Jim! He never was a money-maker. He worked, and worked hard, and then
+he got a job for evenings and worked harder. But I don’t believe he
+ever quite caught up. That’s why I was so glad when this money came—for
+Jim. And now, don’t you see? he’s thrown his whole lost youth into
+Fred. And Fred—”
+
+“Fred is going to make good. You see if he doesn’t!”
+
+“I hope he will. But—I wish those Gaylords had been at the bottom of
+the Red Sea before they ever came to Hillerton,” she fumed with sudden
+vehemence as she entered her own gate.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+FROM ME TO YOU WITH LOVE
+
+
+It was certainly a gay one—that holiday week. Beginning with the
+James Blaisdells’ housewarming it was one continuous round of dances,
+dinners, sleigh-rides and skating parties for Hillerton’s young people,
+particularly for the Blaisdells, the Pennocks, and the Gaylords.
+
+Mr. Smith, at Miss Maggie’s, saw comparatively little of it all, though
+he had almost daily reports from Benny, Mellicent, or Miss Flora, who
+came often to Miss Maggie’s for a little chat. It was from Miss Flora
+that he learned the outcome of Mellicent’s present to her mother. The
+week was past, and Miss Flora had come down to Miss Maggie’s for a
+little visit.
+
+Mr. Smith still worked at the table in the corner of the living-room,
+though the Duff-Blaisdell records were all long ago copied. He was at
+work now sorting and tabulating other Blaisdell records. Mr. Smith
+seemed to find no end to the work that had to be done on his Blaisdell
+book.
+
+As Miss Flora entered the room she greeted Mr. Smith cordially, and
+dropped into a chair.
+
+“Well, they’ve gone at last,” she panted, handing her furs to Miss
+Maggie; “so I thought I’d come down and talk things over. No, don’t
+go, Mr. Smith,” she begged, as he made a move toward departure. “I
+hain’t come; to say nothin’ private; besides, you’re one of the family,
+anyhow. Keep right on with your work; please.”
+
+Thus entreated, Mr. Smith went back to his table, and Miss Flora
+settled herself more comfortably in Miss Maggie’s easiest chair.
+
+“So they’re all gone,” said Miss Maggie cheerily.
+
+“Yes; an’ it’s time they did, to my way of thinkin’. Mercy me, what
+a week it has been! They hain’t been still a minute, not one of ’em,
+except for a few hours’ sleep—toward mornin’.”
+
+“But what a good time they’ve had!” exulted Miss Maggie.
+
+“Yes. And didn’t it do your soul good to see Mellicent? But Jane—Jane
+nearly had a fit. She told Mellicent that all this gayety was nothing
+but froth and flimsiness and vexation of spirit. That she knew it
+because she’d been all through it when she was young, and she knew the
+vanity of it. And Mellicent—what do you suppose that child said?”
+
+“I can’t imagine,” smiled Miss Maggie.
+
+“She said _she_ wanted to see the vanity of it, too. Pretty cute
+of her, too, wasn’t it? Still it’s just as well she’s gone back to
+school, I think myself. She’s been repressed and held back so long,
+that when she did let loose, it was just like cutting the puckering
+string of a bunched-up ruffle—she flew in all directions, and there was
+no holding her back anywhere; and I suppose she has been a bit foolish
+and extravagant in the things she’s asked for. Poor dear, though, she
+did get one setback.”
+
+“What do you mean?”
+
+“Did she tell you about the present for her mother?”
+
+“That she was going to get it—yes.”
+
+Across the room Mr. Smith looked up suddenly.
+
+“Well, she got it.” Miss Flora’s thin lips snapped grimly over the
+terse words. “But she had to take it back.”
+
+“Take it back!” cried Miss Maggie.
+
+“Yes. And ’twas a beauty—one of them light purple stones with two
+pearls. Mellicent showed it to me—on the way home from the store, you
+know. And she was so pleased over it! ‘Oh, I don’t mind the saving all
+those years now,’ she cried, ‘when I see what a beautiful thing they’ve
+let me get for mother.’ And she went off so happy she just couldn’t
+keep her feet from dancing.”
+
+“I can imagine it,” nodded Miss Maggie.
+
+“Well, in an hour she was back. But what a difference! All the light
+and happiness and springiness were gone. She was almost crying. She
+still carried the little box in her hand. ‘I’m takin’ it back,’ she
+choked. ‘Mother doesn’t like it.’ ‘Don’t like that beautiful pin!’ says
+I. ‘What does she want?’
+
+“‘Oh, yes, she liked the pin,’ said Mellicent, all teary; ‘she thinks
+it’s beautiful. But she doesn’t want anything. She says she never heard
+of such foolish goings-on—paying all that money for a silly, useless
+pin. I—I told her ’twas a _present_ from me, but she made me take
+it back. I’m on my way now back to the store. I’m to get the money,
+if I can. If I can’t, I’m to get a credit slip. Mother says we can
+take it up in forks and spoons and things we need. I—I told her ’twas
+a present, but—’ She couldn’t say another word, poor child. She just
+turned and almost ran from the room. That was last night. She went away
+this morning, I suppose. I didn’t see her again, so I don’t know how
+she did come out with the store-man.”
+“Too bad—too bad!” sympathized Miss Maggie. (Over at the table Mr.
+Smith had fallen to writing furiously, with vicious little jabs of his
+pencil.) “But Jane never did believe in present-giving. They never
+gave presents to each other even at Christmas. She always called it a
+foolish, wasteful practice, and Mellicent was always _so_ unhappy
+Christmas morning!”
+
+“I know it. And that’s just what the trouble is. Don’t you see? Jane
+never let ’em take even comfort, and now that they _can_ take some
+comfort, Jane’s got so out of the habit, she don’t know how to begin.”
+
+“Careful, careful, Flora!” laughed Miss Maggie. “I don’t think
+_you_ can say much on that score.”
+
+“Why, Maggie Duff, I’M taking comfort,” bridled Miss Flora. “Didn’t I
+have chicken last week and turkey three weeks ago? And do I ever skimp
+the butter or hunt for cake-rules with one egg now? And ain’t I going
+to Niagara and have a phonograph and move into a fine place just as
+soon as my mourning is up? You wait and see!”
+
+“All right, I’ll wait,” laughed Miss Maggie. Then, a bit anxiously, she
+asked: “Did Fred go to-day?”
+
+“Yes, looking fine as a fiddle, too. I was sweeping off the steps when
+he went by the house. He stopped and spoke. Said he was going in now
+for real work—that he’d played long enough. He said he wouldn’t be good
+for a row of pins if he had many such weeks as this had been.”
+
+“I’m glad he realized it,” observed Miss Maggie grimly. “I suppose the
+Gaylord young people went, too.”
+
+“Hibbard did, but Pearl doesn’t go till next week. She isn’t in the
+same school with Bess, you know. It’s even grander than Bess’s they
+say. Hattie wants to get Bess into it next year. Oh, I forgot; we’ve
+got to call her ‘Elizabeth’ now. Did you know that?”
+
+Miss Maggie shook her head.
+
+“Well, we have. Hattie says nicknames are all out now, and that
+‘Elizabeth’ is very stylish and good form and the only proper thing to
+call her. She says we must call her ‘Harriet,’ too. I forgot that.”
+
+“And Benny ‘Benjamin’?” smiled Miss Maggie.
+
+“Yes. And Jim ‘James.’ But I’m afraid I shall forget—sometimes.”
+
+“I’m afraid—a good many of us will,” laughed Miss Maggie.
+
+“It all came from them Gaylords, I believe,” sniffed Flora. “I don’t
+think much of ’em; but Hattie seems to. I notice she don’t put nothin’
+discouragin’ in the way of young Gaylord and Bess. But he pays ’most
+as much attention to Mellicent, so far as I can see, whenever Carl
+Pennock will give him a chance. Did you ever see the beat of that boy?
+It’s the money, of course. I hope Mellicent’ll give him a good lesson,
+before she gets through with it. He deserves it,” she ejaculated, as
+she picked up her fur neck-piece, and fastened it with a jerk.
+
+In the doorway she paused and glanced cautiously toward Mr. Smith. Mr.
+Smith, perceiving the glance, tried very hard to absorb himself in the
+rows of names dates before him; but he could not help hearing Miss
+Flora’s next words.
+
+“Maggie, hain’t you changed your mind a mite yet? _Won’t_ you let
+me give you some of my money? I’d so _love_ to, dear!”
+
+But Miss Maggie, with a violent shake of her head, almost pushed Miss
+Flora into the hall and shut the door firmly.
+
+Mr. Smith, left alone at his table, wrote again furiously, and with
+vicious little jabs of his pencil.
+
+        .        .        .        .        .        .        .
+
+One by one the winter days passed. At the Duffs’ Mr. Smith was finding
+a most congenial home. He liked Miss Maggie better than ever, on closer
+acquaintance. The Martin girls fitted pleasantly into the household,
+and plainly did much to help the mistress of the house. Father Duff was
+still as irritable as ever, but he was not so much in evidence, for
+his increasing lameness was confining him almost entirely to his own
+room. This meant added care for Miss Maggie, but, with the help of the
+Martins, she still had some rest and leisure, some time to devote to
+the walks and talks with Mr. Smith. Mr. Smith said it was absolutely
+imperative, for the sake of her health, that she should have some
+recreation, and that it was an act of charity, anyway, that she should
+lighten his loneliness by letting him walk and talk with her.
+
+Mr. Smith could not help wondering a good deal these days about Miss
+Maggie’s financial resources. He knew from various indications that
+they must be slender. Yet he never heard her plead poverty or preach
+economy. In spite of the absence of protecting rugs and tidies,
+however, and in spite of the fact that she plainly conducted her life
+and household along the lines of the greatest possible comfort, he saw
+many evidences that she counted the pennies—and that she made every
+penny count.
+
+He knew, for a fact, that she had refused to accept any of the
+Blaisdells’ legacy. Jane, to be sure, had not offered any money yet
+(though she had offered the parlor carpet, which had been promptly
+refused), but Frank and James and Flora had offered money, and had
+urged her to take it. Miss Maggie, however would have none of it.
+
+Mr. Smith suspected that Miss Maggie was proud, and that she regarded
+such a gift as savoring too much of charity. Mr. Smith wished _he_
+could say something to Miss Maggie. Mr. Smith was, indeed, not a
+little disturbed over the matter. He did try once to say something;
+but Miss Maggie tossed it off with a merry: “Take their money? Never!
+I should feel as if I were eating up some of Jane’s interest, or one
+of Hattie’s gold chairs!” After that she would not let him get near
+the subject. There seemed then really nothing that he could do. It
+was about this time, however, that Mr. Smith began to demand certain
+extra luxuries—honey, olives, sardines, candied fruits, and imported
+jellies. They were always luxuries that must be bought, not prepared
+in the home; and he promptly increased the price of his board—but to
+a sum far beyond the extra cost of the delicacies he ordered. When
+Miss Maggie remonstrated at the size of the increase, he pooh-poohed
+her objections, and declared that even that did not pay for having
+such a nuisance of a boarder around, with all his fussy notions. He
+insisted, moreover, that the family should all partake freely of the
+various delicacies, declaring that it seemed to take away the sting of
+his fussiness if they ate as he ate, and so did not make him appear
+singular in his tastes. Of the Blaisdells Mr. Smith saw a good deal
+that winter. They often came to Miss Maggie’s, and occasionally he
+called at their homes. Mr. Smith was on excellent terms with them all.
+They seemed to regard him, indeed, as quite one of the family, and they
+asked his advice, and discussed their affairs before him with as much
+freedom as if he were, in truth, a member of the family.
+
+He knew that Mrs. Hattie Blaisdell was having a very gay winter, and
+that she had been invited twice to the Gaylords’. He knew that James
+Blaisdell was happy in long evenings with his books before the fire.
+From Fred’s mother he learned that Fred had made the most exclusive
+club in college, and from Fred’s father he learned that the boy was
+already leading his class in his studies. He heard of Bessie’s visits
+to the homes of wealthy New Yorkers, and of the trials Benny’s teachers
+were having with Benny.
+
+He knew something of Miss Flora’s placid life in her “house of
+mourning” (as Bessie had dubbed the little cottage), and he heard of
+the “perfectly lovely times” Mellicent was having at her finishing
+school. He dropped in occasionally to talk over the price of beans and
+potatoes with Mr. Frank Blaisdell in his bustling grocery store, and he
+often saw Mrs. Jane at Miss Maggie’s. It was at Miss Maggie’s, indeed,
+one day, that he heard Mrs. Jane say, as she sank wearily into a chair:—
+
+“Well, I declare! Sometimes I think I’ll never give anybody a thing
+again!”
+
+Mr. Smith, at his table, was conscious of a sudden lively interest. So
+often, in his earlier acquaintance with Mrs. Jane, while he boarded
+there, had he heard her say to mission-workers, church-solicitors, and
+doorway beggars, alike, something similar to this; “No, I can give
+you nothing. I have nothing to give. I’d love to, if I could—really
+I would. It makes me quite unhappy to hear of all this need and
+suffering. I’d so love to do something! And if I were rich I would; but
+as it is, I can only give you my sympathy and my prayers.”
+
+Mr. Smith was thinking of this now. He had wondered several times,
+since the money came, as to Mrs. Jane’s giving. Hence his interest now
+in what she was about to say.
+
+“Why, Jane, what’s the matter?” Miss Maggie was querying.
+
+“Everything’s the matter,” snapped Jane. “And positively a more
+ungrateful set of people all around I never saw. To begin with, take
+the church. You know I’ve never been able to do anything. We couldn’t
+afford it. And now I was so happy that I _could_ do something,
+and I told them so; and they seemed real pleased at first. I gave two
+dollars apiece to the Ladies’ Aid, the Home Missionary Society, and the
+Foreign Missionary Society—and, do you know? they hardly even thanked
+me! They acted for all the world as if they expected more—the grasping
+things! And, listen! On the way home, just as I passed the Gale girls’
+I heard Sue say: ‘What’s two dollars to her? She’ll never miss it.’
+They meant me, of course. So you see it wasn’t appreciated. Now, was
+it?”
+
+“Perhaps not.”
+
+“What’s the good of giving, if you aren’t going to get any credit,
+or thanks, just because you’re rich, I should like to know? And they
+aren’t the only ones. Nothing has been appreciated,” went on Mrs. Jane
+discontentedly. “Look at Cousin Mary Davis—_you_ know how poor
+they’ve always been, and how hard it’s been for them to get along. Her
+Carrie—Mellicent’s age, you know—has had to go to work in Hooper’s
+store. Well, I sent Mellicent’s old white lace party dress to Mary.
+’Twas some soiled, of course, and a little torn; but I thought she
+could clean it and make it over beautifully for Carrie. But, what do
+you think?—back it came the next day with a note from Mary saying very
+crisply that Carrie had no place to wear white lace dresses, and they
+had no time to make it over if she did. No place to wear it, indeed!
+Didn’t I invite her to my housewarming? And didn’t Hattie, too? But how
+are you going to help a person like that?”
+
+“But, Jane, there must be ways—some ways.” Miss Maggie’s forehead was
+wrinkled into a troubled frown. “They need help, I know. Mr. Davis has
+been sick a long time, you remember.”
+
+“Yes, I know he has; and that’s all the more reason, to my way of
+thinking, why they should be grateful for anything—_anything_! The
+trouble is, she wants to be helped in ways of her own choosing. They
+wanted Frank to take Sam, the boy,—he’s eighteen now—into the store,
+and they wanted me to get embroidery for Nellie to do at home—she’s
+lame, you know, but she does do beautiful work. But I couldn’t do
+either. Frank hates relatives in the store; he says they cause all
+sorts of trouble with the other help; and I certainly wasn’t going
+to ask him to take any relatives of _mine_. As for Nellie—I
+_did_ ask Hattie if she couldn’t give her some napkins to do, or
+something, and she gave me a dozen for her—she said Nellie’d probably
+do them as cheap as anybody, and maybe cheaper. But she told me not
+to go to the Gaylords or the Pennocks, or any of that crowd, for she
+wouldn’t have them know for the world that we had a relative right
+here in town that had to take in sewing. I told her they weren’t her
+relations nor the Blaisdells’; they were mine, and they were just as
+good as her folks any day, and that it was no disgrace to be poor.
+But, dear me! You know Hattie. What could I do? Besides, she got mad
+then, and took back the dozen napkins she’d given me. So I didn’t have
+anything for poor Nellie. Wasn’t it a shame?”
+
+“I think it was.” Miss Maggie’s lips shut in a thin straight line.
+
+“Well, what could I do?” bridled Jane defiantly. “Besides, if I’d taken
+them to her, they wouldn’t have appreciated it, I know. They never
+appreciate anything. Why, last November, when the money came, I sent
+them nearly all of Mellicent’s and my old summer things—and if little
+Tottie didn’t go and say afterwards that her mamma did wish Cousin Jane
+wouldn’t send muslins in December when they hadn’t room enough to store
+a safety pin. Oh, of course, Mary didn’t say that to _me_, but she
+must have said it somewhere, else Tottie wouldn’t have got hold of it.
+‘Children and fools,’ you know,” she finished meaningly, as she rose to
+go.
+
+Mr. Smith noticed that Miss Maggie seemed troubled that evening, and he
+knew that she started off early the next morning and was gone nearly
+all day, coming home only for a hurried luncheon. It being Saturday,
+the Martin girls were both there to care for Father Duff and the house.
+Not until some days later did Mr. Smith suspect that he had learned
+the reason for all this. Then a thin-faced young girl with tired eyes
+came to tea one evening and was introduced to him as Miss Carrie Davis.
+Later, when Miss Maggie had gone upstairs to put Father Duff to bed,
+Mr. Smith heard Carrie Davis telling Annabelle Martin all about how
+kind Miss Maggie had been to Nellie, finding her all that embroidery to
+do for that rich Mrs. Gaylord, and how wonderful it was that she had
+been able to get such a splendid job for Sam right in Hooper’s store
+where she was.
+
+Mr. Smith thought he understood then Miss Maggie’s long absence on
+Saturday.
+
+Mr. Smith was often running across little kindnesses that Miss Maggie
+had done. He began to think that Miss Maggie must be a very charitable
+person—until he ran across several cases that she had not helped. Then
+he did not know exactly what to think.
+
+His first experience of this kind was when he met an unmistakably
+“down-and-out” on the street one day, begging clothing, food, anything,
+and telling a sorry tale of his unjust discharge from a local factory.
+Mr. Smith gave the man a dollar, and sent him to Miss Maggie. He
+happened to know that Father Duff had discarded an old suit that
+morning—and Father Duff and the beggar might have been taken for twins
+as to size. On the way home a little later he met the beggar returning,
+just as forlorn, and even more hungry-looking.
+
+“Well, my good fellow, couldn’t she fix you up?” questioned Mr. Smith
+in some surprise.
+
+“Fix me up!” glowered the man disdainfully. “Not much she did! She
+didn’t fix me up ter nothin’—but chin music!”
+
+And Mr. Smith had thought Miss Maggie was so charitable!
+
+A few days later he heard an eager-eyed young woman begging Miss Maggie
+for a contribution to the Pension Fund Fair in behalf of the underpaid
+shopgirls in Daly’s. Daly’s was a Hillerton department Store, notorious
+for its unfair treatment of its employees.
+
+Miss Maggie seemed interested, and asked many questions. The eager-eyed
+young woman became even more eager-eyed, and told Miss Maggie all about
+the long hours, the nerve-wearing labor, the low wages—wages upon which
+it was impossible for any girl to live decently—wages whose meagerness
+sent many a girl to her ruin.
+
+Miss Maggie listened attentively, and said, “Yes, yes, I see,” several
+times. But in the end the eager-eyed young woman went away empty-handed
+and sad-eyed. And Mr. Smith frowned again.
+
+He had thought Miss Maggie was so kind-hearted! She gave to some
+fairs—why not to this one? As soon as possible Mr. Smith hunted up the
+eager-eyed young woman and gave her ten dollars. He would have given
+her more, but he had learned from unpleasant experience that large
+gifts from unpretentious Mr. John Smith brought comments and curiosity
+not always agreeable.
+
+It was not until many weeks later that Mr. Smith chanced to hear of
+the complete change of policy of Daly’s department store. Hours were
+shortened, labor lightened, and wages raised. Incidentally he learned
+that it had all started from a crusade of women’s clubs and church
+committees who had “got after old Daly” and threatened all sorts of
+publicity and unpleasantness if the wrongs were not righted at once.
+He learned also that the leader in the forefront of this movement had
+been—Maggie Duff.
+As it chanced, it was on that same day that a strange man accosted him
+on the street.
+
+“Say, she was all right, she was, old man. I been hopin’ I’d see ye
+some day ter tell ye.”
+
+“To tell me?” echoed Mr. Smith stupidly.
+
+The man grinned.
+
+“Ye don’t know me, do ye? Well, I do look diff’rent, I’ll own. Ye give
+me a dollar once, an’ sent me to a lady down the street thar. Now do ye
+remember?”
+
+“Oh! _oh_! Are _you_ that man?”
+
+“Sure I am! Well, she was all right. ‘Member? I thought ’twas only chin
+music she was givin’ me. But let me tell ye. She hunted up the wife an’
+kids, an’ what’s more, she went an’ faced my boss, an’ she got me my
+job back, too. What do ye think of that, now?”
+
+“Why, I’m—I’m glad, of course!” Mr. Smith spoke as one in deep thought.
+
+And all the way home Mr. Smith walked—as one in deep thought.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+IN SEARCH OF REST
+
+
+June brought all the young people home again. It brought, also, a great
+deal of talk concerning plans for vacation. Bessie—Elizabeth—said they
+must all go away.
+
+From James Blaisdell this brought a sudden and vigorous remonstrance.
+
+“Nonsense, you’ve just got home!” he exclaimed. “Hillerton’ll be a
+vacation to you all right. Besides, I want my family together again. I
+haven’t seen a thing of my children for six months.”
+
+Elizabeth gave a silvery laugh. (Elizabeth had learned to give very
+silvery laughs.) She shrugged her shoulders daintily and looked at her
+rings.
+
+“Hillerton? Ho! You wouldn’t really doom us to Hillerton all summer,
+daddy.”
+
+“What’s the matter with Hillerton?”
+
+“What isn’t the matter with Hillerton?” laughed the daughter again.
+
+“But I thought we—we would have lovely auto trips,” stammered her
+mother apologetically. “Take them from here, you know, and stay
+overnight at hotels around. I’ve always wanted to do that; and we can
+now, dear.”
+
+“Auto trips! Pooh!” shrugged Elizabeth. “Why, mumsey, we’re going to
+the shore for July, and to the mountains for August. You and daddy and
+I. And Fred’s going, too, only he’ll be at the Gaylord camp in the
+Adirondacks, part of the time.”
+
+“Is that true, Fred?” James Blaisdell’s eyes, fixed on his son, were
+half wistful, half accusing.
+
+Fred stirred restlessly.
+
+“Well, I sort of had to, governor,” he apologized. “Honest, I did.
+There are some things a man has to do! Gaylord asked me, and—Hang it
+all, I don’t see why you have to look at me as if I were committing a
+crime, dad!”
+
+“You aren’t, dear, you aren’t,” fluttered Fred’s mother hurriedly;
+“and I’m sure it’s lovely you’ve got the chance to go to the Gaylords’
+camp. And it’s right, quite right, that we should travel this summer,
+as Bessie—er—Elizabeth suggests. I never thought; but, of course, you
+young people don’t want to be hived up in Hillerton all summer!”
+
+“Bet your life we don’t, mater,” shrugged Fred, carefully avoiding his
+father’s eyes, “after all that grind.”
+
+“_Grind_, Fred?”
+
+But Fred had turned away, and did not, apparently, hear his father’s
+grieved question.
+
+Mr. Smith learned all about the vacation plans a day or two later from
+Benny.
+
+“Yep, we’re all goin’ away for all summer,” he repeated, after he had
+told the destination of most of the family. “I don’t think ma wants to,
+much, but she’s goin’ on account of Bess. Besides, she says everybody
+who is anybody always goes away on vacations, of course. So we’ve got
+to. They’re goin’ to the beach first, and I’m goin’ to a boys’ camp up
+in Vermont—Mellicent, she’s goin’ to a girls’ camp. Did you know that?”
+
+Mr. Smith shook his head.
+“Well, she is,” nodded Benny. “She tried to get Bess to go—Gussie
+Pennock’s goin’. But Bess!—my you should see her nose go up in the air!
+She said she wa’n’t goin’ where she had to wear great coarse shoes an’
+horrid middy-blouses all day, an’ build fires an’ walk miles an’ eat
+bugs an’ grasshoppers.”
+
+“Is Miss Mellicent going to do all that?” smiled Mr. Smith.
+
+“Bess says she is—I mean, _Elizabeth_. Did you know? We have to
+call her that now, when we don’t forget it. I forget it, mostly. Have
+you seen her since she came back?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“She’s swingin’ an awful lot of style—Bess is. She makes dad dress
+up in his swallow-tail every night for dinner. An’ she makes him and
+Fred an’ me stand up the minute she comes into the room, no matter
+if there’s forty other chairs in sight; an’ we have to _stay_
+standin’ till she sits down—an’ sometimes she stands up a-purpose, just
+to keep _us_ standing. I know she does. She says a gentleman never
+sits when a lady is standin’ up in his presence. An’ she’s lecturin’
+us all the time on the way to eat an’ talk an’ act. Why, we can’t even
+walk natural any longer. An’ she says the way Katy serves our meals is
+a disgrace to any civilized family.”
+
+“How does Katy like that?”
+
+“Like it! She got mad an’ gave notice on the spot. An’ that made ma
+’most have hysterics—she did have one of her headaches—’cause good
+hired girls are awful scarce, she says. But Bess says, Pooh! we’ll get
+some from the city next time that know their business, an’ we’re goin’
+away all summer, anyway, an’ won’t ma please call them ‘maids,’ as she
+ought to, an’ not that plebeian ‘hired girl.’ Bess loves that word.
+Everything’s ‘plebeian’ with Bess now. Oh we’re havin’ great times at
+our house since Bess—_elizabeth_—came!” grinned Benny, tossing his
+cap in the air, and dancing down the walk much as he had danced the
+first night Mr. Smith saw him a year before.
+
+The James Blaisdells were hardly off to shore and camp when Miss Flora
+started on her travels. Mr. Smith learned all about her plans, too, for
+she came down one day to talk them over with Miss Maggie.
+
+Miss Flora was looking very well in a soft gray and white summer silk.
+Her forehead had lost its lines of care, and her eyes were no longer
+peering for wrinkles. Miss Flora was actually almost pretty.
+
+“How nice you look!” exclaimed Miss Maggie.
+
+“Do I?” panted Miss Flora, as she fluttered up the steps and sank into
+one of the porch chairs.
+
+“Indeed, you do!” exclaimed Mr. Smith admiringly. Mr. Smith was putting
+up a trellis for Miss Maggie’s new rosebush. He was working faithfully,
+but not with the skill of accustomedness.
+
+“I’m so glad you like it!” Miss Flora settled back into her chair and
+smoothed out the ruffles across her lap. “It isn’t too gay, is it? You
+know the six months are more than up now.”
+
+“Not a bit!” exclaimed Mr. Smith.
+
+“No, indeed!” cried Miss Maggie.
+
+“I hoped it wasn’t,” sighed Miss Flora happily. “Well, I’m all packed
+but my dresses.”
+
+“Why, I thought you weren’t going till Monday,” said Miss Maggie.
+
+“Oh, I’m not.”
+
+“But—it’s only Friday now!”
+
+Miss Flora laughed shamefacedly.
+
+“Yes, I know. I suppose I am a little ahead of time. But you see,
+I ain’t used to packing—not a big trunk, so—and I was so afraid I
+wouldn’t get it done in time. I was going to put my dresses in; but
+Mis’ Moore said they’d wrinkle awfully, if I did, and, of course, they
+would, when you come to think of it. So I shan’t put those in till
+Sunday night. I’m so glad Mis’ Moore’s going. It’ll be so nice to have
+somebody along that I know.”
+
+“Yes, indeed,” smiled Miss Maggie.
+
+“And she knows everything—all about tickets and checking the baggage,
+and all that. You know we’re only going to be personally conducted to
+Niagara. After that we’re going to New York and stay two weeks at some
+nice hotel. I want to see Grant’s Tomb and the Aquarium, and Mis’ Moore
+wants to go to Coney Island. She says she’s always wanted to go to
+Coney Island just as I have to Niagara.”
+
+“I’m glad you can take her,” said Miss Maggie heartily.
+
+“Yes, and she’s so pleased. You know, even if she has such a nice
+family, and all, she hasn’t much money, and she’s been awful nice to me
+lately. I used to think she didn’t like me, too. But I must have been
+mistaken, of course. And ’twas so with Mis’ Benson and Mis’ Pennock,
+too. But now they’ve invited me there and have come to see me, and are
+_so_ interested in my trip and all. Why, I never knew I had so
+many friends, Maggie. Truly I didn’t!”
+
+Miss Maggie said nothing, but, there was an odd expression on her face.
+Mr. Smith pounded a small nail home with an extra blow of his hammer.
+
+“And they’re all so kind and interested about the money, too,” went on
+Miss Flora, gently rocking to and fro. “Bert Benson sells stocks and
+invests money for folks, you know, and Mis’ Benson said he’d got some
+splendid-payin’ ones, and he’d let me have some, and—”
+
+“Flo, you _didn’t_ take any of that Benson gold-mine stock!”
+interrupted Miss Maggie sharply.
+
+Mr. Smith’s hammer stopped, suspended in mid-air.
+
+“No; oh, no! I asked Mr. Chalmers and he said better not. So I didn’t.”
+Miss Maggie relaxed in her chair, and Mr. Smith’s hammer fell with a
+gentle tap on the nail-head. “But I felt real bad about it—when Mis’
+Benson had been so kind as to offer it, you know. It looked sort of—of
+ungrateful, so.”
+
+“Ungrateful!” Miss Maggie’s voice vibrated with indignant scorn.
+“Flora, you won’t—you _won’t_ invest your money without asking Mr.
+Chalmers’s advice first, will you?”
+
+“But I tell you I didn’t,” retorted Miss Flora, with unusual sharpness,
+for her. “But it was good stock, and it pays splendidly. Jane took
+some. She took a lot.”
+
+“Jane!—but I thought Frank wouldn’t let her.”
+
+“Oh, Frank said all right, if she wanted to, she might. I suspect he
+got tired of her teasing, and it did pay splendidly. Why, ’twill pay
+twenty-five per cent, probably, this year, Mis’ Benson says. So Frank
+give in. You see, he felt he’d got to pacify Jane some way, I s’pose,
+she’s so cut up about his selling out.”
+
+“Selling out!” exclaimed Miss Maggie.
+
+“Oh, didn’t you know that? Well, then I _have_ got some news!”
+Miss Flora gave the satisfied little wriggle with which a born
+news-lover always prefaces her choicest bit of information. “Frank has
+sold his grocery stores—both of ’em.”
+
+“Why, I can’t believe it!” Miss Maggie fell back with a puzzled frown.
+
+“_Sold_ them! Why, I should as soon think of his—his selling himself,”
+cried Mr. Smith. “I thought they were inseparable.”
+
+“Well, they ain’t—because he’s separated ’em.” Miss Flora was rocking a
+little faster now.
+
+“But why?” demanded Miss Maggie.
+
+“He says he wants a rest. That he’s worked hard all his life, and it’s
+time he took some comfort. He says he doesn’t take a minute of comfort
+now ’cause Jane’s hounding him all the time to get more money, to get
+more money. She’s crazy to see the interest mount up, you know—Jane
+is. But he says he don’t want any more money. He wants to _spend_
+money for a while. And he’s going to spend it. He’s going to retire
+from business and enjoy himself.”
+
+“Well,” ejaculated Mr. Smith, “this is a piece of news, indeed!”
+
+“I should say it was,” cried Miss Maggie, still almost incredulous.
+“How does Jane take it?”
+
+“Oh, she’s turribly fussed up over it, as you’d know she would be. Such
+a good chance wasted, she thinks, when he might be making all that
+money earn more. You know Jane wants to turn everything into money now.
+Honestly, Maggie, I don’t believe Jane can look at the moon nowadays
+without wishing it was really gold, and she had it to put out to
+interest!”
+
+“Oh, Flora!” remonstrated Miss Maggie faintly.
+
+“Well, it’s so,” maintained Miss Flora, “So ’tain’t any wonder, of
+course, that she’s upset over this. That’s why Frank give in to her,
+I think, and let her buy that Benson stock. Besides, he’s feeling
+especially flush, because he’s got the cash the stores brought, too. So
+he told her to go ahead.”
+
+“I’m sorry about that stock,” frowned Miss Maggie.
+
+“Oh, it’s perfectly safe. Mis’ Benson said ’twas,” comforted Miss
+Flora. “You needn’t worry about that. And ’twill pay splendid.”
+
+“When did this happen—the sale of the store, I mean?” asked Mr. Smith.
+Mr. Smith was not even pretending to work now.
+
+“Yesterday—the finish of it. I’m waiting to see Hattie. She’ll be
+tickled to death. She’s _always_ hated it that Frank had a grocery
+store, you know; and since the money’s come, and she’s been going with
+the Gaylords and the Pennocks, and all that crowd, she’s felt worse
+than ever. She was saying to me only last week how ashamed she was to
+think that her friends might see her own brother-in-law any day wearing
+horrid white coat, and selling molasses over the counter. My, but
+Hattie’ll be tickled all right—or ‘Harriet,’ I suppose I should say,
+but I never can remember it.”
+
+“But what is Frank going to—to do with himself?” demanded Miss Maggie.
+“Why, Flora, he’ll be lost without that grocery store!”
+
+“Oh, he’s going to travel, first. He says he always wanted to, and he’s
+got a chance now, and he’s going to. They’re going to the Yellowstone
+Park and the Garden of the Gods and to California. And that’s another
+thing that worries Jane—spending all that money for them just to ride
+in the cars.”
+
+“Is she going, too?” queried Mr. Smith.
+
+“Oh, yes, she’s going, too. She says she’s got to go to keep Frank from
+spending every cent he’s got,” laughed Miss Flora. “I was over there
+last night, and they told me all about it.”
+
+“When do they go?”
+
+“Just as soon as they can get ready. Frank’s got to help Donovan, the
+man that’s bought the store, a week till he gets the run of things, he
+says. Then he’s going. You wait till you see him.” Miss Flora got to
+her feet, and smoothed out the folds of her skirt. “He’s as tickled as
+a boy with a new jack-knife. And I’m glad. Frank has been a turrible
+hard worker all his life. I’m glad he’s going to take some comfort,
+same as I am.”
+
+When Miss Flora had gone, Miss Maggie turned to Mr. Smith with eyes
+that still carried dazed unbelief.
+
+“_Did_ Flora say that Frank Blaisdell had sold his grocery stores?”
+
+“She certainly did! You seem surprised.”
+
+“I’m more than surprised. I’m dumfounded.”
+
+“Why? You don’t think, like Mrs. Jane, that he ought not to enjoy his
+money, certainly?”
+
+“Oh, no. He’s got money enough to retire, if he wants to, and he’s
+certainly worked hard enough to earn a rest.”
+
+“Then what is it?”
+
+Miss Maggie laughed a little.
+
+“I’m not sure I can explain. But, to me, it’s—just this: while he’s
+got plenty to retire _upon_, he hasn’t got anything to—to retire
+_to_.”
+
+“And, pray, what do you mean by that?”
+
+“Why, Mr. Smith, I’ve known that man from the time he was trading
+jack-knives and marbles and selling paper boxes for five pins. I
+remember the whipping he got, too, for filching sugar and coffee and
+beans from the pantry and opening a grocery store in our barn. From
+that time to this, that boy has always been trading _something_.
+He’s been absolutely uninterested in anything else. I don’t believe
+he’s read a book or a magazine since his school days, unless it had
+something to do with business or groceries. He hasn’t a sign of a
+fad—music, photography, collecting things—nothing. And he hates
+society. Jane has to fairly drag him out anywhere. Now, what I want to
+know is, what is the man going to do?”
+
+“Oh, he’ll find something,” laughed Mr. Smith. “He’s going to travel,
+first, anyhow.”
+
+“Yes, he’s going to travel, first. And then—we’ll see,” smiled Miss
+Maggie enigmatically, as Mr. Smith picked up his hammer again.
+
+By the middle of July the Blaisdells were all gone from Hillerton
+and there remained only their letters for Miss Maggie—and for Mr.
+Smith. Miss Maggie was very generous with her letters. Perceiving Mr.
+Smith’s genuine interest, she read him extracts from almost every
+one that came. And the letters were always interesting—and usually
+characteristic.
+
+Benny wrote of swimming and tennis matches, and of “hikes” and the
+“bully eats.” Hattie wrote of balls and gowns and the attention “dear
+Elizabeth” was receiving from some really very nice families who were
+said to be fabulously rich. Neither James nor Bessie wrote at all.
+Fred, too, remained unheard from.
+
+Mellicent wrote frequently—gay, breezy letters full to the brim of the
+joy of living. She wrote of tennis, swimming, camp-fire stories, and
+mountain trails: they were like Benny’s letters in petticoats, Miss
+Maggie said.
+
+Long and frequent epistles came from Miss Flora. Miss Flora was having
+a beautiful time. Niagara was perfectly lovely—only what a terrible
+noise it made! She was glad she did not have to stay and hear it
+always. She liked New York, only that was noisy, too, though Mrs. Moore
+did not seem to mind it. Mrs. Moore liked Coney Island, too, but Miss
+Flora much preferred Grant’s Tomb, she said. It was so much more quiet
+and ladylike. She thought some things at Coney Island were really not
+nice at all, and she was surprised that Mrs. Moore should enjoy them so
+much.
+
+Between the lines it could be seen that in spite of all the good times,
+Miss Flora was becoming just the least bit homesick. She wrote Miss
+Maggie that it did seem queer to go everywhere, and not see a soul to
+bow to. It gave her such a lonesome feeling—such a lot of faces, and
+not one familiar one! She had tried to make the acquaintance of several
+people—real nice people; she knew they were by the way they looked.
+But they wouldn’t say hardly anything to her, nor answer her questions;
+and they always got up and moved away very soon.
+
+To be sure, there was one nice young man. He was lovely to them, Miss
+Flora said. He spoke to them first, too. It was when they were down to
+Coney Island. He helped them through the crowds, and told them about
+lots of nice things they didn’t want to miss seeing. He walked with
+them, too, quite awhile, showing them the sights. He was very kind—he
+seemed so especially kind, after all those other cold-hearted people,
+who didn’t care! That was the day she and Mrs. Moore both lost their
+pocketbooks, and had such an awful time getting back to New York. It
+was right after they had said good-bye to the nice young gentleman
+that they discovered that they had lost them. They were so sorry that
+they hadn’t found it out before, Miss Flora said, for he would have
+helped them, she was sure. But though they looked everywhere for him,
+they could not find him at all, and they had to appeal to strangers,
+who took them right up to a policeman the first thing, which was very
+embarrassing, Miss Flora said. Why, she and Mrs. Moore felt as if they
+had been arrested, almost! Miss Maggie pursed her lips a little, when
+she read this letter to Mr. Smith, but she made no comment.
+
+From Jane, also, came several letters, and from Frank Blaisdell one
+short scrawl.
+
+Frank said he was having a bully time, but that he’d seen some of the
+most shiftless-looking grocery stores that he ever set eyes on. He
+asked if Maggie knew how trade was at his old store, and if Donovan was
+keeping it up to the mark. He said that Jane was well, only she was
+getting pretty tired because she _would_ try to see everything at
+once, for fear she’d lose something, and not get her money’s worth, for
+all the world just as she used to eat things to save them.
+
+Jane wrote that she was having a very nice time, of course,—she
+couldn’t help it, with all those lovely things to see; but she said
+she never dreamed that just potatoes, meat, and vegetables could
+cost so much anywhere as they did in hotels, and as for the prices
+those dining-cars charged—it was robbery—sheer robbery! And why an
+able-bodied man should be given ten cents every time he handed you your
+own hat, she couldn’t understand.
+
+At Hillerton, Mr. Smith passed a very quiet summer, but a very
+contented one. He kept enough work ahead to amuse him, but never enough
+to drive him. He took frequent day-trips to the surrounding towns, and
+when possible he persuaded Miss Maggie to go with him. Miss Maggie
+was wonderfully good company. As the summer advanced, however, he did
+not see so much of her as he wanted to, for Father Duff’s increasing
+infirmities made more and more demands on her time.
+
+The Martin girls were still there. Annabelle was learning the
+milliner’s trade, and Florence had taken a clerkship for afternoons
+during the summer. They still helped about the work, and relieved Miss
+Maggie whenever possible. They were sensible, jolly girls, and Mr.
+Smith liked them very much.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+THE FLY IN THE OINTMENT
+
+
+In August Father Duff died. Miss Flora came home at once. James
+Blaisdell was already in town. Hattie was at the mountains. She wrote
+that she could not think of coming down for the funeral, but she
+ordered an expensive wreath. Frank and Jane were in the Far West, and
+could not possibly have arrived in time, anyway. None of the young
+people came.
+
+Mr. Smith helped in every way that he could help, and Miss Maggie told
+him that he was a great comfort, and that she did not know what she
+would have done without him. Miss Flora and Mr. James Blaisdell helped,
+too, in every way possible, and at last the first hard sad days were
+over, and the household had settled back into something like normal
+conditions again.
+
+Miss Maggie had more time now, and she went often to drive or for motor
+rides with Mr. Smith. Together they explored cemeteries for miles
+around; and although Miss Maggie worried sometimes because they found
+so little Blaisdell data, Mr. Smith did not seem to mind it at all.
+
+In September Miss Flora moved into an attractive house on the
+West Side, bought some new furniture, and installed a maid in the
+kitchen—all under Miss Maggie’s kindly supervision. In September, too,
+Frank and Jane Blaisdell came home, and the young people began to
+prepare for the coming school year.
+
+Mr. Smith met Mrs. Hattie one day, coming out of Miss Maggie’s gate.
+She smiled and greeted him cordially, but she looked so palpably upset
+over something that he exclaimed to Miss Maggie, as soon he entered
+the house: “What was it? _Is_ anything the matter with Mrs. James
+Blaisdell?”
+
+Miss Maggie smiled—but she frowned, too.
+
+“No, oh, no—except that Hattie has discovered that a hundred thousand
+dollars isn’t a million.”
+
+“What do you mean by that?”
+
+“Oh, where she’s been this summer she’s measured up, of course,
+with people a great deal richer than she. And she doesn’t like it.
+Here in Hillerton her hundred—and two-hundred-dollar dresses looked
+very grand to her, but she’s discovered that there are women who pay
+five hundred and a thousand, and even more. She feels very cheap and
+poverty-stricken now, therefore, in her two-hundred-dollar gowns. Poor
+Hattie! If she only would stop trying to live like somebody else!”
+
+“But I thought—I thought this money was making them happy,” stammered
+Mr. Smith.
+
+“It was—until she realized that somebody else had more,” sighed Miss
+Maggie, with a shake of her head.
+
+“Oh, well, she’ll get over that.”
+
+“Perhaps.”
+
+“At any rate, it’s brought her husband some comfort.”
+
+“Y-yes, it has; but—”
+
+“What do you mean by that?” he demanded, when she did not finish her
+sentence.
+
+“I was wondering—if it would bring him any more.”
+
+“They haven’t lost it?”
+
+“Oh, no, but they’ve spent a lot—and Hattie is beginning again her
+old talk that she _must_ have more money in order to live ‘even
+decent.’ It sounds very familiar to me, and to Jim, I suspect, poor
+fellow. I saw him the other night, and from what he said, and what she
+says, I can see pretty well how things are going. She’s trying to get
+some of her rich friends to give Jim a better position, where he’ll
+earn more. She doesn’t understand, either, why Jim can’t go into the
+stock market and make millions, as some men do. I’m afraid she isn’t
+always—patient. She says there are Fred and Elizabeth and Benjamin to
+educate, and that she’s just got to have more money to tide them over
+till the rest of the legacy comes.”
+
+“The rest of the legacy!” exploded Mr. Smith. “Good Heavens, does
+that woman think that—” Mr. Smith stopped with the air of one pulling
+himself back from an abyss.
+
+Miss Maggie laughed.
+
+“I don’t wonder you exclaim. It is funny—the way she takes that for
+granted, isn’t it? Still, there are grounds for it, of course.”
+
+“Oh, are there? Do _you_ think—she’ll get more, then?” demanded
+Mr. Smith, almost savagely.
+
+Miss Maggie laughed again.
+
+“I don’t know what to think. To my mind the whole thing was rather
+extraordinary, anyway, that he should have given them anything—utter
+strangers as they were. Still, as Hattie says, as long as he _has_
+recognized their existence, why, he may again of course. Still, on the
+other hand, he may have very reasonably argued that, having willed them
+a hundred thousand apiece, that was quite enough, and he’d give the
+rest somewhere else.”
+
+“Humph! Maybe,” grunted Mr. Smith.
+
+“And he may come back alive from South America”
+
+“He may.”
+
+“But Hattie isn’t counting on either of these contingencies, and she
+is counting on the money,” sighed Miss Maggie, sobering again. “And
+Jim,—poor Jim!—I’m afraid he’s going to find it just as hard to keep
+caught up now—as he used to.”
+
+“Humph!” Mr. Smith frowned. He did not speak again. He stood looking
+out of the window, apparently in deep thought.
+
+Miss Maggie, with another sigh, turned and went out into the kitchen.
+
+The next day, on the street, Mr. Smith met Mellicent Blaisdell. She was
+with a tall, manly-looking, square-jawed young fellow whom Mr. Smith
+had never seen before. Mellicent smiled and blushed adorably. Then, to
+his surprise, she stopped him with a gesture.
+
+“Mr. Smith, I know it’s on the street, but I—I want Mr. Gray to meet
+you, and I want you to meet Mr. Gray. Mr. Smith is—is a very good
+friend of mine, Donald.”
+
+Mr. Smith greeted Donald Gray with a warm handshake and a keen glance
+into his face. The blush, the hesitation, the shy happiness in
+Mellicent’s eyes had been unmistakable. Mr. Smith felt suddenly that
+Donald Gray was a man he very much wanted to know—a good deal about. He
+chatted affably for a minute. Then he went home and straight to Miss
+Maggie.
+
+“Who’s Donald Gray, please?” he demanded.
+
+Miss Maggie laughed and threw up her hands.
+
+“Oh, these children!”
+“But who is he?”
+
+“Well, to begin with, he’s devoted to Mellicent.”
+
+“You don’t have to tell me that. I’ve seen him—and Mellicent.”
+
+“Oh!” Miss Maggie smiled appreciatively.
+
+“What I want to know is, who is he?”
+
+“He’s a young man whom Mellicent met this summer. He plays the violin,
+and Mellicent played his accompaniments in a church entertainment.
+That’s where she met him first. He’s the son of a minister near their
+camp, where the girls went to church. He’s a fine fellow, I guess. He’s
+hard hit—that’s sure. He came to Hillerton at once, and has gone to
+work in Hammond’s real estate office. So you see he’s in earnest.”
+
+“I should say he was! I liked his appearance very much.”
+
+“Yes, I did—but her mother doesn’t.”
+
+“What do you mean? She—objects?”
+
+“Decidedly! She says he’s worse than Carl Pennock—that he hasn’t got
+any money, not _any_ money.”
+
+“Money!” ejaculated Mr. Smith, in genuine amazement. “You don’t mean
+that she’s really letting money stand in the way if Mellicent cares
+for him? Why, it was only a year ago that she herself was bitterly
+censuring Mrs. Pennock for doing exactly the same thing in the case of
+young Pennock and Mellicent.”
+
+“I know,” nodded Miss Maggie. “But—she seems to have forgotten that.”
+
+“Shoe’s on the other foot this time.”
+
+“It seems to be.”
+
+“Hm-m!” muttered Mr. Smith.
+
+“I don’t think Jane has done much yet, by way of opposition. You see
+they’ve only reached home, and she’s just found out about it. But she
+told me she shouldn’t let it go on, not for a moment. She has other
+plans for Mellicent.”
+
+“Shall I be—meddling in what isn’t my business, if I ask what they
+are?” queried Mr. Smith diffidently. “You know I am very much
+interested in—Miss Mellicent.”
+
+“Not a bit. I’m glad to have you. Perhaps you can suggest—a way out for
+us,” sighed Miss Maggie. “The case is just this: Jane wants Mellicent
+to marry Hibbard Gaylord.”
+
+“Shucks! I’ve seen young Gray only once, but I’d give more for his
+little finger than I would for a cartload of Gaylords!” flung out Mr.
+Smith.
+
+“So would I,” approved Miss Maggie. “But Jane—well, Jane feels
+otherwise. To begin with, she’s very much flattered at Gaylord’s
+attentions to Mellicent—the more so because he’s left Bessie—I beg her
+pardon, ‘Elizabeth’—for her.”
+
+“Then Miss Elizabeth is in it, too?”
+
+“Very much in it. That’s one of the reasons why Hattie is so anxious
+for more money. She wants clothes and jewels for Bessie so she can keep
+pace with the Gaylords. You see there’s a wheel within a wheel here.”
+
+“I should say there was!”
+
+“As near as I can judge, young Gaylord is Bessie’s devoted slave—until
+Mellicent arrives; then he has eyes only for _her_, which piques
+Bessie and her mother not a little. They were together more or less all
+summer and I think Hattie thought the match was as good as made. Now,
+once in Hillerton, back he flies to Mellicent.”
+
+“And—Mellicent?”
+
+Miss Maggie’s eyes became gravely troubled.
+
+“I don’t understand Mellicent. I think—no, I _know_ she cares
+for young Gray; but—well, I might as well admit it, she is ready any
+time to flirt outrageously with Hibbard Gaylord, or—or with anybody
+else, for that matter. I saw her flirting with you at the party last
+Christmas!” Miss Maggie’s face showed a sudden pink blush.
+
+Mr. Smith gave a hearty laugh.
+
+“Don’t you worry, Miss Maggie. If she’ll flirt with young Gaylord
+_and others_, it’s all right. There’s safety in numbers, you know.”
+
+“But I don’t like to have her flirt at all, Mr. Smith.”
+
+“It isn’t flirting. It’s just her bottled-up childhood and youth
+bubbling over. She can’t help bubbling, she’s been repressed so long.
+She’ll come out all right, and she won’t come out hand in hand with
+Hibbard Gaylord. You see if she does.”
+
+Miss Maggie shook her head and sighed.
+“You don’t know Jane. Jane will never give up. She’ll be quiet, but
+she’ll be firm. With one hand she’ll keep Gray away, and with the other
+she’ll push Gaylord forward. Even Mellicent herself won’t know how it’s
+done. But it’ll be done, and I tremble for the consequences.”
+
+“Hm-m!” Mr. Smith’s eyes had lost their twinkle now. To himself he
+muttered: “I wonder if maybe—I hadn’t better take a hand in this thing
+myself.”
+
+“You said—I didn’t understand what you said,” murmured Miss Maggie
+doubtfully.
+
+“Nothing—nothing, Miss Maggie,” replied the man. Then, with
+businesslike alertness, he lifted his chin. “How long do you say this
+has been going on?”
+
+“Why, especially since they all came home two weeks ago. Jane knew
+nothing of Donald Gray till then.”
+
+“Where does Carl Pennock come in?”
+
+Miss Maggie gave a gesture of despair.
+
+“Oh, he comes in anywhere that he can find a chance; though, to do her
+justice, Mellicent doesn’t give him—many chances.”
+
+“What does her father say to all this? How does he like young Gray?”
+
+Miss Maggie gave another gesture of despair.
+
+“He says nothing—or, rather, he laughs, and says: ‘Oh, well, it will
+come out all right in time. Young folks will be young folks!’”
+
+“But does he like Gray? He knows him, of course.”
+
+“Oh, yes, he likes him. He’s taken him to ride in his car once, to my
+knowledge.”
+
+“His car! Then Mr. Frank Blaisdell has—a car?”
+
+“Oh, yes, he’s just been learning to run it. Jane says he’s crazy over
+it, and that he’s teasing her to go all the time. She says he wants to
+be on the move somewhere every minute. He’s taken up golf, too. Did you
+know that?”
+
+“Well, no, I—didn’t.”
+
+“Oh yes, he’s joined the Hillerton Country Club, and he goes up to the
+links every morning for practice.”
+
+“I can’t imagine it—Frank Blaisdell spending his mornings playing golf!”
+
+“You forget,” smiled Miss Maggie. “Frank Blaisdell is a retired
+business man. He has begun to take some pleasure in life now.”
+
+“Humph!” muttered Mr. Smith, as he turned to go into his own room.
+
+Mr. Smith called on the Frank Blaisdells that evening. Mr. Blaisdell
+took him out to the garage (very lately a barn), and showed him the
+shining new car. He also showed him his lavish supply of golf clubs,
+and told him what a “bully time” he was having these days. He told him,
+too, all about his Western trip, and said there was nothing like travel
+to broaden a man’s outlook. He said a great deal about how glad he was
+to get out of the old grind behind the counter—but in the next breath
+he asked Mr. Smith if he had ever seen a store run down as his had done
+since he left it. Donovan didn’t know any more than a cat how such a
+store should be run, he said.
+
+When they came back from the garage they found callers in the
+living-room. Carl Pennock and Hibbard Gaylord were chatting with
+Mellicent. Almost at once the doorbell rang, too, and Donald Gray
+came in with his violin and a roll of music. Mellicent’s mother came
+in also. She greeted all the young men pleasantly, and asked Carl
+Pennock to tell Mr. Smith all about his fishing trip. Then she sat down
+by young Gray and asked him many questions about his music. She was
+_so_ interested in violins, she said.
+
+Gray waxed eloquent, and seemed wonderfully pleased—for about five
+minutes; then Mr. Smith saw that his glance was shifting more and
+more frequently and more and more unhappily to Mellicent and Hibbard
+Gaylord, talking tennis across the room.
+
+Mr. Smith apparently lost interest in young Pennock’s fish story
+then. At all events, another minute found him eagerly echoing Mrs.
+Blaisdell’s interest in violins—but with this difference: violins in
+the abstract with her became A violin in the concrete with him; and he
+must hear it at once.
+
+Mrs. Jane herself could not have told exactly how it was done, but she
+knew that two minutes later young Gray and Mellicent were at the piano,
+he, shining-eyed and happy, drawing a tentative bow across the strings:
+she, no less shining-eyed and happy, giving him “A” on the piano.
+
+Mr. Smith enjoyed the music very much—so much that he begged for
+another selection and yet another. Mr. Smith did not appear to realize
+that Messrs. Pennock and Gaylord were passing through sham interest and
+frank boredom to disgusted silence. Equally oblivious was he of Mrs.
+Jane’s efforts to substitute some other form of entertainment for the
+violin-playing. He shook hands very heartily, however, with Pennock
+and Gaylord when they took their somewhat haughty departure, a little
+later, and, strange to say, his interest in the music seemed to go with
+their going; for at once then he turned to Mr. and Mrs. Frank Blaisdell
+with a very animated account of some Blaisdell data he had found only
+the week before.
+
+He did not appear to notice that the music of the piano had become
+nothing but soft fitful snatches with a great deal of low talk and
+laughter between. He seemed interested only that Mr. Blaisdell, and
+especially Mrs. Blaisdell, should know the intimate history of one
+Ephraim Blaisdell, born in 1720, and his ten children and forty-nine
+grandchildren. He talked of various investments then, and of the
+weather. He talked of the Blaisdells’ trip, and of the cost of railroad
+fares and hotel life. He talked—indeed, Mrs. Jane told her husband
+after he left that Mr. Smith had talked of everything under the sun,
+and that she nearly had a fit because she could not get one minute to
+herself to break in upon Mellicent and that horrid Gray fellow at the
+piano. She had not supposed Mr. Smith could talk like that. She had
+never remembered he was such a talker!
+
+The young people had a tennis match on the school tennis court the next
+day. Mr. Smith told Miss Maggie that he thought he would drop around
+there. He said he liked very much to watch tennis games.
+
+Miss Maggie said yes, that she liked to watch tennis games, too. If
+this was just a wee bit of a hint, it quite failed of its purpose, for
+Mr. Smith did not offer to take her with him. He changed the subject,
+indeed, so abruptly, that Miss Maggie bit her lip and flushed a little,
+throwing a swift glance into his apparently serene countenance.
+
+Miss Maggie herself, in the afternoon, with an errand for an excuse,
+walked slowly by the tennis court. She saw Mr. Smith at once—but he
+did not seem at all interested in the playing. He had his back to
+the court, in fact. He was talking very animatedly with Mellicent
+Blaisdell. He was still talking with her—though on the opposite side of
+the court—when Miss Maggie went by again on her way home.
+
+Miss Maggie frowned and said something just under her breath about
+“that child—flirting as usual!” Then she went on, walking very fast,
+and without another glance toward the tennis ground. But a little
+farther on Miss Maggie’s step lagged perceptibly, and her head lost its
+proud poise. Miss Maggie, for a reason she could not have explained
+herself, was feeling suddenly old, and weary, and very much alone.
+
+To the image in the mirror as she took off her hat a few minutes later
+in her own hall, she said scornfully:
+
+“Well, why shouldn’t you feel old? You are old. _You are old!_”
+Miss Maggie had a habit of talking to herself in the mirror—but never
+before had she said anything like this to herself.
+
+An hour later Mr. Smith came home to supper.
+
+“Well, how did the game go?” queried Miss Maggie, without looking up
+from the stocking she was mending.
+
+“Game? Go? Oh! Why, I don’t remember who did win finally,” he answered.
+Nor did it apparently occur to him that for one who was so greatly
+interested in tennis, he was curiously uninformed.
+
+It did occur to Miss Maggie, however.
+
+The next day Mr. Smith left the house soon after breakfast, and,
+contrary to his usual custom, did not mention where he was going. Miss
+Maggie was surprised and displeased. More especially was she displeased
+because she _was_ displeased. As if it mattered to her where he
+went, she told herself scornfully.
+
+The next day and the next it was much the same. On the third day she
+saw Jane.
+
+“Where’s Mr. Smith?” demanded Jane, without preamble, glancing at the
+vacant chair by the table in the corner.
+
+Miss Maggie, to her disgust, could feel the color burning in her
+cheeks; but she managed to smile as if amused.
+
+“I don’t know, I’m sure. I’m not Mr. Smith’s keeper, Jane.”
+
+“Well, if you were I should ask you to keep him away from Mellicent,”
+retorted Mrs. Jane tartly.
+
+“What do you mean?”
+
+“I mean he’s been hanging around Mellicent almost every day for a week.”
+
+Miss Maggie flushed painfully.
+
+“Nonsense, Jane! He’s more than twice her age. Mr. Smith is fifty if
+he’s a day.”
+
+“I’m not saying he isn’t,” sniffed Jane, her nose uptilted. “But I do
+say, ‘No fool like an old fool’!”
+
+“Nonsense!” scorned Miss Maggie again. “Mr. Smith has always been fond
+of Mellicent, and—and interested in her. But I don’t believe he cares
+for her—that way.”
+
+“Then why does he come to see her and take her auto-riding, and hang
+around her every minute he gets a chance?” snapped Jane. “I know how
+he acts at the house, and I hear he scarcely left her side at the
+tennis match the other day.”
+
+“Yes, I—” Miss Maggie did not finish her sentence. A slow change came
+to her countenance. The flush receded, leaving her face a bit white.
+
+“I wonder if the man really thinks he stands any chance,” spluttered
+Jane, ignoring Miss Maggie’s unfinished sentence. “Why, he’s worse than
+that Donald Gray. He not only hasn’t got the money, but he’s old, as
+well.”
+
+“Yes, we’re all—getting old, Jane.” Miss Maggie tossed the words off
+lightly, and smiled as she uttered them. But after Mrs. Jane had gone,
+she went to the little mirror above the mantel and gazed at herself
+long and fixedly.
+
+“Well, what if he does? It’s nothing to you, Maggie Duff!” she muttered
+under her breath. Then resolutely she turned away, picked up her work,
+and fell to sewing very fast.
+
+Two days later Mellicent went back to school. Bessie went, too. Fred
+and Benny had already gone. To Miss Maggie things seemed to settle back
+into their old ways again then. With Mr. Smith she took drives and
+motor-rides, enjoying the crisp October air and the dancing sunlight on
+the reds and browns and yellows of the autumnal foliage. True, she used
+to wonder sometimes if the end always justified the means—it seemed an
+expensive business to hire an automobile to take them fifty miles and
+back, and all to verify a single date. And she could not help noticing
+that Mr. Smith appeared to have many dates that needed verifying—dates
+that were located in very diverse parts of the surrounding country.
+Miss Maggie also could not help noticing that Mr. Smith was getting
+very little new material for his Blaisdell book these days, though he
+still worked industriously over the old, re-tabulating, and recopying.
+She knew this, because she helped him do it—though she was careful
+to let him know that she recognized the names and dates as old
+acquaintances.
+
+To tell the truth, Miss Maggie did not like to admit, even to herself,
+that Mr. Smith must be nearing the end of his task. She did not like to
+think of the house—after Mr. Smith should have gone. She told herself
+that he was just the sort of homey boarder that she liked, and she
+wished she might keep him indefinitely.
+
+She thought so all the more when the long evenings of November brought
+a new pleasure; Mr. Smith fell into the way of bringing home books to
+read aloud; and she enjoyed that very much. They had long talks, too,
+over the books they read. In one there was an old man who fell in love
+with a young girl, and married her. Miss Maggie, as certain parts of
+this story were read, held her breath, and stole furtive glances into
+Mr. Smith’s face. When it was finished she contrived to question with
+careful casualness, as to his opinion of such a marriage.
+
+Mr. Smith’s answer was prompt and unequivocal. He said he did not
+believe that such a marriage should take place, nor did he believe that
+in real life, it would result in happiness. Marriage should be between
+persons of similar age, tastes, and habits, he said very decidedly. And
+Miss Maggie blushed and said yes, yes, indeed! And that night, when
+Miss Maggie gazed at herself in the glass, she looked so happy—that she
+appeared to be almost as young as Mellicent herself!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+AN AMBASSADOR OF CUPID’S
+
+
+Christmas again brought all the young people home for the holidays. It
+brought, also, a Christmas party at James Blaisdell’s home. It was a
+very different party, however, from the housewarming of a year before.
+
+To begin with, the attendance was much smaller; Mrs. Hattie had been
+very exclusive in her invitations this time. She had not invited
+“everybody who ever went anywhere.” There were champagne, and
+cigarettes for the ladies, too.
+
+As before, Mr. Smith and Miss Maggie went together. Miss Maggie, who
+had not attended any social gathering since Father Duff died, yielded
+to Mr. Smith’s urgings and said that she would go to this. But Miss
+Maggie wished afterward that she had not gone—there were so many, many
+features about that party that Miss Maggie did not like.
+
+She did not like the champagne nor the cigarettes. She did not like
+Bessie’s showy, low-cut dress, nor her supercilious airs. She did not
+like the look in Fred’s eyes, nor the way he drank the champagne. She
+did not like Jane’s maneuvers to bring Mellicent and Hibbard Gaylord
+into each other’s company—nor the way Mr. Smith maneuvered to get
+Mellicent for himself.
+
+Of all these, except the very last, Miss Maggie talked with Mr. Smith
+on the way home—yet it was the very last that was uppermost in her
+mind, except perhaps, Fred. She did speak of Fred; but because that,
+too, was so much to her, she waited until the last before she spoke of
+it.
+
+“You saw Fred, of course,” she began then.
+
+“Yes.” Short as the word was, it carried a volume of meaning to Miss
+Maggie’s fearful ears. She turned to him quickly.
+
+“Mr. Smith, it—it isn’t true, is it?”
+
+“I’m afraid it is.”
+
+“You saw him—drinking, then?”
+
+“Yes. I saw some, and I heard—more. It’s just as I feared. He’s got
+in with Gaylord and the rest of his set at college, and they’re a bad
+lot—drinking, gambling—no good.”
+
+“But Fred wouldn’t—gamble, Mr. Smith! Oh, Fred wouldn’t do that. And
+he’s so ambitious to get ahead! Surely he’d know he couldn’t get
+anywhere in his studies, if—if he drank and gambled!”
+
+“It would seem so.”
+
+“Did you see his father? I saw him only a minute at the first, and he
+didn’t look well a bit, to me.”
+
+“Yes, I saw him. I found him in his den just as I did last year. He
+didn’t look well to me, either.”
+
+“Did he say anything about—Fred?”
+
+“Not a word—and that’s what worries me the most. Last year he talked a
+lot about him, and was so proud and happy in his coming success. This
+time he never mentioned him; but he looked—bad.”
+
+“What did he talk about?”
+
+“Oh, books, business:—nothing in particular. And he wasn’t interested
+in what he did say. He was very different from last year.”
+
+“Yes, I know. He is different,” sighed Maggie. “He’s talked with me
+quite a lot about—about the way they’re living. He doesn’t like—so much
+fuss and show and society.”
+
+Mr. Smith frowned.
+
+“But I thought—Mrs. Hattie would get over all that by this time, after
+the newness of the money was worn off.”
+
+“I hoped she would. But—she doesn’t. It’s worse, if anything,” sighed
+Miss Maggie, as they ascended the steps at her own door.
+
+Mr. Smith frowned again.
+
+“And Miss Bessie—” he began disapprovingly, then stopped. “Now, Miss
+Mellicent—” he resumed, in a very different voice.
+
+But Miss Maggie was not apparently listening. With a rather loud
+rattling of the doorknob she was pushing open the door.
+
+“Why, how hot it is! Did I leave that damper open?” she cried, hurrying
+into the living-room.
+
+And Mr. Smith, hurrying after, evidently forgot to finish his sentence.
+
+Miss Maggie did not attend any more of the merrymakings of that holiday
+week. But Mr. Smith did. It seemed to Miss Maggie, indeed, that Mr.
+Smith was away nearly every minute of that long week—and it _was_
+a long week to Miss Maggie. Even the Martin girls were away many of the
+evenings. Miss Maggie told herself that that was why the house seemed
+so lonesome.
+
+But though Miss Maggie did not participate in the gay doings, she heard
+of them. She heard of them on all sides, except from Mr. Smith—and on
+all sides she heard of the devotion of Mr. Smith to Miss Mellicent. She
+concluded that this was the reason why Mr. Smith himself was so silent.
+
+Miss Maggie was shocked and distressed. She was also very much puzzled.
+She had supposed that Mr. Smith understood that Mellicent and young
+Gray cared for each other, and she had thought that Mr. Smith even
+approved of the affair between them. Now to push himself on the scene
+in this absurd fashion and try “to cut everybody out,” as it was
+vulgarly termed—she never would have believed it of Mr. Smith in the
+world. And she was disappointed, too. She liked Mr. Smith very much.
+She had considered him to be a man of good sense and good judgment.
+And had he not himself said, not so long ago, that he believed lovers
+should be of the same age, tastes, and habits? And yet, here now he was—
+
+And there could be no mistake about it. Everybody was saying the same
+thing. The Martin girls brought it home as current gossip. Jane was
+highly exercised over it, and even Harriet had exclaimed over the
+“shameful flirtation Mellicent was carrying on with that man old enough
+to be her father!” No, there was no mistake. Besides, did she not see
+with her own eyes that Mr. Smith was gone every day and evening, and
+that, when he was at home at meal time, he was silent and preoccupied,
+and not like himself at all?
+
+And it was such a pity—she had thought so much of Mr. Smith! It really
+made her feel quite ill.
+
+And Miss Maggie looked ill on the last evening of that holiday week
+when, at nine o’clock, Mr. Smith found her sitting idle-handed before
+the stove in the living-room.
+
+“Why, Miss Maggie, what’s the matter with you?” cried the man, in very
+evident concern. “You don’t look like yourself to-night!”
+
+Miss Maggie pulled herself up hastily.
+
+“Nonsense! I—I’m perfectly well. I’m just—tired, I guess. You’re home
+early, Mr. Smith.” In spite of herself Miss Maggie’s voice carried a
+tinge of something not quite pleasant.
+
+Mr. Smith, however, did not appear to notice it.
+
+“Yes, I’m home early for once, thank Heaven!” he half groaned, as he
+dropped himself into a chair.
+
+“It has been a strenuous week for you, hasn’t it?” Again the tinge of
+something not quite pleasant in Miss Maggie’s voice.
+
+“Yes, but it’s been worth it.”
+
+“Of course!”
+
+Mr. Smith turned deliberately and looked at Miss Maggie. There was
+a vague questioning in his eyes. Obtaining, apparently, however, no
+satisfactory answer from Miss Maggie’s placid countenance, he turned
+away and began speaking again.
+
+“Well, anyway, I’ve accomplished what I set out to do.”
+
+“You-you’ve _already_ accomplished it?” faltered Miss Maggie. She
+was gazing at him now with startled, half-frightened eyes.
+
+“Yes. Why, Miss Maggie, what’s the matter? What makes you look so—so
+queer?”
+
+“Queer? Nonsense! Why, nothing—nothing at all,” laughed Miss Maggie
+nervously, but very gayly. “I may have been a little—surprised, for a
+moment; but I’m very glad—very.”
+
+“Glad?”
+
+“Why, yes, for—for you. Isn’t one always glad when—when a love affair
+is—is all settled?”
+
+“Oh, then you suspected it.” Mr. Smith smiled pleasantly, but without
+embarrassment. “It doesn’t matter, of course, only—well, I had hoped it
+wasn’t too conspicuous.”
+
+“Oh, but you couldn’t expect to hide a thing like that, Mr. Smith,”
+retorted Miss Maggie, with what was very evidently intended for an arch
+smile. “I heard it everywhere—everywhere.”
+
+“The mischief you did!” frowned Mr. Smith, looking slightly annoyed.
+“Well, I suppose I couldn’t expect to keep a thing like that entirely
+in the dark. Still, I don’t believe the parties themselves—quite
+understood. Of course, Pennock and Gaylord knew that they were
+kept effectually away, but I don’t believe they realized just how
+systematically it was done. Of course, Gray understood from the first.”
+
+“Poor Mr. Gray! I—I can’t help being sorry for him.”
+
+“_Sorry_ for him!”
+
+“Certainly; and I should think _you_ might give him a little
+sympathy,” rejoined Miss Maggie spiritedly. “You _know_ how much
+he cared for Mellicent.”
+
+Mr. Smith sat suddenly erect in his chair.
+
+“Cared for her! Sympathy! Why, what in the world are you talking
+about? Wasn’t I doing the best I could for them all the time? Of
+_course_, it kept _him_ away from her, too, just as it did
+Pennock and Gaylord; but _he_ understood. Besides, he _had_
+her part of the time. I let him in whenever it was possible.”
+
+“Let him in!” Miss Maggie was sitting erect now. “Whatever in the world
+are _you_ talking about? Do you mean to say you were doing this
+_for_ Mr. Gray, all the time?”
+
+“Why, of course! Whom else should I do it for? You didn’t suppose it
+was for Pennock or Gaylord, did you? Nor for—” He stopped short and
+stared at Miss Maggie in growing amazement and dismay. “You didn’t—you
+_didn’t_ think—I was doing that—for _myself_?”
+
+“Well, of course, I—I—” Miss Maggie was laughing and blushing
+painfully, but there was a new light in her eyes. “Well, anyway,
+everybody said you were!” she defended herself stoutly.
+
+“Oh, good Heavens!” Mr. Smith leaped to his feet and thrust his hands
+into his pockets, as he took a nervous turn about the room. “For
+myself, indeed! as if, in my position, I’d—How perfectly absurd!” He
+wheeled and faced her irritably. “And you believed that? Why, I’m not
+a marrying man. I don’t like—I never saw the woman yet that I—” With
+his eyes on Miss Maggie’s flushed, half-averted face, he stopped again
+abruptly. “Well, I’ll be—” Even under his breath he did not finish his
+sentence; but, with a new, quite different expression on his face, he
+resumed his nervous pacing of the room, throwing now and then a quick
+glance at Miss Maggie’s still averted face.
+
+“It _was_ absurd, of course, wasn’t it?” Miss Maggie stirred and
+spoke lightly, with the obvious intention of putting matters back into
+usual conditions again. “But, come, tell me, just what did you do, and
+how? I’m so interested—indeed, I am!”
+
+“Eh? What?” Mr. Smith spoke as if he was thinking of something else
+entirely. “Oh—_that_.” Mr. Smith sat down, but he did not go on
+speaking at once. His eyes frowningly regarded the stove.
+
+“You said—you kept Pennock and Gaylord away,” Miss Maggie hopefully
+reminded him.
+
+“Er—yes. Oh, I—it was really very simple—I just monopolized Mellicent
+myself, when I couldn’t let Donald have her. That’s all. I saw very
+soon that she couldn’t cope with her mother alone. And Gaylord—well,
+I’ve no use for that young gentleman.”
+
+“But you like—Donald?”
+
+“Very much. I’ve been looking him up for some time. He’s all right.”
+
+“I’m glad.”
+
+“Yes.” Mr. Smith spoke abstractedly, without enthusiasm. Plainly Mr.
+Smith was still thinking of something else.
+
+Miss Maggie asked other questions—Miss Maggie was manifestly
+interested—and Mr. Smith answered them, but still without enthusiasm.
+Very soon he said good-night and went to his own room.
+
+For some days after this, Mr. Smith did not appear at all like
+himself. He seemed abstracted and puzzled. Miss Maggie, who still felt
+self-conscious and embarrassed over her misconception of his attentions
+to Mellicent, was more talkative than usual in her nervous attempt to
+appear perfectly natural. The fact that she often found his eyes fixed
+thoughtfully upon her, and felt them following her as she moved about
+the room, did not tend to make her more at ease. At such times she
+talked faster than ever—usually, if possible, about some member of the
+Blaisdell family: Miss Maggie had learned that Mr. Smith was always
+interested in any bit of news about the Blaisdells.
+
+It was on such an occasion that she told him about Miss Flora and the
+new house.
+
+“I don’t know, really, what I am going to do with her,” she said. “I
+wonder if perhaps you could help me.”
+
+“Help you?—about Miss Flora?”
+
+“Yes. Can you think of any way to make her contented?”
+
+“_Contented!_ Why, I thought—Don’t tell me _she_ isn’t happy!” There
+was a curious note of almost despair in Mr. Smith’s voice. “Hasn’t she
+a new house, and everything nice to go with it?”
+
+Miss Maggie laughed. Then she sighed.
+
+“Oh, yes—and that’s what’s the trouble. They’re _too_ nice. She
+feels smothered and oppressed—as if she were visiting somewhere, and
+not at home. She’s actually afraid of her maid. You see, Miss Flora has
+always lived very simply. She isn’t used to maids—and the maid knows
+it, which, if you ever employed maids, you would know is a terrible
+state of affairs.”
+
+“Oh, but she—she’ll get used to that, in time.” “Perhaps,” conceded
+Miss Maggie, “but I doubt it. Some women would, but not Miss Flora. She
+is too inherently simple in her tastes. ‘Why, it’s as bad as always
+living in a hotel!’ she wailed to me last night. ‘You know on my trip I
+was so afraid always I’d do something that wasn’t quite right, before
+those awful waiters in the dining-rooms, and I was anticipating so much
+getting home where I could act natural—and here I’ve got one in my own
+house!’”
+
+Mr. Smith frowned, but he laughed, too.
+
+“Poor Miss Flora! But why doesn’t she dismiss the lady?”
+
+“She doesn’t dare to. Besides, there’s Hattie. She says Hattie is
+always telling her what is due her position, and that she must do this
+and do that. She’s being invited out, too, to the Pennocks’ and the
+Bensons’; and they’re worse than the maid, she declares. She says she
+loves to ‘run in’ and see people, and she loves to go to places and
+spend the day with her sewing; but that these things where you go and
+stand up and eat off a jiggly plate, and see everybody, and not really
+see _anybody_, are a nuisance and an abomination.”
+
+“Well, she’s about right there,” chuckled Mr. Smith.
+
+“Yes, I think she is,” smiled Miss Maggie; “but that isn’t telling me
+how to make her contented.”
+
+“Contented! Great Scott!” snapped Mr. Smith, with an irritability that
+was as sudden as it was apparently causeless. “I didn’t suppose you
+had to tell any woman on this earth how to be contented—with a hundred
+thousand dollars!”
+
+“It would seem so, wouldn’t it?”
+
+Something in Miss Maggie’s voice sent Mr. Smith’s eyes to her face in a
+keen glance of interrogation.
+
+“You mean—you’d like the chance to prove it? That you wish _you_
+had that hundred thousand?”
+
+“Oh, I didn’t say—that,” twinkled Miss Maggie mischievously, turning
+away.
+
+It was that same afternoon that Mr. Smith met Mrs. Jane Blaisdell on
+the street.
+
+“You’re just the man I want to see,” she accosted him eagerly.
+
+“Then I’ll turn and walk along with you, if I may,” smiled Mr. Smith.
+“What can I do for you?”
+
+“Well, I don’t know as you can do anything,” she sighed; “but
+somebody’s got to do something. Could you—_do_ you suppose you
+could interest my husband in this Blaisdell business of yours?”
+
+Mr. Smith gave a start, looking curiously disconcerted.
+
+“B-Blaisdell business?” he stammered. “Why, I—I thought he
+was—er—interested in motoring and golf.”
+
+“Oh, he was, for a time; but it’s too cold for those now, and he got
+sick of them, anyway, before it did come cold, just as he does of
+everything. Well, yesterday he asked a question—something about Father
+Blaisdell’s mother; and that gave me the idea. _Do_ you suppose
+you could get him interested in this ancestor business? Oh, I wish you
+could! It’s so nice and quiet, and it _can’t_ cost much—not like
+golf clubs and caddies and gasoline, anyway. Do you think you could?”
+
+“Why, I—I don’t know, Mrs. Blaisdell,” murmured Mr. Smith, still a
+little worriedly. “I—I could show him what I have found, of course.”
+
+“Well, I wish you would, then. Anyway, _something’s_ got to be
+done,” she sighed. “He’s nervous as a witch. He can’t keep still a
+minute. And he isn’t a bit well, either. He ate such a lot of rich food
+and all sorts of stuff on our trip that he got his stomach all out of
+order; and now he can’t eat anything, hardly.”
+
+“Humph! Well, if his stomach’s knocked out I pity him,” nodded Mr.
+Smith. “I’ve been there.”
+
+“Oh, have you? Oh, yes, I remember. You did say so when you first came,
+didn’t you? But, Mr. Smith _please_, if you know any of those
+health fads, don’t tell them to my husband. Don’t, I beg of you! He’s
+tried dozens of them until I’m nearly wild, and I’ve lost two hired
+girls already. One day it’ll be no water, and the next it’ll be all he
+can drink; and one week he won’t eat anything but vegetables, and the
+next he won’t touch a thing but meat and—is it fruit that goes with
+meat or cereals? Well, never mind. Whatever it is, he’s done it. And
+lately he’s taken to inspecting every bit of meat and groceries that
+comes into the house. Why, he spends half his time in the kitchen,
+nosing ’round the cupboards and refrigerator; and, of course, _no_
+girl will stand that! That’s why I’m hoping, oh, I _am_ hoping
+that you can do _something_ with him on that ancestor business.
+There, here is the Bensons’, where I’ve got to stop—and thank you ever
+so much, Mr. Smith, if you will.”
+
+“All right, I’ll try,” promised Mr. Smith dubiously, as he lifted his
+hat. But he frowned, and he was still frowning when he met Miss Maggie
+at the Duff supper-table half an hour later.
+
+“Well, I’ve found another one who wants me to tell how to be contented,
+though afflicted with a hundred thousand dollars,” he greeted her
+gloweringly.
+
+“Is that so?” smiled Miss Maggie.
+
+“Yes.—_can’t_ a hundred thousand dollars bring any one
+satisfaction?”
+
+Miss Maggie laughed, then into her eyes came the mischievous twinkle
+that Mr. Smith had learned to watch for.
+
+“Don’t blame the poor money,” she said then demurely. “Blame—the way it
+is spent!”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+JUST A MATTER OF BEGGING
+
+
+True to his promise, Mr. Smith “tried” Mr. Frank Blaisdell on “the
+ancestor business” very soon. Laboriously he got out his tabulated
+dates and names and carefully he traced for him several lines of
+descent from remote ancestors. Painstakingly he pointed out a “Submit,”
+who had no history but the bare fact of her marriage to one Thomas
+Blaisdell, and a “Thankful Marsh,” who had eluded his every attempt to
+supply her with parents. He let it be understood how important these
+missing links were, and he tried to inspire his possible pupil with
+a frenzied desire to go out and dig them up. He showed some of the
+interesting letters he had received from various Blaisdells far and
+near, and he spread before him the genealogical page of his latest
+“Transcript,” and explained how one might there stumble upon the very
+missing link he was looking for.
+
+But Mr. Frank Blaisdell was openly bored. He said he didn’t care how
+many children his great-grandfather had, nor what they died of; and as
+for Mrs. Submit and Miss Thankful, the ladies might bury themselves
+in the “Transcript,” or hide behind that wall of dates and names till
+doomsday, for all he cared. _He_ shouldn’t disturb ’em. He never
+did like figures, he said, except figures that represented something
+worth while, like a day’s sales or a year’s profits.
+
+And speaking of grocery stores, had Mr. Smith ever seen a store run
+down as his old one had since he sold out? For that matter, something
+must have got into all the grocery stores; for a poorer lot of goods
+than those delivered every day at his home he never saw. It was a
+disgrace to the trade.
+
+He said a good deal more about his grocery store—but nothing whatever
+more about his Blaisdell ancestors; so Mr. Smith felt justified in
+considering his efforts to interest Mr. Frank Blaisdell in the ancestor
+business a failure. Certainly he never tried it again.
+
+It was in February that a certain metropolitan reporter, short for
+feature articles, ran up to Hillerton and contributed to his paper,
+the following Sunday, a write-up on “The Blaisdells One Year After,”
+enlarging on the fine new homes, the motor cars, and the luxurious
+living of the three families. And it was three days after this article
+was printed that Miss Flora appeared at Miss Maggie’s, breathless with
+excitement.
+
+“Just see what I’ve got in the mail this morning!” she cried to Miss
+Maggie, and to Mr. Smith, who had opened the door for her.
+
+With trembling fingers she took from her bag a letter, and a small
+picture evidently cut from a newspaper.
+
+“There, see,” she panted, holding them out. “It’s a man in Boston,
+and these are his children. There are seven of them. He wrote me a
+beautiful letter. He said he knew I must have a real kind heart,
+and he’s in terrible trouble. He said he saw in the paper about the
+wonderful legacy I’d had, and he told his wife he was going to write to
+me, to see if I wouldn’t help them—if only a little, it would aid them
+that much.”
+
+“He wants money, then?” Miss Maggie had taken the letter and the
+picture rather gingerly in her hands. Mr. Smith had gone over to the
+stove suddenly—to turn a damper, apparently, though a close observer
+might have noticed that he turned it back to its former position almost
+at once.
+
+“Yes,” palpitated Miss Flora. “He’s sick, and he lost his position, and
+his wife’s sick, and two of the children, and one of ’em’s lame, and
+another’s blind. Oh, it was such a pitiful story, Maggie! Why, some
+days they haven’t had enough to eat—and just look at me, with all my
+chickens and turkeys and more pudding every day than I can stuff down!”
+
+“Did he give you any references?”
+
+“References! What do you mean? He didn’t ask me to _hire_ him for
+anything.”
+
+“No, no, dear, but I mean—did he give you any references, to show that
+he was—was worthy and all right,” explained Miss Maggie patiently.
+
+“Of course he didn’t! Why, he didn’t need to. He told me himself how
+things were with him,” rebuked Miss Flora indignantly. “It’s all in the
+letter there. Read for yourself.”
+
+“But he really ought to have given you _some_ reference, dear, if
+he asked you for money.”
+
+“Well, I don’t want any reference. I believe him. I’d be ashamed to
+doubt a man like that! And _you_ would, after you read that
+letter, and look into those blessed children’s faces. Besides, he never
+thought of such a thing—I know he didn’t. Why, he says right in the
+letter there that he never asked for help before, and he was so ashamed
+that he had to now.”
+
+[Illustration with caption: “AND LOOK INTO THOSE BLESSED CHILDREN’S
+FACES”]
+
+Mr. Smith made a sudden odd little noise in his throat. Perhaps he got
+choked. At all events, he was seized with a fit of coughing just then.
+
+Miss Maggie turned over the letter in her hand.
+
+“Where does he tell you to send the money?”
+
+“It’s right there—Box four hundred and something; and I got a money
+order, just as he said.”
+
+“You _got_ one! Do you mean that you’ve already sent this money?”
+cried Miss Maggie.
+
+“Why, yes, of course. I stopped at the office on the way down here.”
+
+“And you sent—a money order?”
+
+“Yes. He said he would rather have that than a check.”
+
+“I don’t doubt it! You don’t seem to have—delayed any.”
+
+“Of course I didn’t delay! Why, Maggie, he said he _had_ to have
+it at once. He was going to be turned out—_turned out_ into the
+streets! Think of those seven little children in the streets! Wait,
+indeed! Why, Maggie, what can you be thinking of?”
+
+“I’m thinking you’ve been the easy victim of a professional beggar,
+Flora,” retorted Miss Maggie, with some spirit, handing back the letter
+and the picture.
+
+“Why, Maggie, I never knew you to be so—so unkind,” charged Miss Flora,
+her eyes tearful. “He can’t be a professional beggar. He _said_ he
+wasn’t—that he never begged before in his life.”
+
+Miss Maggie, with a despairing gesture, averted her face.
+
+Miss Flora turned to Mr. Smith.
+
+“Mr. Smith, you—_you_ don’t think so, do you?” she pleaded.
+
+Mr. Smith grew very red—perhaps because he had to stop to cough again.
+
+“Well, Miss Flora, I—I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I shall have to agree
+with Miss Maggie here, to some extent.”
+
+“But you didn’t read the letter. You don’t know how beautifully he
+talked.”
+
+“You told me; and you say yourself that he gave you only a post-office
+box for an address. So you see you couldn’t look him up very well.”
+
+“I don’t need to!” Miss Flora threw back her head a little haughtily.
+“And I’m glad I don’t doubt my fellow men and women as you and Maggie
+Duff do! If either of you _knew_ what you’re talking about, I
+wouldn’t say anything. But you don’t. You _can’t know_ anything
+about this man, and you didn’t ever get letters like this, either
+of you, of course. But, anyhow, I don’t care if he ain’t worthy. I
+wouldn’t let those children suffer; and I—I’m glad I sent it. I never
+in my life was so happy as I was on the way here from the post-office
+this morning.”
+
+Without waiting for a reply, she turned away majestically; but at the
+door she paused and looked back at Miss Maggie.
+
+“And let me tell you that, however good or bad this particular man may
+be, it’s given me an idea, anyway,” she choked. The haughtiness was all
+gone now “I know now why it hasn’t seemed right to be so happy. It’s
+because there are so many other folks in the world that _aren’t_
+happy. Why, my chicken and turkey would choke me now if I didn’t give
+some of it to—to all these others. And I’m going to—_I’m going
+to!_” she reiterated, as she fled from the room.
+
+As the door shut crisply, Miss Maggie turned and looked at Mr. Smith.
+But Mr. Smith had crossed again to the stove and was fussing with the
+damper. Miss Maggie, after a moment’s hesitation, turned and went out
+into the kitchen, without speaking.
+
+Mr. Smith and Miss Maggie saw very little of Miss Flora after this for
+some time. But they heard a good deal about her. They heard of her
+generous gifts to families all over town.
+
+A turkey was sent to every house on Mill Street, without exception, and
+so much candy given to the children that half of them were made ill,
+much to the distress of Miss Flora, who, it was said, promptly sent a
+physician to undo her work. The Dow family, hard-working and thrifty,
+and the Nolans, notorious for their laziness and shiftlessness, each
+received a hundred dollars outright. The Whalens, always with both
+hands metaphorically outstretched for alms, were loud in their praises
+of Miss Flora’s great kindness of heart; but the Davises (Mrs. Jane
+Blaisdell’s impecunious relatives) had very visible difficulty in
+making Miss Flora understand that gifts bestowed as she bestowed them
+were more welcome unmade.
+
+Every day, from one quarter or another, came stories like these to the
+ears of Miss Maggie and Mr. Smith. But Miss Flora was seen very seldom.
+Then one day, about a month later, she appeared as before at the Duff
+cottage, breathless and agitated; only this time, plainly, she had been
+crying.
+
+“Why, Flora, what in the world is the matter?” cried Miss Maggie, as
+she hurried her visitor into a comfortable chair and began to unfasten
+her wraps.
+
+“I’ll tell you in a minute. I came on purpose to tell you. But I
+want Mr. Smith, too. Oh, he ain’t here, is he?” she lamented, with a
+disappointed glance toward the vacant chair by the table in the corner.
+“I thought maybe he could help me, some way. I won’t go to Frank, or
+Jim. They’ve—they’ve said so many things. Oh, I did so hope Mr. Smith
+was here!”
+
+“He is here, dear. He’s in his room. He just came in. I’ll call him,”
+comforted Miss Maggie, taking off Miss Flora’s veil and hat and
+smoothing back her hair. “But you don’t want him to find you crying
+like this, Flora. What is it, dear?”
+
+“Yes, yes, I know, but I’m not crying—I mean, I won’t any more. And
+I’ll tell you just as soon as you get Mr. Smith. It’s only that I’ve
+been—so silly, I suppose. Please get Mr. Smith.”
+
+“All right, dear.”
+
+Miss Maggie, still with the disturbed frown between her eyebrows,
+summoned Mr. Smith. Then together they sat down to hear Miss Flora’s
+story.
+
+“It all started, of course, from—from that day I brought the letter
+here—from that man in Boston with seven children, you know.”
+
+“Yes, I remember,” encouraged Miss Maggie.
+
+“Well, I—I did quite a lot of things after that. I was so glad and
+happy to discover I could do things for folks. It seemed to—to take
+away the wickedness of my having so much, you know; and so I gave food
+and money, oh, lots of places here in town—everywhere, ’most, that I
+could find that anybody needed it.”
+
+“Yes, I know. We heard of the many kind things you did, dear.” Miss
+Maggie had the air of one trying to soothe a grieved child.
+
+“But they didn’t turn out to be kind—all of ’em,” quavered Miss Flora.
+“Some of ’em went wrong. I don’t know why. I _tried_ to do ’em all
+right!”
+
+“Of course you did!”
+
+“I know; but ’tain’t those I came to talk about. It’s the others—the
+letters.”
+
+“Letters?”
+
+“Yes. I got ’em—lots of ’em—after the first one—the one you saw. First
+I got one, then another and another, till lately I’ve been getting ’em
+every day, ’most, and some days two or three at a time.”
+
+“And they all wanted—money, I suppose,” observed Mr. Smith, “for their
+sick wives and children, I suppose.”
+
+“Oh, not for children always—though it was them a good deal. But it was
+for different things—and such a lot of them! I never knew there could
+be so many kinds of such things. And I was real pleased, at first,—that
+I could help, you know, in so many places.”
+
+“Then you always sent it—the money?” asked Mr. Smith.
+
+“Oh, yes. Why, I just had to, the way they wrote; I wanted to, too.
+They wrote lovely letters, and real interesting ones, too. One man
+wanted a warm coat for his little girl, and he told me all about what
+hard times they’d had. Another wanted a brace for his poor little
+crippled boy, and _he_ told me things. Why, I never s’posed folks
+could have such awful things, and live! One woman just wanted to borrow
+twenty dollars while she was so sick. She didn’t ask me to give it to
+her. She wasn’t a beggar. Don’t you suppose I’d send her that money? Of
+course I would! And there was a poor blind man—he wanted money to buy a
+Bible in raised letters; and of _course_ I wouldn’t refuse that!
+Some didn’t beg; they just wanted to sell things. I bought a diamond
+ring to help put a boy through school, and a ruby pin of a man who
+needed the money for bread for his children. And there was—oh, there
+was lots of ’em—too many to tell.”
+
+“And all from Boston, I presume,” murmured Mr. Smith.
+
+“Oh, no,—why, yes, they were, too, most of ’em, when you come to think
+of it. But how did you know?”
+
+“Oh, I—guessed it. But go on. You haven’t finished.”
+
+“No, I haven’t finished,” moaned Miss Flora, almost crying again. “And
+now comes the worst of it. As I said, at first I liked it—all these
+letters—and I was so glad to help. But they’re coming so fast now I
+don’t know what to do with ’em. And I never saw such a lot of things
+as they want—pensions and mortgages, and pianos, and educations, and
+wedding dresses, and clothes to be buried in, and—and there were so
+many, and—and so queer, some of ’em, that I began to be afraid maybe
+they weren’t quite honest, all of ’em, and of course I _can’t_
+send to such a lot as there are now, anyway, and I was getting so
+worried. Besides, I got another one of those awful proposals from those
+dreadful men that want to marry me. As if I didn’t know _that_ was
+for my money! Then to-day, this morning, I—I got the worst of all.”
+From her bag she took an envelope and drew out a small picture of
+several children, cut apparently from a newspaper. “Look at that. Did
+you ever see that before?” she demanded.
+
+Miss Maggie scrutinized the picture.
+
+“Why, no,—yes, it’s the one you brought us a month ago, isn’t it?”
+
+Miss Flora’s eyes flashed angrily.
+
+“Indeed, it ain’t! The one I showed you before is in my bureau drawer
+at home. But I got it out this morning, when this one came, and
+compared them; and they’re just exactly alike—_exactly_!”
+
+“Oh, he wrote again, then,—wants more money, I suppose,” frowned Miss
+Maggie.
+
+“No, he didn’t. It ain’t the same man. This man’s name is Haley, and
+that one was Fay. But Mr. Haley says this is a picture of his children,
+and he says that the little girl in the corner is Katy, and she’s
+deaf and dumb; but Mr. Fay said her name was Rosie, and that she was
+_lame_. And all the others—their names ain’t the same, either,
+and there ain’t any of ’em blind. And, of course, I know now that—that
+one of those men is lying to me. Why, they cut them out of the same
+newspaper; they’ve got the same reading on the back! And I—I don’t
+know what to believe now. And there are all those letters at home that
+I haven’t answered yet; and they keep coming—why, I just dread to see
+the postman turn down our street. And one man—he wrote twice. I didn’t
+like his first letter and didn’t answer it; and now he says if I
+don’t send him the money he’ll tell everybody everywhere what a stingy
+t-tight-wad I am. And another man said he’d come and _take_ it if
+I didn’t send it; and you _know_ how afraid of burglars I am! Oh
+what shall I do, what shall I do?” she begged piteously.
+
+Mr. Smith said a sharp word behind his teeth.
+
+“Do?” he cried then wrathfully. “First, don’t you worry another bit,
+Miss Flora. Second, just hand those letters over to me—every one of
+them. I’ll attend to ’em!”
+
+“To _you_?” gasped Miss Flora. “But—how can you?”
+
+“Oh, I’ll be your secretary. Most rich people have to have secretaries,
+you know.”
+
+“But how’ll you know how to answer _my_ letters?” demanded Miss
+Flora dubiously. “Have you ever been—a secretary?”
+
+“N-no, not exactly a secretary. But—I’ve had some experience with
+similar letters,” observed Mr. Smith dryly.
+
+Miss Flora drew a long sigh.
+
+“Oh, dear! I wish you could. Do you think you can? I hoped maybe you
+could help me some way, but I never thought of that—your answering ’em,
+I mean. I supposed everybody had to answer their own letters. How’ll
+you know what I want to say?”
+
+Mr. Smith laughed a little.
+
+“I shan’t be answering what _you_ want to say—but what _I_ want
+to say. In this case, Miss Flora, I exceed the prerogatives of the
+ordinary secretary just a bit, you see. But you can count on one
+thing—I shan’t be spending any money for you.”
+
+“You won’t send them anything, then?”
+
+“Not a red cent.”
+
+Miss Flora looked distressed.
+
+“But, Mr. Smith, I want to send some of ’em something! I want to be
+kind and charitable.”
+
+“Of course you do, dear,” spoke up Miss Maggie. “But you aren’t being
+either kind or charitable to foster rascally fakes like that,” pointing
+to the picture in Miss Flora’s lap.
+
+“Are they _all_ fakes, then?”
+
+“I’d stake my life on most of ’em,” declared Mr. Smith. “They have all
+the earmarks of fakes, all right.”
+
+Miss Flora stirred restlessly.
+
+“But I was having a beautiful time giving until these horrid letters
+began to come.”
+
+“Flora, do you give because _you_ like the sensation of giving,
+and of receiving thanks, or because you really want to help somebody?”
+asked Miss Maggie, a bit wearily.
+
+“Why, Maggie Duff, I want to help people, of course,” almost wept Miss
+Flora.
+
+“Well, then, suppose you try and give so it will help them, then,” said
+Miss Maggie. “One of the most risky things in the world, to my way of
+thinking, is a present of—cash. Don’t you think so, Mr. Smith?”
+
+“Er—ah—w-what? Y-yes, of course,” stammered Mr. Smith, growing
+suddenly, for some unapparent reason, very much confused. “Yes—yes, I
+do.” As Mr. Smith finished speaking, he threw an oddly nervous glance
+into Miss Maggie’s face.
+
+But Miss Maggie had turned back to Miss Flora.
+
+“There, dear,” she admonished her, “now, you do just as Mr. Smith says.
+Just hand over your letters to him for a while, and forget all about
+them. He’ll tell you how he answers them, of course. But you won’t have
+to worry about them any more. Besides they’ll soon stop coming,—won’t
+they, Mr. Smith?”
+
+“I think they will. They’ll dwindle to a few scattering ones,
+anyway,—after I’ve handled them for a while.”
+
+“Well, I should like that,” sighed Miss Flora. “But—can’t I give
+anything anywhere?” she besought plaintively.
+
+“Of course you can!” cried Miss Maggie. “But I would investigate a
+little, first, dear. Wouldn’t you, Mr. Smith? Don’t you believe in
+investigation?”
+
+Once again, before he answered, Mr. Smith threw a swiftly questioning
+glance into Miss Maggie’s face.
+
+“Yes, oh, yes; I believe in—investigation,” he said then. “And now,
+Miss Flora,” he added briskly, as Miss Flora reached for her wraps,
+“with your kind permission I’ll walk home with you and have a look
+at—my new job of secretarying.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+STILL OTHER FLIES
+
+
+It was when his duties of secretaryship to Miss Flora had dwindled to
+almost infinitesimal proportions that Mr. Smith wished suddenly that he
+were serving Miss Maggie in that capacity, so concerned was he over a
+letter that had come to Miss Maggie in that morning’s mail.
+
+He himself had taken it from the letter-carrier’s hand and had placed
+it on Miss Maggie’s little desk. Casually, as he did so, he had noticed
+that it bore a name he recognized as that of a Boston law firm; but he
+had given it no further thought until later, when, as he sat at his
+work in the living-room, he had heard Miss Maggie give a low cry and
+had looked up to find her staring at the letter in her hand, her face
+going from red to white and back to red again.
+
+“Why, Miss Maggie, what is it?” he cried, springing to his feet.
+
+As she turned toward him he saw that her eyes were full of tears.
+
+“Why, it—it’s a letter telling me—” She stopped abruptly, her eyes on
+his face.
+
+“Yes, yes, tell me,” he begged. “Why, you are—_crying_, dear!” Mr.
+Smith, plainly quite unaware of the caressing word he had used, came
+nearer, his face aglow with sympathy, his eyes very tender.
+
+The red surged once more over Miss Maggie’s face. She drew back a
+little, though manifestly with embarrassment, not displeasure.
+
+“It’s—nothing, really it’s nothing,” she stammered. “It’s just a letter
+that—that surprised me.”
+
+“But it made you cry!”
+
+“Oh, well, I—I cry easily sometimes.” With hands that shook visibly,
+she folded the letter and tucked it into its envelope. Then with a
+carelessness that was a little too elaborate, she tossed it into her
+open desk. Very plainly, whatever she had meant to do in the first
+place, she did not now intend to disclose to Mr. Smith the contents of
+that letter.
+
+“Miss Maggie, please tell me—was it bad news?”
+
+“Bad? Why, of course not!” She laughed gayly.
+
+Mr. Smith thought he detected a break very like a sob in the laugh.
+
+“But maybe I could—help you,” he pleaded.
+
+She shook her head.
+
+“You couldn’t—indeed, you couldn’t!”
+
+“Miss Maggie, was it—money matters?”
+
+He had his answer in the telltale color that flamed instantly into her
+face—but her lips said:—
+
+“It was—nothing—I mean, it was nothing that need concern you.” She
+hurried away then to the kitchen, and Mr. Smith was left alone to fume
+up and down the room and frown savagely at the offending envelope
+tip-tilted against the ink bottle in Miss Maggie’s desk, just as Miss
+Maggie’s carefully careless hand had thrown it.
+
+Miss Maggie had several more letters from the Boston law firm, and
+Mr. Smith knew it—though he never heard Miss Maggie cry out at any
+of the other ones. That they affected her deeply, however, he was
+certain. Her very evident efforts to lead him to think that they were
+of no consequence would convince him of their real importance to her
+if nothing else had done so. He watched her, therefore, covertly,
+fearfully, longing to help her, but not daring to offer his services.
+
+That the affair had something to do with money matters he was sure.
+That she would not deny this naturally strengthened him in this belief.
+He came in time, therefore, to formulate his own opinion: she had lost
+money—perhaps a good deal (for her), and she was too proud to let him
+or any one else know it.
+
+He watched then all the more carefully to see if he could detect any
+_new_ economies or new deprivations in her daily living. Then,
+because he could not discover any such, he worried all the more: if she
+_had_ lost that money, she ought to economize, certainly. Could
+she be so foolish as to carry her desire for secrecy to so absurd a
+length as to live just exactly as before when she really could not
+afford it?
+
+It was at about this time that Mr. Smith requested to have hot water
+brought to his room morning and night, for which service he insisted,
+in spite of Miss Maggie’s remonstrances, on paying three dollars a week
+extra.
+
+There came a strange man to call one day. He was a member of the Boston
+law firm. Mr. Smith found out that much, but no more. Miss Maggie was
+almost hysterical after his visit. She talked very fast and laughed a
+good deal at supper that night; yet her eyes were full of tears nearly
+all the time, as Mr. Smith did not fail to perceive.
+
+“And I suppose she thinks she’s hiding it from me—that her heart is
+breaking!” muttered Mr. Smith savagely to himself, as he watched Miss
+Maggie’s nervous efforts to avoid meeting his eyes. “I vow I’ll have it
+out of her. I’ll have it out—to-morrow!”
+
+Mr. Smith did not “have it out” with Miss Maggie the following day,
+however. Something entirely outside of himself sent his thoughts into a
+new channel.
+
+He was alone in the Duff living-room, and was idling over his work, at
+his table in the corner, when Mrs. Hattie Blaisdell opened the door and
+hurried in, wringing her hands. Her face was red and swollen from tears.
+
+“Where’s Maggie? I want Maggie! Isn’t Maggie here?” she implored.
+
+Mr. Smith sprang to his feet and hastened toward her.
+
+“Why, Mrs. Blaisdell, what is it? No, she isn’t here. I’m so sorry!
+Can’t I do—anything?”
+
+“Oh, I don’t know—I don’t know,” moaned the woman, flinging herself
+into a chair. “There can’t anybody do anything, I s’pose; but I’ve
+_got_ to have somebody. I can’t stay there in that house—I can’t—I
+can’t—I _can’t_!”
+
+“No, no, of course not. And you shan’t,” soothed the man. “And she’ll
+be here soon, I’m sure—Miss Maggie will. But just let me help you off
+with your things,” he urged, somewhat awkwardly trying to unfasten her
+heavy wraps. “You’ll be so warm here.”
+
+“Yes, I know, I know.” Impatiently she jerked off the rich fur coat and
+tossed it into his arms; then she dropped into the chair again and fell
+to wringing her hands. “Oh, what shall I do, what shall I do?”
+
+“But what is it?” stammered Mr. Smith helplessly. “Can’t I
+do—something? Can’t I send for—for your husband?”
+
+At the mention of her husband, Mrs. Blaisdell fell to weeping afresh.
+
+“No, no! He’s gone—to Fred, you know.”
+
+“To—Fred?”
+
+“Yes, yes, that’s what’s the matter. Oh, Fred, Fred, my boy!”
+
+“Fred! Oh, Mrs. Blaisdell, I’m so sorry! But what—_is_ it?”
+
+The woman dropped her hands from her face and looked up wildly, half
+defiantly.
+
+“Mr. Smith, _you_ know Fred. You liked him, didn’t you? He isn’t
+bad and wicked, is he? And they can’t shut him up if—if we pay it
+back—all of it that he took? They won’t take my boy—to _prison_?”
+
+“To _prison—Fred!_”
+
+At the look of horror on Mr. Smith’s face, she began to wring her hands
+again.
+
+“You don’t know, of course. I’ll have to tell you—I’ll have to,” she
+moaned.
+
+“But, my dear woman,—not unless you want to.”
+
+“I do want to—I do want to! I’ve _got_ to talk—to somebody. It’s
+this way.” With a visible effort she calmed herself a little and
+forced herself to talk more coherently. “We got a letter from Fred.
+It came this morning. He wanted, some money—quick. He wanted seven
+hundred dollars and forty-two cents. He said he’d got to have it—if
+he didn’t, he’d go and _kill_ himself. He said he’d spent all of
+his allowance, every cent, and that’s what made him take it—this other
+money, in the first place.”
+
+“You mean—money that didn’t belong to him?” Mr. Smith’s voice was a
+little stern.
+
+“Yes; but you mustn’t blame him, you mustn’t blame him, Mr. Smith. He
+said he owed it. It was a—a debt of honor. Those were his very words.”
+
+“Oh! A debt of honor, was it?” Mr. Smith’s lips came together grimly.
+
+“Yes; and—Oh, Maggie, Maggie, what shall I do? What shall I do?” she
+broke off wildly, leaping to her feet as Miss Maggie pushed open the
+door and hurried in.
+
+“Yes, I know. Don’t worry. We’ll find something to do.” Miss Maggie,
+white-faced, but with a cheery smile, was throwing off her heavy coat
+and her hat. A moment later she came over and took Mrs. Hattie’s
+trembling hands in both her own. “Now, first, tell me all about it,
+dear.”
+
+“You _know_, then?”
+
+“Only a little,” answered Miss Maggie, gently pushing the other back
+into her chair. “I met Frank. Jim telephoned him something, just before
+he left. But I want the whole story. Now, what is it?”
+“I was just telling Mr. Smith.” She began to wring her hands again,
+but Miss Maggie caught and held them firmly. “You see, Fred, he was
+treasurer of some club, or society, or something; and—and he—he needed
+some money to—to pay a man, and he took that—the money that belonged
+to the club, you know, and he thought he could pay it back, little by
+little. But something happened—I don’t know what—a new treasurer, or
+something: anyhow, it was going to be found out—that he’d taken it.
+It was going to be found out to-morrow, and so he wrote the letter to
+his father. And Jim’s gone. But he looked so—oh, I never saw him look
+so white and terrible. And I’m so afraid—of what he’ll do—to Fred. My
+boy—my boy!”
+
+“Is Jim going to give him the money?” asked Miss Maggie.
+
+“Yes, oh, yes. Jim drew it out of the bank. Fred said he must have
+cash. And he’s going to give it to him. Oh, they can’t shut him up—they
+_can’t_ send him to prison _now_, can they?”
+
+“Hush, dear! No, they won’t send him to prison. If Jim has gone with
+the money, Fred will pay it back and nobody will know it. But, Hattie,
+Fred _did_ it, just the same.”
+
+“I—I know it.”
+
+“And, Hattie, don’t you see? Something will have to be done. Don’t you
+see where all this is leading? Fred has been gambling, hasn’t he?”
+
+“I—I’m afraid so.”
+
+“And you know he drinks.”
+
+“Y-yes. But he isn’t going to, any more. He said he wasn’t. He wrote
+a beautiful letter. He said if his father would help him out of this
+scrape, he’d never get into another one, and he’d _show_ him how
+much he appreciated it.”
+
+“Good! I’m glad to hear that,” cried Miss Maggie. “He’ll come out all
+right, yet.”
+
+“Of course he will!” Mr. Smith, over at the window, blew his nose
+vigorously. Mr. Smith had not sat down since Miss Maggie’s entrance.
+He had crossed to the window, and had stood looking out—at nothing—all
+through Mrs. Hattie’s story.
+
+“You do think he will, don’t you?” choked Mrs. Hattie, turning from one
+to the other piteously. “He said he was ashamed of himself; that this
+thing had been an awful lesson to him, and he promised—oh, he promised
+lots of things, if Jim would only go up and help him out of this.
+He’d never, never have to again. But he will, I know he will, if that
+Gaylord fellow stays there. The whole thing was his fault—I know it
+was. I hate him! I hate the whole family!”
+
+“Why, Hattie, I thought you liked them!”
+
+“I don’t. They’re mean, stuck-up things, and they snub me awfully.
+Don’t you suppose I know when I’m being snubbed? And that Gaylord
+girl—she’s just as bad, and she’s making my Bessie just like her. I got
+Bess into the same school with her, you know, and I was so proud and
+happy. But I’m not—any longer. Why, my Bess, my own daughter, actually
+looks down on us. She’s ashamed of her own father and mother—and she
+shows it. And it’s that Gaylord girl that’s done it, too, I believe. I
+thought I—I was training my daughter to be a lady—a real lady; but I
+never meant to train her to look down on—on her own mother!”
+
+“I’m afraid Bessie—needs something of a lesson,” commented Miss Maggie
+tersely. “But Bessie will be older, one of these days, Hattie, and then
+she’ll—know more.”
+
+“But that’s what I’ve been trying to teach her—‘more,’ something more
+all the time, Maggie,” sighed Mrs. Hattie, wiping her eyes. “And I’ve
+tried to remember and call her Elizabeth, too.—but I can’t. But,
+somehow, to-day, nothing seems of any use, any way. And even if she
+learns more and more, I don’t see as it’s going to do any good. I
+haven’t got _any_ friends now. I’m not fine enough yet, it seems,
+for Mrs. Gaylord and all that crowd. They don’t want me among them, and
+they show it. And all my old friends are so envious and jealous since
+the money came that _they_ don’t want me, and _they_ show it;
+so I don’t feel comfortable anywhere.”
+
+“Never mind, dear, just stop trying to live as you think other folks
+want you to live, and live as _you_ want to, for a while.”
+
+Mrs. Hattie smiled faintly, wiped her eyes again, and got to her feet.
+
+“You talk just like Jim. He’s always saying that.”
+
+“Well, just try it,” smiled Miss Maggie, helping her visitor into the
+luxurious fur coat. “You’ve no idea how much more comfort you’ll take.”
+
+“Would I?” Mrs. Hattie’s eyes were wistful, but almost instantly they
+showed an alert gleam of anger.
+
+“Well, anyhow, I’m not going to try to do what those Gaylords do any
+longer. And—and you’re _sure_ Fred won’t have to go to prison?”
+
+“I’m very sure,” nodded Miss Maggie.
+
+“All right, then. I can go home now with some comfort. You always make
+me feel better, Maggie, and you, too, Mr. Smith. I’m much obliged to
+you. Good-bye.”
+
+“Good-bye,” said Mr. Smith.
+
+“Good-bye,” said Miss Maggie. “Now, go home and go to bed, and don’t
+worry any more or you’ll have one of your headaches.”
+
+As the door closed behind her visitor, Miss Maggie turned and sank into
+a chair. She looked worn and white, and utterly weary.
+
+“I hope she won’t meet Frank or Jane anywhere.” She sighed profoundly.
+
+“Why? What do you mean? Do you think they’d blame her—about this
+unfortunate affair of Fred’s?”
+
+Miss Maggie sighed again.
+
+“I wasn’t thinking of that. I was thinking of another matter. I just
+came from Frank’s, and—”
+
+“Yes?” Something in her face sent a questioning frown to Mr. Smith’s
+own countenance.
+
+“Do you remember hearing Flora say that Jane had bought a lot of the
+Benson gold-mine stock?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Well, Benson has failed; and they’ve just found out that that
+gold-mine stock is worth—about two cents on a dollar.”
+
+“Two cents! And how much—”
+
+“About forty thousand dollars,” said Miss Maggie wearily.
+
+Mr. Smith sat down.
+
+“Well, I’ll be—”
+
+He did not finish his sentence.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+FRANKENSTEIN: BEING A LETTER FROM JOHN SMITH TO EDWARD D. NORTON,
+ATTORNEY AT LAW
+
+
+My dear Ned:—Wasn’t there a story written once about a fellow who
+created some sort of a machine man without any soul that raised the
+very dickens and all for him? Frank—Frankenstein?—I guess that was it.
+Well, I’ve created a Frankenstein creature—and I’m dead up against it
+to know what to do with him.
+
+Ned, what in Heaven’s name am I going to do with Mr. John Smith? Mr.
+John Smith, let me tell you, is a very healthy, persistent, insistent,
+important person, with many kind friends, a definite position in the
+world, and no small degree of influence. Worse yet (now prepare for a
+stunning blow, Ned!), Mr. Smith has been so inconsiderate as to fall
+in love. Yes, he has. And he has fallen in love as absolutely and
+as idiotically as if he were twenty-one instead of fifty-two. Now,
+will you kindly tell me how Mr. John Smith is going to fade away into
+nothingness? And, even if he finds the way to do that, shall he, before
+fading, pop the question for Mr. Stanley G. Fulton, or shall he trust
+to Mr. Stanley G. Fulton’s being able to win for himself the love Mr.
+John Smith fondly hopes is his?
+
+Seriously, joking aside, I’m afraid I’ve made a mess of things, not
+only for myself, but for everybody else.
+
+First, my own future. I’ll spare you rhapsodies, Ned. They say, anyway,
+that there’s no fool like an old fool. But I will admit that that
+future looks very dark to me if I am not to have the companionship of
+the little woman, Maggie Duff. Oh, yes, it’s “Poor Maggie.” You’ve
+probably guessed as much. As for Miss Maggie herself, perhaps it’s
+conceited, but I believe she’s not entirely indifferent to Mr. John
+Smith. How she’ll like Mr. Stanley G. Fulton I have my doubts; but,
+alas! I have no doubts whatever as to what her opinion will be of Mr.
+Stanley G. Fulton’s masquerading as Mr. John Smith! And I don’t envy
+Mr. Stanley G. Fulton the job he’s got on his hands to put himself
+right with her, either. But there’s one thing he can be sure of, at
+least; if she does care for Mr. John Smith, it wasn’t Mr. Stanley G.
+Fulton’s money that was the bait.
+
+Poor Maggie! (There! you see already I have adopted the Hillerton
+vernacular.) But I fear Miss Maggie is indeed “poor” now. She has
+had several letters that I don’t like the looks of, and a call from
+a villainous-looking man from Boston—one of your craft, I believe
+(begging your pardon). I think she’s lost some money, and I don’t
+believe she had any extra to lose. She’s as proud as Lucifer, however,
+and she’s determined no one shall find out she’s lost any money, so
+her laugh is gayer than ever. But I know, just the same. I can hear
+something in her voice that isn’t laughter.
+
+Jove! Ned, what a mess I _have_ made of it! I feel more than ever
+now like the boy with his ear to the keyhole. These people are my
+friends—or, rather, they are Mr. John Smith’s friends. As for being
+mine—who am I, Smith, or Fulton? Will they be Fulton’s friends, after
+they find he is John Smith? Will they be Smith’s friends, even, after
+they find he is Fulton? Pleasant position I am in! What?
+
+Oh, yes, I can hear you say that it serves me right, and that you
+warned me, and that I was deaf to all remonstrances. It does. You did.
+I was. Now, we’ll waste no more time on that. I’ve admitted all you
+could say. I’ve acknowledged my error, and my transgression is ever
+before me. I built the box, I walked into it, and I deliberately shut
+the cover down. But now I want to get out. I’ve got to get out—some
+way. I can’t spend the rest of my natural existence as John Smith,
+hunting Blaisdell data—though sometimes I think I’d be willing to, if
+it’s the only way to stay with Miss Maggie. I tell you, that little
+woman can make a home out of—
+
+But I couldn’t stay with Miss Maggie. John Smith wouldn’t have money
+enough to pay his board, to say nothing of inviting Miss Maggie to
+board with him, would he? The opening of Mr. Stanley G. Fulton’s last
+will and testament on the first day of next November will effectually
+cut off Mr. John Smith’s source of income. There is no provision in the
+will for Mr. John Smith. Smith would have to go to work. I don’t think
+he’d like that. By the way, I wonder: do you suppose John Smith could
+earn—his salt, if he was hard put to it? Very plainly, then, something
+has got to be done about getting John Smith to fade away, and Stanley
+G. Fulton to appear before next November.
+
+And I had thought it would be so easy! Early this summer John Smith was
+to pack up his Blaisdell data, bid a pleasant adieu to Hillerton, and
+betake himself to South America. In due course, after a short trip to
+some obscure Inca city, or down some little-known river, Mr. Stanley
+G. Fulton would arrive at some South American hotel from the interior,
+and would take immediate passage for the States, reaching Chicago long
+before November first.
+
+There would be a slight flurry, of course, and a few annoying
+interviews and write-ups; but Mr. Stanley G. Fulton always was known to
+keep his affairs to himself pretty well, and the matter would soon be
+put down as merely another of the multi-millionaire’s eccentricities.
+The whole thing would then be all over, and well over. But—nowhere
+had there been taken into consideration the possibilities of—a Maggie
+Duff. And now, to me, that same Maggie Duff is the only thing worth
+considering—anywhere. So there you are!
+
+And even after all this, I haven’t accomplished what I set out to
+do—that is, find the future possessor of the Fulton millions (unless
+Miss Maggie—bless her!—says “yes.” And even then, some one will have to
+have them after us). I have found out one thing, though. As conditions
+are now, I should not want either Frank, or James, or Flora to have
+them—not unless the millions could bring them more happiness than these
+hundred thousand apiece have brought.
+
+Honest, Ned, that miserable money has made more—But, never mind. It’s
+too long a story to write. I’ll tell you when I see you—if I ever do
+see you. There’s still the possibility, you know, that Mr. Stanley
+G. Fulton is lost in darkest South America, and of course John Smith
+_can_ go to work!
+
+I believe I won’t sign any name—I haven’t got any name—that I feel
+really belongs to me now. Still I might—yes, I will sign it
+
+                                                      “_Frankenstein_.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+SYMPATHIES MISPLACED
+
+
+The first time Mr. Smith saw Frank Blaisdell, after Miss Maggie’s news
+of the forty-thousand-dollar loss, he tried, somewhat awkwardly, to
+express his interest and sympathy. But Frank Blaisdell cut him short.
+
+“That’s all right, and I thank you,” he cried heartily. “And I know
+most folks would think losing forty thousand dollars was about as
+bad as it could be. Jane, now, is all worked up over it; can’t sleep
+nights, and has gone back to turning down the gas and eating sour cream
+so’s to save and help make it up. But me—I call it the best thing that
+ever happened.”
+
+“Well, really,” laughed Mr. Smith; “I’m sure that’s a very delightful
+way to look at it—if you can.”
+
+“Well, I can; and I’ll tell you why. It’s put me back where I
+belong—behind the counter of a grocery store. I’ve bought out the old
+stand. Oh, I had enough left for that, and more! Closed the deal last
+night. Gorry, but I was glad to feel the old floor under my feet again!”
+
+“But I thought you—you were tired of work, and—wanted to enjoy
+yourself,” stammered Mr. Smith.
+
+Frank Blaisdell laughed.
+
+“Tired of work—wanted to enjoy myself, indeed! Yes, I know I did say
+something like that. But, let me tell you this, Mr. Smith. Talk about
+work!—I never worked so hard in my life as I have the last ten months
+trying to enjoy myself. How these folks can stand gadding ’round the
+country week in and week out, feeding their stomachs on a French
+dictionary instead of good United States meat and potatoes and squash,
+and spending their days traipsing off to see things they ain’t a mite
+interested in, and their nights trying to get rested so they can go and
+see some more the next day, I don’t understand.”
+
+Mr. Smith chuckled.
+
+“I’m afraid these touring agencies wouldn’t like to have you write
+their ads for them, Mr. Blaisdell!”
+
+“Well, they hadn’t better ask me to,” smiled the other grimly. “But
+that ain’t all. Since I come back I’ve been working even harder trying
+to enjoy myself here at home—knockin’ silly little balls over a
+ten-acre lot in a game a healthy ten-year-old boy would scorn to play.”
+
+“But how about your new car? Didn’t you enjoy riding in that?” bantered
+Mr. Smith.
+
+“Oh, yes, I enjoyed the riding well enough; but I didn’t enjoy hunting
+for punctures, putting on new tires, or burrowing into the inside of
+the critter to find out why she didn’t go! And that’s what I was doing
+most of the time. I never did like machinery. It ain’t in my line.”
+
+He paused a moment, then went on a little wistfully:—
+
+“I suspect, Mr. Smith, there ain’t anything in my line but groceries.
+It’s all I know. It’s all I ever have known. If—if I had my life to
+live over again, I’d do different, maybe. I’d see if I couldn’t find
+out what there was in a picture to make folks stand and stare at it
+an hour at a time when you could see the whole thing in a minute—and
+it wa’n’t worth lookin’ at, anyway, even for a minute. And music,
+too. Now, I like a good tune what is a tune; but them caterwaulings
+and dirges that that chap Gray plays on that fiddle of his—gorry, Mr.
+Smith, I’d rather hear the old barn door at home squeak any day. But
+if I was younger I’d try to learn to like ’em. I would! Look at Flora,
+now. She can set by the hour in front of that phonygraph of hers, and
+not know it!”
+
+“Yes, I know,” smiled Mr. Smith.
+
+“And there’s books, too,” resumed the other, still wistfully. “I’d read
+books—if I could stay awake long enough to do it—and I’d find out what
+there was in ’em to make a good sensible man like Jim Blaisdell daft
+over ’em—and Maggie Duff, too. Why, that little woman used to go hungry
+sometimes, when she was a girl, so she could buy a book she wanted. I
+know she did. Why, I’d ‘a’ given anything this last year if I could ‘a’
+got interested—really interested, readin’. I could ‘a’ killed an awful
+lot of time that way. But I couldn’t do it. I bought a lot of ’em,
+too, an’ tried it; but I expect I didn’t begin young enough. I tell
+ye, Mr. Smith, I’ve about come to the conclusion that there ain’t a
+thing in the world so hard to kill as time. I’ve tried it, and I know.
+Why, I got so I couldn’t even kill it _eatin’_—though I ’most
+killed myself _tryin’_ to! An’ let me tell ye another thing. A
+full stomach ain’t in it with bein’ hungry an’ knowing a good dinner’s
+coming. Why, there was whole weeks at a time back there that I didn’t
+know the meaning of the word ‘hungry.’ You’d oughter seen the jolt I
+give one o’ them waiter-chaps one day when he comes up with his paper
+and his pencil and asks me what I wanted. ‘Want?’ says I. ‘There ain’t
+but one thing on this earth I want, and you can’t give it to me. I want
+to _want_ something. I’m tired of bein’ so blamed satisfied all
+the time!’”
+
+“And what did—Alphonso say to that?” chuckled Mr. Smith appreciatively.
+
+“Alphonso? Oh, the waiter-fellow, you mean? Oh, he just stared a
+minute, then mumbled his usual ‘Yes, sir, very good, sir,’ and shoved
+that confounded printed card of his a little nearer to my nose. But,
+there! I guess you’ve heard enough of this, Mr. Smith. It’s only that I
+was trying to tell you why I’m actually glad we lost that money. It’s
+give me back my man’s job again.”
+
+“Good! All right, then. I won’twaste any more sympathy on you,” laughed
+Mr. Smith.
+
+“Well, you needn’t. And there’s another thing. I hope it’ll give me
+back a little of my old faith in my fellow-man.”
+
+“What do you mean by that?”
+
+“Just this. I won’t suspect every man, woman, and child that says a
+civil word to me now of having designs on my pocketbook. Why, Mr.
+Smith, you wouldn’t believe it, if I told you, the things that’s been
+done and said to get a little money out of me. Of course, the open
+gold-brick schemes I knew enough to dodge, ’most of ’em (unless you
+count in that darn Benson mining stock), and I spotted the blackmailers
+all right, most generally. But I _was_ flabbergasted when a
+_woman_ tackled the job and began to make love to me—actually
+make love to me!—one day when Jane’s back was turned. Gorry! _Do_
+I look such a fool as that, Mr. Smith? Well, anyhow, there won’t be
+any more of that kind, nor anybody after my money now, I guess,” he
+finished with a sage wag of his head as he turned away.
+
+To Miss Maggie that evening Mr. Smith said, after recounting the
+earlier portion of the conversation: “So you see you were right, after
+all. I shall have to own it up. Mr. Frank Blaisdell had plenty to
+retire upon, but nothing to retire to. But I’m glad—if he’s happy now.”
+
+“And he isn’t the only one that that forty-thousand-dollar loss has
+done a good turn to,” nodded Miss Maggie. “Mellicent has just been
+here. You know she’s home from school. It’s the Easter vacation,
+anyway, but she isn’t going back. It’s too expensive.”
+Miss Maggie spoke with studied casualness, but there was an added color
+in her cheeks—Miss Maggie always flushed a little when she mentioned
+Mellicent’s name to Mr. Smith, in spite of her indignant efforts not to
+do so.
+
+“Oh, is that true?”
+
+“Yes. Well, the Pennocks had a dance last night, and Mellicent went.
+She said she had to laugh to see Mrs. Pennock’s efforts to keep Carl
+away from her—the loss of the money is known everywhere now, and has
+been greatly exaggerated, I’ve heard. She said that even Hibbard
+Gaylord had the air of one trying to let her down easy. Mellicent was
+immensely amused.”
+
+“Where was Donald Gray?”
+
+“Oh, he wasn’t there. He doesn’t move in the Pennock crowd much. But
+Mellicent sees him, and—and everything’s all right there, now. That’s
+why Mellicent is so happy.”
+
+“You mean—Has her mother given in?”
+
+“Yes. You see, Jane was at the dance, too, and she saw Carl, and she
+saw Hibbard Gaylord. And she was furious. She told Mellicent this
+morning that she had her opinion of fellows who would show so plainly
+as Carl Pennock and Hibbard Gaylord did that it was the money they were
+after.”
+
+“I’m afraid—Mrs. Jane has changed her shoes again,” murmured Mr. Smith,
+his eyes merry.
+
+“Has changed—oh!” Miss Maggie’s puzzled frown gave way to a laugh.
+“Well, yes, perhaps the shoe is on the other foot again. But, anyway,
+she doesn’t love Carl or Hibbard any more, and she does love Donald
+Gray. He _hasn’t_ let the loss of the money make any difference
+to him, you see. He’s been even more devoted, if anything. She told
+Mellicent this morning that he was a very estimable young man, and she
+liked him very much. Perhaps you see now why Mellicent is—happy.”
+
+“Good! I’m glad to know it,” cried Mr. Smith heartily. “I’m glad—” His
+face changed suddenly. His eyes grew somber. “I’m glad the _loss_
+of the money brought them some happiness—if the possession of it
+didn’t,” he finished moodily, turning to go to his own room. At the
+hall door he paused and looked back at Miss Maggie, standing by the
+table, gazing after him with troubled eyes. “Did Mellicent say—whether
+Fred was there?” he asked.
+
+“Yes. She said he wasn’t there. He didn’t come home for this vacation
+at all. She said she didn’t know why. I suspect Mellicent doesn’t know
+anything about that wretched affair of his.”
+
+“We’ll hope not. So the young gentleman didn’t show up at all?”
+
+“No, nor Bessie. She went home with a Long Island girl. Hattie didn’t
+go to the Pennocks’ either. Hattie has—has been very different since
+this affair of Fred’s. I think it frightened her terribly—it was so
+near a tragedy; the boy threatened to kill himself, you know, if his
+father didn’t help him out.”
+
+“But his father _did_ help him out!” flared the man irritably.
+
+“Yes, I know he did; and I’m afraid he found things in a pretty bad
+mess—when he got there,” sighed Miss Maggie. “It was a bad mess all
+around.”
+
+“You are exactly right!” ejaculated Mr. Smith with sudden and peculiar
+emphasis. “It is, indeed, a bad mess all around,” he growled as he
+disappeared through the door.
+
+Behind him, Miss Maggie still stood motionless, looking after him with
+troubled eyes.
+
+As the spring days grew warmer, Miss Maggie had occasion many times
+to look after Mr. Smith with troubled eyes. She could not understand
+him at all. One day he would be the old delightful companion, genial,
+cheery, generously donating a box of chocolates to the center-table
+bonbon dish or a dozen hothouse roses to the mantel vase. The next, he
+would be nervous, abstracted, almost irritable. Yet she could see no
+possible reason for the change.
+
+Sometimes she wondered fearfully if Mellicent could have anything to
+do with it. Was it possible that he had cared for Mellicent, and to
+see her now so happy with Donald Gray was more than he could bear? It
+did not seem credible. There was his own statement that he had devoted
+himself to her solely and only to help keep the undesirable lovers away
+and give Donald Gray a chance.
+
+Besides, had he not said that he was not a marrying man, anyway?
+To be sure, that seemed a pity—a man so kind and thoughtful and so
+delightfully companionable! But then, it was nothing to her, of
+course—only she did hope he was not feeling unhappy over Mellicent!
+
+Miss Maggie wished, too, that Mr. Smith would not bring flowers and
+candy so often. It worried her. She felt as if he were spending too
+much money—and she had got the impression in some way that he did not
+have any too much money to spend. And there were the expensive motor
+trips, too—she feared Mr. Smith _was_ extravagant. Yet she could
+not tell him so, of course. He never seemed to realize the value of a
+dollar, anyway, and he very obviously did not know how to get the most
+out of it. Look at his foolish generosity in regard to the board he
+paid her!
+
+Miss Maggie wondered sometimes if it might not be worry over money
+matters that was making him so nervous and irritable on occasions now.
+Plainly he was very near the end of his work there in Hillerton. He was
+not getting so many letters on Blaisdell matters from away, either.
+For a month now he had done nothing but a useless repetition of old
+work; and of late, a good deal of the time, he was not even making
+that pretense of being busy. For days at a time he would not touch
+his records. That could mean but one thing, of course; his work was
+done. Yet he seemed to be making no move toward departure. Not that
+she wanted him to go. She should miss him very much when he went, of
+course. But she did not like to feel that he was staying simply because
+he had nowhere to go and nothing to do. Miss Maggie did not believe in
+able-bodied men who had nowhere to go and nothing to do—and she wanted
+very much to believe in Mr. Smith.
+
+She had been under the impression that he was getting the Blaisdell
+material together for a book, and that he was intending to publish it
+himself. He had been very happy and interested. Now he was unhappy
+and uninterested. His book must be ready, but he was making no move
+to publish it. To Miss Maggie this could mean but one thing: some
+financial reverses had made it impossible for him to carry out his
+plans, and had left him stranded with no definite aim for the future.
+
+She was so sorry!—but there seemed to be nothing that she could do.
+She _had_ tried to help by insisting that he pay less for his
+board; but he had not only scouted that idea, but had brought her more
+chocolates and flowers than ever—for all the world as if he had divined
+her suspicions and wished to disprove them.
+
+That Mr. Smith was trying to keep something from her, Miss Maggie
+was sure. She was the more sure, perhaps, because she herself had
+something that she was trying to keep from Mr. Smith—and she thought
+she recognized the symptoms.
+
+Meanwhile April budded into May, and May blossomed into June; and June
+brought all the Blaisdells together again in Hillerton.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+WITH EVERY JIM A JAMES
+
+
+Two days after Fred Blaisdell had returned from college, his mother
+came to see Miss Maggie. Mr. Smith was rearranging the books on Miss
+Maggie’s shelves and trying to make room for the new ones he had
+brought her through the winter. When Mrs. Hattie came in, red-eyed and
+flushed-faced, he ceased his work at once and would have left the room,
+but she stopped him with a gesture.
+
+“No, don’t go. You know all about it, anyway,—and I’d just as soon you
+knew the rest. So you can keep right to work. I just came down to talk
+things over with Maggie. I—I’m sure I don’t know w-what I’m going to
+do—when I can’t.”
+
+“But you always can, dear,” soothed Miss Maggie cheerily, handing her
+visitor a fan and taking a chair near her.
+
+Mr. Smith, after a moment’s hesitation, turned quietly back to his
+bookshelves.
+
+“But I can’t,” choked Mrs. Hattie. “I—I’m going away.”
+
+“Away? Where? What do you mean?” cried Miss Maggie. “Not to—live!”
+
+“Yes. That’s what I came to tell you.”
+
+“Why, Hattie Blaisdell, where are you going?”
+
+“To Plainville—next month.”
+
+“Plainville? Oh, well, cheer up! That’s only forty miles from here. I
+guess we can still see each other. Now, tell me, what does all this
+mean?”
+
+“Well, of course, it began with Fred—his trouble, you know.”
+
+“But I thought Jim fixed that all up, dear.”
+
+“Oh, he did. He paid the money, and nobody there at college knew a
+thing about it. But there were—other things. Fred told us some of
+them night before last. He says he’s ashamed of himself, but that he
+believes there’s enough left in him to make a man of him yet. But he
+says he can’t do it—there.”
+
+“You mean—he doesn’t want to go back to college?” Miss Maggie’s voice
+showed her disappointment.
+
+“Oh, he wants to go to college—but not there.”
+
+“Oh,” nodded Miss Maggie. “I see.”
+
+“He says he’s had too much money to spend—and that ’twouldn’t be easy
+not to spend it—if he was back there, in the old crowd. So he wants to
+go somewhere else.”
+“Well, that’s all right, isn’t it?”
+
+“Y-yes, oh, yes. Jim says it is. He’s awfully happy over it, and—and I
+guess I am.”
+
+“Of course you are! But now, what is this about Plainville?” “Oh, that
+grew out of it—all this. Mr. Hammond is going to open a new office in
+Plainville and he’s offered Jim—James—no, _Jim_—I’m not going to
+call him ‘James’ any more!—the chance to manage it.”
+
+“Well, that’s fine, I’m sure.”
+
+“Yes, of course that part is fine—splendid. He’ll get a bigger
+salary, and all that, and—and I guess I’m glad to go, anyway—I don’t
+like Hillerton any more. I haven’t got any friends here, Maggie.
+Of course, I wouldn’t have anything to do with the Gaylords now,
+after what’s happened,—that boy getting my boy to drink and gamble,
+and—and everything. And yet—_you_ know how I’ve strained every
+nerve for years, and worked and worked to get where my children
+could—_could_ be with them!”
+
+“It didn’t pay, did it, Hattie?”
+
+“I guess it didn’t! They’re perfectly horrid—every one of them, and I
+hate them!”
+
+“Oh, Hattie, Hattie!”
+
+“Well, I do. Look at what they’ve done to Fred, and Bessie, too! I
+shan’t let _her_ be with them any more, either. There aren’t any
+folks here we can be with now. That’s why I don’t mind going away. All
+our friends that we used to know don’t like us any more, they’re so
+jealous on account of the money. Oh, yes, I know you think I’m to blame
+for that,” she went on aggrievedly. “I can see you do, by your face.
+Jim says so, too. And maybe I am. But it was just so I could get ahead.
+I did so want to _be_ somebody!”
+
+“I know, Hattie.” Miss Maggie looked as if she would like to say
+something more—but she did not say it.
+
+Over at the bookcase Mr. Smith was abstractedly opening and shutting
+the book in his hand. His gaze was out the window near him. He had not
+touched the books on the shelves for some time.
+
+“And look at how I’ve tried and see what it has come to—Bessie so
+high-headed and airy she makes fun of us, and Fred a gambler and a
+drunkard, and ’most a thief. And it’s all that horrid hundred thousand
+dollars!”
+
+The book in Mr. Smith’s hand slipped to the floor with a bang; but no
+one was noticing Mr. Smith.
+
+“Oh, Hattie, don’t blame the hundred thousand dollars,” cried Miss
+Maggie.
+
+“Jim says it was, and Fred does, too. They talked awfully. Fred said
+it was all just the same kind of a way that I’d tried to make folks
+call Jim ‘James.’ He said I’d been trying to make every single ‘Jim’ we
+had into a ‘James,’ until I’d taken away all the fun of living. And I
+suppose maybe he’s right, too.” Mrs. Hattie sighed profoundly. “Well,
+anyhow, I’m not going to do it any more. There isn’t any fun in it,
+anyway. It doesn’t make any difference how hard I tried to get ahead,
+I always found somebody else a little ‘aheader’ as Benny calls it. So
+what’s the use?”
+
+“There isn’t any use—in that kind of trying, Hattie.”
+
+“No, I suppose there isn’t. Jim said I was like the little boy that
+they asked what would make him the happiest of anything in the world,
+and he answered, ‘Everything that I haven’t got.’ And I suppose I have
+been something like that. But I don’t see as I’m any worse than other
+folks. Everybody goes for money; but I’m sure I don’t see why—if it
+doesn’t make them any happier than it has me! Well, I must be going.”
+Mrs. Hattie rose wearily. “We shall begin to pack the first of the
+month. It looks like a mountain to me, but Jim and Fred say they’ll
+help, and—”
+
+Mr. Smith did not hear any more, for Miss Maggie and her guest had
+reached the hall and had closed the door behind them. But when Miss
+Maggie returned, Mr. Smith was pacing up and down the room nervously.
+
+“Well,” he demanded with visible irritation, as soon as she appeared,
+“will you kindly tell me if there is anything—desirable—that that
+confounded money has done?”
+
+Miss Maggie looked up in surprise.
+
+“You mean—Jim Blaisdell’s money?” she asked.
+
+“I mean all the money—I mean the three hundred thousand dollars
+that those three people received. Has it ever brought any good or
+happiness—anywhere?”
+
+“Oh, yes, I know,” smiled Miss Maggie, a little sadly. “But—” Her
+countenance changed abruptly. A passionate earnestness came to her
+eyes. “Don’t blame the money—blame the _spending_ of it! The money
+isn’t to blame. The dollar that will buy tickets to the movies will
+just as quickly buy a good book; and if you’re hungry, it’s up to you
+whether you put your money into chocolate eclairs or roast beef. Is the
+_money_ to blame that goes for a whiskey bill or a gambling debt
+instead of for shoes and stockings for the family?”
+
+“Why, n-no.” Mr. Smith had apparently lost his own irritation in his
+amazement at hers. “Why, Miss Maggie, you—you seem worked up over this
+matter.”
+
+“I am worked up. I’m always worked up—over money. It’s been money,
+money, money, ever since I could remember! We’re all after it, and we
+all want it, and we strain every nerve to get it. We think it’s going
+to bring us happiness. But it won’t—unless we do our part. And there
+are some things that even money can’t buy. Besides, it isn’t the money
+that does the things, anyway,—it’s the man behind the money. What do
+you think money is good for, Mr. Smith?”
+
+Mr. Smith, now thoroughly dazed, actually blinked his eyes at the
+question, and at the vehemence with which it was hurled into his face.
+
+“Why, Miss Maggie, it—it—I—I—”
+
+“It isn’t good for anything unless we can exchange it for something we
+want, is it?”
+
+“Why, I—I suppose we can _give_ it—”
+
+“But even then we’re exchanging it for something we want, aren’t we? We
+want to make the other fellow happy, don’t we?”
+
+“Well, yes, we do.” Mr. Smith spoke with sudden fervor. “But it doesn’t
+always work that way. Look at the case right here. Now, very likely
+this—er—Mr. Fulton thought those three hundred thousand dollars were
+going to make these people happy. Personification of happiness—that
+woman was, a few minutes ago, wasn’t she?” Mr. Smith had regained his
+air of aggrieved irritation.
+
+“No, she wasn’t. But that wasn’t the money’s fault. It was her own. She
+didn’t know how to spend it. And that’s just what I mean when I say
+we’ve got to do our part—money won’t buy happiness, unless we exchange
+it for the things that will bring happiness. If we don’t know how to
+get any happiness out of five dollars, we won’t know how to get it out
+of five hundred, or five thousand, or five hundred thousand, Mr. Smith.
+I don’t mean that we’ll get the same amount out of five dollars, of
+course,—though I’ve seen even that happen sometimes!—but I mean that
+we’ve got to know how to spend five dollars—and to make the most of it.”
+
+“I reckon—you’re right, Miss Maggie.”
+
+“I know I’m right, and ’tisn’t the money’s fault when things go wrong.
+Money’s all right. I love money. Oh, yes, I know—we’re taught that the
+love of money is the root of all evil. But I don’t think it should be
+so—necessarily. I think money’s one of the most wonderful things in
+the world. It’s more than a trust and a gift—it’s an opportunity, and
+a test. It brings out what’s strongest in us, every time. And it does
+that whether it’s five dollars or five hundred thousand dollars. If—if
+we love chocolate eclairs and the movies better than roast beef and
+good books, we’re going to buy them, whether they’re chocolate eclairs
+and movies on five dollars, or or—champagne suppers and Paris gowns on
+five hundred thousand dollars!”
+
+“Well, by—by Jove!” ejaculated Mr. Smith, rather feebly.
+
+Miss Maggie gave a shamefaced laugh and sank back in her chair.
+
+“You don’t know what to think of me, of course; and no wonder,” she
+sighed. “But I’ve felt so bad over this—this money business right here
+under my eyes. I love them all, every one of them. And _you_ know
+how it’s been, Mr. Smith. Hasn’t it worked out to prove just what I
+say? Take Hattie this afternoon. She said that Fred declared she’d been
+trying to make every one of her ‘Jims’ a ‘James,’ ever since the money
+came. But he forgot that she did that very same thing before it came.
+All her life she’s been trying to make five dollars look like ten; so
+when she got the hundred thousand, it wasn’t six months before she was
+trying to make that look like two hundred thousand.”
+
+“I reckon you’re right.”
+
+“Jane is just the opposite. Jane used to buy ingrain carpets and cheap
+chairs and cover them with mats and tidies to save them.”
+
+“You’re right she did!”
+
+Miss Maggie laughed appreciatively.
+
+“They got on your nerves, too, didn’t they? Such layers upon layers
+of covers for everything! It brought me to such a pass that I went to
+the other extreme. I wouldn’t protect _anything_—which was very
+reprehensible, of course. Well, now she has pretty dishes and solid
+silver—but she hides them in bags and boxes, and never uses them except
+for company. She doesn’t take any more comfort with them than she did
+with the ingrain carpets and cheap chairs. Of course, that’s a little
+thing. I only mentioned it to illustrate my meaning. Jane doesn’t know
+how to play. She never did. When you can’t spend five cents out of a
+hundred dollars for pleasure without wincing, you needn’t expect you’re
+going to spend five dollars out of a hundred thousand without feeling
+the pinch,” laughed Miss Maggie.
+
+“And Miss Flora? You haven’t mentioned her,” observed Mr. Smith, a
+little grimly.
+
+Miss Maggie smiled; then she sighed.
+
+“Poor Flora—and when she tried so hard to quiet her conscience because
+she had so much money! But _you_ know how that was. _You_
+helped her out of that scrape. And she’s so grateful! She told me
+yesterday that she hardly ever gets a begging letter now.”
+
+“No; and those she does get she investigates,” asserted Mr. Smith. “So
+the fakes don’t bother her much these days. And she’s doing a lot of
+good, too, in a small way.”
+
+“She is, and she’s happy now,” declared Miss Maggie, “except that she
+still worries a little because she is so happy. She’s dismissed the
+maid and does her own work—I’m afraid Miss Flora never was cut out for
+a fine-lady life of leisure, and she loves to putter in the kitchen.
+She says it’s such a relief, too, not to keep dressed up in company
+manners all the time, and not to have that horrid girl spying ’round
+all day to see if she behaves proper. But Flora’s a dear.”
+
+“She is! and I reckon it worked the best with her of any of them.”
+
+“_Worked?_” hesitated Miss Maggie.
+
+“Er—that is, I mean, perhaps she’s made the best use of the hundred
+thousand,” stammered Mr. Smith. “She’s been—er—the happiest.”
+
+“Why, y-yes, perhaps she has, when you come to look at it that way.”
+
+“But you wouldn’t—er—advise this Mr. Fulton to leave her—his twenty
+millions?”
+
+“Mercy!” laughed Miss Maggie, throwing up both hands. “She’d faint dead
+away at the mere thought of it.”
+
+“Humph! Yes, I suppose so.” Mr. Smith turned on his heel and resumed
+his restless pacing up and down the room. From time to time he glanced
+furtively at Miss Maggie. Miss Maggie, her hands idly resting in her
+lap, palms upward, was gazing fixedly at nothing.
+
+“Of just what—are you thinking?” he demanded at last, coming to a pause
+at her side.
+
+“I was thinking—of Mr. Stanley G. Fulton,” she answered, not looking up.
+
+“Oh, you were!” There was an odd something in Mr. Smith’s voice.
+
+“Yes. I was wondering—about those twenty millions.”
+
+“Oh, you were!” The odd something had increased, but Miss Maggie’s eyes
+were still dreamily fixed on space.
+
+“Yes. I was wondering what he had done with them.”
+
+“Had done with them!”
+
+“Yes, in the letter, I mean.” She looked up now in faint surprise.
+“Don’t you remember? There was a letter—a second letter to be opened in
+two years’ time. They said that that was to dispose of the remainder of
+the property—his last will and testament.”
+
+“Oh, yes, I remember,” assented Mr. Smith, turning on his heel again.
+“Then you think—Mr. Fulton is—dead?” Mr. Smith was very carefully not
+meeting Miss Maggie’s eyes.
+
+“Why, yes, I suppose so.” Miss Maggie turned back to her meditative
+gazing at nothing. “The two years are nearly up, you know,—I was
+talking with Jane the other day—just next November.”
+
+“Yes, I know.” The words were very near a groan, but at once Mr. Smith
+hurriedly repeated, “I know—I know!” very lightly, indeed, with an
+apprehensive glance at Miss Maggie.
+
+“So it seems to me if he were alive that he’d be back by this time. And
+so I was wondering—about those millions,” she went on musingly. “What
+do _you_ suppose he has done with them?” she asked, with sudden
+animation, turning full upon him.
+
+“Why, I—I—How should I know?” stuttered Mr. Smith, a swift crimson
+dyeing his face.
+
+Miss Maggie laughed merrily.
+
+“You wouldn’t, of course—but that needn’t make you look as if I’d
+intimated that _you_ had them! I was only asking for your opinion,
+Mr. Smith,” she twinkled, with mischievous eyes.
+
+“Of course!” Mr. Smith laughed now, a little precipitately. “But,
+indeed, Miss Maggie, you turned so suddenly and the question was so
+unexpected that I felt like the small boy who, being always blamed for
+everything at home that went wrong, answered tremblingly, when the
+teacher sharply demanded, ‘Who made the world?’ ‘Please, ma’am, I did;
+but I’ll never do it again!’”
+
+“And now,” said Mr. Smith, when Miss Maggie had done laughing at his
+little story, “suppose I turn the tables on you? What do _you_
+think Mr. Fulton has done—with that money?”
+
+“I don’t know what to think.” Miss Maggie shifted her position, her
+face growing intently interested again. “I’ve been trying to remember
+what I know of the man.”
+
+“What you—_know_ of him!” cried Mr. Smith, with startled eyes.
+
+“Yes, from the newspaper and magazine accounts of him. Of course,
+there was quite a lot about him at the time the money came; and Flora
+let me read some things she’d saved, in years gone. Flora was always
+interested in him, you know.”
+
+“Well, what did you find?”
+
+“Why, not much, really, about the man. Besides, very likely what I did
+find wasn’t true. Oh, he was eccentric. Everything mentioned that. But
+I was trying to find out how he’d spent his money himself. I thought
+that might give me a clue—about the will, I mean.”
+
+“Oh, I see.”
+
+“Yes; but I didn’t find much. In spite of his reported eccentricities,
+he seems to me to have done nothing very extraordinary.”
+
+“Oh, indeed!” murmured Mr. Smith.
+
+“He doesn’t seem to have been very bad.”
+
+“No?” Mr. Smith’s eyebrows went up.
+
+“Nor very good either, for that matter.”
+
+“Sort of a—nonentity, perhaps.” Mr. Smith’s lips snapped tight shut.
+
+Miss Maggie laughed softly.
+
+“Perhaps—though I suppose he couldn’t really be that—not very well—with
+twenty millions, could he? But I mean, he wasn’t very bad, nor very
+good. He didn’t seem to be dissipated, or mixed up in any scandal, or
+to be recklessly extravagant, like so many rich men. On the other hand,
+I couldn’t find that he’d done any particular good in the world. Some
+charities were mentioned, but they were perfunctory, apparently, and I
+don’t believe, from the accounts, that he ever really _interested_
+himself in any one—that he ever really cared for—any one.”
+
+“Oh, you don’t!” If Miss Maggie had looked up, she would have met a
+most disconcerting expression in the eyes bent upon her. But Miss
+Maggie did not look up.
+
+“No,” she proceeded calmly. “Why, he didn’t even have a wife and
+children to stir him from his selfishness. He had a secretary, of
+course, and he probably never saw half his begging letters. I can
+imagine his tossing them aside with a languid ‘Fix them up, James,—give
+the creatures what they want, only don’t bother me.’”
+
+“He _never_ did!” stormed Mr. Smith; then, hastily: “I’m sure he
+never did. You wrong him. I’m sure you wrong him.”
+
+“Maybe I do,” sighed Miss Maggie. “But when I think of what he
+might do—Twenty millions! I can’t grasp it. Can you? But he didn’t
+do—anything—worth while with them, so far as I can see, when he was
+living, so that’s why I can’t imagine what his will may be. Probably
+the same old perfunctory charities, however, with the Chicago law
+firm instead of ‘James’ as disburser—unless, of course, Hattie’s
+expectations are fulfilled, and he divides them among the Blaisdells
+here.”
+
+“You think—there’s something worth while he _might_ have done with
+those millions, then?” pleaded Mr. Smith, a sudden peculiar wistfulness
+in his eyes.
+
+“Something he _might_ have done with them!” exclaimed Miss Maggie.
+“Why, it seems to me there’s no end to what he might have done—with
+twenty millions.”
+
+“What would _you_ do?”
+
+“I?—do with twenty millions?” she breathed.
+
+“Yes, you.” Mr. Smith came nearer, his face working with emotion. “Miss
+Maggie, if a man with twenty millions—that is, could you love a man
+with twenty millions, if—if Mr. Fulton should ask you—if _I_ were Mr.
+Fulton—if—” His countenance changed suddenly. He drew himself up with
+a cry of dismay. “Oh, no—no—I’ve spoiled it all now. That isn’t what
+I meant to say first. I was going to find out—I mean, I was going to
+tell—Oh, good Heavens, what a—That confounded money—again!”
+
+Miss Maggie sprang to her feet.
+
+“Why, Mr. Smith, w-what—” Only the crisp shutting of the door answered
+her. With a beseeching look and a despairing gesture Mr. Smith had gone.
+
+Once again Miss Maggie stood looking after Mr. Smith with dismayed
+eyes. Then, turning to sit down, she came face to face with her own
+image in the mirror.
+
+“Well, now you’ve done it, Maggie Duff,” she whispered wrathfully to
+the reflection in the glass. “And you’ve broken his heart! He was—was
+going to say something—I know he was. And you? You’ve talked money,
+money, _money_ to him for an hour. You said you _loved_
+money; and you told what you’d do—if you had twenty millions of
+dollars. And you know—you _know_ he’s as poor as Job’s turkey,
+and that just now he’s more than ever plagued over—money! And yet
+you—Twenty millions of dollars! As if that counted against—”
+
+With a little sobbing cry Miss Maggie covered her face with her hands
+and sat down, helplessly, angrily.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+REFLECTIONS—MIRRORED AND OTHERWISE
+
+
+Miss Maggie was still sitting in the big chair with her face in her
+hands when the door opened and Mr. Smith came in. He was very white.
+
+Miss Maggie, dropping her hands and starting up at his entrance, caught
+a glimpse of his face in the mirror in front of her. With a furtive,
+angry dab of her fingers at her wet eyes, she fell to rearranging the
+vases and photographs on the mantel.
+
+“Oh, back again, Mr. Smith?” she greeted him, with studied unconcern.
+
+Mr. Smith shut the door and advanced determinedly.
+
+“Miss Maggie, I’ve got to face this thing out, of course. Even if I
+had—made a botch of things at the very start, it didn’t help any to—to
+run away, as I did. And I was a coward to do it. It was only because
+I—I—But never mind that. I’m coming now straight to the point. Miss
+Maggie, will you—marry me?”
+
+The photograph in Miss Maggie’s hand fell face down on the shelf. Miss
+Maggie’s fingers caught the edge of the mantel in a convulsive grip. A
+swift glance in the mirror before her disclosed Mr. Smith’s face just
+over her shoulder, earnest, pleading, and still very white. She dropped
+her gaze, and turned half away. She did not want to meet Mr. Smith’s
+eyes just then. She tried to speak, but only a half-choking little
+breath came.
+
+Then Mr. Smith spoke again.
+
+“Miss Maggie, please don’t say no—yet. Let me—explain—about how I
+came here, and all that. But first, before I do that, let me tell
+you how—how I love you—how I have loved you all these long months. I
+_think_ I loved you from the first time I saw you. Whatever comes,
+I want you to know that. And if you could care for me a little—just
+a little, I’m sure I could make it more—in time, so you would marry
+me. And we would be so happy! Don’t you believe I’d try to make you
+happy—dear?”
+
+“Yes, oh, yes,” murmured Miss Maggie, still with her head turned away.
+
+“Good! Then all you’ve got to say is that you’ll let me try. And we
+will be happy, dear! Why, until I came here to this little house, I
+didn’t know what living, real living, was. And I _have_ been, just
+as you said, a selfish old thing.”
+
+Miss Maggie, with a start of surprise, faced the image in the mirror;
+but Mr. Smith was looking at her, not at her reflection, so she did not
+meet his ayes.
+
+“Why, I never—” she stammered.
+
+“Yes, you did, a minute ago. Don’t you remember? Oh, of course you
+didn’t realize—everything, and perhaps you wouldn’t have said it if
+you’d known. But you said it—and you meant it, and I’m glad you said
+it. And, dear little woman, don’t you see? That’s only another reason
+why you should say yes. You can show me how not to be selfish.”
+
+“But, Mr. Smith, I—I—” stammered Miss Maggie, still with puzzled eyes.
+
+“Yes, you can. You can show me how to make life really worth while, for
+me, and for—for lots of others. And _now_ I have some one to care
+for. And, oh, little woman, I—I care so much, it can’t be that you—you
+don’t care—any!”
+
+Miss Maggie caught her breath and turned away again.
+
+“Don’t you care—a little?”
+
+The red crept up Miss Maggie’s neck to her forehead but still she was
+silent.
+
+“If I could only see your eyes,” pleaded the man. Then, suddenly, he
+saw Miss Maggie’s face in the mirror. The next moment Miss Maggie
+herself turned a little, and in the mirror their eyes met—and
+in the mirror Mr. Smith found his answer. “You _do_ care—a
+_little_!” he breathed, as he took her in his arms.
+
+“But I don’t!” Miss Maggie shook her head vigorously against his
+coat-collar.
+
+“What?” Mr. Smith’s clasp loosened a little.
+
+“I care—a _great deal_,” whispered Miss Maggie to the coat-collar,
+with shameless emphasis.
+
+“You—darling!” triumphed the man, bestowing a rapturous kiss on the tip
+of a small pink ear—the nearest point to Miss Maggie’s lips that was
+available, until, with tender determination, he turned her face to his.
+
+A moment later, blushing rosily, Miss Maggie drew herself away.
+
+“There, we’ve been quite silly enough—old folks like us.”
+
+“We’re not silly. Love is never silly—not real love like ours.
+Besides, we’re only as old as we feel. Do you feel old? I don’t. I’ve
+lost—_years_ since this morning. And you know I’m just beginning
+to live—really live, anyway! I feel—twenty-one.”
+
+“I’m afraid you act it,” said Miss Maggie, with mock severity.
+
+“_You_ would—if you’d been through what _I_ have,” retorted Mr. Smith,
+drawing a long breath. “And when I think what a botch I made of it, to
+begin with—You see, I didn’t mean to start off with that, first thing;
+and I was so afraid that—that even if you did care for John Smith, you
+wouldn’t for me—just at first. But you do, dear!” At arms’ length he
+held her off, his hands on her shoulders. His happy eyes searching her
+face saw the dawn of the dazed, question.
+
+“Wouldn’t care for _you_ if I did for John Smith! Why, you
+_are_ John Smith. What do you mean?” she demanded, her eyes slowly
+sweeping him from head to foot and back again. “What _do_ you
+mean?”
+
+“_Miss Maggie!_” Instinctively his tongue went back to the old
+manner of address, but his hands still held her shoulders. “You
+don’t mean—you can’t mean that—that you didn’t understand—that you
+_don’t_ understand that I am—Oh, good Heavens! Well, I have
+made a mess of it this time,” he groaned. Releasing his hold on her
+shoulders, he turned and began to tramp up and down the room. “Nice
+little John-Alden-Miles-Standish affair this is now, upon my word! Miss
+Maggie, have I got to—to propose to you all over again for—for another
+man, now?”
+
+“For—_another man!_ I—I don’t think I understand you.” Miss Maggie
+had grown a little white.
+
+“Then you don’t know—you didn’t understand a few minutes ago, when I—I
+spoke first, when I asked you about—about those twenty millions—”
+
+She lifted her hand quickly, pleadingly.
+
+“Mr. Smith, please, don’t let’s bring money into it at all. I don’t
+care—I don’t care a bit if you haven’t got any money.”
+
+Mr. Smith’s jaw dropped.
+
+“If I _haven’t_ got any money!” he ejaculated stupidly.
+
+“No! Oh, yes, I know, I said I loved money.” The rich red came back
+to her face in a flood. “But I didn’t mean—And it’s just as much of
+a test and an opportunity when you _don’t_ have money—more so,
+if anything. I didn’t mean it—that way. I never thought of—of how you
+might take it—as if I _wanted_ it. I don’t. Indeed, I don’t! Oh,
+can’t you—understand?”
+
+“Understand! Good Heavens!” Mr. Smith threw up both his hands. “And I
+thought I’d given myself away! Miss Maggie.” He came to her and stood
+close, but he did not offer to touch her. “I thought, after I’d said
+what I did about—about those twenty millions that you understood—that
+you knew I was—Stanley Fulton himself.”
+
+“That you were—who?” Miss Maggie stood motionless, her eyes looking
+straight into his, amazed incredulous.
+
+“Stanley Fulton. I am Stanley Fulton. My God! Maggie, don’t look at me
+like that. I thought—I had told you. Indeed, I did!”
+
+She was backing away now, slowly, step by step. Anger, almost loathing,
+had taken the place of the amazement and incredulity in her eyes.
+
+“And _you_ are Mr. Fulton?”
+
+“Yes, yes! But—”
+
+“And you’ve been here all these months—yes, years—under a false name,
+pretending to be what you weren’t—talking to us, eating at our tables,
+winning our confidence, letting us talk to you about yourself, even
+pretending that—Oh, how could you?” Her voice broke.
+
+“Maggie, dearest,” he begged, springing toward her, “if you’ll only let
+me—”
+
+But she stopped him peremptorily, drawing herself to her full height.
+
+“I am _not_ your dearest,” she flamed angrily. “I did not give my
+love—to _you_.”
+
+“Maggie!” he implored.
+
+But she drew back still farther.
+
+“No! I gave it to John Smith—gentleman, I supposed. A man—poor,
+yes, I believed him poor; but a man who at least had a right to his
+_name_! I didn’t give it to Mr. Stanley G. Fulton, spy, trickster,
+who makes life itself a masquerade for _sport_! I do not know Mr.
+Stanley G. Fulton, and—I do not wish to.” The words ended in a sound
+very like a sob; but Miss Maggie, with her head still high, turned her
+back and walked to the window.
+
+The man, apparently stunned for a moment, stood watching her, his eyes
+grieved, dismayed, hopeless. Then, white-faced, he turned and walked
+toward the door. With his hand almost on the knob he slowly wheeled
+about and faced the woman again. He hesitated visibly, then in a dull,
+lifeless voice he began to speak.
+
+“Miss Maggie, before John Smith steps entirely out of your life, he
+would like to say just this, please, not on justification, but on
+explanation of——of Stanley G. Fulton. Fulton did not intend to be a
+spy, or a trickster, or to make life a masquerade for—sport. He was
+a lonely old man—he felt old. He had no wife or child. True, he had
+no one to care for, but—he had no one to care for _him_, either.
+Remember that, please. He did have a great deal of money—more than
+he knew what to do with. Oh, he tried—various ways of spending it.
+Never mind what they were. They are not worth speaking of here. They
+resulted, chiefly, in showing him that he wasn’t—as wise as he might be
+in that line, perhaps.”
+
+The man paused and wet his lips. At the window Miss Maggie still stood,
+with her back turned as before.
+
+“The time came, finally,” resumed the man, “when Fulton began to wonder
+what would become of his millions when he was done with them. He had a
+feeling that he would like to will a good share of them to some of his
+own kin; but he had no nearer relatives than some cousins back East,
+in—Hillerton.”
+
+Miss Maggie at the window drew in her breath, and held it suspended,
+letting it out slowly.
+
+“He didn’t know anything about these cousins,” went on the man dully,
+wearily, “and he got to wondering what they would do with the money. I
+think he felt, as you said to-day that you feel, that one must know how
+to spend five dollars if one would get the best out of five thousand.
+So Fulton felt that, before he gave a man fifteen or twenty millions,
+he would like to know—what he would probably do with them. He had seen
+so many cases where sudden great wealth had brought—great sorrow.
+
+“And so then he fixed up a little scheme; he would give each one of
+these three cousins of his a hundred thousand dollars apiece, and then,
+unknown to them, he would get acquainted with them, and see which of
+them would be likely to make the best use of those twenty millions.
+It was a silly scheme, of course,—a silly, absurd foolishness from
+beginning to end. It—”
+
+He did not finish his sentence. There was a rush of swift feet, a swish
+of skirts, then full upon him there fell a whirlwind of sobs, clinging
+arms, and incoherent ejaculations.
+
+“It wasn’t silly—it wasn’t silly. It was perfectly splendid!
+I see it all now. I see it all! I understand. Oh, I think it
+was—_wonderful_! And I—I’m so _ashamed_!”
+
+Later—very much later, when something like lucid coherence had become
+an attribute of their conversation, as they sat together upon the old
+sofa, the man drew a long breath and said:—
+
+“Then I’m quite forgiven?”
+
+“There is nothing to forgive.”
+
+“And you consider yourself engaged to _both_ John Smith and
+Stanley G. Fulton?”
+
+“It sounds pretty bad, but—yes,” blushed Miss Maggie.
+
+“And you must love Stanley G. Fulton just exactly as well—no, a little
+better, than you did John Smith.”
+
+“I’ll—try to—if he’s as lovable.” Miss Maggie’s head was at a saucy
+tilt.
+
+“He’ll try to be; but—it won’t be all play, you know, for you. You’ve
+got to tell him what to do with those twenty millions. By the way, what
+_will_ you do with them?” he demanded interestedly.
+
+Miss Maggie looked up, plainly startled.
+
+“Why, yes, that’s so. You—you—if you’re Mr. Fulton, you _have_
+got—And I forgot all about—those twenty millions. And they’re
+_yours_, Mr. Smith!”
+
+“No, they’re not Mr. Smith’s,” objected the man. “They belong
+to Fulton, if you please. Furthermore, _can’t_ you call me
+anything but that abominable ‘Mr. Smith’? My name is Stanley. You
+might—er—abbreviate it to—er—‘Stan,’ now.”
+
+“Perhaps so—but I shan’t,” laughed Miss Maggie,—“not yet. You may be
+thankful I have wits enough left to call you anything—after becoming
+engaged to two men all at once.”
+
+“And with having the responsibility of spending twenty millions, too.”
+
+“Oh, yes, the money!” Her eyes began to shine. She drew another long
+breath. “Oh, we can do so much with that money! Why, only think what is
+needed right _here_—better milk for the babies, and a community
+house, and the streets cleaner, and a new carpet for the church, and a
+new hospital with—”
+
+“But, see here, aren’t you going to spend some of that money on
+yourself?” he demanded. “Isn’t there something _you_ want?”
+
+She gave him a merry glance.
+
+“Myself? Dear me, I guess I am! I’m going to Egypt, and China, and
+Japan—with you, of course; and books—oh, you never saw such a lot of
+books as I shall buy. And—oh, I’ll spend heaps on just my selfish
+self—you see if I don’t! But, first,—oh, there are so many things that
+I’ve so wanted to do, and it’s just come over me this minute that
+_now_ I can do them! And you _know_ how Hillerton needs a new
+hospital.” Her eyes grew luminous and earnest again. “And I want to
+build a store and run it so the girls can _live_, and a factory,
+too, and decent homes for the workmen, and a big market, where they can
+get their food at cost; and there’s the playground for the children,
+and—”
+
+But Mr. Smith was laughing, and lifting both hands in mock despair.
+
+“Look here,” he challenged, “I _thought_ you were marrying
+_me_, but—_are_ you marrying me or that confounded money?”
+
+Miss Maggie laughed merrily.
+
+“Yes, I know; but you see—” She stopped short. An odd expression came
+to her eyes.
+
+Suddenly she laughed again, and threw into his eyes a look so merry, so
+whimsical, so altogether challenging, that he demanded:—
+
+“Well, what is it now?”
+
+“Oh, it’s so good, I have—half a mind to tell you.”
+
+“Of course you’ll tell me. Where are you going?” he asked
+discontentedly.
+
+Miss Maggie had left the sofa, and was standing, as if half-poised for
+flight, midway to the door.
+
+“I think—yes, I will tell you,” she nodded, her cheeks very pink; “but
+I wanted to be—over here to tell it.”
+
+“’Way over there?”
+
+“Yes, ’way over here. Do you remember those letters I got awhile ago,
+and the call from the Boston; lawyer, that I—I wouldn’t tell you about?”
+
+“I should say I did!”
+
+“Well; you know you—you thought they—they had something to do with—my
+money; that I—I’d lost some.”
+
+“I did, dear.”
+
+“Well, they—they did have something to do—with money.”
+
+“I knew they did!” triumphed the man. “Oh, why wouldn’t you tell me
+then—and let me help you some way?”
+
+She shook her head nervously and backed nearer the door. He had half
+started from his seat.
+
+“No, stay there. If you don’t—I won’t tell you.”
+
+He fell back, but with obvious reluctance.
+
+“Well, as I said, it did have something to do—with my money; but just
+now, when you asked me if I—I was marrying you or your money—”
+
+“But I was in fun—you know I was in fun!” defended the man hotly.
+
+“Oh, yes, I knew that,” nodded Miss Maggie. “But it—it made me laugh
+and remember—the letters. You see, they weren’t as you thought. They
+didn’t tell me of—of money lost. They told me of money—gained.”
+
+“Gained?”
+
+“Yes. That father’s Cousin George in Alaska had died and left me—fifty
+thousand dollars.”
+
+“But, my dear woman, why in Heaven’s name wouldn’t you tell me that?”
+
+“Because.” Miss Maggie took a step nearer the door. “You see, I thought
+you were poor—very poor, and I—I wouldn’t even own up to it myself, but
+I knew, in my heart, that I was afraid, if you heard I had this money,
+you wouldn’t—you wouldn’t—ask me to—to—”
+
+She was blushing so adorably now that the man understood and leaped to
+his feet.
+
+“Maggie, you—darling!”
+
+But the door had shut—Miss Maggie had fled.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+THAT MISERABLE MONEY
+
+In the evening, after the Martin girls had gone to their rooms, Miss
+Maggie and Mr. Smith faced the thing squarely.
+
+“Of course,” he began with a sigh, “I’m really not out of the woods
+at all. Blissfully happy as I am, I’m really deeper in the woods than
+ever, for now I’ve got you there with me, to look out for. However
+successfully John Smith might dematerialize into nothingness—Maggie
+Duff can’t.”
+
+“No, I know she can’t,” admitted Miss Maggie soberly.
+
+“Yet if she marries John Smith she’ll have to—and if she doesn’t marry
+him, how’s Stanley G. Fulton going to do his courting? He can’t come
+here.”
+
+“But he must!” Miss Maggie looked up with startled eyes. “Why, Mr.
+Smith, you’ll _have_ to tell them—who you are. You’ll have to tell
+them right away.”
+
+The man made a playfully wry face.
+
+“I shall be glad,” he observed, “when I shan’t have to be held off at
+the end of a ‘Mr.’! However, we’ll let that pass—until we settle the
+other matter. Have you given any thought as to _how_ I’m going to
+tell Cousin Frank and Cousin James and Cousin Flora that I am Stanley
+G. Fulton?”
+
+“No—except that you must do it,” she answered decidedly. “I don’t think
+you ought to deceive them another minute—not another minute.”
+
+“Hm-m.” Mr. Smith’s eyes grew reflective. “And had you thought—as to
+what would happen when I did tell them?”
+
+“Why, n-no, not particularly, except that—that they naturally wouldn’t
+like it, at first, and that you’d have to explain—just as you did to
+me—why you did it.”
+
+“And do you think they’ll like it any better—when I do explain? Think!”
+
+Miss Maggie meditated; then, a little tremulously she drew in her
+breath. She lifted startled eyes to his face.
+
+“Why, you’d have to tell them that—that you did it for a test, wouldn’t
+you?”
+
+“If I told the truth—yes.”
+
+“And they’d know—they couldn’t help knowing—that they had failed to
+meet it adequately.”
+
+“Yes. And would that help matters any—make things any happier, all
+around?”
+
+“No—oh, no,” she frowned despairingly.
+
+“Would it do anybody any _real_ good, now? Think of that.”
+
+“N-no,” she admitted reluctantly, “except that—that you’d be doing
+right.”
+
+“But _would_ I be doing right? And another thing—aside from the
+mortification, dismay, and anger of my good cousins, have you thought
+what I’d be bringing on you?”
+
+“_Me!_”
+
+“Yes. In less than half a dozen hours after the Blaisdells knew that
+Mr. John Smith was Stanley G. Fulton, Hillerton would know it. And
+in less than half a dozen more hours, Boston, New York, Chicago,—to
+say nothing of a dozen lesser cities,—would know it—if there didn’t
+happen to be anything bigger on foot. Headlines an inch high would
+proclaim the discovery of the missing Stanley G. Fulton, and the fine
+print below would tell everything that happened, and a great deal that
+didn’t happen, in the carrying-out of the eccentric multi-millionaire’s
+extraordinary scheme of testing his relatives with a hundred thousand
+dollars apiece to find a suitable heir. Your picture would adorn the
+front page of the yellowest of yellow journals, and—”
+
+“_My_ picture! Oh, no, no!” gasped Miss Maggie.
+
+“Oh, yes, yes,” smiled the man imperturbably. “You’ll be in it, too.
+Aren’t you the affianced bride of Mr. Stanley G. Fulton? I can see them
+now: ‘In Search of an Heir and Finds a Wife.’—‘Charming Miss Maggie
+Duff Falls in Love with Plain John Smith,’ and—”
+
+“Oh, no, no,” moaned Miss Maggie, shrinking back as if already the
+lurid headlines were staring her in the face.
+
+Mr. Smith laughed.
+
+“Oh, well, it might not be so bad as that, of course. But you never can
+tell. Undoubtedly there are elements for a pretty good story in the
+case, and some man, with nothing more important to write up, is bound
+to make the most of it somewhere. Then other papers will copy. There’s
+sure to be unpleasant publicity, my dear, if the truth once leaks out.”
+
+“But what—what _had_ you planned to do?” she faltered, shuddering
+again.
+
+“Well, I _had_ planned something like this: pretty quick, now,
+Mr. Smith was to announce the completion of his Blaisdell data, and,
+with properly grateful farewells, take his departure from Hillerton. He
+would go to South America. There he would go inland on some sort of a
+simple expedition with a few native guides and carriers, but no other
+companion. Somewhere in the wilderness he would shed his beard and his
+name, and would emerge in his proper person of Stanley G. Fulton and
+promptly take passage for the States. Of course, upon the arrival in
+Chicago of Mr. Stanley G. Fulton, there would be a slight flurry at
+his appearance, and a few references to the hundred-thousand-dollar
+gifts to the Eastern relatives, and sundry speculations as to the
+why and how of the exploring trip. There would be various rumors and
+alleged interviews; but Mr. Stanley G. Fulton never was noted for
+his communicativeness, and, after a very short time, the whole thing
+would be dismissed as probably another of the gentleman’s well-known
+eccentricities. And there it would end.”
+
+“Oh, I see,” murmured Miss Maggie, in very evident relief. “That would
+be better—in some ways; only it does seem terrible not to—to tell them
+who you are.”
+
+“But we have just proved that to do that wouldn’t bring happiness
+anywhere, and would bring misery everywhere, haven’t we?”
+
+“Y-yes.”
+
+“Then why do it?—particularly as by not doing it I am not defrauding
+anybody in the least. No; that part isn’t worrying me a bit now—but
+there is one point that does worry me very much.”
+
+“What do you mean? What is it?”
+
+“Yourself. My scheme gets Stanley G. Fulton back to life and Chicago
+very nicely; but it doesn’t get Maggie Duff there worth a cent! Maggie
+Duff can’t marry Mr. John Smith in Hillerton and arrive in Chicago as
+the wife of Stanley G. Fulton, can she?”
+
+“N-no, but he—he can come back and get her—if he wants her.” Miss
+Maggie blushed.
+
+“If he wants her, indeed!” (Miss Maggie blushed all the more at the
+method and the fervor of Mr. Smith’s answer to this.) “Come back as
+Mr. Stanley G. Fulton, you mean?” went on Mr. Smith, smiling at Miss
+Maggie’s hurried efforts to smooth her ruffled hair. “Too risky, my
+dear! He’d look altogether too much like—like Mr. John Smith.”
+
+“But your beard will be gone—I wonder how I shall like you without a
+beard.” She eyed him critically.
+
+Mr. Smith laughed and threw up his hands with a doleful shrug.
+
+“That’s what comes of courting as one man and marrying as another,” he
+groaned. Then, sternly: “I’ll warn you right now, Maggie Duff, that
+Stanley G. Fulton is going to be awfully jealous of John Smith if you
+don’t look out.”
+
+“He should have thought of that before,” retorted Miss Maggie, her eyes
+mischievous. “But, tell me, wouldn’t you _ever_ dare to come—in
+your proper person?”
+
+“Never!—or, at least, not for some time. The beard would be gone, to be
+sure; but there’d be all the rest to tattle—eyes, voice, size, manner,
+walk—everything; and smoked glasses couldn’t cover all that, you know.
+Besides, glasses would be taboo, anyway. They’d only result in making
+me look more like John Smith than ever. John Smith, you remember, wore
+smoked glasses for some time to hide Mr. Stanley G. Fulton from the
+ubiquitous reporter. No, Mr. Stanley G. Fulton can’t come to Hillerton.
+So, as Mahomet can’t go to the mountain, the mountain must come to
+Mahomet.”
+
+“Meaning—?” Miss Maggie’s eyes were growing dangerously mutinous.
+
+“That you will have to come to Chicago—yes.”
+
+“And court you? No, sir—thank you!”
+
+Mr. Smith chuckled softly.
+
+“I love you with your head tilted that way.” (Miss Maggie promptly
+tilted it the other.) “Or that, either, for that matter,” continued Mr.
+Smith genially. “However, speaking of courting—Mr. Fulton will do that,
+all right, and endeavor to leave nothing lacking, either as to quantity
+or quality. Think, now. Don’t you know any one in Chicago? Haven’t you
+got some friend that you can visit?”
+
+“No!” Miss Maggie’s answer was prompt and emphatic—too prompt and too
+emphatic for unquestioning acceptance.
+
+“Oh, yes, you have,” asserted the man cheerfully. “I don’t know her
+name—but she’s there. She’s waving a red flag from your face this
+minute! Now, listen. Well, turn your head away, if you like—if you can
+listen better that way,” he went on tranquilly paying no attention to
+her little gasp. “Well, all you have to do is to write the lady you’re
+coming, and go. Never mind who she is—Mr. Stanley G. Fulton will find a
+way to meet her. Trust him for that! Then he’ll call and meet you—and
+be so pleased to see you! The rest will be easy. There’ll be a regular
+whirlwind courtship then—calls, dinners, theaters, candy, books,
+flowers! Then Mr. Stanley G. Fulton will propose marriage. You’ll be
+immensely surprised, of course, but you’ll accept. Then we’ll get
+married,” he finished with a deep sigh of satisfaction.
+“_Mr. Smith_!” ejaculated Miss Maggie faintly.
+
+“Say, _can’t_ you call me anything—” he began wrathfully, but
+interrupted himself. “However, it’s better that you don’t, after all.
+Because I’ve got to be ‘Mr. Smith’ as long as I stay here. But you wait
+till you meet Mr. Stanley G. Fulton in Chicago! Now, what’s her name,
+and where does she live?”
+
+Miss Maggie laughed in spite of herself, as she said severely: “Her
+name, indeed! I’m afraid Mr. Stanley G. Fulton is so in the habit of
+having his own way that he forgets he is still Mr. John Smith. However,
+there _is_ an old schoolmate,” she acknowledged demurely.
+
+“Of course there is! Now, write her at once, and tell her you’re
+coming.”
+
+“But she—she may not be there.”
+
+“Then get her there. She’s _got_ to be there. And, listen. I think
+you’d better plan to go pretty soon after I go to South America. Then
+you can be there when Mr. Stanley G. Fulton arrives in Chicago and
+can write the news back here to Hillerton. Oh, they’ll get it in the
+papers, in time, of course; but I think it had better come from you
+first. You see—the reappearance on this earth of Mr. Stanley G. Fulton
+is going to be of—of some moment to them, you know. There is Mrs.
+Hattie, for instance, who is counting on the rest of the money next
+November.”
+
+“Yes, I know, it will mean a good deal to them, of course. Still, I
+don’t believe Hattie is really expecting the money. At any rate, she
+hasn’t said anything about it very lately—perhaps because she’s been
+too busy bemoaning the pass the present money has brought them to.”
+
+“Yes, I know,” frowned Mr. Smith, with a gloomy sigh. “That miserable
+money!”
+
+“No, no—I didn’t mean to bring that up,” apologized Miss Maggie
+quickly, with an apprehensive glance into his face. “And it wasn’t
+miserable money a bit! Besides, Hattie has—has learned her lesson, I’m
+sure, and she’ll do altogether differently in the new home. But, Mr.
+Smith, am I never to—to come back here? Can’t we come back—ever?”
+
+“Indeed we can—some time, by and by, when all this has blown over,
+and they’ve forgotten how Mr. Smith looks. We can come back then.
+Meanwhile, you can come alone—a _very_ little. I shan’t let you
+leave me very much. But I understand; you’ll have to come to see your
+friends. Besides, there are all those playgrounds for the babies and
+cleaner milk for the streets, and—”
+
+“Cleaner milk for the streets, indeed!”
+
+“Eh? What? Oh, yes, it _was_ the milk for the babies, wasn’t
+it?” he teased. “Well, however that may be you’ll have to come back
+to superintend all those things you’ve been wanting to do so long.
+But”—his face grew a little wistful—“you don’t want to spend too much
+time here. You know—Chicago has a few babies that need cleaner milk.”
+
+“Yes, I know, I know!” Her face grew softly luminous as it had grown
+earlier in the afternoon.
+
+“So you can bestow some of your charity there; and—”
+
+“It isn’t charity,” she interrupted with suddenly flashing eyes. “Oh,
+how I hate that word—the way it’s used, I mean. Of course, the real
+charity means love. Love, indeed! I suppose it was _love_ that
+made John Daly give one hundred dollars to the Pension Fund Fair—after
+he’d jewed it out of those poor girls behind his counters! And Mrs.
+Morse went around everywhere telling how kind dear Mr. Daly was to
+give so much to charity! _Charity_! Nobody wants charity—except
+a few lazy rascals like those beggars of Flora’s! But we all want our
+_rights_. And if half the world gave the other half its rights
+there wouldn’t _be_ any charity, I believe.”
+
+“Dear, dear! What have we here? A rabid little Socialist?” Mr. Smith
+held up both hands in mock terror. “I shall be petitioning her for my
+bread and butter, yet!”
+
+“Nonsense! But, honestly, Mr. Smith, when I think of all that
+money”—her eyes began to shine again—“and of what we can do with it,
+I—I just can’t believe it’s so!”
+
+“But you aren’t expecting that twenty millions are going to right all
+the wrongs in the world, are you?” Mr. Smith’s eyes were quizzical.
+
+“No, oh, no; but we can help _some_ that we know about. But it
+isn’t that I just want to _give_, you know. We must get behind
+things—to the causes. We must—”
+
+“We must make the Mr. Dalys pay more to their girls before they pay
+anything to pension funds, eh?” laughed Mr. Smith, as Miss Maggie came
+to a breathless pause.
+
+“Exactly!” nodded Miss Maggie earnestly. “Oh, can’t you _see_ what
+we can do—with that twenty million dollars?”
+
+Mr. Smith, his gaze on Miss Maggie’s flushed cheeks and shining eyes,
+smiled tenderly. Then with mock severity he frowned.
+
+“I see—that I’m being married for my money—after all!” he scolded.
+
+“Pooh!” sniffed Miss Maggie, so altogether bewitchingly that Mr. Smith
+gave her a rapturous kiss.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+EXIT MR. JOHN SMITH
+
+
+Early in July Mr. Smith took his departure from Hillerton. He made a
+farewell call upon each of the Blaisdell families, and thanked them
+heartily for all their kindness in assisting him with his Blaisdell
+book.
+
+The Blaisdells, one and all, said they were very sorry to have him go.
+Miss Flora frankly wiped her eyes, and told Mr. Smith she could never,
+never thank him enough for what he had done for her. Mellicent, too,
+with shy eyes averted, told him she should never forget what he had
+done for her—and for Donald.
+
+James and Flora and Frank—and even Jane!—said that they would like to
+have one of the Blaisdell books, when they were published, to hand down
+in the family. Flora took out her purse and said that she would pay for
+hers now; but Mr. Smith hastily, and with some evident embarrassment,
+refused the money, saying that he could not tell yet what the price of
+the book would be.
+
+All the Blaisdells, except Frank, Fred, and Bessie, went to the station
+to see Mr. Smith off. They said they wanted to. They told him he was
+just like one of the family, anyway, and they declared they hoped he
+would come back soon. Frank telephoned him that he would have gone,
+too, if he had not had so much to do at the store.
+
+Mr. Smith seemed pleased at all this attention—he seemed, indeed,
+quite touched; but he seemed also embarrassed—in fact, he seemed often
+embarrassed during those last few days at Hillerton.
+
+Miss Maggie Duff did not go to the station to see Mr. Smith off. Miss
+Flora, on her way home, stopped at the Duff cottage and reproached Miss
+Maggie for the delinquency.
+
+“Nonsense! Why should I go?” laughed Miss Maggie.
+
+“Why _shouldn’t_ you?” retorted Miss Flora. “All the rest of us
+did, ’most.”
+
+“Well, that’s all right. You’re Blaisdells—but I’m not, you know.”
+
+“You’re just as good as one, Maggie Duff! Besides, hasn’t that man
+boarded here for over a year, and paid you good money, too?”
+
+“Why, y-yes, of course.”
+
+“Well, then, I don’t think it would have hurt you any to show him this
+last little attention. He’ll think you don’t like him, or—or are mad
+about something, when all the rest of us went.”
+
+“Nonsense, Flora!”
+
+“Well, then, if—Why, Maggie Duff, you’re _blushing_!” she broke
+off, peering into Miss Maggie’s face in a way that did not tend to
+lessen the unmistakable color that was creeping to her forehead. “You
+_are_ blushing! I declare, if you were twenty years younger, and
+I didn’t know better, I should say that—” She stopped abruptly, then
+plunged on, her countenance suddenly alight with a new idea. “_Now_ I
+know why you didn’t go to the station, Maggie Duff! That man proposed
+to you, and you refused him!” she triumphed.
+
+“Flora!” gasped Miss Maggie, her face scarlet.
+
+“He did, I know he did! Hattie always said it would be a match—from the
+very first, when he came here to your house.”
+
+“_Flora!_” gasped Miss Maggie again, looking about her very much as if
+she were meditating flight.
+
+“Well, she did—but I didn’t believe it. Now I know. You refused
+him—now, didn’t you?”
+
+“Certainly not!” Miss Maggie caught her breath a little convulsively.
+
+“Honest?”
+
+“Flora! Stop this silly talk right now. I have answered you once. I
+shan’t again.”
+
+“Hm-m.” Miss Flora fell back in her chair. “Well, I suppose you didn’t,
+then, if you say so. And I don’t need to ask if you accepted him. You
+didn’t, of course, or you’d have been there to see him off. And he
+wouldn’t have gone then, anyway, probably. So he didn’t ask you, I
+suppose. Well, I never did believe, like Hattie did, that—”
+
+“Flora,” interrupted Miss Maggie desperately, “_Will_ you stop talking in
+that absurd way? Listen, I did not care to go to the station to-day. I
+am very busy. I am going away next week. I am going—to Chicago.”
+
+“To _chicago_—you!” Miss Flora came erect in her chair.
+
+“Yes, for a visit. I’m going to see my old classmate, Nellie
+Maynard—Mrs. Tyndall.”
+
+“Maggie!”
+
+“What’s the matter?”
+
+“Why, n-nothing. It’s lovely, of course, only—only I—I’m so surprised!
+You never go anywhere.”
+
+“All the more reason why I should, then. It’s time I did,” smiled Miss
+Maggie. Miss Maggie was looking more at ease now.
+
+“When are you going?”
+
+“Next Wednesday. I heard from Nellie last night. She is expecting me
+then.”
+
+“How perfectly splendid! I’m so glad! And I do hope you can _do_
+it, and that it won’t peter out at the last minute, same’s most of
+your good times do. Poor Maggie! And you’ve had such a hard life—and
+your boarder leaving, too! That’ll make a lot of difference in your
+pocketbook, won’t it? But, Maggie, you’ll have to have some new
+clothes.”
+
+“Of course. I’ve been shopping this afternoon. I’ve got to have—oh,
+lots of things.”
+
+“Of course you have. And, Maggie,”—Miss Flora’s face grew
+eager,—“please, _please_, won’t you let me help you a little—about
+those clothes? And get some nice ones—some real nice ones, for once.
+You _know_ how I’d love to! Please, Maggie, there’s a good girl!”
+
+“Thank you, no, dear,” refused Miss Maggie, shaking her head with a
+smile. “But I appreciate your kindness just the same—indeed, I do!”
+
+“If you wouldn’t be so horrid proud,” pouted Miss Flora.
+
+But Miss Maggie stopped her with a gesture.
+
+“No, no,—listen! I—I have something to tell you. I was going to tell
+you soon, anyway, and I’ll tell it now. I _have_ money, dear,—lots
+of it now.”
+
+“You _have_ money!”
+
+“Yes. Father’s Cousin George died two months ago.”
+
+“The rich one, in Alaska?”
+
+“Yes; and to father’s daughter he left—fifty thousand dollars.”
+
+“_Mag_-gie!”
+
+“And I never even _saw_ him! But he loved father, you know, years
+ago, and father loved him.”
+
+“But had you ever heard from him—late years?”
+
+“Not much. Father was very angry because he went to Alaska in the first
+place, you know, and they haven’t ever written very often.”
+
+“Fifty thousand! And you’ve got it now?”
+
+“Not yet—all of it. They sent me a thousand—just for pin money, they
+said. The lawyer’s written several times, and he’s been here once. I
+believe it’s all to come next month.”
+
+“Oh, I’m so glad, Maggie,” breathed Flora. “I’m so glad! I don’t know
+of anybody I’d rather see take a little comfort in life than you!”
+
+At the door, fifteen minutes later, Miss Flora said again how glad she
+was; but she added wistfully:—
+
+“I’m sure I don’t know, though, what I’m going to do all summer without
+you. Just think how lonesome we’ll be—you gone to Chicago, Hattie and
+Jim and all their family moved to Plainville, and even Mr. Smith gone,
+too! And I think we’re going to miss Mr. Smith a whole lot, too. He was
+a real nice man. Don’t you think so, Maggie?”
+
+“Indeed, I do think he was a very nice man!” declared Miss Maggie.
+“Now, Flora, I shall want you to go shopping with me lots. Can you?”
+
+And Miss Flora, eagerly entering into Miss Maggie’s discussion of
+frills and flounces, failed to notice that Miss Maggie had dropped the
+subject of Mr. Smith somewhat hastily.
+
+Hillerton had much to talk about during those summer days. Mr. Smith’s
+going had created a mild discussion—the “ancestor feller” was well
+known and well liked in the town. But even his departure did not arouse
+the interest that was bestowed upon the removal of the James Blaisdells
+to Plainville; and this, in turn, did not cause so great an excitement
+as did the news that Miss Maggie Duff had inherited fifty thousand
+dollars and had gone to Chicago to spend it. And the fact that nearly
+all who heard this promptly declared that they hoped she _would_
+spend a good share of it—in Chicago, or elsewhere—on herself, showed
+pretty well just where Miss Maggie Duff stood in the hearts of
+Hillerton.
+
+. . . . . .
+
+It was early in September that Miss Flora had the letter from Miss
+Maggie. Not but that she had received letters from Miss Maggie
+before, but that the contents of this one made it at once, to all the
+Blaisdells, “the letter.”
+
+Miss Flora began to read it, gave a little cry, and sprang to her feet.
+Standing, her breath suspended, she finished it. Five minutes later,
+gloves half on and hat askew, she was hurrying across the common to her
+brother Frank’s home.
+
+“Jane, Jane,” she panted, as soon as she found her sister-in-law. “I’ve
+had a letter from Maggie. Mr. Stanley G. Fulton has come back. _He’s
+come back!_”
+
+“Come back! Alive, you mean? Oh, my goodness gracious! What’ll Hattie
+do? She’s just been living on having that money. And us, with all we’ve
+lost, too! But, then, maybe we wouldn’t have got it, anyway. My stars!
+And Maggie wrote you? Where’s the letter?”
+
+“There! And I never thought to bring it,” ejaculated Miss Flora
+vexedly. “But, never mind! I can tell you all she said. She didn’t
+write much. She said it would be in all the Eastern papers right
+away, of course, but she wanted to tell us first, so we wouldn’t be
+so surprised. He’s just come. Walked into his lawyer’s office without
+a telegram, or anything. Said he didn’t want any fuss made. Mr.
+Tyndall brought home the news that night in an ‘Extra’; but that’s all
+it told—just that Mr. Stanley G. Fulton, the multi-millionaire who
+disappeared nearly two years ago on an exploring trip to South America,
+had come back alive and well. Then it told all about the two letters
+he left, and the money he left to us, and all that, Maggie said; and
+it talked a lot about how lucky it was that he got back just in time
+before the other letter had to be opened next November. But it didn’t
+say any more about his trip, or anything. The morning papers will have
+more, Maggie said, probably.”
+
+“Yes, of course, of course,” nodded Jane, rolling the corner of her
+upper apron nervously. (Since the forty-thousand-dollar loss Jane had
+gone back to her old habit of wearing two aprons.) “Where _do_ you
+suppose he’s been all this time? Was he lost or just exploring?”
+
+“Maggie said it wasn’t known—that the paper didn’t say. It was an
+‘Extra’ anyway, and it just got in the bare news of his return. But
+we’ll know, of course. The papers here will tell us. Besides, Maggie’ll
+write again about it, I’m sure. Poor Maggie! I’m so glad she’s having
+such a good time!”
+
+“Yes, of course, of course,” nodded Jane again nervously. “Say, Flora,
+I wonder—do you suppose _we’ll_ ever hear from him? He left us
+all that money—he knows that, of course. He can’t ask for it back—the
+lawyer said he couldn’t do that! Don’t you remember? But, I wonder—do
+you suppose we ought to write him and—and thank him?”
+
+“Oh, mercy!” exclaimed Miss Flora, aghast. “Mercy me, Jane! I’d be
+scared to death to do such a thing as that. Oh, you don’t think we’ve
+got to do _that_?” Miss Flora had grown actually pale.
+
+Jane frowned.
+
+“I don’t know. We’d want to do what was right and proper, of course.
+But I don’t see—” She paused helplessly.
+
+Miss Flora gave a sudden hysterical little laugh.
+
+“Well, I don’t see how we’re going to find out what’s proper, in this
+case,” she giggled. “We can’t write to a magazine, same as I did when
+I wanted to know how to answer invitations and fix my knives and forks
+on the table. We _can’t_ write to them, ’cause nothing like this
+ever happened before, and they wouldn’t know what to say. How’d we look
+writing, ‘Please, dear Editor, when a man wills you a hundred thousand
+dollars and then comes to life again, is it proper or not proper to
+write and thank him?’ They’d think we was crazy, and they’d have reason
+to! For my part, I—”
+
+The telephone bell rang sharply, and Jane rose to answer it. She was
+gone some time. When she came back she was even more excited.
+
+“It was Frank. He’s heard it. It was in the papers to-night.”
+
+“Did it tell anything more?”
+
+“Not much, I guess. Still, there was some. He’s going to bring it home.
+It’s ’most supper-time. Why don’t you wait?” she questioned, as Miss
+Flora got hastily to her feet.
+
+Miss Flora shook her head.
+
+“I can’t. I left everything just as it was and ran, when I got the
+letter. I’ll get a paper myself on the way home. I’m going to call up
+Hattie, too, on the long distance. My, it’s ’most as exciting as it was
+when it first came,—the money, I mean,—isn’t it?” panted Miss Flora as
+she hurried away.
+
+The Blaisdells bought many papers during the next few days. But even by
+the time that the Stanley G. Fulton sensation had dwindled to a short
+paragraph in an obscure corner of a middle page, they (and the public
+in general) were really little the wiser, except for these bare facts:—
+
+Stanley G. Fulton had arrived at a South American hotel, from the
+interior, had registered as S. Fulton, frankly to avoid publicity,
+and had taken immediate passage to New York. Arriving at New York,
+still to avoid publicity, he had not telegraphed his attorneys, but
+had taken the sleeper for Chicago, and had fortunately not met any one
+who recognized him until his arrival in that city. He had brought home
+several fine specimens of Incan textiles and potteries: and he declared
+that he had had a very enjoyable and profitable trip. Beyond that he
+would say nothing. He did not care to talk of his experiences, he said.
+
+For a time, of course, his return was made much of. Fake interviews
+and rumors of threatened death and disaster in impenetrable jungles
+made frequent appearance; but in an incredibly short time the flame of
+interest died from want of fuel to feed upon; and, as Mr. Stanley G.
+Fulton himself had once predicted, the matter was soon dismissed as
+merely another of the multi-millionaire’s well-known eccentricities.
+
+All of this the Blaisdells heard from Miss Maggie in addition to seeing
+it in the newspapers. But very soon, from Miss Maggie, they began to
+learn more. Before a fortnight had passed, Miss Flora received another
+letter from Chicago that sent her flying as before to her sister-in-law.
+
+“Jane, Jane, Maggie’s _met him_!” she cried, breathlessly bursting
+into the kitchen where Jane was paring the apples that she would not
+trust to the maid’s more wasteful knife.
+
+“Met him! Met who?”
+
+“Mr. Fulton. She’s _talked_ with him! She wrote me all about it.”
+
+“_Our_ Mr. Fulton?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“_Flora!_” With a hasty twirl of a now reckless knife, Jane finished the
+last apple, set the pan on the table before the maid, and hurried her
+visitor into the living-room. “Now, tell me quick—what did she say? Is
+he nice? Did she like him? Did he know she belonged to us?”
+
+“Yes—yes—everything,” nodded Miss Flora, sinking into a chair. “She
+liked him real well, she said and he knows all about that she belongs
+to us. She said he was real interested in us. Oh, I hope she didn’t
+tell him about—Fred!”
+
+“And that awful gold-mine stock,” moaned Jane. “But she wouldn’t—I know
+she wouldn’t!”
+
+“Of course she wouldn’t,” cried Miss Flora. “’Tisn’t like Maggie one
+bit! She’d only tell the nice things, I’m sure. And, of course, she’d
+tell him how pleased we were with the money!”
+
+“Yes, of course, of course. And to think she’s met him—really met him!”
+breathed Jane. “Mellicent!” She turned an excited face to her daughter,
+who had just entered the room. “What do you think? Aunt Flora’s just
+had a letter from Aunt Maggie, and she’s met Mr. Fulton—actually
+_talked_ with him!”
+
+“Really? Oh, how perfectly splendid! Is he nice? Did she like him?”
+
+Miss Flora laughed.
+
+“That’s just what your mother asked. Yes, he’s real nice, your Aunt
+Maggie says, and she likes him very much.”
+
+“But how’d she do it? How’d she happen to meet him?” demanded Jane.
+
+“Well, it seems he knew Mr. Tyndall, and Mr. Tyndall brought him home
+one night and introduced him to his wife and Maggie; and since then
+he’s been very nice to them. He’s taken them out in his automobile, and
+taken them to the theater twice.”
+
+“That’s because she belongs to us, of course,” nodded Jane wisely.
+
+“Yes, I suppose so,” agreed Flora. “And I think it’s very kind of him.”
+
+“Pooh!” sniffed Mellicent airily. “_I_ think he does it because he
+_wants_ to. You never did appreciate Aunt Maggie. I’ll warrant
+she’s nicer and sweeter and—and, yes, _prettier_ than lots of
+those old Chicago women. Aunt Maggie looked positively _handsome_
+that day she left here last July. She looked so—so absolutely happy!
+Probably he _likes_ to take her to places. Anyhow, I’m glad she’s
+having one good time before she dies.”
+
+“Yes, so am I, my dear. We all are,” sighed Miss Flora. “Poor Maggie!”
+
+“I only wish he’d marry her and—and give her a good time all her life,”
+avowed Mellicent, lifting her chin.
+
+“Marry her!” exclaimed two scornful voices.
+
+“Well, why not? She’s good enough for him,” bridled Mellicent. “Aunt
+Maggie’s good enough for anybody!”
+
+“Of course she is, child!” laughed Miss Flora. “Maggie’s a saint—if
+ever there was one.”
+
+“Yes, but I shouldn’t call her a _marrying_ saint,” smiled Jane.
+
+“Well, I don’t know about that,” frowned Miss Flora thoughtfully.
+“Hattie always declared there’d be a match between her and Mr. Smith,
+you know.”
+
+“Yes. But there wasn’t one, was there?” twitted Jane. “Well, then, I
+shall stick to my original statement that Maggie Duff is a saint, all
+right, but not a marrying one—unless some one marries her now for her
+money, of course.”
+
+“As if Aunt Maggie’d stand for that!” scoffed Mellicent. “Besides, she
+wouldn’t have to! Aunt Maggie’s good enough to be married for herself.”
+
+“There, there, child, just because you are a love-sick little piece
+of romance just now, you needn’t think everybody else is,” her mother
+reproved her a little sharply.
+
+But Mellicent only laughed merrily as she disappeared into her own room.
+
+“Speaking of Mr. Smith, I wonder where he is, and if he’ll ever come
+back here,” mused Miss Flora, aloud. “I wish he would. He was a very
+nice man, and I liked him.”
+
+“Goodness, Flora, _you_ aren’t, getting romantic, too, are you?”
+teased her sister-in-law.
+
+“Nonsense, Jane!” ejaculated Miss Flora sharply, buttoning up her coat.
+“I’m no more romantic than—than poor Maggie herself is!”
+
+Two weeks later, to a day, came Miss Maggie’s letter announcing her
+engagement to Mr. Stanley G. Fulton, and saying that she was to be
+married in Chicago before Christmas.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+REENTER MR. STANLEY G. FULTON
+
+
+In the library of Mrs. Thomas Tyndall’s Chicago home Mr. Stanley G.
+Fulton was impatiently awaiting the appearance of Miss Maggie Duff.
+In a minute she came in, looking charmingly youthful in her new,
+well-fitting frock.
+
+The man, quickly on his feet at her entrance, gave her a lover’s ardent
+kiss; but almost instantly he held her off at arms’ length.
+
+“Why, dearest, what’s the matter?” he demanded.
+
+“W-what do you mean?”
+
+“You look as if—if something had happened—not exactly a bad something,
+but—What is it?”
+
+Miss Maggie laughed softly.
+
+“That’s one of the very nicest things about you, Mr.
+Stanley-G.-Fulton-John-Smith,” she sighed, nestling comfortably
+into the curve of his arm, as they sat down on the divan;—“that
+you _notice_ things so. And it seems so good to me to have
+somebody—_notice_.”
+
+“Poor lonely little woman! And to think of all these years I’ve wasted!”
+
+“Oh, but I shan’t be lonely any more now. And, listen—I’ll tell you
+what made me look so funny. I’ve had a letter from Flora. You know I
+wrote them—about my coming marriage.”
+
+“Yes, yes,” eagerly. “Well, what did they say?”
+
+Miss Maggie laughed again.
+
+“I believe—I’ll let you read the letter for yourself, Stanley. It tells
+some things, toward the end that I think you’ll like to know,” she
+said, a little hesitatingly, as she held out the letter she had brought
+into the room with her.
+
+“Good! I’d like to read it,” cried Fulton, whisking the closely written
+sheets from the envelope.
+
+  MY DEAR MAGGIE (Flora had written): Well, mercy me, you have
+  given us a surprise this time, and no mistake! Yet we’re all real
+  glad, Maggie, and we hope you’ll be awfully happy. You deserve it,
+  all right. Poor Maggie! You’ve had such an awfully hard time all your
+  life!
+
+  Well, when your letter came, we were just going out to Jim’s for an
+  old-fashioned Thanksgiving dinner, so I took it along with me and
+  read it to them all. I kept it till we were all together, too, though
+  I most bursted with the news all the way out.
+
+  Well, you ought to have heard their tongues wag! They were all struck
+  dumb first, for a minute, all except Mellicent. She spoke up the very
+  first thing, and clapped her hands.
+
+  “There,” she cried. “What did I tell you? I knew Aunt Maggie was good
+  enough for anybody!”
+
+  To explain that I’ll have to go back a little. We were talking one
+  day about you—Jane and Mellicent and me—and we said you were a saint,
+  only not a marrying saint. But Mellicent thought you were, and it
+  seems she was right. Oh, of course, we’d all thought once Mr. Smith
+  might take a fancy to you, but we never dreamed of such a thing as
+  this—Mr. Stanley G. Fulton! Sakes alive—I can hardly sense it yet!
+
+  Jane, for a minute, forgot how rich he was, and spoke right up real
+  quick—“It’s for her money, of course. I _knew_ some one would
+  marry her for that fifty thousand dollars!” But she laughed then,
+  right off, with the rest of us, at the idea of a man worth twenty
+  millions marrying _anybody_ for fifty thousand dollars.
+
+  Benny says there ain’t any man alive good enough for his Aunt
+  Maggie, so if Mr. Fulton gets to being too high-headed sometimes, you
+  can tell him what Benny says.
+
+  But we’re all real pleased, honestly, Maggie, and of course we’re
+  terribly excited. We’re so sorry you’re going to be married out
+  there in Chicago. Why can’t you make him come to Hillerton? Jane
+  says she’d be glad to make a real nice wedding for you—and when Jane
+  says a thing like that, you can know how much she’s really saying,
+  for Jane’s feeling awfully poor these days, since they lost all that
+  money, you know.
+
+  And we’d all like to see Mr. Fulton, too—“Cousin Stanley,” as Hattie
+  always calls him. Please give him our congratulations—but there, that
+  sounds funny, doesn’t it? (But the etiquette editors in the magazines
+  say we must always give best wishes to the bride and congratulations
+  to the groom.) Only it seems funny here, to congratulate that rich
+  Mr. Fulton on marrying you. Oh, dear! I didn’t mean it that way,
+  Maggie. I declare, if that sentence wasn’t ’way in the middle of this
+  third page, and so awfully hard for me to write, anyway, I’d tear up
+  this sheet and begin another. But, after all, you’ll understand, I’m
+  sure. You _know_ we all think the world of you, Maggie, and that
+  I didn’t mean anything against _you_. It’s just that—that Mr.
+  Fulton is—is such a big man, and all—But you know what I meant.
+
+  Well, anyway, if you can’t come here to be married, we hope you’ll
+  bring him here soon so we can see him, and see you, too. We miss you
+  awfully, Maggie,—truly we do, especially since Jim’s folks went, and
+  with Mr. Smith gone, too, Jane and I are real lonesome.
+
+  Jim and Hattie like real well where they are. They’ve got a real
+  pretty home, and they’re the biggest folks in town, so Hattie
+  doesn’t have to worry for fear she won’t live quite so fine as her
+  neighbors—though really I think Hattie’s got over that now a good
+  deal. That awful thing of Fred’s sobered her a lot, and taught her
+  who her real friends were, and that money ain’t everything.
+
+  Fred is doing splendidly now, just as steady as a clock. It does my
+  soul good to see him and his father together. They are just like
+  chums. And Bessie—she isn’t near so disagreeable and airy as she was.
+  Hattie took her out of that school and put her into another where
+  she’s getting some real learning and less society and frills and
+  dancing. Jim is doing well, and I think Hattie’s real happy. Oh, of
+  course, when we first heard that Mr. Fulton had got back, I think
+  she was kind of disappointed. You know she always did insist we were
+  going to have the rest of that money if he didn’t show up. But she
+  told me just Thanksgiving Day that she didn’t know but ’twas just as
+  well, after all, that they didn’t have the money, for maybe Fred’d
+  go wrong again, or it would strike Benny this time. Anyhow, however
+  much money she had, she said, she’d never let her children spend so
+  much again, and she’d found out money didn’t bring happiness, always,
+  anyway.
+
+  Mellicent and Donald are going to be married next summer. Donald
+  don’t get a very big salary yet, but Mellicent says she won’t mind a
+  bit going back to economizing again, now that for once she’s had all
+  the chocolates and pink dresses she wanted. What a funny girl she
+  is—but she’s a dear girl, just the same, and she’s settled down real
+  sensible now. She and Donald are as happy as can be, and even Jane
+  likes Donald real well now.
+
+  Jane’s gone back to her tidies and aprons and skimping on everything.
+  She says she’s got to, to make up that forty thousand dollars. But
+  she enjoys it, I believe. Honestly, she acts ’most as happy trying
+  to save five cents as Frank does earning it in his old place behind
+  the counter. And that’s saying a whole lot, as you know. Jane knows
+  very well she doesn’t have to pinch that way. They’ve got lots of the
+  money left, and Frank’s business is better than ever. But she just
+  likes to.
+
+  You complain because I don’t tell you anything about myself in my
+  letters, but there isn’t anything to tell. I am well and happy, and
+  I’ve just thought up the nicest thing to do. Mary Hicks came home
+  from Boston sick last September, and she’s been here at my house ever
+  since. Her own home ain’t no place for a sick person, you know, with
+  all those children, and they’re awfully poor, too. So I took her here
+  with me. She’s a real nice girl. She works in a department store and
+  was all played out, but she’s picked up wonderfully here and is going
+  back next week.
+
+  Well, she was telling me about a girl that works with her at the same
+  counter, and saying how she wished she had a place like this to go to
+  for a rest and change, so I’m going to do it—give them one, I mean,
+  she and the other girls. Mary says there are a dozen girls that she
+  knows right there that are half-sick, but would get well in a minute
+  if they only had a few weeks of rest and quiet and good food. So I’m
+  going to take them, two at a time, so they’ll be company for each
+  other. Mary is going to fix it up for me down there, and pick out
+  the girls, and she says she knows the man who owns the store will
+  be glad to let them off, for they are all good help, and he’s been
+  afraid he’d lose them. He’d offered them a month off, besides their
+  vacation, but they couldn’t take it, because they didn’t have any
+  place to go or money to pay. Of course, that part will be all right
+  now. And I’m so glad and excited I don’t know what to do. Oh, I do
+  hope you’ll tell Mr. Fulton some time how happy he’s made me, and how
+  perfectly splendid that money’s been for me.
+
+  Well, Maggie, this is a long letter, and I must close. Tell me all
+  about the new clothes you are getting, and I hope you will get a lot.
+
+                                            Lovingly yours,
+                                                        FLORA.
+
+P.S. Does Mr. Fulton look like his pictures? You know I’ve got one. F.
+
+P.S. again. Maggie Duff, for pity’s sake, never, never tell that man
+that I ever went into mourning for him and put flowers before his
+picture. I’d be mortified to death!
+“Bless her heart!” With a smile Mr. Fulton folded the letter and handed
+it back to Miss Maggie.
+
+“I didn’t feel that I was betraying confidences—under the
+circumstances,” murmured Miss Maggie.
+
+“Hardly!”
+
+“And there was a good deal in the letter that I _did_ want you to
+see,” added Miss Maggie.
+
+“Hm-m; the congratulations, for one thing, of course,” twinkled the
+man. “Poor Maggie!”
+
+“I wanted you to see how really, in the end, that money was not doing
+so much harm, after all,” asserted Miss Maggie, with some dignity,
+shaking her head at him reprovingly. “I thought you’d be _glad_,
+sir!”
+
+“I am glad. I’m so glad that, when I come to make my will now, I
+shouldn’t wonder if I remembered them all again—a little—that is, if I
+have anything left to will,” he teased shamelessly. “Oh, by the way,
+that makes me think. I’ve just been putting up a monument to John
+Smith.”
+
+“Stanley!” Miss Maggie’s voice carried genuine shocked distress.
+
+“But, my dear Maggie, something was due the man,” maintained Fulton,
+reaching for a small flat parcel near him and placing it in Miss
+Maggie’s hands.
+
+“But—oh, Stanley, how could you?” she shivered, her eyes on the words
+the millionaire had penciled on the brown paper covering of the parcel.
+
+                  Sacred to the memory of John Smith.
+
+“Open it,” directed the man.
+
+With obvious reluctance Miss Maggie loosened the paper covers and
+peered within. The next moment she gave a glad cry.
+
+In her hands lay a handsome brown leather volume with gold letters,
+reading:—
+
+                         The Blaisdell Family
+                                  By
+                              John Smith
+
+“And you—did that?” she asked, her eyes luminous.
+
+“Yes. I shall send a copy each to Frank and Jim and Miss Flora, of
+course. That’s the monument. I thought it due—Mr. John Smith. Poor man,
+it’s the least I can do for him—and the most—unless—” He hesitated with
+an unmistakable look of embarrassment.
+
+“Yes,” prompted Miss Maggie eagerly. “Yes!”
+
+“Well, unless—I let you take me to Hillerton one of these days and
+see if—if Stanley G. Fulton, with your gracious help, can make peace
+for John Smith with those—er—cousins of mine. You see, I still feel
+confoundedly like that small boy at the keyhole, and I’d like—to open
+that door! Could we do it, do you think?”
+
+“Do it? Of course we could! And, oh, Stanley, it’s the one thing needed
+to make me perfectly happy,” she sighed blissfully.
+
+
+                                THE END
+
+
+
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OH, MONEY! MONEY! ***
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+<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold;'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Oh, Money! Money!, by Eleanor Hodgman Porter</div>
+<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
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+</div>
+<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Oh, Money! Money!</div>
+<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Eleanor Hodgman Porter</div>
+<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0'>Release Date: June 1, 2004 [eBook #5962]<br />
+[Most recently updated: May 2, 2021]</div>
+<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div>
+<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div>
+<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Charles Franks, Charles Aldarondo, and the
+Online Distributed Proofreading Team.
+Revised by Richard Tonsing.</div>
+<div style='margin-top:2em;margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OH, MONEY! MONEY! ***</div>
+
+
+
+
+<p>[Illustration: Helen Mason Grose<br />
+“I WAS THINKING—OF MR. STANLEY G. FULTON”]</p>
+
+
+
+
+
+<h1>OH, MONEY! MONEY!<br />
+<span class='ph2'>A NOVEL</span></h1>
+
+
+<div class='ph5'>BY</div>
+
+<div class='ph3'>ELEANOR H. PORTER</div>
+
+<div class='ph5'>Author of</div>
+<div class='ph4'>The Road to Understanding, Just David, Etc.</div>
+
+<div class='ph5'>WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY</div>
+<div class='ph3'>HELEN MASON GROSE</div>
+
+
+
+
+<p><span style="margin-left: 15.5em;"><i>To</i></span><br />
+
+<span style="margin-left: 13em;"><span class="smcap">My Friend</span></span><br />
+
+<span style="margin-left: 13em;"><span class="smcap">Eva Baker</span></span><br /></p>
+
+
+
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak">CONTENTS</h2>
+</div>
+
+<div>
+
+<!-- Autogenerated TOC. Modify or delete as required. -->
+
+<a href="#CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">CHAPTER XVIII</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">CHAPTER XIX</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XX">CHAPTER XX</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">CHAPTER XXI</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">CHAPTER XXII</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">CHAPTER XXIII</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">CHAPTER XXIV</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXV">CHAPTER XXV</a><br />
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI">CHAPTER XXVI</a><br />
+
+<!-- End Autogenerated TOC. -->
+
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak">ILLUSTRATIONS</h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>“<span class="smcap">I Was Thinking—of Mr. Stanley G. Fulton</span>” Frontispiece</p>
+
+<p>“<span class="smcap">I Can’t Help It, Aunt Maggie. I’ve Just Got to Be Away!</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“<span class="smcap">Jim, You’ll Have to Come!</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“<span class="smcap">And Look Into Those Blessed Children’s Faces</span>”</p>
+
+
+<p><i>From drawings by Mrs. Howard B. Grose, Jr.</i></p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I<br />
+
+<span class='ph3'>EXIT MR. STANLEY G. FULTON</span></h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>There was a thoughtful frown on the face of the man who was the
+possessor of twenty million dollars. He was a tall, spare man, with a
+fringe of reddish-brown hair encircling a bald spot. His blue eyes,
+fixed just now in a steady gaze upon a row of ponderous law books
+across the room, were friendly and benevolent in direct contradiction
+to the bulldog, never-let-go fighting qualities of the square jaw below
+the firm, rather thin lips.</p>
+
+<p>The lawyer, a youthfully alert man of sixty years, trimly gray as to
+garb, hair, and mustache, sat idly watching him, yet with eyes that
+looked so intently that they seemed to listen.</p>
+
+<p>For fully five minutes the two men had been pulling at their cigars in
+silence when the millionaire spoke.</p>
+
+<p>“Ned, what am I going to do with my money?”</p>
+
+<p>Into the lawyer’s listening eyes flashed, for a moment, the keenly
+scrutinizing glance usually reserved for the witness on the other side.
+Then quietly came the answer.</p>
+
+<p>“Spend it yourself, I hope—for some years to come, Stanley.”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Stanley G. Fulton was guilty of a shrug and an uplifted eyebrow.</p>
+
+<p>“Thanks. Very pretty, and I appreciate it, of course. But I can’t wear
+but one suit of clothes at a time, nor eat but one dinner—which, by
+the way, just now consists of somebody’s health biscuit and hot water.
+Twenty millions don’t really what you might call melt away at that
+rate.”</p>
+
+<p>The lawyer frowned.</p>
+
+<p>“Shucks, Fulton!” he expostulated, with an irritable twist of his hand.
+“I thought better of you than that. This poor rich man’s ‘one-suit,
+one-dinner, one-bed-at-a-time’ hard-luck story doesn’t suit your style.
+Better cut it out!”</p>
+
+<p>“All right. Cut it is.” The man smiled good-humoredly. “But you see I
+was nettled. You didn’t get me at all. I asked you what was to become
+of my money after I’d done spending it myself—the little that is left,
+of course.”</p>
+
+<p>Once more from the lawyer’s eyes flashed that keenly scrutinizing
+glance.</p>
+
+<p>“What was it, Fulton? A midnight rabbit, or a wedge of mince pie
+<i>not</i> like mother used to make? Why, man alive, you’re barely over
+fifty, yet. Cheer up! It’s only a little matter of indigestion. There
+are a lot of good days and good dinners coming to you, yet.”</p>
+
+<p>The millionaire made a wry face.</p>
+
+<p>“Very likely—if I survive the biscuits. But, seriously, Ned, I’m in
+earnest. No, I don’t think I’m going to die—yet awhile. But I ran
+across young Bixby last night—got him home, in fact. Delivered him to
+his white-faced little wife. Talk about your maudlin idiots!”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, I know. Too bad, too bad!”</p>
+
+<p>“Hm-m; well, that’s what one million did—inherited. It set me to
+thinking—of mine, when I get through with them.”</p>
+
+<p>“I see.” The lawyer’s lips came together a little grimly. “You’ve not
+made your will, I believe.”</p>
+
+<p>“No. Dreaded it, somehow. Funny how a man’ll fight shy of a little
+thing like that, isn’t it? And when we’re so mighty particular where it
+goes while we’re living!”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, I know; you’re not the only one. You have relatives—somewhere, I
+surmise.”</p>
+
+<p>“Nothing nearer than cousins, third or fourth, back East. They’d get
+it, I suppose—without a will.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why don’t you marry?”</p>
+
+<p>The millionaire repeated the wry face of a moment before.</p>
+
+<p>“I’m not a marrying man. I never did care much for women; and—I’m not
+fool enough to think that a woman would be apt to fall in love with my
+bald head. Nor am I obliging enough to care to hand the millions over
+to the woman that falls in love with <i>them</i>, taking me along as
+the necessary sack that holds the gold. If it comes to that, I’d rather
+risk the cousins. They, at least, are of my own blood, and they didn’t
+angle to get the money.”</p>
+
+<p>“You know them?”</p>
+
+<p>“Never saw ’em.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why not pick out a bunch of colleges and endow them?”</p>
+
+<p>The millionaire shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>“Doesn’t appeal to me, somehow. Oh, of course it ought to, but—it just
+doesn’t. That’s all. Maybe if I was a college man myself; but—well, I
+had to dig for what education I got.”</p>
+
+<p>“Very well—charities, then. There are numberless organizations that—”
+He stopped abruptly at the other’s uplifted hand.</p>
+
+<p>“Organizations! Good Heavens, I should think there were! I tried ’em
+once. I got that philanthropic bee in my bonnet, and I gave thousands,
+tens of thousands to ’em. Then I got to wondering where the money went.”</p>
+
+<p>Unexpectedly the lawyer chuckled.</p>
+
+<p>“You never did like to invest without investigating, Fulton,” he
+observed.</p>
+
+<p>With only a shrug for an answer the other plunged on.</p>
+
+<p>“Now, understand. I’m not saying that organized charity isn’t all
+right, and doesn’t do good, of course. Neither am I prepared to propose
+anything to take its place. And maybe the two or three I dealt with
+were particularly addicted to the sort of thing I objected to. But,
+honestly, Ned, if you’d lost heart and friends and money, and were just
+ready to chuck the whole shooting-match, how would you like to become a
+‘Case,’ say, number twenty-three thousand seven hundred and forty-one,
+ticketed and docketed, and duly apportioned off to a six-by-nine rule
+of ‘do this’ and ‘do that,’ while a dozen spectacled eyes watched you
+being cleaned up and regulated and wound up with a key made of just so
+much and no more pats and preachments carefully weighed and labeled?
+How <i>would</i> you like it?”</p>
+
+<p>The lawyer laughed.</p>
+
+<p>“I know; but, my dear fellow, what would you have? Surely,
+<i>un</i>organized charity and promiscuous giving is worse—”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, yes, I’ve tried that way, too,” shrugged the other. “There was a
+time when every Tom, Dick, and Harry, with a run-down shoe and a ragged
+coat, could count on me for a ten-spot by just holding out his hand,
+no questions asked. Then a serious-eyed little woman sternly told me
+one day that the indiscriminate charity of a millionaire was not only a
+curse to any community, but a corruption to the whole state. I believe
+she kindly included the nation, as well, bless her! And I thought I was
+doing good!” “What a blow—to you!” There was a whimsical smile in the
+lawyer’s eyes.</p>
+
+<p>“It was.” The millionaire was not smiling. “But she was right. It set
+me to thinking, and I began to follow up those ten-spots—the ones that
+I could trace. Jove! what a mess I’d made of it! Oh, some of them were
+all right, of course, and I made <i>those</i> fifties on the spot. But
+the others—! I tell you, Ned, money that isn’t earned is the most risky
+thing in the world. If I’d left half those wretches alone, they’d have
+braced up and helped themselves and made men of themselves, maybe.
+As it was—Well, you never can tell as to the results of a so-called
+‘good’ action. From my experience I should say they are every whit as
+dangerous as the bad ones.”</p>
+
+<p>The lawyer laughed outright.</p>
+
+<p>“But, my dear fellow, that’s just where the organized charity comes in.
+Don’t you see?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, yes, I know—Case number twenty-three thousand seven hundred
+and forty-one! And that’s all right, of course. Relief of some sort
+is absolutely necessary. But I’d like to see a little warm sympathy
+injected into it, some way. Give the machine a heart, say, as well as
+hands and a head.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then why don’t you try it yourself?”</p>
+
+<p>“Not I!” His gesture of dissent was emphatic. “I have tried it, in a
+way, and failed. That’s why I’d like some one else to tackle the job.
+And that brings me right back to my original question. I’m wondering
+what my money will do, when I’m done with it. I’d like to have one of
+my own kin have it—if I was sure of him. Money is a queer proposition,
+Ned, and it’s capable of—’most anything.”</p>
+
+<p>“It is. You’re right.”</p>
+
+<p>“What I can do with it, and what some one else can do with it, are
+two quite different matters. I don’t consider my efforts to circulate
+it wisely, or even harmlessly, exactly what you’d call a howling
+success. Whatever I’ve done, I’ve always been criticized for not doing
+something else. If I gave a costly entertainment, I was accused of
+showy ostentation. If I didn’t give it, I was accused of not putting
+money into honest circulation. If I donated to a church, it was called
+conscience money; and if I didn’t donate to it, they said I was mean
+and miserly. So much for what I’ve done. I was just wondering—what the
+other fellow’d do with it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why worry? ’Twon’t be your fault.”</p>
+
+<p>“But it will—if I give it to him. Great Scott, Ned! what money does
+for folks, sometimes—folks that aren’t used to it! Look at Bixby; and
+look at that poor little Marston girl, throwing herself away on that
+worthless scamp of a Gowing who’s only after her money, as everybody
+(but herself) knows! And if it doesn’t make knaves and martyrs of them,
+ten to one it does make fools of ’em. They’re worse than a kid with a
+dollar on circus day; and they use just about as much sense spending
+their pile, too. You should have heard dad tell about his pals in the
+eighties that struck it rich in the gold mines. One bought up every
+grocery store in town and instituted a huge free grab-bag for the
+populace; and another dropped his hundred thousand in the dice box
+before it was a week old. I wonder what those cousins of mine back East
+are like!”</p>
+
+<p>“If you’re fearful, better take Case number twenty-three thousand seven
+hundred and forty-one,” smiled the lawyer.</p>
+
+<p>“Hm-m; I suppose so,” ejaculated the other grimly, getting to his feet.
+“Well, I must be off. It’s biscuit time, I see.”</p>
+
+<p>A moment later the door of the lawyer’s sumptuously appointed office
+closed behind him. Not twenty-four hours afterward, however, it opened
+to admit him again. He was alert, eager-eyed, and smiling. He looked
+ten years younger. Even the office boy who ushered him in cocked a
+curious eye at him.</p>
+
+<p>The man at the great flat-topped desk gave a surprised ejaculation.</p>
+
+<p>“Hullo, Fulton! Those biscuits must be agreeing with you,” he laughed.
+“Mind telling me their name?”</p>
+
+<p>“Ned, I’ve got a scheme. I think I can carry it out.” Mr. Stanley G.
+Fulton strode across the room and dropped himself into the waiting
+chair. “Remember those cousins back East? Well, I’m going to find out
+which of ’em I want for my heir.”</p>
+
+<p>“Another case of investigating before investing, eh?”</p>
+
+<p>“Exactly.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, that’s like you. What is it, a little detective work? Going to
+get acquainted with them, I suppose, and see how they treat you. Then
+you can size them up as to hearts and habits, and drop the golden plum
+into the lap of the worthy man, eh?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, and no. But not the way you say. I’m going to give ’em say fifty
+or a hundred thousand apiece, and—”</p>
+
+<p>“<i>Give</i> it to them—<i>now</i>?”</p>
+
+<p>“Sure! How’m I going to know how they’ll spend money till they have it
+to spend?”</p>
+
+<p>“I know; but—”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, I’ve planned all that. Don’t worry. Of course you’ll have to fix
+it up for me. I shall leave instructions with you, and when the time
+comes all you have to do is to carry them out.”</p>
+
+<p>The lawyer came erect in his chair.</p>
+
+<p>“<i>Leave</i> instructions! But you, yourself—?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, I’m going to be there, in Hillerton.”</p>
+
+<p>“There? Hillerton?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, where the cousins live, you know. Of course I want to see how it
+works.”</p>
+
+<p>“Humph! I suppose you think you’ll find out—with you watching their
+every move!” The lawyer had settled back in his chair, an ironical
+smile on his lips.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, they won’t know me, of course, except as John Smith.”</p>
+
+<p>“John Smith!” The lawyer was sitting erect again.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes. I’m going to take that name—for a time.”</p>
+
+<p>“Nonsense, Fulton! Have you lost your senses?”</p>
+
+<p>“No.” The millionaire still smiled imperturbably. “Really, my dear Ned,
+I’m disappointed in you. You don’t seem to realize the possibilities of
+this thing.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, yes, I do—perhaps better than you, old man,” retorted the other
+with an expressive glance.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, come, Ned, listen! I’ve got three cousins in Hillerton. I never
+saw them, and they never saw me. I’m going to give them a tidy little
+sum of money apiece, and then have the fun of watching them spend it.
+Any harm in that, especially as it’s no one’s business what I do with
+my money?”</p>
+
+<p>“N—no, I suppose not—if you can carry such a wild scheme through.”</p>
+
+<p>“I can, I think. I’m going to be John Smith.”</p>
+
+<p>“Nice distinctive name!”</p>
+
+<p>“I chose a colorless one on purpose. I’m going to be a colorless
+person, you see.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh! And—er—do you think Mr. Stanley G. Fulton, multi-millionaire, with
+his pictured face in half the papers and magazines from the Atlantic to
+the Pacific, <i>can</i> hide that face behind a colorless John Smith?”</p>
+
+<p>“Maybe not. But he can hide it behind a nice little close-cropped
+beard.” The millionaire stroked his smooth chin reflectively.</p>
+
+<p>“Humph! How large is Hillerton?”</p>
+
+<p>“Eight or ten thousand. Nice little New England town, I’m told.”</p>
+
+<p>“Hm-m. And your—er—business in Hillerton, that will enable you to be
+the observing fly on your cousins’ walls?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, I’ve thought that all out, too; and that’s another brilliant
+stroke. I’m going to be a genealogist. I’m going to be at work tracing
+the Blaisdell family—their name is Blaisdell. I’m writing a book which
+necessitates the collection of an endless amount of data. Now how about
+that fly’s chances of observation. Eh?”</p>
+
+<p>“Mighty poor, if he’s swatted—and that’s what he will be! New England
+housewives are death on flies, I understand.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I’ll risk this one.”</p>
+
+<p>“You poor fellow!” There were exasperation and amusement in the
+lawyer’s eyes, but there was only mock sympathy in his voice. “And to
+think I’ve known you all these years, and never suspected it, Fulton!”</p>
+
+<p>The man who owned twenty millions still smiled imperturbably.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, yes, I know what you mean, but I’m not crazy. And really I’m
+interested in genealogy, too, and I’ve been thinking for some time I’d
+go digging about the roots of my ancestral tree. I have dug a little,
+in years gone. My mother was a Blaisdell, you know. Her grandfather was
+brother to some ancestor of these Hillerton Blaisdells; and I really
+am interested in collecting Blaisdell data. So that’s all straight. I
+shall be telling no fibs. And think of the opportunity it gives me!
+Besides, I shall try to board with one of them. I’ve decided that.”</p>
+
+<p>“Upon my word, a pretty little scheme!”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, I knew you’d appreciate it, the more you thought about it.” Mr.
+Stanley G. Fulton’s blue eyes twinkled a little.</p>
+
+<p>With a disdainful gesture the lawyer brushed this aside.</p>
+
+<p>“Do you mind telling me how you happened to think of it, yourself?”</p>
+
+<p>“Not a bit. ’Twas a little booklet got out by a Trust Company.”</p>
+
+<p>“It sounds like it!”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, they didn’t suggest exactly this, I’ll admit; but they did suggest
+that, if you were fearful as to the way your heirs would handle their
+inheritance, you could create a trust fund for their benefit while you
+were living, and then watch the way the beneficiaries spent the income,
+as well as the way the trust fund itself was managed. In this way you
+could observe the effects of your gifts, and at the same time be able
+to change them if you didn’t like results. That gave me an idea. I’ve
+just developed it. That’s all. I’m going to make my cousins a little
+rich, and see which, if any of them, can stand being very rich.”</p>
+
+<p>“But the money, man! How are you going to drop a hundred thousand
+dollars into three men’s laps, and expect to get away without an
+investigation as to the why and wherefore of such a singular
+proceeding?”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s where your part comes in,” smiled the millionaire blandly.
+“Besides, to be accurate, one of the laps is—er—a petticoat one.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, indeed! So much the worse, maybe. But—And so this is where I come
+in, is it? Well, and suppose I refuse to come in?”</p>
+
+<p>“Regretfully I shall have to employ another attorney.”</p>
+
+<p>“Humph! Well?”</p>
+
+<p>“But you won’t refuse.” The blue eyes opposite were still twinkling.
+“In the first place, you’re my good friend—my best friend. You wouldn’t
+be seen letting me start off on a wild-goose chase like this without
+your guiding hand at the helm to see that I didn’t come a cropper.”</p>
+
+<p>“Aren’t you getting your metaphors a trifle mixed?” This time the
+lawyer’s eyes were twinkling.</p>
+
+<p>“Eh? What? Well, maybe. But I reckon you get my meaning. Besides, what
+I want you to do is a mere routine of regular business, with you.”</p>
+
+<p>“It sounds like it. Routine, indeed!”</p>
+
+<p>“But it is—your part. Listen. I’m off for South America, say, on an
+exploring tour. In your charge I leave certain papers with instructions
+that on the first day of the sixth month of my absence (I being
+unheard from), you are to open a certain envelope and act according to
+instructions within. Simplest thing in the world, man. Now isn’t it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, very simple—as you put it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, meanwhile I’ll start for South America—alone, of course; and,
+so far as you’re concerned, that ends it. If on the way, somewhere, I
+determine suddenly on a change of destination, that is none of your
+affair. If, say in a month or two, a quiet, inoffensive gentleman by
+the name of Smith arrives in Hillerton on the legitimate and perfectly
+respectable business of looking up a family pedigree, that also is none
+of your concern.” With a sudden laugh the lawyer fell back in his chair.</p>
+
+<p>“By Jove, Fulton, if I don’t believe you’ll pull this absurd thing off!”</p>
+
+<p>“There! Now you’re talking like a sensible man, and we can get
+somewhere. Of course I’ll pull it off! Now here’s my plan. In order
+best to judge how my esteemed relatives conduct themselves under the
+sudden accession of wealth, I must see them first without it, of
+course. Hence, I plan to be in Hillerton some months before your letter
+and the money arrive. I intend, indeed, to be on the friendliest terms
+with every Blaisdell in Hillerton before that times comes.”</p>
+
+<p>“But can you? Will they accept you without references or introduction?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, I shall have the best of references and introductions. Bob
+Chalmers is the president of a bank there. Remember Bob? Well, I shall
+take John Smith in and introduce him to Bob some day. After that,
+Bob’ll introduce John Smith? See? All I need is a letter as to my
+integrity and respectability, I reckon, so my kinsmen won’t suspect me
+of designs on their spoons when I ask to board with them. You see, I’m
+a quiet, retiring gentleman, and I don’t like noisy hotels.”</p>
+
+<p>With an explosive chuckle the lawyer clapped his knee. “Fulton, this is
+absolutely the richest thing I ever heard of! I’d give a farm to be a
+fly on <i>your</i> wall and see you do it. I’m blest if I don’t think
+I’ll go to Hillerton myself—to see Bob. By George, I will go and see
+Bob!”</p>
+
+<p>“Of course,” agreed the other serenely. “Why not? Besides, it will be
+the most natural thing in the world—business, you know. In fact, I
+should think you really ought to go, in connection with the bequests.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why, to be sure.” The lawyer frowned thoughtfully. “How much are you
+going to give them?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, a hundred thousand apiece, I reckon.”</p>
+
+<p>“That ought to do—for pin money.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, well, I want them to have enough, you know, for it to be a
+real test of what they would do with wealth. And it must be cash—no
+securities. I want them to do their own investing.”</p>
+
+<p>“But how are you going to fix it? What excuse are you going to give for
+dropping a hundred thousand into their laps like that? You can’t tell
+your real purpose, naturally! You’d defeat your own ends.”</p>
+
+<p>“That part we’ll have to fix up in the letter of instructions. I think
+we can. I’ve got a scheme.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll warrant you have! I’ll believe anything of you now. But what are
+you going to do afterward—when you’ve found out what you want to know,
+I mean? Won’t it be something of a shock, when John Smith turns into
+Mr. Stanley G. Fulton? Have you thought of that?”</p>
+
+<p>“Y-yes, I’ve thought of that, and I will confess my ideas are a
+little hazy, in spots. But I’m not worrying. Time enough to think of
+that part. Roughly, my plan is this now. There’ll be two letters of
+instructions: one to open in six months, the other to be opened in,
+say, a couple of years, or so. (I want to give myself plenty of time
+for my observations, you see.) The second letter will really give you
+final instructions as to the settling of my estate—my will. I’ll have
+to make some sort of one, I suppose.”</p>
+
+<p>“But, good Heavens, Stanley, you—you—” the lawyer came to a helpless
+pause. His eyes were startled.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, that’s just for emergency, of course, in case
+anything—er—happened. What I really intend is that long before the
+second letter of instructions is due to be opened, Mr. Stanley G.
+Fulton will come back from his South American explorations. He’ll then
+be in a position to settle his affairs to suit himself, and—er—make a
+new will. Understand?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, I see. But—there’s John Smith? How about Smith?”</p>
+
+<p>The millionaire smiled musingly, and stroked his chin again.</p>
+
+<p>“Smith? Oh! Well, Smith will have finished collecting Blaisdell data,
+of course, and will be off to parts unknown. We don’t have to trouble
+ourselves with Smith any longer.”</p>
+
+<p>“Fulton, you’re a wizard,” laughed the lawyer. “But now about the
+cousins. Who are they? You know their names, of course.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, yes. You see I’ve done a little digging already—some years
+ago—looking up the Blaisdell family. (By the way, that’ll come in fine
+now, won’t it?) And an occasional letter from Bob has kept me posted
+as to deaths and births in the Hillerton Blaisdells. I always meant
+to hunt them up some time, they being my nearest kith and kin. Well,
+with what I already had, and with what Bob has written me, I know these
+facts.”</p>
+
+<p>He paused, pulled a small notebook from his pocket, and consulted it.</p>
+
+<p>“There are two sons and a daughter, children of Rufus Blaisdell. Rufus
+died years ago, and his widow married a man by the name of Duff. But
+she’s dead now. The elder son is Frank Blaisdell. He keeps a grocery
+store. The other is James Blaisdell. He works in a real estate office.
+The daughter, Flora, never married. She’s about forty-two or three,
+I believe, and does dressmaking. James Blaisdell has a son, Fred,
+seventeen, and two younger children. Frank Blaisdell has one daughter,
+Mellicent. That’s the extent of my knowledge, at present. But it’s
+enough for our purpose.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, anything’s enough—for your purpose! What are you going to do
+first?”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ve done it. You’ll soon be reading in your morning paper that Mr.
+Stanley G. Fulton, the somewhat eccentric multi-millionaire, is about
+to start for South America, and that it is hinted he is planning to
+finance a gigantic exploring expedition. The accounts of what he’s
+going to explore will vary all the way from Inca antiquities to the
+source of the Amazon. I’ve done a lot of talking to-day, and a good
+deal of cautioning as to secrecy, etc. It ought to bear fruit by
+to-morrow, or the day after, at the latest. I’m going to start next
+week, and I’m really going <i>exploring</i>, too—though not exactly
+as they think. I came in to-day to make a business appointment for
+to-morrow, please. A man starting on such a hazardous journey must be
+prepared, you understand. I want to leave my affairs in such shape that
+you will know exactly what to do—in emergency. I may come to-morrow?”</p>
+
+<p>The lawyer hesitated, his face an odd mixture of determination and
+irresolution.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, hang it all—yes. Of course you may come. To-morrow at ten—if they
+don’t shut you up before.”</p>
+
+<p>With a boyish laugh Mr. Stanley G. Fulton leaped to his feet.</p>
+
+<p>“Thanks. To-morrow at ten, then.” At the door he turned back jauntily.
+“And, say, Ned, what’ll you bet I don’t grow fat and young over this
+thing? What’ll you bet I don’t get so I can eat real meat and ’taters
+again?”</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II<br />
+<span class='ph3'>ENTER MR. JOHN SMITH</span></h2></div>
+
+
+<p>It was on the first warm evening in early June that Miss Flora
+Blaisdell crossed the common and turned down the street that led to her
+brother James’s home.</p>
+
+<p>The common marked the center of Hillerton. Its spacious green lawns
+and elm-shaded walks were the pride of the town. There was a trellised
+band-stand for summer concerts, and a tiny pond that accommodated a few
+boats in summer and a limited number of skaters in winter. Perhaps,
+most important of all, the common divided the plebeian East Side from
+the more pretentious West. James Blaisdell lived on the West Side. His
+wife said that everybody did who <i>was</i> anybody. They had lately
+moved there, and were, indeed, barely settled.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Blaisdell did dressmaking. Her home was a shabby little rented
+cottage on the East Side. She was a thin-faced little woman with an
+anxious frown and near-sighted, peering eyes that seemed always to be
+looking for wrinkles. She peered now at the houses as she passed slowly
+down the street. She had been only twice to her brother’s new home,
+and she was not sure that she would recognize it, in spite of the fact
+that the street was still alight with the last rays of the setting sun.
+Suddenly across her worried face flashed a relieved smile.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, if you ain’t all here out on the piazza!” she exclaimed,
+turning, in at the walk leading up to one of the ornate little houses.
+“My, ain’t this grand!”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, yes, it’s grand, all right,” nodded the tired-looking man in
+the big chair, removing his feet from the railing. He was in his
+shirt-sleeves, and was smoking a pipe. The droop of his thin mustache
+matched the droop of his thin shoulders—and both indefinably but
+unmistakably spelled disillusion and discouragement. “It’s grand, but
+I think it’s too grand—for us. However, daughter says the best is none
+too good—in Hillerton. Eh, Bess?”</p>
+
+<p>Bessie, the pretty, sixteen-year-old daughter of the family, only
+shrugged her shoulders a little petulantly. It was Harriet, the
+wife, who spoke—a large, florid woman with a short upper lip, and a
+bewilderment of bepuffed light hair. She was already on her feet,
+pushing a chair toward her sister-in-law.</p>
+
+<p>“Of course it isn’t too grand, Jim, and you know it. There aren’t
+any really nice houses in Hillerton except the Pennocks’ and the old
+Gaylord place. There, sit here, Flora. You look tired.”</p>
+
+<p>“Thanks. I be—turrible tired. Warm, too, ain’t it?” The little
+dressmaker began to fan herself with the hat she had taken off. “My,
+’tis fur over here, ain’t it? Not much like ’twas when you lived right
+’round the corner from me! And I had to put on a hat and gloves, too.
+Someway, I thought I ought to—over here.”</p>
+
+<p>Condescendingly the bepuffed head threw an approving nod in her
+direction.</p>
+
+<p>“Quite right, Flora. The East Side is different from the West Side, and
+no mistake. And what will do there won’t do here at all, of course.”</p>
+
+<p>“How about father’s shirt-sleeves?” It was a scornful gibe from Bessie
+in the hammock. “I don’t notice any of the rest of the men around here
+sitting out like that.”</p>
+
+<p>“Bessie!” chided her mother wearily. “You know very well I’m not to
+blame for what your father wears. I’ve tried hard enough, I’m sure!”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, well, Hattie,” sighed the man, with a gesture of abandonment. “I
+supposed I still had the rights of a freeborn American citizen in my
+own home; but it seems I haven’t.” Resignedly he got to his feet and
+went into the house. When he returned a moment later he was wearing his
+coat.</p>
+
+<p>Benny, perched precariously on the veranda railing, gave a sudden
+indignant snort. Benny was eight, the youngest of the family.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I don’t think I like it here, anyhow,” he chafed. “I’d rather go
+back an’ live where we did. A feller can have some fun there. It hasn’t
+been anything but ‘Here, Benny, you mustn’t do that over here, you
+mustn’t do that over here!’ ever since we came. I’m going home an’ live
+with Aunt Flora. Say, can’t I, Aunt Flo?”</p>
+
+<p>“Bless the child! Of course you can,” beamed his aunt. “But you won’t
+want to, I’m sure. Why, Benny, I think it’s perfectly lovely here.”</p>
+
+<p>“Pa don’t.”</p>
+
+<p>“Indeed I do, Benny,” corrected his father hastily. “It’s very nice
+indeed here, of course. But I don’t think we can afford it. We had to
+squeeze every penny before, and how we’re going to meet this rent I
+don’t know.” He drew a profound sigh.</p>
+
+<p>“You’ll earn it, just being here—more business,” asserted his wife
+firmly. “Anyhow, we’ve just got to be here, Jim! We owe it to ourselves
+and our family. Look at Fred to-night!”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, yes, where is Fred?” queried Miss Flora.</p>
+
+<p>“He’s over to Gussie Pennock’s, playing tennis,” interposed Bessie,
+with a pout. “The mean old thing wouldn’t ask me!”</p>
+
+<p>“But you ain’t old enough, my dear,” soothed her aunt. “Wait; your turn
+will come by and by.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, that’s exactly it,” triumphed the mother. “Her turn <i>will</i>
+come—if we live here. Do you suppose Fred would have got an invitation
+to Gussie Pennock’s if we’d still been living on the East Side? Not
+much he would! Why, Mr. Pennock’s worth fifty thousand, if he’s worth a
+dollar! They are some of our very first people.”</p>
+
+<p>“But, Hattie, money isn’t everything, dear,” remonstrated her husband
+gently. “We had friends, and good friends, before.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes; but you wait and see what kind of friends we have now!”</p>
+
+<p>“But we can’t keep up with such people, dear, on our income; and—”</p>
+
+<p>“Ma, here’s a man. I guess he wants—somebody.” It was a husky whisper
+from Benny.</p>
+
+<p>James Blaisdell stopped abruptly. Bessie Blaisdell and the little
+dressmaker cocked their heads interestedly. Mrs. Blaisdell rose to her
+feet and advanced toward the steps to meet the man coming up the walk.</p>
+
+<p>He was a tall, rather slender man, with a close-cropped, sandy beard,
+and an air of diffidence and apology. As he took off his hat and came
+nearer, it was seen that his eyes were blue and friendly, and that his
+hair was reddish-brown, and rather scanty on top of his head.</p>
+
+<p>“I am looking for Mr. Blaisdell—Mr. James Blaisdell,” he murmured
+hesitatingly.</p>
+
+<p>Something in the stranger’s deferential manner sent a warm glow of
+importance to the woman’s heart. Mrs. Blaisdell was suddenly reminded
+that she was Mrs. James D. Blaisdell of the West Side.</p>
+
+<p>“I am Mrs. Blaisdell,” she replied a bit pompously. “What can we do for
+you, my good man?” She swelled again, half unconsciously. She had never
+called a person “my good man” before. She rather liked the experience.</p>
+
+<p>The man on the steps coughed slightly behind his hand—a sudden
+spasmodic little cough. Then very gravely he reached into his pocket
+and produced a letter.</p>
+
+<p>“From Mr. Robert Chalmers—a note to your husband,” he bowed, presenting
+the letter.</p>
+
+<p>A look of gratified surprise came into the woman’s face.</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Robert Chalmers, of the First National? Jim!” She turned to her
+husband joyously. “Here’s a note from Mr. Chalmers. Quick—read it!”</p>
+
+<p>Her husband, already on his feet, whisked the sheet of paper from the
+unsealed envelope, and adjusted his glasses. A moment later he held out
+a cordial hand to the stranger.</p>
+
+<p>“Ah, Mr. Smith, I’m glad to see you. I’m glad to see any friend of Bob
+Chalmers’. Come up and sit down. My wife and children, and my sister,
+Miss Blaisdell. Mr. Smith, ladies—Mr. John Smith.” (Glancing at the
+open note in his hand.) “He is sent to us by Mr. Chalmers, of the First
+National.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, thank you. Mr. Chalmers was so kind.” Still with that deference
+so delightfully heart-warming, the newcomer bowed low to the ladies,
+and made his way to the offered chair. “I will explain at once my
+business,” he said then. “I am a genealogist.”</p>
+
+<p>“What’s that?” It was an eager question from Benny on the veranda
+railing. “Pa isn’t anything, but ma’s a Congregationalist.”</p>
+
+<p>“Hush, child!” protested a duet of feminine voices softly; but the
+stranger, apparently ignoring the interruption, continued speaking.</p>
+
+<p>“I am gathering material for a book on the Blaisdell family.”</p>
+
+<p>“The Blaisdell family!” repeated Mr. James Blaisdell, with cordial
+interest.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes,” bowed the other. “It is my purpose to remain some time in
+your town. I am told there are valuable records here, and an old
+burying-ground of particular interest in this connection. The
+neighboring towns, too, have much Blaisdell data, I understand. As
+I said, I am intending to make this place my headquarters, and I am
+looking for an attractive boarding-place. Mr. Chalmers was good enough
+to refer me to you.”</p>
+
+<p>“To us—for a <i>boarding</i>-place!” There was an unmistakable frown on
+Mrs. James D. Blaisdell’s countenance as she said the words. “Well, I’m
+sure I don’t see why he should. <i>we</i> don’t keep boarders!”</p>
+
+<p>“But, Hattie, we could,” interposed her husband eagerly. “There’s that
+big front room that we don’t need a bit. And it would help a lot if—”
+At the wrathful warning in his wife’s eyes he fell back silenced.</p>
+
+<p>“I said that we didn’t keep boarders,” reiterated the lady distinctly.
+“Furthermore, we do need the room ourselves.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, yes, of course; I understand,” broke in Mr. Smith, as if in
+hasty conciliation. “I think Mr. Chalmers meant that perhaps one of
+you”—he glanced uncertainly at the anxious-eyed little woman at his
+left—“might—er—accommodate me. Perhaps you, now—” He turned his eyes
+full upon Miss Flora Blaisdell, and waited.</p>
+
+<p>The little dressmaker blushed painfully.</p>
+
+<p>“Me? Oh, mercy, no! Why, I live all alone—that is, I mean, I couldn’t,
+you know,” she stammered confusedly. “I dressmake, and I don’t get
+any sort of meals—not fit for a man, I mean. Just women’s things—tea,
+toast, and riz biscuit. I’m so fond of riz biscuit! But, of course,
+you—” She came to an expressive pause.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, I could stand the biscuit, so long as they’re not health biscuit,”
+laughed Mr. Smith genially. “You see, I’ve been living on those and hot
+water quite long enough as it is.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, ain’t your health good, sir?” The little dressmaker’s face wore
+the deepest concern.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, it’s better than it was, thank you. I think I can promise to be
+a good boarder, all right.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why don’t you go to a hotel?” Mrs. James D. Blaisdell still spoke
+with a slightly injured air.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smith lifted a deprecatory hand.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, indeed, that would not do at all—for my purpose,” he murmured. “I
+wish to be very quiet. I fear I should find it quite disturbing—the
+noise and confusion of a public place like that. Besides, for my work,
+it seemed eminently fitting, as well as remarkably convenient, if I
+could make my home with one of the Blaisdell family.”</p>
+
+<p>With a sudden exclamation the little dressmaker sat erect.</p>
+
+<p>“Say, Harriet, how funny we never thought! He’s just the one for poor
+Maggie! Why not send him there?”</p>
+
+<p>“Poor Maggie?” It was the mild voice of Mr. Smith.</p>
+
+<p>“Our sister—yes. She lives—”</p>
+
+<p>“Your <i>sister</i>!” Into Mr. Smith’s face had come a look of startled
+surprise—a look almost of terror. “But there weren’t but three—that
+is, I thought—I understood from Mr. Chalmers that there were but three
+Blaisdells, two brothers, and one sister—you, yourself.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, poor Maggie ain’t a Blaisdell,” explained the little dressmaker,
+with a smile. “She’s just Maggie Duff, father Duff’s daughter by his
+first wife, you know. He married our mother years ago, when we children
+were little, so we were brought up with Maggie, and always called her
+sister; though, of course, she really ain’t any relation to us at all.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, I see. Yes, to be sure. Of course!” Mr. Smith seemed oddly
+thoughtful. He appeared to be settling something in his mind. “She
+isn’t a Blaisdell, then.”</p>
+
+<p>“No, but she’s so near like one, and she’s a splendid cook, and—”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I shan’t send him to Maggie,” cut in Mrs. James D. Blaisdell
+with emphasis. “Poor Maggie’s got quite enough on her hands, as it is,
+with that father of hers. Besides, she isn’t a Blaisdell at all.”</p>
+
+<p>“And she couldn’t come and cook and take care of us near so much,
+either, could she,” plunged in Benny, “if she took this man ter feed?”</p>
+
+<p>“That will do, Benny,” admonished his mother, with nettled dignity.
+“You forget that children should be seen and not heard.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes’m. But, please, can’t I be heard just a minute for this? Why don’t
+ye send the man ter Uncle Frank an’ Aunt Jane? Maybe they’d take him.”</p>
+
+<p>“The very thing!” cried Miss Flora Blaisdell. “I wouldn’t wonder a mite
+if they did.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, I was thinking of them,” nodded her sister-in-law. “And they’re
+always glad of a little help,—especially Jane.”</p>
+
+<p>“Anybody should be,” observed Mr. James Blaisdell quietly.</p>
+
+<p>Only the heightened color in his wife’s cheeks showed that she had
+heard—and understood.</p>
+
+<p>“Here, Benny,” she directed, “go and show the gentleman where Uncle
+Frank lives.”</p>
+
+<p>“All right!” With a spring the boy leaped to the lawn and pranced to
+the sidewalk, dancing there on his toes. “I’ll show ye, Mr. Smith.”</p>
+
+<p>The gentleman addressed rose to his feet.</p>
+
+<p>“I thank you, Mr. Blaisdell,” he said, “and you, ladies. I shall hope
+to see you again soon. I am sure you can help me, if you will, in my
+work. I shall want to ask—some questions.”</p>
+
+<p>“Certainly, sir, certainly! We shall be glad to see you,” promised his
+host. “Come any time, and ask all the questions you want to.”</p>
+
+<p>“And we shall be so interested,” fluttered Miss Flora. “I’ve always
+wanted to know about father’s folks. And are you a Blaisdell, too?”</p>
+
+<p>There was the briefest of pauses. Mr. Smith coughed again twice behind
+his hand.</p>
+
+<p>“Er—ah—oh, yes, I may say that I am. Through my mother I am descended
+from the original immigrant, Ebenezer Blaisdell.”</p>
+
+<p>“Immigrant!” exclaimed Miss Flora.</p>
+
+<p>“An <i>immigrant</i>!” Mrs. James Blaisdell spoke the word as if her
+tongue were a pair of tongs that had picked up a noxious viper.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, but not exactly as we commonly regard the term nowadays,” smiled
+Mr. Smith. “Mr. Ebenezer Blaisdell was a man of means and distinction.
+He was the founder of the family in this country. He came over in 1647.”</p>
+
+<p>“My, how interesting!” murmured the little dressmaker, as the visitor
+descended the steps.</p>
+
+<p>“Good-night—good-night! And thank you again,” bowed Mr. John Smith
+to the assembled group on the veranda. “And now, young man, I’m at
+your service,” he smiled, as he joined Benny, still prancing on the
+sidewalk.
+“Now he’s what I call a real nice pleasant-spoken gentleman,” avowed
+Miss Flora, when she thought speech was safe. “I do hope Jane’ll take
+him.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, yes, he’s well enough,” condescended Mrs. Hattie Blaisdell, with a
+yawn.</p>
+
+<p>“Hattie, why wouldn’t you take him in?” reproached her husband. “Just
+think how the pay would help! And it wouldn’t be a bit of work, hardly,
+for you. Certainly it would be a lot easier than the way we are doing.”</p>
+
+<p>The woman frowned impatiently.</p>
+
+<p>“Jim, don’t, please! Do you suppose I got over here on the West Side to
+open a boarding-house? I guess not—yet!”</p>
+
+<p>“But what shall we do?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, we’ll get along somehow. Don’t worry!”</p>
+
+<p>“Perhaps if you’d worry a little more, I wouldn’t worry so much,”
+sighed the man deeply.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, mercy me, I must be going,” interposed the little dressmaker,
+springing to her feet with a nervous glance at her brother and his
+wife. “I’m forgetting it ain’t so near as it used to be. Good-night!”</p>
+
+<p>“Good-night, good-night! Come again,” called the three on the veranda.
+Then the door closed behind them, as they entered the house.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile, walking across the common, Benny was entertaining Mr. Smith.</p>
+
+<p>“Yep, they’ll take ye, I bet ye—Aunt Jane an’ Uncle Frank will!”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, that’s good, I’m sure.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yep. An’ it’ll be easy, too. Why, Aunt Jane’ll just tumble over
+herself ter get ye, if ye just mention first what yer’ll <i>pay</i>.
+She’ll begin ter reckon up right away then what she’ll save. An’ in a
+minute she’ll say, ‘Yes, I’ll take ye.’”</p>
+
+<p>“Indeed!”</p>
+
+<p>The uncertainty in Mr. Smith’s voice was palpable even to
+eight-year-old Benny.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, you don’t need ter worry,” he hastened to explain. “She won’t
+starve ye; only she won’t let ye waste anythin’. You’ll have ter eat
+all the crusts to yer pie, and finish ‘taters before you can get any
+puddin’, an’ all that, ye know. Ye see, she’s great on savin’—Aunt Jane
+is. She says waste is a sinful extravagance before the Lord.”</p>
+
+<p>“Indeed!” Mr. Smith laughed outright this time. “But are you sure, my
+boy, that you ought to talk—just like this, about your aunt?”</p>
+
+<p>Benny’s eyes widened.</p>
+
+<p>“Why, that’s all right, Mr. Smith. Ev’rybody in town knows Aunt Jane.
+Why, Ma says folks say she’d save ter-day for ter-morrer, if she could.
+But she couldn’t do that, could she? So that’s just silly talk. But you
+wait till you see Aunt Jane.”</p>
+
+<p>“All right. I’ll wait, Benny.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, ye won’t have ter wait long, Mr. Smith, ’cause here’s her house.
+She lives over the groc’ry store, ter save rent, ye know. It’s Uncle
+Frank’s store. An’ here we are,” he finished, banging open a door and
+leading the way up a flight of ill-lighted stairs.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III<br />
+<span class='ph3'>THE SMALL BOY AT THE KEYHOLE</span></h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>At the top of the stairs Benny tried to open the door, but as it did
+not give at his pressure, he knocked lustily, and called “Aunt Jane,
+Aunt Jane!”</p>
+
+<p>“Isn’t this the bell?” hazarded Mr. Smith, his finger almost on a small
+push-button near him.</p>
+
+<p>“Yep, but it don’t go now. Uncle Frank wanted it fixed, but Aunt Jane
+said no; knockin’ was just as good, an’ ’twas lots cheaper, ’cause
+’twould save mendin’, and didn’t use any ’lectricity. But Uncle Frank
+says—”</p>
+
+<p>The door opened abruptly, and Benny interrupted himself to give eager
+greeting.</p>
+
+<p>“Hullo, Aunt Jane! I’ve brought you somebody. He’s Mr. Smith. An’
+you’ll be glad. You see if yer ain’t!”</p>
+
+<p>In the dim hallway Mr. Smith saw a tall, angular woman with graying
+dark hair and high cheek bones. Her eyes were keen and just now
+somewhat sternly inquiring, as they were bent upon himself.</p>
+
+<p>Perceiving that Benny considered his mission as master of ceremonies
+at an end, Mr. Smith hastened to explain.</p>
+
+<p>“I came from your husband’s brother, madam. He—er—sent me. He thought
+perhaps you had a room that I could have.”</p>
+
+<p>“A room?” Her eyes grew still more coldly disapproving.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, and board. He thought—that is, <i>they</i> thought that
+perhaps—you would be so kind.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, a boarder! You mean for pay, of course?”</p>
+
+<p>“Most certainly!”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh!” She softened visibly, and stepped back. “Well, I don’t know. I
+never have—but that isn’t saying I couldn’t, of course. Come in. We can
+talk it over. <i>that</i> doesn’t cost anything. Come in; this way,
+please.” As she finished speaking she stepped to the low-burning gas
+jet and turned it carefully to give a little more light down the narrow
+hallway.</p>
+
+<p>“Thank you,” murmured Mr. Smith, stepping across the threshold.</p>
+
+<p>Benny had already reached the door at the end of the hall. The woman
+began to tug at her apron strings.</p>
+
+<p>“I hope you’ll excuse my gingham apron, Mr.—er—Smith. Wasn’t that the
+name?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes.” The man bowed with a smile.</p>
+
+<p>“I thought that was what Benny said. Well, as I was saying, I hope
+you’ll excuse this apron.” Her fingers were fumbling with the knot at
+the back. “I take it off, mostly, when the bell rings, evenings or
+afternoons; but I heard Benny, and I didn’t suppose ’twas anybody but
+him. There, that’s better!” With a jerk she switched off the dark blue
+apron, hung it over her arm, and smoothed down the spotless white apron
+which had been beneath the blue. The next instant she hurried after
+Benny with a warning cry. “Careful, child, careful! Oh, Benny, you’re
+always in such a hurry!”</p>
+
+<p>Benny, with a cheery “Come on!” had already banged open the door before
+him, and was reaching for the gas burner.</p>
+
+<p>A moment later the feeble spark above had become a flaring sputter of
+flame.</p>
+
+<p>“There, child, what did I tell you?” With a frown Mrs. Blaisdell
+reduced the flaring light to a moderate flame, and motioned Mr. Smith
+to a chair. Before she seated herself, however, she went back into the
+hall to lower the gas there.</p>
+
+<p>During her momentary absence the man, Smith, looked about him, and
+as he looked he pulled at his collar. He felt suddenly a choking,
+suffocating sensation. He still had the curious feeling of trying to
+catch his breath when the woman came back and took the chair facing
+him. In a moment he knew why he felt so suffocated—it was because that
+nowhere could he see an object that was not wholly or partially covered
+with some other object, or that was not serving as a cover itself.</p>
+
+<p>The floor bore innumerable small rugs, one before each chair, each
+door, and the fireplace. The chairs themselves, and the sofa, were
+covered with gray linen slips, which, in turn, were protected by
+numerous squares of lace and worsted of generous size. The green silk
+spread on the piano was nearly hidden beneath a linen cover, and the
+table showed a succession of layers of silk, worsted, and linen, topped
+by crocheted mats, on which rested several books with paper-enveloped
+covers. The chandelier, mirror, and picture frames gleamed dully from
+behind the mesh of pink mosquito netting. Even through the doorway into
+the hall might be seen the long, red-bordered white linen path that
+carried protection to the carpet beneath.</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t like gas myself.” (With a start the man pulled himself
+together to listen to what the woman was saying.) “I think it’s a
+foolish extravagance, when kerosene is so good and so cheap; but my
+husband will have it, and Mellicent, too, in spite of anything I
+say—Mellicent’s my daughter. I tell ’em if we were rich, it would be
+different, of course. But this is neither here nor there, nor what you
+came to talk about! Now just what is it that you want, sir?”</p>
+
+<p>“I want to board here, if I may.”</p>
+
+<p>“How long?”</p>
+
+<p>“A year—two years, perhaps, if we are mutually satisfied.”</p>
+
+<p>“What do you do for a living?”</p>
+
+<p>Smith coughed suddenly. Before he could catch his breath to answer
+Benny had jumped into the breach.</p>
+
+<p>“He sounds something like a Congregationalist, only he ain’t that, Aunt
+Jane, and he ain’t after money for missionaries, either.”</p>
+
+<p>Jane Blaisdell smiled at Benny indulgently. Then she sighed and shook
+her head.</p>
+
+<p>“You know, Benny, very well, that nothing would suit Aunt Jane better
+than to give money to all the missionaries in the world, if she only
+had it to give!” She sighed again as she turned to Mr. Smith. “You’re
+working for some church, then, I take it.”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smith gave a quick gesture of dissent.</p>
+
+<p>“I am a genealogist, madam, in a small way. I am collecting data for a
+book on the Blaisdell family.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh!” Mrs. Blaisdell frowned slightly. The look of cold disapproval
+came back to her eyes. “But who pays you? <i>we</i> couldn’t take the
+book, I’m sure. We couldn’t afford it.”</p>
+
+<p>“That would not be necessary, madam, I assure you,” murmured Mr. Smith
+gravely.</p>
+
+<p>“But how do you get money to live on? I mean, how am I to know that
+I’ll get my pay?” she persisted. “Excuse me, but that kind of business
+doesn’t sound very good-paying; and, you see, I don’t know you. And in
+these days—” An expressive pause finished her sentence.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smith smiled.</p>
+
+<p>“Quite right, madam. You are wise to be cautious. I had a letter of
+introduction to your brother from Mr. Robert Chalmers. I think he will
+vouch for me. Will that do?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, that’s all right, then. But that isn’t saying how <i>much</i>
+you’ll pay. Now, I think—”</p>
+
+<p>There came a sharp knock at the outer door. The eager Benny jumped to
+his feet, but his aunt shook her head and went to the door herself.
+There was a murmur of voices, then a young man entered the hall and
+sat down in the chair near the hatrack. When Mrs. Blaisdell returned
+her eyes were very bright. Her cheeks showed two little red spots. She
+carried herself with manifest importance.</p>
+
+<p>“If you’ll just excuse me a minute,” she apologized to Mr. Smith, as
+she swept by him and opened a door across the room, nearly closing it
+behind her.</p>
+
+<p>Distinctly then, from beyond the imperfectly closed door, came to the
+ears of Benny and Mr. Smith these words, in Mrs. Blaisdell’s most
+excited accents:—“Mellicent, it’s Carl Pennock. He wants you to go
+auto-riding with him down to the Lake with Katie Moore and that crowd.”</p>
+
+<p>“Mother!” breathed an ecstatic voice.</p>
+
+<p>What followed Mr. Smith did not hear, for a nearer, yet more excited,
+voice demanded attention.</p>
+
+<p>“Gee! Carl Pennock!” whispered Benny hoarsely. “Whew! Won’t my sister
+Bess be mad? She thinks Carl Pennock’s the cutest thing going. All the
+girls do!”</p>
+
+<p>With a warning “Sh-h!” and an expressive glance toward the hall, Mr.
+Smith tried to stop further revelations; but Benny was not to be
+silenced.</p>
+
+<p>“They’re rich—awful rich—the Pennocks are,” he confided still more
+huskily. “An’ there’s a girl—Gussie. She’s gone on Fred. He’s my
+brother, ye know. He’s seventeen; an’ Bess is mad ’cause she isn’t
+seventeen, too, so she can go an’ play tennis same as Fred does. She’ll
+be madder ’n ever now, if Mell goes auto-riding with Carl, an’—”</p>
+
+<p>“Sh-h!” So imperative were Mr. Smith’s voice and gesture this time that
+Benny fell back subdued.</p>
+
+<p>At once then became distinctly audible again the voices from the other
+room. Mr. Smith, forced to hear in spite of himself, had the air of one
+who finds he has abandoned the frying pan for the fire.</p>
+
+<p>“No, dear, it’s quite out of the question,” came from beyond the door,
+in Mrs. Blaisdell’s voice. “I can’t let you wear your pink. You will
+wear the blue or stay at home. Just as you choose.”</p>
+
+<p>“But, mother, dear, it’s all out of date,” wailed a young girl’s voice.</p>
+
+<p>“I can’t help that. It’s perfectly whole and neat, and you must save
+the pink for best.”</p>
+
+<p>“But I’m always saving things for best, mother, and I never wear my
+best. I never wear a thing when it’s in style! By the time you let me
+wear the pink I shan’t want to wear it. Sleeves’ll be small then—you
+see if they aren’t—I shall be wearing big ones. I want to wear big ones
+now, when other girls do. Please, mother!”</p>
+
+<p>“Mellicent, why will you tease me like this, when you know it will do
+no good?—when you know I can’t let you do it? Don’t you think I want
+you to be as well-dressed as anybody, if we could afford it? Come, I’m
+waiting. You must wear the blue or stay at home. What shall I tell him?”</p>
+
+<p>There was a pause, then there came an inarticulate word and a choking
+half-sob. The next moment the door opened and Mrs. Blaisdell appeared.
+The pink spots in her cheeks had deepened. She shut the door firmly,
+then hurried through the room to the hall beyond. Another minute and
+she was back in her chair.</p>
+
+<p>“There,” she smiled pleasantly. “I’m ready now to talk business, Mr.
+Smith.”</p>
+
+<p>And she talked business. She stated plainly what she expected to do
+for her boarder, and what she expected her boarder would do for her.
+She enlarged upon the advantages and minimized the discomforts, with
+the aid of a word now and then from the eager and interested Benny.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smith, on his part, had little to say. That that little was most
+satisfactory, however, was very evident; for Mrs. Blaisdell was soon
+quite glowing with pride and pleasure. Mr. Smith was not glowing. He
+was plainly ill at ease, and, at times, slightly abstracted. His eyes
+frequently sought the door which Mrs. Blaisdell had closed so firmly
+a short time before. They were still turned in that direction when
+suddenly the door opened and a young girl appeared.</p>
+
+<p>She was a slim little girl with long-lashed, starlike eyes and a
+wild-rose flush in her cheeks. Beneath her trim hat her light brown
+hair waved softly over her ears, glinting into gold where the light
+struck it. She looked excited and pleased, yet not quite happy. She
+wore a blue dress, plainly made.</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t stay late. Be in before ten, dear,” cautioned Mrs. Blaisdell.
+“And Mellicent, just a minute, dear. This is Mr. Smith. You might as
+well meet him now. He’s coming here to live—to board, you know. My
+daughter, Mr. Smith.”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smith, already on his feet, bowed and murmured a conventional
+something. From the starlike eyes he received a fleeting glance that
+made him suddenly conscious of his fifty years and the bald spot on the
+top of his head. Then the girl was gone, and her mother was speaking
+again.</p>
+
+<p>“She’s going auto-riding—Mellicent is—with a young man, Carl
+Pennock—one of the nicest in town. There are four others in the party.
+They’re going down to the Lake for cake and ice cream, and they’re
+all nice young people, else I shouldn’t let her go, of course. She’s
+eighteen, for all she’s so small. She favors my mother in looks, but
+she’s got the Blaisdell nose, though. Oh, and ’twas the Blaisdells
+you said you were writing a book about, wasn’t it? You don’t mean
+<i>our</i> Blaisdells, right here in Hillerton?”</p>
+
+<p>“I mean all Blaisdells, wherever I find them,” smiled Mr. Smith.</p>
+
+<p>“Dear me! What, <i>us</i>? You mean <i>we</i>’ll be in the book?”
+Now that the matter of board had been satisfactorily settled, Mrs.
+Blaisdell apparently dared to show some interest in the book.</p>
+
+<p>“Certainly.”</p>
+
+<p>“You don’t say! My, how pleased Hattie’ll be—my sister-in-law, Jim’s
+wife. She just loves to see her name in print—parties, and club
+banquets, and where she pours, you know. But maybe you don’t take
+women, too.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, yes, if they are Blaisdells, or have married Blaisdells.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh! That’s where we’d come in, then, isn’t it? Mellicent and I? And
+Frank, my husband, he’ll like it, too,—if you tell about the grocery
+store. And of course you would, if you told about him. You’d have
+to—’cause that’s all there is to tell. He thinks that’s about all there
+is in the world, anyway,—that grocery store. And ’tis a good store, if
+I do say it. And there’s his sister, Flora; and Maggie—But, there! Poor
+Maggie! She won’t be in it, will she, after all? She isn’t a Blaisdell,
+and she didn’t marry one. Now that’s too bad!”</p>
+
+<p>“Ho! She won’t mind.” Benny spoke with conviction. “She’ll just laugh
+and say it doesn’t matter; and then Grandpa Duff’ll ask for his drops
+or his glasses, or something, and she’ll forget all about it. She won’t
+care.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, I know; but—Poor Maggie! Always just her luck.” Mrs. Blaisdell
+sighed and looked thoughtful. “But Maggie <i>knows</i> a lot about the
+Blaisdells,” she added, brightening; “so she could tell you lots of
+things—about when they were little, and all that.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes. But—that isn’t—er—” Mr. Smith hesitated doubtfully, and Mrs.
+Blaisdell jumped into the pause.</p>
+
+<p>“And, really, for that matter, she knows about us <i>now</i>, too,
+better than ’most anybody else. Hattie’s always sending for her, and
+Flora, too, if they’re sick, or anything. Poor Maggie! Sometimes I
+think they actually impose upon her. And she’s such a good soul, too!
+I declare, I never see her but I wish I could do something for her.
+But, of course, with my means—But, there! Here I am, running on as
+usual. Frank says I never do know when to stop, when I get started
+on something; and of course you didn’t come here to talk about poor
+Maggie. Now I’ll go back to business. When is it you want to start
+in—to board, I mean?”</p>
+
+<p>“To-morrow, if I may.” With some alacrity Mr. Smith got to his feet.
+“And now we must be going—Benny and I. I’m at the Holland House. With
+your permission, then, Mrs. Blaisdell, I’ll send up my trunks to-morrow
+morning. And now good-night—and thank you.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why—but, Mr. Smith!” The woman, too, came to her feet, but her face
+was surprised. “Why, you haven’t even seen your room yet! How do you
+know you’ll like it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Eh? What? Oh!” Mr. Smith laughed. There was a quizzical lift to his
+eyebrows. “So I haven’t, have I? And people usually do, don’t they?
+Well—er—perhaps I will just take a look at—the room, though I’m not
+worrying any, I assure you. I’ve no doubt it will be quite right, quite
+right,” he finished, as he followed Mrs. Blaisdell to a door halfway
+down the narrow hall.</p>
+
+<p>Five minutes later, once more on the street, he was walking home with
+Benny. It was Benny who broke the long silence that had immediately
+fallen between them.</p>
+
+<p>“Say, Mr. Smith, I’ll bet ye <i>you</i>’ll never be rich!”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smith turned with a visible start.</p>
+
+<p>“Eh? What? I’ll never be—What do you mean, boy?”</p>
+
+<p>Benny giggled cheerfully.</p>
+
+<p>“’Cause you paid Aunt Jane what she asked the very first time. Why,
+Aunt Jane never expects ter get what she asks, pa says. She sells him
+groceries in the store, sometimes, when Uncle Frank’s away, ye know.
+Pa says what she asks first is for practice—just ter get her hand in;
+an’ she expects ter get beat down. But you paid it, right off the bat.
+Didn’t ye see how tickled Aunt Jane was, after she’d got over bein’
+surprised?”</p>
+
+<p>“Why—er—really, Benny,” murmured Mr. Smith.</p>
+
+<p>But Benny had yet more to say.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, yes, sir, you could have saved a lot every week, if ye hadn’t bit
+so quick. An’ that’s why I say you won’t ever get rich. Savin’ ’s what
+does it, ye know—gets folks rich. Aunt Jane says so. She says a penny
+saved ’s good as two earned, an’ better than four spent.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, really, indeed!” Mr. Smith laughed lightly. “That does look as
+if there wasn’t much chance for me, doesn’t it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, sir.” Benny spoke soberly, and with evident sympathy. He spoke
+again, after a moment, but Mr. Smith did not seem to hear at once. Mr.
+Smith was, indeed, not a little abstracted all the way to Benny’s home,
+though his good-night was very cheerful at parting. Benny would have
+been surprised, indeed, had he known that Mr. Smith was thinking, not
+about his foolishly extravagant agreement for board, but about a pair
+of starry eyes with wistful lights in them, and a blue dress, plainly
+made.</p>
+
+<p>In the hotel that night, Mr. John Smith wrote the following letter to
+Edward D. Norton, Esq., Chicago:</p>
+
+<div class='blockquote'><span class="smcap">My Dear Ned</span>,—Well, I’m here. I’ve been here exactly six
+hours, and already I’m in possession of not a little Blaisdell data
+for my—er—book. I’ve seen Mr. and Mrs. James, their daughter, Bessie,
+and their son, Benny. Benny, by the way, is a gushing geyser of
+current Blaisdell data which, I foresee, I shall find interesting,
+but embarrassing, perhaps, at times. I’ve also seen Miss Flora, and
+Mrs. Jane Blaisdell and her daughter, Mellicent.</div>
+
+<div class='blockquote'>There’s a “Poor Maggie” whom I haven’t seen. But she isn’t a
+Blaisdell. She’s a Duff, daughter of the man who married Rufus
+Blaisdell’s widow, some thirty years or more ago. As I said,
+I haven’t seen her yet, but she, too, according to Mrs. Frank
+Blaisdell, must be a gushing geyser of Blaisdell data, so I probably
+soon shall see her. Why she’s “poor” I don’t know.</div>
+
+<div class='blockquote'>As for the Blaisdell data already in my possession—I’ve no comment
+to make. Really, Ned, to tell the truth, I’m not sure I’m going to
+relish this job, after all. In spite of a perfectly clear conscience,
+and the virtuous realization that I’m here to bring nothing worse
+than a hundred thousand dollars apiece with the possible addition of
+a few millions on their devoted heads—in spite of all this, I yet
+have an uncomfortable feeling that I’m a small boy listening at the
+keyhole.</div>
+
+<div class='blockquote'>However, I’m committed to the thing now, so I’ll stuff it out, I
+suppose,—though I’m not sure, after all, that I wouldn’t chuck the
+whole thing if it wasn’t that I wanted to see how Mellicent will
+enjoy her pink dresses. How many pink dresses will a hundred thousand
+dollars buy, anyway,—I mean <i>pretty</i> pink dresses, all fixed up
+with frills and furbelows?</div>
+
+<div class='blockquote'><span style="margin-left: 12em;">As ever yours,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 17em;"><span class="smcap">Stan</span>—er—<span class="smcap">John Smith</span>.</span><br /></div>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV<br />
+<span class='ph3'>IN SEARCH OF SOME DATES</span></h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>Very promptly the next morning Mr. John Smith and his two trunks
+appeared at the door of his new boarding-place. Mrs. Jane Blaisdell
+welcomed him cordially. She wore a high-necked, long-sleeved gingham
+apron this time, which she neither removed nor apologized for—unless
+her cheerful “You see, mornings you’ll find me in working trim, Mr.
+Smith,” might be taken as an apology.</p>
+
+<p>Mellicent, her slender young self enveloped in a similar apron, was
+dusting his room as he entered it. She nodded absently, with a casual
+“Good-morning, Mr. Smith,” as she continued at her work. Even the
+placing of the two big trunks, which the shuffling men brought in, won
+from her only a listless glance or two. Then, without speaking again,
+she left the room, as her mother entered it.</p>
+
+<p>“There!” Mrs. Blaisdell looked about her complacently. “With this
+couch-bed with its red cover and cushions, and all the dressing things
+moved to the little room in there, it looks like a real sitting-room in
+here, doesn’t it?”</p>
+
+<p>“It certainly does, Mrs. Blaisdell.”</p>
+
+<p>“And you had ’em take the trunks in there, too. That’s good,” she
+nodded, crossing to the door of the small dressing-room beyond. “I
+thought you would. Well, I hope you’ll be real happy with us, Mr.
+Smith, and I guess you will. And you needn’t be a mite afraid of
+hurting anything. I’ve covered everything with mats and tidies and
+spreads.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, I see.” A keen listener would have noticed an odd something in
+Mr. Smith’s voice; but Mrs. Blaisdell apparently noticed nothing.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, I always do—to save wearing and soiling, you know. Of course, if
+we had money to buy new all the time, it would be different. But we
+haven’t. And that’s what I tell Mellicent when she complains of so many
+things to dust and brush. Now make yourself right at home, Mr. Smith.
+Dinner’s at twelve o’clock, and supper is at six—except in the winter.
+We have it earlier then, so’s we can go to bed earlier. Saves gas, you
+know. But it’s at six now. I do like the long days, don’t you? Well,
+I’ll be off now, and let you unpack. As I said before, make yourself
+perfectly at home, perfectly at home.”</p>
+
+<p>Left alone, Mr. Smith drew a long breath and looked about him. It was
+a pleasant room, in spite of its cluttered appearance. There was an
+old-fashioned desk for his papers, and the chairs looked roomy and
+comfortable. The little dressing-room carried many conveniences, and
+the windows of both rooms looked out upon the green of the common.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, well, I don’t know. This might be lots worse—in spite of the
+tidies!” chuckled Mr. John Smith, as he singled out the keys of his
+trunks.</p>
+
+<p>At the noon dinner-table Mr. Smith met Mr. Frank Blaisdell. He was a
+portly man with rather thick gray hair and “mutton-chop” gray whiskers.
+He ate very fast, and a great deal, yet he still found time to talk
+interestedly with his new boarder.</p>
+
+<p>He was plainly a man of decided opinions—opinions which he did not
+hesitate to express, and which he emphasized with resounding thumps of
+his fists on the table. The first time he did this, Mr. Smith, taken
+utterly by surprise, was guilty of a visible start. After that he
+learned to accept them with the serenity evinced by the rest of the
+family.</p>
+
+<p>When the dinner was over, Mr. Smith knew (if he could remember them)
+the current market prices of beans, corn, potatoes, sugar, and flour;
+and he knew (again if he could remember) why some of these commodities
+were higher, and some lower, than they had been the week before. In a
+way, Mr. John Smith was interested. That stocks and bonds fluctuated,
+he was well aware. That “wheat” could be cornered, he realized. But of
+the ups and downs of corn and beans as seen by the retail grocer he
+knew very little. That is, he had known very little until after that
+dinner with Mr. Frank Blaisdell.</p>
+
+<p>It was that afternoon that Mr. Smith began systematically to gather
+material for his Blaisdell book. He would first visit by turns all the
+Hillerton Blaisdells, he decided; then, when he had exhausted their
+resources, he would, of course, turn to the town records and cemeteries
+of Hillerton and the neighboring villages.</p>
+
+<p>Armed with a pencil and a very businesslike looking notebook,
+therefore, he started at two o’clock for the home of James Blaisdell.
+Remembering Mr. Blaisdell’s kind permission to come and ask all the
+questions he liked, he deemed it fitting to begin there.</p>
+
+<p>He had no trouble in finding the house, but there was no one in
+sight this time, as he ascended the steps. The house, indeed, seemed
+strangely quiet. He was just about to ring the bell when around the
+corner of the veranda came a hurried step and a warning voice.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, please, don’t ring the bell! What is it? Isn’t it something that I
+can do for you?”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smith turned sharply. He thought at first, from the trim, slender
+figure, and the waving hair above the gracefully poised head, that he
+was confronting a young woman. Then he saw the silver threads at the
+temples, and the fine lines about the eyes.</p>
+
+<p>“I am looking for Mrs. Blaisdell—Mrs. James Blaisdell,” he answered,
+lifting his hat.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, you’re Mr. Smith. Aren’t you Mr. Smith?” She smiled brightly, then
+went on before he could reply. “You see, Benny told me. He described
+you perfectly.”</p>
+
+<p>The man’s eyebrows went up.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, did he? The young rascal! I fancy I should be edified to hear
+it—that description.”</p>
+
+<p>The other laughed. Then, a bit roguishly, she demanded:—“Should you
+like to hear it—really?”</p>
+
+<p>“I certainly should. I’ve already collected a few samples of Benny’s
+descriptive powers.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then you shall have this one. Sit down, Mr. Smith.” She motioned him
+to a chair, and dropped easily into one herself. “Benny said you were
+tall and not fat; that you had a wreath of light hair ’round a bald
+spot, and whiskers that were clipped as even as Mr. Pennock’s hedge;
+and that your lips, without speaking, said, ‘Run away, little boy,’ but
+that your eyes said, ‘Come here.’ Now I think Benny did pretty well.”
+“So I judge, since you recognized me without any difficulty,” rejoined
+Mr. Smith, a bit dryly. “But—YOU—? You see you have the advantage of
+me. Benny hasn’t described you to me.” He paused significantly.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, I’m just here to help out. Mrs. Blaisdell is ill upstairs—one of
+her headaches. That is why I asked you not to ring. She gets so nervous
+when the bell rings. She thinks it’s callers, and that she won’t be
+ready to receive them; and she hurries up and begins to dress. So I
+asked you not to ring.”</p>
+
+<p>“But she isn’t seriously ill?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, no, just a headache. She has them often. You wanted to see her?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes. But it’s not important at all. Another time, just as well. Some
+questions—that is all.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, for the book, of course. Oh, yes, I have heard about that, too.”
+She smiled again brightly. “But can’t you wait? Mr. Blaisdell will soon
+be here. He’s coming early so I can go home. I <i>have</i> to go home.”</p>
+
+<p>“And you are—”</p>
+
+<p>“Miss Duff. My name is Duff.”</p>
+
+<p>“You don’t mean—‘Poor Maggie’!” (Not until the words were out did Mr.
+Smith realize quite how they would sound.) “Er—ah—that is—” He stumbled
+miserably, and she came to his rescue.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, yes, I’m—‘Poor Maggie.’” There was an odd something in her
+expressive face that Mr. Smith could not fathom. He was groping for
+something—anything to say, when suddenly there was a sound behind them,
+and the little woman at his side sprang to her feet.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, Hattie, you came down!” she exclaimed as Mrs. James Blaisdell
+opened the screen door and stepped out on to the veranda. “Here’s Mrs.
+Blaisdell now, Mr. Smith.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, it’s only Mr. Smith!” With a look very like annoyance Mrs.
+Blaisdell advanced and held out her hand. She looked pale, and her hair
+hung a bit untidily about one ear below a somewhat twisted pyramid of
+puffs. Her dress, though manifestly an expensive one, showed haste in
+its fastenings. “Yes, I heard voices, and I thought some one had come—a
+caller. So I came down.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m glad—if you’re better,” smiled Miss Maggie. “Then I’ll go, if
+you don’t mind. Mr. Smith has come to ask you some questions, Hattie.
+Good-bye!” With another cheery smile and a nod to Mr. Smith, she
+disappeared into the house. A minute later Mr. Smith saw her hurrying
+down a side path to the street.</p>
+
+<p>“You called to ask some questions?” Mrs. Blaisdell sank languidly into
+a chair.</p>
+
+<p>“About the Blaisdell family—yes. But perhaps another day, when you are
+feeling better, Mrs. Blaisdell.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, no.” She smiled a little more cordially. “I can answer to-day as
+well as any time—though I’m not sure I can tell you very much, ever. I
+think it’s fine you are making the book, though. Some way it gives a
+family such a standing, to be written up like that. Don’t you think so?
+And the Blaisdells are really a very nice family—one of the oldest in
+Hillerton, though, of course, they haven’t much money.”</p>
+
+<p>“I ought to find a good deal of material here, then, if they have lived
+here so long.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, I suppose so. Now, what can I tell you? Of course I can tell
+you about my own family. My husband is in the real estate business.
+You knew that, didn’t you? Perhaps you see ‘The Real Estate Journal.’
+His picture was in it a year ago last June. There was a write-up on
+Hillerton. I was in it, too, though there wasn’t much about me. But
+I’ve got other clippings with more, if you’d like to see them—where
+I’ve poured, and been hostess, and all that, you know.”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smith took out his notebook and pencil.</p>
+
+<p>“Let me see, Mrs. Blaisdell, your husband’s father’s name was Rufus, I
+believe. What was his mother’s maiden name, please?”</p>
+
+<p>“His mother’s maiden name? Oh, ‘Elizabeth.’ Our little girl is named
+for her—Bessie, you know—you saw her last night. Jim wanted to, so
+I let him. It’s a pretty name—Elizabeth—still, it sounds a little
+old-fashioned now, don’t you think? Of course we are anxious to have
+everything just right for our daughter. A young lady soon coming out,
+so,—you can’t be too particular. That’s one reason why I wanted to get
+over here—on the West Side, I mean. Everybody who is anybody lives on
+the West Side in Hillerton. You’ll soon find that out.”</p>
+
+<p>“No doubt, no doubt! And your mother Blaisdell’s surname?” Mr. Smith’s
+pencil was poised over the open notebook.
+“Surname? Mother Blaisdell’s? Oh, before she was married. I see.
+But, dear me, I don’t know. I suppose Jim will, or Flora, or maybe
+Frank—though I don’t believe <i>he</i> will, unless her folks kept
+groceries. Did you ever see anybody that didn’t know anything but
+groceries like Frank Blaisdell?” The lady sighed and shrugged her
+somewhat heavy shoulders with an expressive glance.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smith smiled understandingly.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, well, it’s good—to be interested in one’s business, you know.”</p>
+
+<p>“But such a business!” murmured the lady, with another shrug.</p>
+
+<p>“Then you can’t tell me Mrs. Rufus Blaisdell’s surname?”</p>
+
+<p>“No. But Jim—Oh, I’ll tell you who will know,” she broke off
+interestedly; “and that’s Maggie Duff. You saw her here a few minutes
+ago, you know. Father Duff’s got all of Mother Blaisdell’s papers and
+diaries. Oh, Maggie can tell you a lot of things. Poor Maggie! Benny
+says if we want <i>anything</i> we ask Aunt Maggie, and I don’t know
+but he’s right. And here I am, sending you to her, so soon!”</p>
+
+<p>“Very well, then,” smiled Mr. Smith. “I don’t see but what I shall have
+to interview Miss Maggie, and Miss Flora. Is there nothing more, then,
+that you can tell me?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, there’s Fred, my son. You haven’t seen him yet. We’re very proud
+of Fred. He’s at the head of his class, and he’s going to college
+and be a lawyer. And that’s another reason why I wanted to come over
+to this side—on Fred’s account. I want him to meet the right sort of
+people. You know it helps so much! We think we’re going to have Fred a
+big man some day.”</p>
+
+<p>“And he was born, when?” Mr. Smith’s pencil still poised above an
+almost entirely blank page.</p>
+
+<p>“He’s seventeen. He’ll be eighteen the tenth of next month.”</p>
+
+<p>“And Miss Bessie, and Benny?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, she’s sixteen. She’ll be seventeen next winter. She wants to come
+out then, but I think I shall wait—a little, she’s so very young;
+though Gussie Pennock’s out, and she’s only seventeen, and the Pennocks
+are some of our very best people. They’re the richest folks in town,
+you know.”</p>
+
+<p>“And Benny was born—when?”</p>
+
+<p>“He’s eight—or rather nine, next Tuesday. Dear me, Mr. Smith, don’t you
+want <i>anything</i> but dates? They’re tiresome things, I think,—make
+one feel so old, you know, and it shows up how many years you’ve been
+married. Don’t you think so? But maybe you’re a bachelor.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, I’m a bachelor.”</p>
+
+<p>“Are you, indeed? Well, you miss a lot, of course,—home and wife and
+children. Still, you gain some things. You aren’t tied down, and you
+don’t have so much to worry about. Is your mother living, or your
+father?”</p>
+
+<p>“No. I have no—near relatives.” Mr. Smith stirred a little uneasily,
+and adjusted his book. “Perhaps, now, Mrs. Blaisdell, you can give me
+your own maiden name.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, yes, I can give you that!” She laughed and bridled
+self-consciously. “But you needn’t ask when I was born, for I shan’t
+tell you, if you do. My name was Hattie Snow.”</p>
+
+<p>“‘Harriet,’ I presume.” Mr. Smith’s pencil was busily at work.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes—Harriet Snow. And the Snows were just as good as the
+Blaisdells, if I do say it. There were a lot that wanted me—oh, I
+was pretty <i>then</i>, Mr. Smith.” She laughed, and bridled again
+self-consciously. “But I took Jim. He was handsome then, very—big
+dark eyes and dark hair, and so dreamy and poetical-looking; and
+there wasn’t a girl that hadn’t set her cap for him. And he’s been
+a good husband to me. To be sure, he isn’t quite so ambitious as he
+might be, perhaps. _I_ always did believe in being somebody, and
+getting somewhere. Don’t you? But Jim—he’s always for hanging back and
+saying how much it’ll cost. Ten to one he doesn’t end up by saying we
+can’t afford it. He’s like Jane,—Frank’s wife, where you board, you
+know,—only Jane’s worse than Jim ever thought of being. She won’t spend
+even what she’s got. If she’s got ten dollars, she won’t spend but five
+cents, if she can help it. Now, I believe in taking some comfort as you
+go along. But Jane—greatest saver I ever did see. Better look out, Mr.
+Smith, that she doesn’t try to save feeding you at all!” she finished
+merrily.</p>
+
+<p>“I’m not worrying!” Mr. Smith smiled cheerily, snapped his book shut
+and got to his feet.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, won’t you wait for Mr. Blaisdell? He can tell you more, I’m sure.”</p>
+
+<p>“Not to-day, thank you. At his office, some time, I’ll see Mr.
+Blaisdell,” murmured Mr. Smith, with an odd haste. “But I thank you
+very much, Mrs. Blaisdell,” he bowed in farewell.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V<br />
+<span class='ph3'>IN MISS FLORA’S ALBUM</span></h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>It was the next afternoon that Mr. Smith inquired his way to the home
+of Miss Flora Blaisdell. He found it to be a shabby little cottage on
+a side street. Miss Flora herself answered his knock, peering at him
+anxiously with her near-sighted eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smith lifted his hat.</p>
+
+<p>“Good-afternoon, Miss Blaisdell,” he began with a deferential bow. “I
+am wondering if you could tell me something of your father’s family.”
+Miss Flora, plainly pleased, but flustered, stepped back for him to
+enter.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, Mr. Smith, come in, come in! I’m sure I’m glad to tell you
+anything I know,” she beamed, ushering him into the unmistakably
+little-used “front room.” “But you really ought to go to Maggie. I can
+tell you some things, but Maggie’s got the Bible. Mother had it, you
+know, and it’s all among her things. And of course we had to let it
+stay, as long as Father Duff lives. He doesn’t want anything touched.
+Poor Maggie—she tried to get ’em for us; but, mercy! she never tried
+but once. But I’ve got some things. I’ve got pictures of a lot of them,
+and most of them I know quite a lot about.”</p>
+
+<p>As she spoke she nicked up from the table a big red plush photograph
+album. Seating herself at his side she opened it, and began to tell him
+of the pictures, one by one.</p>
+
+<p>She did, indeed, know “quite a lot” of most of them. Tintypes,
+portraying stiffly held hands and staring eyes, ghostly reproductions
+of daguerreotypes of stern-lipped men and women, in old-time stock
+and kerchief; photographs of stilted family groups after the
+“he-is-mine-and-I-am-his” variety; snap-shots of adorable babies with
+blurred thumbs and noses—never had Mr. John Smith seen their like
+before.</p>
+
+<p>Politely he listened. Busily, from time to time, he jotted down a name
+or date. Then, suddenly, as she turned a page, he gave an involuntary
+start. He was looking at a pictured face, evidently cut from a magazine.</p>
+
+<p>“Why, what—who—” he stammered.</p>
+
+<p>“That? Oh, that’s Mr. Fulton, the millionaire, you know.” Miss Flora’s
+hands fluttered over the page a little importantly, adjusting a corner
+of the print. “You must have seen his picture. It’s been everywhere.
+He’s our cousin, too.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, is he?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, ’way back somewhere. I can’t tell you just how, only I know
+he is. His mother was a Blaisdell. That’s why I’ve always been so
+interested in him, and read everything I could—in the papers and
+magazines, you know.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, I see.” Mr. John Smith’s voice had become a little uncertain.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes. He ain’t very handsome, is he?” Miss Flora’s eyes were musingly
+fixed on the picture before her—which was well, perhaps: Mr. John
+Smith’s face was a study just then.</p>
+
+<p>“Er—n-no, he isn’t.”</p>
+
+<p>“But he’s turribly rich, I s’pose. I wonder how it feels to have so
+much money.”</p>
+
+<p>There being no reply to this, Miss Flora went on after a moment.</p>
+
+<p>“It must be awful nice—to buy what you want, I mean, without fretting
+about how much it costs. I never did. But I’d like to.”</p>
+
+<p>“What would you do—if you could—if you had the money, I mean?” queried
+Mr. Smith, almost eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Flora laughed.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, there’s three things I know I’d do. They’re silly, of course,
+but they’re what I <i>want</i>. It’s a phonygraph, and to see Niagara
+Falls, and to go into Noell’s restaurant and order what I want without
+even looking at the prices after ’em. Now you’re laughing at me!”</p>
+
+<p>“Laughing? Not a bit of it!” There was a curious elation in Mr. Smith’s
+voice. “What’s more, I hope you’ll get them—some time.”</p>
+
+<p>Miss Flora sighed. Her face looked suddenly pinched and old.</p>
+
+<p>“I shan’t. I couldn’t, you know. Why, if I had the money, I shouldn’t
+spend it—not for them things. I’d be needing shoes or a new dress. And
+I <i>couldn’t</i> be so rich I wouldn’t notice what the prices was—of
+what I ate. But, then, I don’t believe anybody’s that, not even him.”
+She pointed to the picture still open before them.</p>
+
+<p>“No?” Mr. Smith, his eyes bent upon the picture, was looking
+thoughtful. He had the air of a man to whom has come a brand-new,
+somewhat disconcerting idea.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Flora, glancing from the man to the picture, and back again, gave
+a sudden exclamation.
+“There, now I know who it is that you remind me of, Mr. Smith. It’s
+him—Mr. Fulton, there.”</p>
+
+<p>“Eh? What?” Mr. Smith looked not a little startled.</p>
+
+<p>“Something about the eyes and nose.” Miss Flora was still interestedly
+comparing the man and the picture, “But, then, that ain’t so strange.
+You’re a Blaisdell yourself. Didn’t you say you was a Blaisdell?”</p>
+
+<p>“Er—y-yes, oh, yes. I’m a Blaisdell,” nodded Mr. Smith hastily. “Very
+likely I’ve got the—er—Blaisdell nose. Eh?” Then he turned a leaf of
+the album abruptly, decidedly. “And who may this be?” he demanded,
+pointing to the tintype of a bright-faced young girl.</p>
+
+<p>“That? Oh, that’s my cousin Grace when she was sixteen. She died; but
+she was a wonderful girl. I’ll tell you about her.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, do,” urged Mr. Smith; and even the closest observer, watching his
+face, could not have said that he was not absorbedly interested in Miss
+Flora’s story of “my cousin Grace.”</p>
+
+<p>It was not until the last leaf of the album was reached that they came
+upon the picture of a small girl, with big, hungry eyes looking out
+from beneath long lashes.</p>
+
+<p>“That’s Mellicent—where you’re boarding, you know—when she was little.”
+Miss Flora frowned disapprovingly. “But it’s horrid, poor child!”</p>
+
+<p>“But she looks so—so sad,” murmured Mr. Smith.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, I know. She always did.” Miss Flora sighed and frowned again. She
+hesitated, then burst out, as if irresistibly impelled from within.
+“It’s only just another case of never having what you want <i>when</i>
+you want it, Mr. Smith. And it ain’t ’cause they’re poor, either. They
+<i>ain’t</i> poor—not like me, I mean. Frank’s always done well, and
+he’s been a good provider; but it’s my sister-in-law—her way, I mean.
+Not that I’m saying anything against Jane. I ain’t. She’s a good woman,
+and she’s very kind to me. She’s always saying what she’d do for me if
+she only had the money. She’s a good housekeeper, too, and her house is
+as neat as wax. But it’s just that she never thinks she can <i>use</i>
+anything she’s got till it’s so out of date she don’t want it. I
+dressmake for her, you see, so I know—about her sleeves and skirts, you
+know. And if she ever does wear a decent thing she’s so afraid it will
+rain she never takes any comfort in it!”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, that is—unfortunate.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, ain’t it? And she’s brought up that poor child the same way. Why,
+from babyhood, Mellicent never had her rattles till she wanted blocks,
+nor her blocks till she wanted dolls, nor her dolls till she was big
+enough for beaus! And that’s what made the poor child always look so
+wall-eyed and hungry. She was hungry—even if she did get enough to eat.”</p>
+
+<p>“Mrs. Blaisdell probably believed in—er—economy,” hazarded Mr. Smith.</p>
+
+<p>“Economy! My stars, I should think she did! But, there, I ought not
+to have said anything, of course. It’s a good trait. I only wish some
+other folks I could mention had more of it. There’s Jim’s wife, for
+instance. Now, if she’s got ten cents, she’ll spend fifteen—and five
+more to show <i>how</i> she spent it. She and Jane ought to be shaken
+up in a bag together. Why, Mr. Smith, Jane doesn’t let herself enjoy
+anything. She’s always keeping it for a better time. Though sometimes I
+think she <i>does</i> enjoy just seeing how far she can make a dollar
+go. But Mellicent don’t, nor Frank; and it’s hard on them.”</p>
+
+<p>“I should say it might be.” Mr. Smith was looking at the wistful eyes
+under the long lashes.</p>
+
+<p>“’Tis; and ’tain’t right, I believe. There <i>is</i> such a thing
+as being too economical. I tell Jane she’ll be like a story I read
+once about a man who pinched and saved all his life, not even buying
+peanuts, though he just doted on ’em. And when he did get rich, so he
+could buy the peanuts, he bought a big bag the first thing. But he
+didn’t eat ’em. He hadn’t got any teeth left to chew ’em with.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, that was a catastrophe!” laughed Mr. Smith, as he pocketed his
+notebook and rose to his feet. “And now I thank you very much, Miss
+Blaisdell, for the help you’ve been to me.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, you’re quite welcome, indeed you are, Mr. Smith,” beamed Miss
+Blaisdell. “It’s done me good, just to talk to you about all these
+folks and pictures. I we enjoyed it. I do get lonesome sometimes, all
+alone, so! and I ain’t so busy as I wish I was, always. But I’m afraid
+I haven’t helped you much—just this.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, yes, you have—perhaps more than you think,” smiled the man, with
+an odd look in his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>“Have I? Well, I’m glad, I’m sure. And don’t forget to go to Maggie’s,
+now. She’ll have a lot to tell you. Poor Maggie! And she’ll be so glad
+to show you!”</p>
+
+<p>“All right, thank you; I’ll surely interview—Miss Maggie,” smiled the
+man in good-bye.</p>
+
+<p>He had almost said “poor” Maggie himself, though why she should be
+<i>poor</i> Maggie had come to be an all-absorbing question with him.
+He had been tempted once to ask Miss Flora, but something had held him
+back. That evening at the supper-table, however, in talking with Mrs.
+Jane Blaisdell, the question came again to his lips; and this time it
+found utterance.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Jane herself had introduced Miss Maggie’s name, and had said an
+inconsequential something about her when Mr. Smith asked:—</p>
+
+<p>“Mrs. Blaisdell, please,—may I ask? I must confess to a great curiosity
+as to why Miss Duff is always ‘poor Maggie.’”</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Blaisdell laughed pleasantly.</p>
+
+<p>“Why, really, I don’t know,” she answered, “only it just comes natural,
+that’s all. Poor Maggie’s been so unfortunate. There! I did it again,
+didn’t I? That only goes to show how we all do it, unconsciously.”</p>
+
+<p>Frank Blaisdell, across the table, gave a sudden emphatic sniff.</p>
+
+<p>“Humph! Well, I guess if you had to live with Father Duff, Jane, it
+would be ‘poor Jane’ with you, all right!”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, I know.” His wife sighed complacently.</p>
+
+<p>“Father Duff’s a trial, and no mistake. But Maggie doesn’t seem to
+mind.”</p>
+
+<p>“Mind! Aunt Maggie’s a saint—that’s what she is!” It was Mellicent who
+spoke, her young voice vibrant with suppressed feeling. “She’s the
+dearest thing ever! There <i>couldn’t</i> be anybody better than Aunt
+Maggie!”</p>
+
+<p>Nothing more was said just then, but in the evening, later, after
+Mellicent had gone to walk with young Pennock, and her father had gone
+back down to the store, Mrs. Blaisdell took up the matter of “Poor
+Maggie” again.</p>
+
+<p>“I’ve been thinking what you said,” she began, “about our calling her
+‘poor Maggie,’ and I’ve made up my mind it’s because we’re all so
+sorry for her. You see, she’s been so unfortunate, as I said. Poor
+Maggie! I’ve so often wished there was something I could do for her. Of
+course, if we only had money—but we haven’t; so I can’t. And even money
+wouldn’t take away her father, either. Oh, mercy! I didn’t mean that,
+really,—not the way it sounded,” broke off Mrs. Blaisdell, in shocked
+apology. “I only meant that she’d have her father to care for, just the
+same.”</p>
+
+<p>“He’s something of a trial, I take it, eh?” smiled Mr. Smith.</p>
+
+<p>“Trial! I should say he was. Poor Maggie! How ever she endures it, I
+can’t imagine. Of course, we call him Father Duff, but he’s really
+not any relation to us—I mean to Frank and the rest. But their mother
+married him when they were children, and they never knew their own
+father much, so he’s the only father they know. When their mother died,
+Maggie had just entered college. She was eighteen, and such a pretty
+girl! I knew the family even then. Frank was just beginning to court me.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, of course Maggie had to come home right away. None of the
+rest wanted to take care of him and Maggie had to. There was another
+Duff sister then—a married sister (she’s died since), but <i>she</i>
+wouldn’t take him, so Maggie had to. Of course, none of the Blaisdells
+wanted the care of him—and he wasn’t their father, anyway. Frank was
+wanting to marry me, and Jim and Flora were in school and wanted to
+stay there, of course. So Maggie came. Poor girl! It was real hard for
+her. She was so ambitious, and so fond of books. But she came, and went
+right into the home and kept it so Frank and Jim and Flora could live
+there just the same as when their mother was alive. And she had to do
+all the work, too. They were too poor to keep a girl. Kind of hard,
+wasn’t it?—and Maggie only eighteen!”</p>
+
+<p>“It was, indeed!” Mr. Smith’s lips came together a bit grimly.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, after a time Frank and Jim married, and there was only Flora and
+Father Duff at home. Poor Maggie tried then to go to college again. She
+was over twenty-one, and supposed to be her own mistress, of course.
+She found a place where she could work and pay her way through college,
+and Flora said she’d keep the house and take care of Father Duff. But,
+dear me; it wasn’t a month before that ended, and Maggie had to come
+home again. Flora wasn’t strong, and the work fretted her. Besides, she
+never could get along with Father Duff, and she was trying to learn
+dressmaking, too. She stuck it out till she got sick, though, then of
+course Maggie had to come back.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, by Jove!” ejaculated Mr. Smith.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, wasn’t it too bad? Poor Maggie, she tried it twice again. She
+persuaded her father to get a girl. But that didn’t work, either. The
+first girl and her father fought like cats and dogs, and the last time
+she got one her father was taken sick, and again she had to come home.
+Some way, it’s always been that way with poor Maggie. No sooner does
+she reach out to take something than it’s snatched away, just as she
+thinks she’s got it. Why, there was her father’s cousin George—he was
+going to help her once. But a streak of bad luck hit him at just that
+minute, and he gave out.”</p>
+
+<p>“And he never tried—again?”</p>
+
+<p>“No. He went to Alaska then. Hasn’t ever been back since. He’s done
+well, too, they say, and I always thought he’d send back something; but
+he never has. There was some trouble, I believe, between him and Father
+Duff at the time he went to Alaska, so that explains it, probably.
+Anyway, he’s never done anything for them. Well, when he gave out,
+Maggie just gave up college then, and settled down to take care of her
+father, though I guess she’s always studied some at home; and I know
+that for years she didn’t give up hope but that she could go some time.
+But I guess she has now. Poor Maggie!”</p>
+
+<p>“How old is she?”</p>
+
+<p>“Why, let me see—forty-three, forty-four—yes, she’s forty-five. She
+had her forty-third birthday here—I remember I gave her a handkerchief
+for a birthday present—when she was helping me take care of Mellicent
+through the pneumonia; and that was two years ago. She used to come
+here and to Jim’s and Flora’s days at a time; but she isn’t quite so
+free as she was—Father Duff’s worse now, and she don’t like to leave
+him nights, much, so she can’t come to us so often. See?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, I—see.” There was a queer something in Mr. Smith’s voice. “And
+just what is the matter with Mr. Duff?”</p>
+
+<p>“Matter!” Mrs. Jane Blaisdell gave a short laugh and shrugged her
+shoulders. “Everything’s the matter—with Father Duff! Oh, it’s nerves,
+mostly, the doctor says, and there are some other things—long names
+that I can’t remember. But, as I said, everything’s the matter with
+Father Duff. He’s one of those men where there isn’t anything quite
+right. Frank says he’s got so he just objects to everything—on general
+principles. If it’s blue, he says it ought to be black, you know. And,
+really, I don’t know but Frank’s right. How Maggie stands him I don’t
+see; but she’s devotion itself. Why, she even gave up her lover years
+ago, for him. She wouldn’t leave her father, and, of course, nobody
+would think of taking <i>him</i> into the family, when he wasn’t
+<i>born</i> into it, so the affair was broken off. I don’t know,
+really, as Maggie cared much. Still, you can’t tell. She never was one
+to carry her heart on her sleeve. Poor Maggie! I’ve always so wished I
+could do something for her!</p>
+
+<p>“There, how I have run on! But, then, you asked, and you’re interested,
+I know, and that’s what you’re here for—to find out about the
+Blaisdells.”</p>
+
+<p>“To—to—f-find out—” stammered Mr. Smith, grown suddenly very red.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, for your book, I mean.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, yes—of course; for my book,” agreed Mr. Smith, a bit hastily. He
+had the guilty air of a small boy who has almost been caught in a raid
+on the cooky jar.</p>
+
+<p>“And although poor Maggie isn’t really a Blaisdell herself, she’s
+nearly one; and they’ve got lots of Blaisdell records down there—among
+Mother Blaisdell’s things, you know. You’ll want to see those.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes; yes, indeed. I’ll want to see those, of course,” declared Mr.
+Smith, rising to his feet, preparatory to going to his own room.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI<br />
+<span class='ph3'>POOR MAGGIE</span></h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>It was some days later that Mr. Smith asked Benny one afternoon to show
+him the way to Miss Maggie Duff’s home.</p>
+
+<p>“Sure I will,” agreed Benny with alacrity. “You don’t ever have ter do
+any teasin’ ter get me ter go ter Aunt Maggie’s.”</p>
+
+<p>“You’re fond of Aunt Maggie, then, I take it.”</p>
+
+<p>Benny’s eyes widened a little.</p>
+
+<p>“Why, of course! Everybody’s fond of Aunt Maggie. Why, I don’t know
+anybody that don’t like Aunt Maggie.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m sure that speaks well—for Aunt Maggie,” smiled Mr. Smith.</p>
+
+<p>“Yep! A feller can take some comfort at Aunt Maggie’s,” continued
+Benny, trudging along at Mr. Smith’s side. “She don’t have anythin’
+just for show, that you can’t touch, like ’tis at my house, and there
+ain’t anythin’ but what you can use without gettin’ snarled up in a
+mess of covers an’ tidies, like ’tis at Aunt Jane’s. But Aunt Maggie
+don’t save anythin’, Aunt Jane says, an’ she’ll die some day in the
+poor-house, bein’ so extravagant. But I don’t believe she will. Do you,
+Mr. Smith?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, really, Benny, I—er—” hesitated the man.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I don’t believe she will,” repeated Benny. “I hope she won’t,
+anyhow. Poorhouses ain’t very nice, are they?”</p>
+
+<p>“I—I don’t think I know very much about them, Benny.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I don’t believe they are, from what Aunt Jane says. And if they
+ain’t, I don’t want Aunt Maggie ter go. She hadn’t ought ter have
+anythin’—but Heaven—after Grandpa Duff. Do you know Grandpa Duff?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, my b-boy.” Mr. Smith was choking over a cough.</p>
+
+<p>“He’s sick. He’s got a chronic grouch, ma says. Do you know what that
+is?”</p>
+
+<p>“I—I have heard of them.”</p>
+
+<p>“What are they? Anything like chronic rheumatism? I know what chronic
+means. It means it keeps goin’ without stoppin’—the rheumatism, I mean,
+not the folks that’s got it. <i>they</i> don’t go at all, sometimes.
+Old Dr. Cole don’t, and that’s what he’s got. But when I asked ma what
+a grouch was, she said little boys should be seen and not heard. Ma
+always says that when she don’t want to answer my questions. Do you?
+Have you got any little boys, Mr. Smith?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, Benny. I’m a poor old bachelor.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, are you <i>poor</i>, too? That’s too bad.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, that is, I—I—”</p>
+
+<p>“Ma was wonderin’ yesterday what you lived on. Haven’t you got any
+money, Mr. Smith?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, yes, Benny, I’ve got money enough—to live on.” Mr. Smith spoke
+promptly, and with confidence this time.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, that’s nice. You’re glad, then, ain’t you? Ma says we haven’t—got
+enough ter live on, I mean; but pa says we have, if we didn’t try ter
+live like everybody else lives what’s got more.”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smith bit his lip, and looked down a little apprehensively at the
+small boy at his side.</p>
+
+<p>“I—I’m not sure, Benny, but _I_ shall have to say little boys should
+be seen and not—” He stopped abruptly. Benny, with a stentorian shout,
+had run ahead to a gate before a small white cottage. On the cozy,
+vine-shaded porch sat a white-haired old man leaning forward on his
+cane.</p>
+
+<p>“Hi, there, Grandpa Duff, I’ve brought somebody ter see ye!” The gate
+was open now, and Benny was halfway up the short walk. “It’s Mr. Smith.
+Come in, Mr. Smith. Here’s grandpa right here.”</p>
+
+<p>With a pleasant smile Mr. Smith doffed his hat and came forward.</p>
+
+<p>“Thank you, Benny. How do you do, Mr. Duff?”</p>
+
+<p>The man on the porch looked up sharply from beneath heavy brows.</p>
+
+<p>“Humph! Your name’s Smith, is it?”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s what they call me.” The corners of Mr. Smith’s mouth twitched a
+little.</p>
+
+<p>“Humph! Yes, I’ve heard of you.”</p>
+
+<p>“You flatter me!” Mr. Smith, on the topmost step, hesitated. “Is
+your—er—daughter in, Mr. Duff?” He was still smiling cheerfully.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Duff was not smiling. His somewhat unfriendly gaze was still bent
+upon the newcomer.</p>
+
+<p>“Just what do you want of my daughter?”</p>
+
+<p>“Why, I—I—” Plainly nonplused, the man paused uncertainly. Then, with
+a resumption of his jaunty cheerfulness, he smiled straight into the
+unfriendly eyes. “I’m after some records, Mr. Duff,—records of the
+Blaisdell family. I’m compiling a book on—</p>
+
+<p>“Humph! I thought as much,” interrupted Mr. Duff curtly, settling back
+in his chair. “As I said, I’ve heard of you. But you needn’t come here
+asking your silly questions. I shan’t tell you a thing, anyway, if you
+do. It’s none of your business who lived and died and what they did
+before you were born. If the Lord had wanted you to know he’d ‘a’ put
+you here then instead of now!”</p>
+
+<p>Looking very much as if he had received a blow in the face, Mr. Smith
+fell back.</p>
+
+<p>“Aw, grandpa”—began Benny, in grieved expostulation. But a cheery voice
+interrupted, and Mr. Smith turned to see Miss Maggie Duff emerging from
+the doorway.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, Mr. Smith, how do you do?” she greeted him, extending a cordial
+hand. “Come up and sit down.”</p>
+
+<p>For only the briefest of minutes he hesitated. Had she heard? Could she
+have heard, and yet speak so unconcernedly? It seemed impossible. And
+yet—He took the chair she offered—but with a furtive glance toward the
+old man. He had only a moment to wait.</p>
+
+<p>Sharply Mr. Duff turned to his daughter.</p>
+
+<p>“This Mr. Smith tells me he has come to see those records. Now, I’m—”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, father, dear, you couldn’t!” interrupted his daughter with
+admonishing earnestness. “You mustn’t go and get all those down!” (Mr.
+Smith almost gasped aloud in his amazement, but Miss Maggie did not
+seem to notice him at all.) “Why, father, you couldn’t—they’re too
+heavy for you! There are the Bible, and all those papers. They’re too
+heavy father. I couldn’t let you. Besides, I shouldn’t think you’d want
+to get them!”
+If Mr. Smith, hearing this, almost gasped aloud in his amazement, he
+quite did so at what happened next. His mouth actually fell open as he
+saw the old man rise to his feet with stern dignity.</p>
+
+<p>“That will do, Maggie. I’m not quite in my dotage yet. I guess I’m
+still able to fetch downstairs a book and a bundle of papers.” With
+his thumping cane a resolute emphasis to every other step, the old man
+hobbled into the house.</p>
+
+<p>“There, grandpa, that’s the talk!” crowed Benny. “But you said—”</p>
+
+<p>“Er—Benny, dear,” interposed Miss Maggie, in a haste so precipitate
+that it looked almost like alarm, “run into the pantry and see what you
+can find in the cooky jar.” The last of her sentence was addressed to
+Benny’s flying heels as they disappeared through the doorway.</p>
+
+<p>Left together, Mr. Smith searched the woman’s face for some hint, some
+sign that this extraordinary shift-about was recognized and understood;
+but Miss Maggie, with a countenance serenely expressing only cheerful
+interest, was over by the little stand, rearranging the pile of books
+and newspapers on it.</p>
+
+<p>“I think, after all,” she began thoughtfully, pausing in her work,
+“that it will be better indoors. It blows so out here that you’ll be
+bothered in your copying, I am afraid.”</p>
+
+<p>She was still standing at the table, chatting about the papers,
+however, when at the door, a few minutes later, appeared her father, in
+his arms a big Bible, and a sizable pasteboard box.</p>
+
+<p>“Right here, father, please,” she said then, to Mr. Smith’s dumfounded
+amazement. “Just set them down right here.”</p>
+
+<p>The old man frowned and cast disapproving eyes on his daughter and the
+table.</p>
+
+<p>“There isn’t room. I don’t want them there,” he observed coldly. “I
+shall put them in here.” With the words he turned back into the house.</p>
+
+<p>Once again Mr. Smith’s bewildered eyes searched Miss Maggie’s face and
+once again they found nothing but serene unconcern. She was already at
+the door.</p>
+
+<p>“This way, please,” she directed cheerily. And, still marveling, he
+followed her into the house.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smith thought he had never seen so charming a living-room. A
+comfortable chair invited him, and he sat down. He felt suddenly rested
+and at home, and at peace with the world. Realizing that, in some way,
+the room had produced this effect, he looked curiously about him,
+trying to solve the secret of it.</p>
+
+<p>Reluctantly to himself he confessed that it was a very ordinary room.
+The carpet was poor, and was badly worn. The chairs, while comfortable
+looking, were manifestly not expensive, and had seen long service.
+Simple curtains were at the windows, and a few fair prints were on the
+walls. Two or three vases, of good lines but cheap materials, held
+flowers, and there was a plain but roomy set of shelves filled with
+books—not immaculate, leather-backed, gilt-lettered “sets” but rows of
+dingy, worn volumes, whose very shabbiness was at once an invitation
+and a promise. Nowhere, however, could Mr. Smith see protecting cover
+mat, or tidy. He decided then that this must be why he felt suddenly so
+rested and at peace with all mankind. Even as the conviction came to
+him, however he was suddenly aware that everything was not, after all,
+peaceful or harmonious.</p>
+
+<p>At the table Mr. Duff and his daughter were arranging the Bible and
+the papers. Miss Maggie suggested piles in a certain order: her father
+promptly objected, and arranged them otherwise. Miss Maggie placed the
+papers first for perusal: her father said “Absurd!” and substituted the
+Bible. Miss Maggie started to draw up a chair to the table: her father
+derisively asked her if she expected a man to sit in that—and drew up
+a different one. Yet Mr. Smith, when he was finally invited to take
+a seat at the table, found everything quite the most convenient and
+comfortable possible.</p>
+
+<p>Once more into Miss Maggie’s face he sent a sharply inquiring glance,
+and once more he encountered nothing but unruffled cheerfulness.</p>
+
+<p>With a really genuine interest in the records before him, Mr. Smith
+fell to work then. The Bible had been in the Blaisdell family for
+generations, and it was full of valuable names and dates. He began at
+once to copy them.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Duff, on the other side of the table, was arranging into piles the
+papers before him. He complained of the draft, and Miss Maggie shut the
+window. He said then that he didn’t mean he wanted to suffocate, and
+she opened the one on the other side. The clock had hardly struck three
+when he accused her of having forgotten his medicine. Yet when she
+brought it he refused to take it. She had not brought the right kind
+of spoon, he said, and she knew perfectly well he never took it out of
+that narrow-bowl kind. He complained of the light, and she lowered the
+curtain; but he told her that he didn’t mean he didn’t want to see at
+all, so she put it up halfway. He said his coat was too warm, and she
+brought another one. He put it on grudgingly, but he declared that it
+was as much too thin as the other was too thick.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smith, in spite of his efforts to be politely deaf and blind, found
+himself unable to confine his attention to birth, death, and marriage
+notices. Once he almost uttered an explosive “Good Heavens, how do you
+stand it?” to his hostess. But he stopped himself just in time, and
+fiercely wrote with a very black mark that Submit Blaisdell was born
+in eighteen hundred and one. A little later he became aware that Mr.
+Duff’s attention was frowningly turned across the table toward himself.</p>
+
+<p>“If you will spend your time over such silly stuff, why don’t you use a
+bigger book?” demanded the old man at last.</p>
+
+<p>“Because it wouldn’t fit my pocket,” smiled Mr. Smith.</p>
+
+<p>“Just what business of yours is it, anyhow, when these people lived and
+died?”</p>
+
+<p>“None, perhaps,” still smiled Mr. Smith good-humoredly.</p>
+
+<p>“Why don’t you let them alone, then? What do you expect to find?”</p>
+
+<p>“Why, I—I—” Mr. Smith was plainly nonplused.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I can tell you it’s a silly business, whatever you find. If you
+find your grandfather’s a bigger man than you are, you’ll be proud
+of it, but you ought to be ashamed of it—’cause you aren’t bigger
+yourself! On the other hand, if you find he <i>isn’t</i> as big as you
+are, you’ll be ashamed of that, when you ought to be proud of it—’cause
+you’ve gone him one better. But you won’t. I know your kind. I’ve seen
+you before. But can’t you do any work, real work?”</p>
+
+<p>“He is doing work, real work, now, father,” interposed Miss Maggie
+quickly. “He’s having a woeful time, too. If you’d only help him, now,
+and show him those papers.”</p>
+
+<p>A real terror came into Mr. Smith’s eyes, but Mr. Duff was already on
+his feet.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I shan’t,” he observed tartly. “I’M not a fool, if he is. I’m
+going out to the porch where I can get some air.”</p>
+
+<p>“There, work as long as you like, Mr. Smith. I knew you’d rather work
+by yourself,” nodded Miss Maggie, moving the piles of papers nearer him.</p>
+
+<p>“But, good Heavens, how do you stand—” exploded Mr. Smith before he
+realized that this time he had really said the words aloud. He blushed
+a painful red.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Maggie, too, colored. Then, abruptly, she laughed. “After all, it
+doesn’t matter. Why shouldn’t I be frank with you? You couldn’t help
+seeing—how things were, of course, and I forgot, for a moment, that you
+were a stranger. Everybody in Hillerton understands. You see, father is
+nervous, and not at all well. We have to humor him.”</p>
+
+<p>“But do you mean that you always have to tell him to do what you don’t
+want, in order to—well—that is—” Mr. Smith, finding himself in very
+deep water, blushed again painfully.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Maggie met his dismayed gaze with cheerful candor.</p>
+
+<p>“Tell him to do what I <i>don’t</i> want in order to get him to do what
+I do want him to? Yes, oh, yes. But I don’t mind; really I don’t. I’m
+used to it now. And when you know how, what does it matter? After all,
+where is the difference? To most of the world we say, ‘Please do,’ when
+we want a thing, while to him we have to say, ‘Please don’t.’ That’s
+all. You see, it’s really very simple—when you know how.”</p>
+
+<p>“Simple! Great Scott!” muttered Mr. Smith. He wanted to say more; but
+Miss Maggie, with a smiling nod, turned away, so he went back to his
+work.</p>
+
+<p>Benny, wandering in from the kitchen, with both hands full of cookies,
+plumped himself down on the cushioned window-seat, and drew a sigh of
+content.</p>
+
+<p>“Say, Aunt Maggie.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, dear.”</p>
+
+<p>“Can I come ter live with you?”</p>
+
+<p>“Certainly not!” The blithe voice and pleasant smile took all the sting
+from the prompt refusal.</p>
+
+<p>“What would father and mother do?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, they wouldn’t mind.”</p>
+
+<p>“Benny!”</p>
+
+<p>“They wouldn’t. Maybe pa would—a little; but Bess and ma wouldn’t. And
+I’D like it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Nonsense, Benny!” Miss Maggie crossed to a little stand and picked up
+a small box. “Here’s a new picture puzzle. See if you can do it.”</p>
+
+<p>Benny shifted his now depleted stock of cookies to one hand, dropped
+to his knees on the floor, and dumped the contents of the box upon the
+seat before him.</p>
+
+<p>“They won’t let me eat cookies any more at home—in the house, I mean.
+Too many crumbs.”</p>
+
+<p>“But you know you have to pick up your crumbs here, dear.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yep. But I don’t mind—after I’ve had the fun of eatin’ first. But they
+won’t let me drop ’em ter begin with, there, nor take any of the boys
+inter the house. Honest, Aunt Maggie, there ain’t anything a feller can
+do, ’seems so, if ye live on the West Side,” he persisted soberly.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smith, copying dates at the table, was conscious of a slightly
+apprehensive glance in his direction from Miss Maggie’s eyes, as she
+murmured:—</p>
+
+<p>“But you’re forgetting your puzzle, Benny. You’ve put only five pieces
+together.”</p>
+
+<p>“I can’t do puzzles there, either.” Benny’s voice was still mournful.</p>
+
+<p>“All the more reason, then, why you should like to do them here. See,
+where does this dog’s head go?”</p>
+
+<p>Listlessly Benny took the bit of pictured wood in his fingers and began
+to fit it into the pattern before him.</p>
+
+<p>“I used ter do ’em an’ leave ’em ’round, but ma says I can’t now.
+Callers might come and find ’em, an’ what would they say—on the West
+Side! An’ that’s the way ’tis with everything. Ma an’ Bess are always
+doin’ things, or not doin’ ’em, for those callers. An’ I don’t see why.
+They never come—not new ones.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, yes, dear, but they will, when they get acquainted. You haven’t
+found where the dog’s head goes yet.”</p>
+
+<p>“Pa says he don’t want ter get acquainted. He’d rather have the old
+friends, what don’t mind baked beans, an’ shirt-sleeves, an’ doin’
+yer own work, an’ what thinks more of yer heart than they do of yer
+pocketbook. But ma wants a hired girl. An’ say, we have ter wash
+our hands every meal now—on the table, I mean—in those little glass
+wash-dishes. Ma went down an’ bought some, an’ she’s usin’ ’em every
+day, so’s ter get used to ’em. She says everybody that is anybody has
+’em nowadays. Bess thinks they’re great, but I don’t. I don’t like ’em
+a mite.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, come, come, Benny! It doesn’t matter—it doesn’t really matter,
+does it, if you do have to use the little dishes? Come, you’re not half
+doing the puzzle.”</p>
+
+<p>“I know it.” Benny shifted his position, and picked up a three-cornered
+bit of wood carrying the picture of a dog’s paw. “But I was just
+thinkin’. You see, things are so different—on the West Side. Why even
+pa—he’s different. He isn’t there hardly any now. He’s got a new job.”</p>
+
+<p>“What?” Miss Maggie turned from the puzzle with a start.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, just for evenin’s. It’s keepin’ books for a man. It brings in
+quite a lot extry, ma says; but she wouldn’t let me have some new
+roller skates when mine broke. She’s savin’ up for a chafin’ dish.
+What’s a chafin’ dish? Do you know? You eat out of it, some way—I mean,
+it cooks things ter eat; an’ Bess wants one. Gussie Pennock’s got one.
+<i>all</i> our eatin’s different, ’seems so, on the West Side. Ma has
+dinners nights now, instead of noons. She says the Pennocks do, an’
+everybody does who is anybody. But I don’t like it. Pa don’t, either,
+an’ half the time he can’t get home in time for it, anyhow, on account
+of gettin’ back to his new job, ye know, an’—”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, I’ve found where the dog’s head goes,” cried Miss Maggie, There
+was a hint of desperation in her voice. “I shall have your puzzle all
+done for you myself, if you don’t look out, Benny. I don’t believe you
+can do it, anyhow.”</p>
+
+<p>“I can, too. You just see if I can’t!” retorted Benny, with sudden
+spirit, falling to work in earnest. “I never saw a puzzle yet I
+couldn’t do!”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smith, bending assiduously over his work at the table, heard Miss
+Maggie’s sigh of relief—and echoed it, from sympathy.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII<br />
+<span class='ph3'>POOR MAGGIE AND SOME OTHERS</span></h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>It was half an hour later, when Mr. Smith and Benny were walking across
+the common together, that Benny asked an abrupt question.</p>
+
+<p>“Is Aunt Maggie goin’ ter be put in your book, Mr. Smith?”</p>
+
+<p>“Why—er—yes; her name will be entered as the daughter of the man who
+married the Widow Blaisdell, probably. Why?”</p>
+
+<p>“Nothin’. I was only thinkin’. I hoped she was. Aunt Maggie don’t have
+nothin’ much, yer know, except her father an’ housework—housework
+either for him or some of us. An’ I guess she’s had quite a lot of
+things ter bother her, an’ make her feel bad, so I hoped she’d be in
+the book. Though if she wasn’t, she’d just laugh an’ say it doesn’t
+matter, of course. That’s what she always says.”</p>
+
+<p>“Always says?” Mr. Smith’s voice was mildly puzzled.
+“Yes, when things plague, an’ somethin’ don’t go right. She says it
+helps a lot ter just remember that it doesn’t matter. See?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, no,—I don’t think I do see,” frowned Mr. Smith.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, yes,” plunged in Benny; “’cause, you see, if yer stop ter think
+about it—this thing that’s plaguin’ ye—you’ll see how really small an’
+no-account it is, an’ how, when you put it beside really big things it
+doesn’t matter at all—it doesn’t <i>really</i> matter, ye know. Aunt
+Maggie says she’s done it years an’ years, ever since she was just a
+girl, an’ somethin’ bothered her; an’ it’s helped a lot.”</p>
+
+<p>“But there are lots of things that <i>do</i> matter,” persisted Mr.
+Smith, still frowning.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, yes!” Benny swelled a bit importantly, “I know what you mean. Aunt
+Maggie says that, too; an’ she says we must be very careful an’ not
+get it wrong. It’s only the little things that bother us, an’ that we
+wish were different, that we must say ‘It doesn’t matter’ about. It
+<i>does</i> matter whether we’re good an’ kind an’ tell the truth an’
+shame the devil; but it <i>doesn’t</i> matter whether we have ter live
+on the West Side an’ eat dinner nights instead of noons, an’ not eat
+cookies any of the time in the house,—see?”</p>
+
+<p>“Good for you, Benny,—and good for Aunt Maggie!” laughed Mr. Smith
+suddenly.</p>
+
+<p>“Aunt Maggie? Oh, you don’t know Aunt Maggie, yet. She’s always tryin’
+ter make people think things don’t matter. You’ll see!” crowed Benny.</p>
+
+<p>A moment later he had turned down his own street, and Mr. Smith was
+left to go on alone.</p>
+
+<p>Very often, in the days that followed, Mr. Smith thought of this speech
+of Benny’s. He had opportunity to verify it, for he was seeing a good
+deal of Miss Maggie, and it seemed, indeed, to him that half the town
+was coming to her to learn that something “didn’t matter”—though very
+seldom, except to Benny, did he hear her say the words themselves. It
+was merely that to her would come men, women, and children, each with
+a sorry tale of discontent or disappointment. And it was always as if
+they left with her their burden, for when they turned away, head and
+shoulders were erect once more, eyes were bright, and the step was
+alert and eager.</p>
+
+<p>He used to wonder how she did it. For that matter, he wondered how she
+did—a great many things.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smith was, indeed, seeing a good deal of Miss Maggie these days. He
+told himself that it was the records that attracted him. But he did not
+always copy records. Sometimes he just sat in one of the comfortable
+chairs and watched Miss Maggie, content if she gave him a word now and
+then.</p>
+
+<p>He liked the way she carried her head, and the way her hair waved away
+from her shapely forehead. He liked the quiet strength of the way her
+capable hands lay motionless in her lap when their services were not
+required. He liked to watch for the twinkle in her eye, and for the
+dimple in her cheek that told a smile was coming. He liked to hear her
+talk to Benny. He even liked to hear her talk to her father—when he
+could control his temper sufficiently. Best of all he liked his own
+comfortable feeling of being quite at home, and at peace with all the
+world—the feeling that always came to him now whenever he entered the
+house, in spite of the fact that the welcome accorded him by Mr. Duff
+was hardly more friendly than at the first.</p>
+
+<p>To Mr. Smith it was a matter of small moment whether Mr. Duff welcomed
+him cordially or not. He even indulged now and then in a bout of his
+own with the gentleman, chuckling inordinately when results showed that
+he had pitched his remark at just the right note of contrariety to get
+what he wanted.</p>
+
+<p>For the most part, however, Mr. Smith, at least nominally, spent his
+time at his legitimate task of studying and copying the Blaisdell
+family records, of which he was finding a great number. Rufus Blaisdell
+apparently had done no little “digging” himself in his own day, and Mr.
+Smith told Miss Maggie that it was all a great “find” for him.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Maggie seemed pleased. She said that she was glad if she could be
+of any help to him, and she told him to come whenever he liked. She
+arranged the Bible and the big box of papers on a little table in the
+corner, and told him to make himself quite at home; and she showed so
+plainly that she regarded him as quite one of the family, that Mr.
+Smith might be pardoned for soon considering himself so.</p>
+
+<p>It was while at work in this corner that he came to learn so much of
+Miss Maggie’s daily life, and of her visitors.</p>
+
+<p>Although many of these visitors were strangers to him, some of them he
+knew.</p>
+
+<p>One day it was Mrs. Hattie Blaisdell, with a countenance even more
+florid than usual. She was breathless and excited, and her eyes were
+worried. She was going to give a luncheon, she said. She wanted
+Miss Maggie’s silver spoons, and her forks, and her hand painted
+sugar-and-creamer, and Mother Blaisdell’s cut-glass dish.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smith, supposing that Miss Maggie herself was to be at the
+luncheon, was just rejoicing within him that she was to have this
+pleasant little outing, when he heard Mrs. Blaisdell telling her to be
+sure to come at eleven to be in the kitchen, and asking where could
+she get a maid to serve in the dining-room, and what should she do with
+Benny. He’d have to be put somewhere, or else he’d be sure to upset
+everything.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smith did not hear Miss Maggie’s answer to all this, for she
+hurried her visitor to the kitchen at once to look up the spoons, she
+said. But indirectly he obtained a very conclusive reply; for he found
+Miss Maggie gone one day when he came; and Benny, who was in her place,
+told him all about it, even to the dandy frosted cake Aunt Maggie had
+made for the company to eat.</p>
+
+<p>Another day it was Mrs. Jane Blaisdell who came. Mrs. Jane had a tired
+frown between her brows and a despairing droop to her lips. She carried
+a large bundle which she dropped unceremoniously into Miss Maggie’s lap.</p>
+
+<p>“There, I’m dead beat out, and I’ve brought it to you. You’ve just got
+to help me,” she finished, sinking into a chair.</p>
+
+<p>“Why, of course, if I can. But what is it?” Miss Maggie’s deft fingers
+were already untying the knot.</p>
+
+<p>“It’s my old black silk. I’m making it over.”</p>
+
+<p>“<i>Again?</i> But I thought the last time it couldn’t ever be done again.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, I know; but there’s lots of good in it yet,” interposed Mrs. Jane
+decidedly; “and I’ve bought new velvet and new lace, and some buttons
+and a new lining. I <i>thought</i> I could do it alone, but I’ve
+reached a point where I just have got to have help. So I came right
+over.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, of course, but”—Miss Maggie was lifting a half-finished sleeve
+doubtfully—“why didn’t you go to Flora? She’d know exactly—”</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Jane stiffened.</p>
+
+<p>“Because I can’t afford to go to Flora,” she interrupted coldly. “I
+have to pay Flora, and you know it. If I had the money I should be glad
+to do it, of course. But I haven’t, and charity begins at home I think.
+Besides, I do go to her for <i>new</i> dresses. But this old thing—! Of
+course, if you don’t <i>want</i> to help me—”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, but I do,” plunged in Miss Maggie hurriedly. “Come out into the
+kitchen where we’ll have more room,” she exclaimed, gathering the
+bundle into her arms and springing to her feet.</p>
+
+<p>“I’ve got some other lace at home—yards and yards. I got a lot, it was
+so cheap,” recounted Mrs. Jane, rising with alacrity. “But I’m afraid
+it won’t do for this, and I don’t know as it will do for anything, it’s
+so—”</p>
+
+<p>The kitchen door slammed sharply, and Mr. Smith heard no more. Half an
+hour later, however, he saw Mrs. Jane go down the walk. The frown was
+gone from her face and the droop from the corners of her mouth. Her
+step was alert and confident. She carried no bundle.</p>
+
+<p>The next day it was Miss Flora. Miss Flora’s thin little face looked
+more pinched than ever, and her eyes more anxious, Mr. Smith thought.
+Even her smile, as she acknowledged Mr. Smith’s greeting, was so wan he
+wished she had not tried to give it.</p>
+
+<p>She sat down then, by the window, and began to chat with Miss Maggie;
+and very soon Mr. Smith heard her say this:—</p>
+
+<p>“No, Maggie, I don’t know, really, what I am going to do—truly I don’t.
+Business is so turrible dull! Why, I don’t earn enough to pay my rent,
+hardly, now, ter say nothin’ of my feed.”</p>
+
+<p>Miss Maggie frowned.</p>
+
+<p>“But I thought that Hattie—ISN’T Hattie having some new dresses—and
+Bessie, too?”</p>
+
+<p>A sigh passed Miss Flora’s lips.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, oh, yes; they are having three or four. But they don’t come to
+<i>me</i> any more. They’ve gone to that French woman that makes the
+Pennocks’ things, you know, with the queer name. And of course it’s
+all right, and you can’t blame ’em, livin’ on the West Side, as they
+do now. And, of course, I ain’t so up ter date as she is. And just her
+name counts.”</p>
+
+<p>“Nonsense! Up to date, indeed!” (Miss Maggie laughed merrily, but Mr.
+Smith, copying dates at the table, detected a note in the laugh that
+was not merriment.) “You’re up to date enough for me. I’ve got just
+the job for you, too. Come out into the kitchen.” She was already
+almost at the door. “Why, Maggie, you haven’t, either!” (In spite of
+the incredulity of voice and manner, Miss Flora sprang joyfully to her
+feet.) “You never had me make you a—” Again the kitchen door slammed
+shut, and Mr. Smith was left to finish the sentence for himself.</p>
+
+<p>But Mr. Smith was not finishing sentences. Neither was his face
+expressing just then the sympathy which might be supposed to be
+showing, after so sorry a tale as Miss Flora had been telling. On
+the contrary, Mr. Smith, with an actual elation of countenance, was
+scribbling on the edge of his notebook words that certainly he had
+never found in the Blaisdell records before him: “Two months more,
+then—a hundred thousand dollars. And may I be there to see it!”</p>
+
+<p>Half an hour later, as on the previous day, Mr. Smith saw a
+metamorphosed woman hurrying down the little path to the street. But
+the woman to-day was carrying a bundle—and it was the same bundle that
+the woman the day before had brought.</p>
+
+<p>But not always, as Mr. Smith soon learned, were Miss Maggie’s visitors
+women. Besides Benny, with his grievances, young Fred Blaisdell came
+sometimes, and poured into Miss Maggie’s sympathetic ears the story of
+Gussie Pennock’s really remarkable personality, or of what he was going
+to do when he went to college—and afterwards.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Jim Blaisdell drifted in quite frequently Sunday afternoons,
+though apparently all he came for was to smoke and read in one of the
+big comfortable chairs. Mr. Smith himself had fallen into the way of
+strolling down to Miss Maggie’s almost every Sunday after dinner.</p>
+
+<p>One Saturday afternoon Mr. Frank Blaisdell rattled up to the door in
+his grocery wagon. His face was very red, and his mutton-chop whiskers
+were standing straight out at each side.</p>
+
+<p>Jane had collapsed, he said, utterly collapsed. All the week she had
+been house-cleaning and doing up curtains; and now this morning,
+expressly against his wishes, to save hiring a man, she had put down
+the parlor carpet herself. Now she was flat on her back, and supper to
+be got for the boarder, and the Saturday baking yet to be done. And
+could Maggie come and help them out?</p>
+
+<p>Before Miss Maggie could answer, Mr. Smith hurried out from his corner
+and insisted that “the boarder” did not want any supper anyway—and
+could they not live on crackers and milk for the coming few days?</p>
+
+<p>But Miss Maggie laughed and said, “Nonsense!” And in an incredibly
+short time she was ready to drive back in the grocery wagon. Later,
+when he went home, Mr. Smith found her there, presiding over one of
+the best suppers he had eaten since his arrival in Hillerton. She came
+every day after that, for a week, for Mrs. Jane remained “flat on her
+back” seven days, with a doctor in daily attendance, supplemented by a
+trained nurse peremptorily ordered by that same doctor from the nearest
+city.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Maggie, with the assistance of Mellicent, attended to the
+housework. But in spite of the excellence of the cuisine, meal time was
+a most unhappy period to everybody concerned, owing to the sarcastic
+comments of Mr. Frank Blaisdell as to how much his wife had “saved” by
+not having a man to put down that carpet.</p>
+
+<p>Mellicent had little time now to go walking or auto-riding with Carl
+Pennock. Her daily life was, indeed, more pleasure-starved than
+ever—all of which was not lost on Mr. Smith. Mr. Smith and Mellicent
+were fast friends now. Given a man with a sympathetic understanding on
+one side, and a girl hungry for that same sympathy and understanding,
+and it could hardly be otherwise. From Mellicent’s own lips Mr. Smith
+knew now just how hungry a young girl can be for fun and furbelows.</p>
+
+<p>“Of course I’ve got my board and clothes, and I ought to be thankful
+for them,” she stormed hotly to him one day. “And I <i>am</i> thankful
+for them. But sometimes it seems as if I’d actually be willing to
+go hungry for meat and potato, if for once—just once—I could buy a
+five-pound box of candy, and eat it up all at once, if I wanted to! But
+now, why now I can’t even treat a friend to an ice-cream soda without
+seeing mother’s shocked, reproachful eyes over the rim of the glass!”</p>
+
+<p>It was not easy then (nor many times subsequently) for Mr. Smith to
+keep from asking Mellicent the utterly absurd question of how many
+five-pound boxes of candy she supposed one hundred thousand dollars
+would buy. But he did keep from it—by heroic self-sacrifice and the
+comforting recollection that she would know some day, if she cared to
+take the trouble to reckon it up.</p>
+
+<p>In Mellicent’s love affair with young Pennock Mr. Smith was enormously
+interested. Not that he regarded it as really serious, but because it
+appeared to bring into Mellicent’s life something of the youth and
+gayety to which he thought she was entitled. He was almost as concerned
+as was Miss Maggie, therefore, when one afternoon, soon after Mrs.
+Jane Blaisdell’s complete recovery from her “carpet tax” (as Frank
+Blaisdell termed his wife’s recent illness), Mellicent rushed into
+the Duff living-room with rose-red cheeks and blazing eyes, and an
+explosive:—“Aunt Maggie, Aunt Maggie, can’t you get mother to let me go
+away somewhere—anywhere, right off?”</p>
+
+<p>[Illustration caption: “I CAN’T HELP IT, AUNT MAGGIE. I’VE JUST GOT TO
+BE AWAY!”]</p>
+
+<p>“Why, Mellicent! Away? And just to-morrow the Pennocks’ dance?”</p>
+
+<p>“But that’s it—that’s why I want to go,” flashed Mellicent. “I don’t
+want to be at the dance—and I don’t want to be in town, and <i>not</i>
+at the dance.”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smith, at his table in the corner, glanced nervously toward the
+door, then bent assiduously over his work, as being less conspicuous
+than the flight he had been tempted for a moment to essay. But even
+this was not to be, for the next moment, to his surprise, the girl
+appealed directly to him.</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Smith, please, won’t <i>you</i> take me somewhere to-morrow?”</p>
+
+<p>“Mellicent!” Even Miss Maggie was shocked now, and showed it.</p>
+
+<p>“I can’t help it, Aunt Maggie. I’ve just got to be away!” Mellicent’s
+voice was tragic.</p>
+
+<p>“But, my dear, to <i>ask</i> a gentleman—” reproved Miss Maggie. She
+came to an indeterminate pause. Mr. Smith had crossed the room and
+dropped into a chair near them.</p>
+
+<p>“See here, little girl, suppose you tell us just what is behind—all
+this,” he began gently.</p>
+
+<p>Mellicent shook her head stubbornly.</p>
+
+<p>“I can’t. It’s too—silly. Please let it go that I want to be away.
+That’s all.”</p>
+
+<p>“Mellicent, we can’t do that.” Miss Maggie’s voice was quietly firm.
+“We can’t do—anything, until you tell us what it is.”</p>
+
+<p>There was a brief pause. Mellicent’s eyes, still mutinous, sought first
+the kindly questioning face of the man, then the no less kindly but
+rather grave face of the woman. Then in a little breathless burst it
+came.</p>
+
+<p>“It’s just something they’re all saying Mrs. Pennock said—about me.”</p>
+
+<p>“What was it?” Two little red spots had come into Miss Maggie’s cheeks.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, what was it?” Mr. Smith was looking actually belligerent.</p>
+
+<p>“It was just that—that they weren’t going to let Carl Pennock go with
+me any more—anywhere, or come to see me, because I—I didn’t belong to
+their set.”</p>
+
+<p>“Their set!” exploded Mr. Smith.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Maggie said nothing, but the red spots deepened.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes. It’s just—that we aren’t rich like them. I haven’t got—money
+enough.”</p>
+
+<p>“That you haven’t got—got—Oh, ye gods!” For no apparent reason whatever
+Mr. Smith threw back his head suddenly and laughed. Almost instantly,
+however, he sobered: he had caught the expression of the two faces
+opposite.</p>
+
+<p>“I beg your pardon,” he apologized promptly. “It was only that to
+me—there was something very funny about that.”</p>
+
+<p>“But, Mellicent, are you sure? I don’t believe she ever said it,”
+doubted Miss Maggie.</p>
+
+<p>“He hasn’t been near me—for a week. Not that I care!” Mellicent turned
+with flashing eyes. “I don’t care a bit—not a bit—about <i>that</i>!”</p>
+
+<p>“Of course you don’t! It’s not worth even thinking of either. What does
+it matter if she did say it, dear? Forget it!”</p>
+
+<p>“But I can’t bear to have them all talk—and notice,” choked Mellicent.
+“And we were together such a lot before; and now—I tell you I
+<i>can’t</i> go to that dance to-morrow night!”</p>
+
+<p>“And you shan’t, if you don’t want to,” Mr. Smith assured her. “Right
+here and now I invite you and your Aunt Maggie to drive with me
+to-morrow to Hubbardville. There are some records there that I want to
+look up. We’ll get dinner at the hotel. It will take all day, and we
+shan’t be home till late in the evening. You’ll go?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, Mr. Smith, you—you <i>dear</i>! Of course we’ll go! I’ll go
+straight now and telephone to somebody—everybody—that I shan’t be
+there; that I’m going to be <i>out of town</i>!” She sprang joyously to
+her feet—but Miss Maggie held out a restraining hand.</p>
+
+<p>“Just a minute, dear. You don’t care—you <i>said</i> you didn’t
+care—that Carl Pennock doesn’t come to see you any more?”</p>
+
+<p>“Indeed I don’t!”</p>
+
+<p>“Then you wouldn’t want others to think you did, would you?”</p>
+
+<p>“Of course not!” The red dyed Mellicent’s forehead.</p>
+
+<p>“You have said that you’d go to this party, haven’t you? That is, you
+accepted the invitation, didn’t you, and people know that you did,
+don’t they?”</p>
+
+<p>“Why, yes, of course! But that was before—Mrs. Pennock said what she
+did.”</p>
+
+<p>“Of course. But—just what do you think these people are going to say
+to-morrow night, when you aren’t there?”</p>
+
+<p>“Why, that I—I—” The color drained from her face and left it white.
+“They wouldn’t <i>expect</i> me to go after that—insult.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then they’ll understand that you—<i>care</i>, won’t they?”</p>
+
+<p>“Why, I—I—They—I <i>can’t</i>—” She turned sharply and walked to the
+window. For a long minute she stood, her back toward the two watching
+her. Then, with equal abruptness, she turned and came back. Her cheeks
+were very pink now, her eyes very bright. She carried her head with a
+proud little lift.</p>
+
+<p>“I think, Mr. Smith, that I won’t go with you to-morrow, after all,”
+she said steadily. “I’ve decided to go—to that dance.”</p>
+
+<p>The next moment the door shut crisply behind her.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII<br />
+<span class='ph3'>A SANTA CLAUS HELD UP</span></h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>It was about five months after the multi-millionaire, Mr. Stanley G.
+Fulton, had started for South America, that Edward D. Norton, Esq.,
+received the following letter:—</p>
+
+<div class='blockquote'><span class="smcap">Dear Ned</span>:—I’m glad there’s only one more month to wait. I
+feel like Santa Claus with a box of toys, held up by a snowdrift, and
+I just can’t wait to see the children dance—when they get them.</div>
+
+<div class='blockquote'>And let me say right here and now how glad I am that I did this
+thing. Oh, yes, I’ll admit I still feel like the small boy at the
+keyhole, at times, perhaps; but I’ll forget that—when the children
+begin to dance.</div>
+
+<div class='blockquote'>And, really, never have I seen a bunch of people whom I thought
+a little money would do more good to than the Blaisdells here in
+Hillerton. My only regret is that I didn’t know about Miss Maggie
+Duff, so that she could have had some, too. (Oh, yes, I’ve found
+out all about “Poor Maggie” now, and she’s a dear—the typical
+self-sacrificing, self-effacing bearer of everybody’s burdens,
+including a huge share of her own!) However, she isn’t a Blaisdell,
+of course, so I couldn’t have worked her into my scheme very well,
+I suppose, even if I had known about her. They are all fond of
+her—though they impose on her time and her sympathies abominably. But
+I reckon she’ll get some of the benefits of the others’ thousands.
+Mrs. Jane, in particular, is always wishing she could do something
+for “Poor Maggie,” so I dare say she’ll be looked out for all right.</div>
+
+<div class='blockquote'>As to who will prove to be the wisest handler of the hundred
+thousand, and thus my eventual heir, I haven’t the least idea. As
+I said before, they all need money, and need it badly—need it to
+be comfortable and happy, I mean. They aren’t really poor, any of
+them, except, perhaps, Miss Flora. She is a little hard up, poor
+soul. Bless her heart! I wonder what she’ll get first, Niagara, the
+phonograph, or something to eat without looking at the price. Did I
+ever write you about those “three wishes” of hers?</div>
+
+<div class='blockquote'>I can’t see that any of the family are really extravagant unless,
+perhaps, it’s Mrs. James—“Hattie.” She <i>is</i> ambitious, and is
+inclined to live on a scale a little beyond her means, I judge. But
+that will be all right, of course, when she has the money to gratify
+her tastes. Jim—poor fellow, I shall be glad to see him take it easy,
+for once. He reminds me of the old horse I saw the other day running
+one of those infernal treadmill threshing machines—always going, but
+never getting there. He works, and works hard, and then he gets a
+job nights and works harder; but he never quite catches up with his
+bills, I fancy. What a world of solid comfort he’ll take with that
+hundred thousand! I can hear him draw the long breath now—for once
+every bill paid!</div>
+
+<div class='blockquote'>Of course, the Frank Blaisdells are the most thrifty of the bunch—at
+least, Mrs. Frank, “Jane,” is—and I dare say they would be the most
+conservative handlers of my millions. But time will tell. Anyhow, I
+shall be glad to see them enjoy themselves meanwhile with the hundred
+thousand. Maybe Mrs. Jane will be constrained to clear my room of
+a few of the mats and covers and tidies! I have hopes. At least, I
+shall surely have a vacation from her everlasting “We can’t afford
+it,” and her equally everlasting “Of course, if I had the money I’d
+do it.” Praise be for that!—and it’ll be worth a hundred thousand to
+me, believe me, Ned.</div>
+
+<div class='blockquote'>As for her husband—I’m not sure how he will take it. It isn’t corn
+or peas or flour or sugar, you see, and I’m not posted as to his
+opinion of much of anything else. He’ll spend some of it, though,—I’m
+sure of that. I don’t think he always thoroughly appreciates his
+wife’s thrifty ideas of economy. I haven’t forgotten the night I
+came home to find Mrs. Jane out calling, and Mr. Frank rampaging
+around the house with every gas jet at full blast. It seems he
+was packing his bag to go on a hurried business trip. He laughed
+a little sheepishly—I suppose he saw my blinking amazement at the
+illumination—and said something about being tired of always feeling
+his way through pitch-dark rooms. So, as I say, I’m not quite sure of
+Mr. Frank when he comes into possession of the hundred thousand. He’s
+been cooped up in the dark so long he may want to blow in the whole
+hundred thousand in one grand blare of light. However, I reckon I
+needn’t worry—he’ll still have Mrs. Jane—to turn some of the gas jets
+down!</div>
+
+<div class='blockquote'>As for the younger generation—they’re fine, every one of them;
+and just think what this money will mean to them in education and
+advantages! Jim’s son, Fred, eighteen, is a fine, manly boy. He’s
+got his mother’s ambitions, and he’s keen for college—even talks of
+working his way (much to his mother’s horror) if his father can’t
+find the money to send him. Of course, that part will be all right
+now—in a month.</div>
+
+<div class='blockquote'>The daughter, Bessie (almost seventeen), is an exceedingly pretty
+girl. She, too, is ambitious—almost too much so, perhaps, for
+her happiness, in the present state of their pocketbook. But of
+course that, too, will be all right, after next month. Benny, the
+nine-year-old, will be concerned as little as any one over that
+hundred thousand dollars, I imagine. The real value of the gift he
+will not appreciate, of course; in fact, I doubt if he even approves
+of it—lest his privileges as to meals and manners be still further
+curtailed. Poor Benny! Now, Mellicent—</div>
+
+<div class='blockquote'>Perhaps in no one do I expect to so thoroughly rejoice as I do in
+poor little pleasure-starved Mellicent. I realize, of course, that
+it will mean to her the solid advantages of college, music-culture,
+and travel; but I must confess that in my dearest vision, the child
+is reveling in one grand whirl of pink dresses and chocolate bonbons.
+Bless her dear heart! I <i>gave</i> her one five-pound box of candy,
+but I never repeated the mistake. Besides enduring the manifestly
+suspicious disapproval of her mother because I had made the gift, I
+have had the added torment of seeing that box of chocolates doled
+out to that poor child at the rate of two pieces a day. They aren’t
+gone yet, but I’ll warrant they’re as hard as bullets—those wretched
+bonbons. I picked the box up yesterday. You should have heard it
+rattle!</div>
+
+<div class='blockquote'>But there is yet another phase of the money business in connection
+with Mellicent that pleases me mightily. A certain youth by the
+name of Carl Pennock has been beauing her around a good deal, since
+I came. The Pennocks have some money—fifty thousand, or so, I
+believe—and it is reported that Mrs. Pennock has put her foot down
+on the budding romance—because the Blaisdells <i>have not got money</i>
+<i>enough</i>! (Begin to see where my chuckles come in?) However true
+this report may be, the fact remains that the youth has not been near
+the house for a month past, nor taken Mellicent anywhere. Of course,
+it shows him and his family up—for just what they are; but it has
+been mortifying for poor Mellicent. She’s showing her pluck like a
+little trump, however, and goes serenely on her way with her head
+just enough in the air—but not too much.</div>
+
+<div class='blockquote'>I don’t think Mellicent’s real heart is affected in the least—she’s
+only eighteen, remember—but her pride <i>is</i>. And her mother—!
+Mrs. Jane is thoroughly angry as well as mortified. She says
+Mellicent is every whit as good as those Pennocks, and that the woman
+who would let a paltry thing like money stand in the way of her son’s
+affections is a pretty small specimen. For her part, she never did
+have any use for rich folks, anyway, and she is proud and glad that
+she’s poor! I’m afraid Mrs. Jane was very angry when she said that.
+However, so much for her—and she may change her opinion one of these
+days.</div>
+
+<div class='blockquote'>My private suspicion is that young Pennock is already repentant,
+and is pulling hard at his mother’s leading-strings; for I was with
+Mellicent the other day when we met the lad face to face on the
+street. Mellicent smiled and nodded casually, but Pennock—he turned
+all colors of the rainbow with terror, pleading, apology, and assumed
+indifference all racing each other across his face. Dear, dear, but
+he was a sight!</div>
+
+<div class='blockquote'>There is, too, another feature in the case. It seems that a new
+family by the name of Gaylord have come to town and opened up the
+old Gaylord mansion. Gaylord is a son of old Peter Gaylord, and is a
+millionaire. They are making quite a splurge in the way of balls and
+liveried servants, and motor cars, and the town is agog with it all.
+There are young people in the family, and especially there is a girl,
+Miss Pearl, whom, report says, the Pennocks have selected as being a
+suitable mate for Carl. At all events the Pennocks and the Gaylords
+have struck up a furious friendship, and the young people of both
+families are in the forefront of innumerable social affairs—in most
+of which Mellicent is left out.</div>
+
+<div class='blockquote'>So now you have it—the whole story. And next month comes to
+Mellicent’s father one hundred thousand dollars. Do you wonder I say
+the plot thickens?</div>
+
+<div class='blockquote'>As for myself—you should see me! I eat whatever I like. (The man
+who says health biscuit to me now gets knocked down—and I’ve got
+the strength to do it, too!) I can walk miles and not know it.
+I’ve gained twenty pounds, and I’m having the time of my life. I’m
+even enjoying being a genealogist—a little. I’ve about exhausted
+the resources of Hillerton, and have begun to make trips to the
+neighboring towns. I can even spend an afternoon in an old cemetery
+copying dates from moss-grown gravestones, and not entirely lose my
+appetite for dinner—I mean, supper. I was even congratulating myself
+that I was really quite a genealogist when, the other day, I met the
+<i>real thing</i>. Heavens, Ned, that man had fourteen thousand four
+hundred and seventy-two dates at his tongue’s end, and he said them
+all over to me. He knows the name of every Blake (he was a Blake)
+back to the year one, how many children they had (and they had some
+families then, let me tell you!), and when they all died, and why. I
+met him one morning in a cemetery. I was hunting for a certain stone
+and I asked him a question. Heavens! It was like setting a match
+to one of those Fourth-of-July flower-pot sky-rocket affairs. That
+question was the match that set him going, and thereafter he was a
+gushing geyser of names and dates. I never heard anything like it.</div>
+
+<div class='blockquote'>He began at the Blaisdells, but skipped almost at once to the
+Blakes—there were a lot of them near us. In five minutes he had me
+dumb from sheer stupefaction. In ten minutes he had made a century
+run, and by noon he had got to the Crusades. We went through the Dark
+Ages very appropriately, waiting in an open tomb for a thunderstorm
+to pass. We had got to the year one when I had to leave to drive
+back to Hillerton. I’ve invited him to come to see Father Duff. I
+thought I’d like to have them meet. He knows a lot about the Duffs—a
+Blake married one, ’way back somewhere. I’d like to hear him and
+Father Duff talk—or, rather, I’d like to hear him <i>try</i> to
+talk to Father Duff. Did I ever write you Father Duff’s opinion of
+genealogists? I believe I did.</div>
+
+<div class='blockquote'>I’m not seeing so much of Father Duff these days. Now that it’s grown
+a little cooler he spends most of his time in his favorite chair
+before the cook stove in the kitchen.</div>
+
+<div class='blockquote'>Jove, what a letter this is! It should be shipped by freight and
+read in sections. But I wanted you to know how things are here. You
+can appreciate it the more—when you come.</div>
+
+<div class='blockquote'>You’re not forgetting, of course, that it’s on the first day of
+November that Mr. Stanley G. Fulton’s envelope of instructions is to
+be opened.<br /></div>
+
+<div class='blockquote'><span style="margin-left: 20em;">As ever yours,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 25.5em;"><span class="smcap">John Smith.</span></span><br /></div>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX<br />
+<span class='ph3'>“DEAR COUSIN STANLEY”</span></h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>It was very early in November that Mr. Smith, coming home one
+afternoon, became instantly aware that something very extraordinary had
+happened.</p>
+
+<p>In the living-room were gathered Mr. Frank Blaisdell, his wife, Jane,
+and their daughter, Mellicent. Mellicent’s cheeks were pink, and her
+eyes more starlike than ever. Mrs. Jane’s cheeks, too, were pink. Her
+eyes were excited, but incredulous. Mr. Frank was still in his white
+work-coat, which he wore behind the counter, but which he never wore
+upstairs in his home. He held an open letter in his hand.</p>
+
+<p>It was an ecstatic cry from Mellicent that came first to Mr. Smith’s
+ears.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, Mr. Smith, Mr. Smith, you can’t guess what’s happened! You
+couldn’t guess in a million years!”</p>
+
+<p>“No? Something nice, I hope.” Mr. Smith was looking almost as happily
+excited as Mellicent herself.</p>
+
+<p>“Nice—NICE!” Mellicent clasped her hands before her. “Why, Mr. Smith,
+we are going to have a hundred thousand—”</p>
+
+<p>“Mellicent, I wouldn’t talk of it—yet,” interfered her mother sharply.</p>
+
+<p>“But, mother, it’s no secret. It can’t be kept secret!”</p>
+
+<p>“Of course not—if it’s true. But it isn’t true,” retorted the woman,
+with excited emphasis. “No man in his senses would do such a thing.”</p>
+
+<p>“Er—ah—w-what?” stammered Mr. Smith, looking suddenly a little less
+happy.</p>
+
+<p>“Leave a hundred thousand dollars apiece to three distant relations he
+never saw.”</p>
+
+<p>“But he was our cousin—you said he was our cousin,” interposed
+Mellicent, “and when he died—”</p>
+
+<p>“The letter did not say he had died,” corrected her mother. “He just
+hasn’t been heard from. But he will be heard from—and then where will
+our hundred thousand dollars be?”</p>
+
+<p>“But the lawyer’s coming to give it to us,” maintained Mr. Frank
+stoutly. Then abruptly he turned to Mr. Smith. “Here, read this,
+please, and tell us if we have lost our senses—or if somebody else has.”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smith took the letter. A close observer might have noticed that his
+hand shook a little. The letterhead carried the name of a Chicago law
+firm, but Mr. Smith did not glance at that. He plunged at once into the
+text of the letter.</p>
+
+<p>“Aloud, please, Mr. Smith. I want to hear it again,” pleaded Mellicent.</p>
+
+<div class='blockquote'><span class="smcap">Dear Sir</span> (read Mr. Smith then, after clearing his throat),—I
+understand that you are a distant kinsman of Mr. Stanley G. Fulton,
+the Chicago millionaire.</div>
+
+<div class='blockquote'>Some six months ago Mr. Fulton left this city on what was reported to
+be a somewhat extended exploring tour of South America. Before his
+departure he transferred to me, as trustee, certain securities worth
+about $300,000. He left with me a sealed envelope, entitled “Terms of
+Trust,” and instructed me to open such envelope in six months from
+the date written thereon—if he had not returned—and thereupon to
+dispose of the securities according to the terms of the trust. I will
+add that he also left with me a second sealed envelope entitled “Last
+Will and Testament,” but instructed me not to open such envelope
+until two years from the date written thereon.</div>
+
+<div class='blockquote'>The period of six months has now expired. I have opened the envelope
+entitled “Terms of Trust,” and find that I am directed to convert
+the securities into cash with all convenient speed, and forthwith
+to pay over one third of the net proceeds to his kinsman, Frank G.
+Blaisdell; one third to his kinsman, James A. Blaisdell; and one
+third to his kinswoman, Flora B. Blaisdell, all of Hillerton.</div>
+
+<div class='blockquote'>I shall, of course, discharge my duty as trustee under this
+instrument with all possible promptness. Some of the securities have
+already been converted into cash, and within a few days I shall come
+to Hillerton to pay over the cash in the form of certified checks;
+and I shall ask you at that time to be so good as to sign a receipt
+for your share. Meanwhile this letter is to apprise you of your good
+fortune and to offer you my congratulations.</div>
+
+<div class='blockquote'><span style="margin-left: 16em;">Very truly yours,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 22.5em;"><span class="smcap">Edward D. Norton.</span></span><br /></div>
+
+<p>“Oh-h!” breathed Mellicent.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, what do you think of it?” demanded Mr. Frank Blaisdell, his arms
+akimbo.</p>
+
+<p>“Why, it’s fine, of course. I congratulate you,” cried Mr. Smith,
+handing back the letter.</p>
+
+<p>“Then it’s all straight, you think?”</p>
+
+<p>“Most assuredly!”</p>
+
+<p>“Je-hos-a-phat!” exploded the man.</p>
+
+<p>“But he’ll come back—you see if he don’t!” Mrs. Jane’s voice was still
+positive.</p>
+
+<p>“What if he does? You’ll still have your hundred thousand,” smiled Mr.
+Smith.</p>
+
+<p>“He won’t take it back?”</p>
+
+<p>“Of course not! I doubt if he could, if he wanted to.”</p>
+
+<p>“And we’re really going to have a whole hundred thousand dollars?”
+breathed Mellicent.</p>
+
+<p>“I reckon you are—less the inheritance tax, perhaps.”</p>
+
+<p>“What’s that? What do you mean?” demanded Mrs. Jane. “Do you mean we’ve
+got to <i>pay</i> because we’ve got that money?”</p>
+
+<p>“Why, y-yes, I suppose so. Isn’t there an inheritance tax in this
+State?”</p>
+
+<p>“How much does it cost?” Mrs. Jane’s lips were at their most economical
+pucker. “Do we have to pay a <i>great</i> deal? Isn’t there any way to
+save doing that?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, there isn’t,” cut in her husband crisply. “And I guess we can pay
+the inheritance tax—with a hundred thousand to pay it out of. We’re
+going to <i>spend</i> some of this money, Jane.”</p>
+
+<p>The telephone bell in the hall jangled its peremptory summons, and Mr.
+Frank answered it. In a minute he returned, a new excitement on his
+face.</p>
+
+<p>“It’s Hattie. She’s crazy, of course. They’re coming right over.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, yes! And they’ve got it, too, haven’t they?” remembered Mellicent.
+“And Aunt Flora, and—” She stopped suddenly, a growing dismay in her
+eyes. “Why, he didn’t—he didn’t leave a cent to <i>Aunt Maggie</i>!”
+she cried.</p>
+
+<p>“Gosh! that’s so. Say, now, that’s too bad!” There was genuine concern
+in Frank Blaisdell’s voice.</p>
+
+<p>“But why?” almost wept Mellicent.</p>
+
+<p>Her mother sighed sympathetically.</p>
+
+<p>“Poor Maggie! How she is left out—always!”</p>
+
+<p>“But we can give her some of ours, mother,—we can give her some of
+ours,” urged the girl.</p>
+
+<p>“It isn’t ours to give—yet,” remarked her mother, a bit coldly.</p>
+
+<p>“But, mother, you <i>will</i> do it,” importuned Mellicent. “You’ve
+always said you would, if you had it to give.”</p>
+
+<p>“And I say it again, Mellicent. I shall never see her suffer, you may
+be sure,—if I have the money to relieve her. But—” She stopped abruptly
+at the sound of an excited voice down the hall. Miss Flora, evidently
+coming in through the kitchen, was hurrying toward them.</p>
+
+<p>“Jane—Mellicent—where are you? Isn’t anybody here? Mercy me!” she
+panted, as she reached the room and sank into a chair. “Did you ever
+hear anything like it in all your life? You had one, too, didn’t you?”
+she cried, her eyes falling on the letter in her brother’s hand. “But
+’tain’t true, of course!”</p>
+
+<p>Miss Flora wore no head-covering. She wore one glove (wrong side out),
+and was carrying the other one. Her dress, evidently donned hastily for
+the street, was unevenly fastened, showing the topmost button without a
+buttonhole.</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Smith says it’s true,” triumphed Mellicent.</p>
+
+<p>“How does he know? Who told him ’twas true?” demanded Miss Flora.</p>
+
+<p>So almost accusing was the look in her eyes that Mr. Smith actually
+blinked a little. He grew visibly confused.</p>
+
+<p>“Why—er—ah—the letter speaks for itself Miss Flora,” he stammered.</p>
+
+<p>“But it <i>can’t</i> be true,” reiterated Miss Flora. “The idea of a
+man I never saw giving me a hundred thousand dollars like that!—and
+Frank and Jim, too!”</p>
+
+<p>“But he’s your cousin—you said he was your cousin,” Mr. Smith reminded
+her. “And you have his picture in your album. You showed it to me.”</p>
+
+<p>“I know it. But, my sakes! I didn’t know <i>he</i> knew I was his
+cousin. I don’t s’pose he’s got <i>my</i> picture in <i>his</i> album!
+But how did he know about us? It’s some other Flora Blaisdell, I tell
+you.”</p>
+
+<p>“There, I never thought of that,” cried Jane. “It probably is some
+other Blaisdells. Well, anyhow, if it is, we won’t have to pay that
+inheritance tax. We can save that much.”</p>
+
+<p>“Save! Well, what do we lose?” demanded her husband apoplectically.</p>
+
+<p>At this moment the rattling of the front-door knob and an imperative
+knocking brought Mrs. Jane to her feet.</p>
+
+<p>“There’s Hattie, now, and that door’s locked,” she cried, hurrying into
+the hall.</p>
+
+<p>When she returned a moment later Harriet Blaisdell and Bessie were with
+her.</p>
+
+<p>There was about Mrs. Harriet Blaisdell a new, indescribable air of
+commanding importance. To Mr. Smith she appeared to have grown inches
+taller.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I do hope, Jane, <i>now</i> you’ll live in a decent place,” she
+was saying, as they entered the room, “and not oblige your friends to
+climb up over a grocery store.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I guess you can stand the grocery store a few more days,
+Hattie,” observed Frank Blaisdell dryly. “How long do you s’pose we’d
+live—any of us—if ’twa’n’t for the grocery stores to feed us? Where’s
+Jim?”</p>
+
+<p>“Isn’t he here? I told him I was coming here, and to come right over
+himself at once; that the very first thing we must have was a family
+conclave, just ourselves, you know, so as to plan what to give out to
+the public.”</p>
+
+<p>“Er—ah—” Mr. Smith was on his feet, looking somewhat embarrassed;
+“perhaps, then, you would rather I were not present at the—er—family
+conclave.”</p>
+
+<p>“Nonsense!” shouted Frank Blaisdell.</p>
+
+<p>“Why, you <i>are</i> one of the family, ’seems so,” cried Mellicent.</p>
+
+<p>“No, indeed, Mr. Smith, don’t go,” smiled Mrs. Hattie pleasantly.
+“Besides, you are interested in what concerns us, I know—for the book;
+so, of course, you’ll be interested in this legacy of dear Cousin
+Stanley’s.”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smith collapsed suddenly behind his handkerchief, with one of the
+choking coughs to which he appeared to be somewhat addicted.</p>
+
+<p>“Ain’t you getting a little familiar with ‘dear Cousin Stanley,’
+Hattie?” drawled Frank Blaisdell.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Flora leaned forward earnestly.</p>
+
+<p>“But, Hattie, we were just sayin’, ’fore you came, that it couldn’t be
+true; that it must mean some other Blaisdells somewhere.”</p>
+
+<p>“Absurd!” scoffed Harriet. “There couldn’t be any other Frank and Jim
+and Flora Blaisdell, in a Hillerton, too. Besides, Jim said over the
+telephone that that was one of the best law firms in Chicago. Don’t
+you suppose they know what they’re talking about? I’m sure, I think
+it’s quite the expected thing that he should leave his money to his own
+people. Come, don’t let’s waste any more time over that. What we’ve
+got to decide is what to <i>do</i>. First, of course, we must order
+expensive mourning all around.”</p>
+
+<p>“Mourning!” ejaculated an amazed chorus.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, great Scott!” spluttered Mr. Smith, growing suddenly very red. “I
+never thought—” He stopped abruptly, his face almost purple.</p>
+
+<p>But nobody was noticing Mr. Smith. Bessie Blaisdell had the floor.</p>
+
+<p>“Why, mother, I look perfectly horrid in black, you know I do,” she was
+wailing. “And there’s the Gaylords’ dance just next week; and if I’m in
+mourning I can’t go there, nor anywhere. What’s the use in having all
+that money if we’ve got to shut ourselves up like that, and wear horrid
+stuffy black, and everything?”</p>
+
+<p>“For shame, Bessie!” spoke up Miss Flora, with unusual sharpness
+for her. “I think your mother is just right. I’m sure the least we
+can do in return for this wonderful gift is to show our respect and
+appreciation by going into the very deepest black we can. I’m sure I’d
+be glad to.”</p>
+
+<p>“Wait!” Mrs. Harriet had drawn her brows together in deep thought.
+“I’m not sure, after all, that it would be best. The letter did not
+say that dear Cousin Stanley had died—he just hadn’t been heard from.
+In that case, I don’t think we ought to do it. And it would be too
+bad—that Gaylord dance is going to be the biggest thing of the season,
+and of course if we <i>were</i> in black—No; on the whole, I think we
+won’t, Bessie. Of course, in two years from now, when we get the rest,
+it will be different.”</p>
+
+<p>“When you—what?” It was a rather startled question from Mr. Smith.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, didn’t you know? There’s another letter to be opened in two years
+from now, disposing of the rest of the property. And he was worth
+millions, you know, millions!”</p>
+
+<p>“But maybe he—er—Did it say you were to—to get those millions then?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, no, it didn’t <i>say</i> it, Mr. Smith.” Mrs. Harriet Blaisdell’s
+smile was a bit condescending. “But of course we will. We are his
+kinsmen. He said we were. He just didn’t give it all now because he
+wanted to give himself two more years to come back in, I suppose. You
+know he’s gone exploring. And, of course, if he hadn’t come back by
+then, he would be dead. Then we’d get it all. Oh, yes, we shall get it,
+I’m sure.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh-h!” Mr. Smith settled back in his chair. He looked somewhat
+nonplused.</p>
+
+<p>“Humph! Well, I wouldn’t spend them millions—till I’d got ’em, Hattie,”
+advised her brother-in-law dryly.</p>
+
+<p>“I wasn’t intending to, Frank,” she retorted with some dignity. “But
+that’s neither here nor there. What we’re concerned with now is what to
+do with what we have got. Even this will make a tremendous sensation in
+Hillerton. It ought to be written up, of course, for the papers, and
+by some one who knows. We want it done just right. Why, Frank, do you
+realize? We shall be rich—RICH—and all in a flash like this! I wonder
+what the Pennocks will say <i>now</i> about Mellicent’s not having
+money enough for that precious son of theirs! Oh, I can hardly believe
+it yet. And it’ll mean—everything to us. Think what we can do for the
+children. Think—”</p>
+
+<p>“Aunt Jane, Aunt Jane, is ma here?” Wide open banged the front door
+as Benny bounded down the hall. “Oh, here you are! Say, is it true?
+Tommy Hooker says our great-grandfather in Africa has died an’ left
+us a million dollars, an’ that we’re richer’n Mr. Pennock or even the
+Gaylords, or anybody! Is it true? Is it?”</p>
+
+<p>His mother laughed indulgently.</p>
+
+<p>“Not quite, Benny, though we have been left a nice little fortune by
+your cousin, Stanley G. Fulton—remember the name, dear, your cousin,
+Stanley G. Fulton. And it wasn’t Africa, it was South America.”</p>
+
+<p>“And did you all get some, too?” panted Benny, looking eagerly about
+him.</p>
+
+<p>“We sure did,” nodded his Uncle Frank, “all but poor Mr. Smith here.
+I guess Mr. Stanley G. Fulton didn’t know he was a cousin, too,” he
+joked, with a wink in Mr. Smith’s direction.</p>
+
+<p>“But where’s Aunt Maggie? Why ain’t she here? She got some, too, didn’t
+she?” Benny began to look anxious.</p>
+
+<p>His mother lifted her eyebrows.</p>
+
+<p>“No. You forget, my dear. Your Aunt Maggie is not a Blaisdell at all.
+She’s a Duff—a very different family.”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t care, she’s just as good as a Blaisdell,” cut in Mellicent;
+“and she seems like one of us, anyway.”</p>
+
+<p>“And she didn’t get anything?” bemoaned Benny. “Say,” he turned
+valiantly to Mr. Smith, “shouldn’t you think he might have given Aunt
+Maggie a little of that money?”</p>
+
+<p>“I should, indeed!” Mr. Smith spoke with peculiar emphasis.</p>
+
+<p>“I guess he would if he’d known her!”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m sure he would!” Once more the peculiar earnestness vibrated
+through Mr. Smith’s voice.</p>
+
+<p>“But now he’s dead, an’ he can’t. I guess if he could see Aunt Maggie
+he’d wish he hadn’t died ’fore he could fix her up just as good as the
+rest.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m <i>very</i> sure he would!” Mr. Smith was laughing now, but his
+voice was just as emphatic, and there was a sudden flame of color in
+his face.</p>
+
+<p>“Your Cousin Stanley isn’t dead, my dear,—that is, we are not sure he
+is dead,” spoke up Benny’s mother quickly. “He just has not been heard
+from for six months.”</p>
+
+<p>“But he must be dead, or he’d have come back,” reasoned Miss Flora,
+with worried eyes; “and I, for my part, think we <i>ought</i> to go
+into mourning, too.”</p>
+
+<p>“Of course he’d have come back,” declared Mrs. Jane, “and kept the
+money himself. Don’t you suppose he knew what he’d written in that
+letter, and don’t you suppose he’d have saved those three hundred
+thousand dollars if he could? Well, I guess he would! The man is dead.
+That’s certain enough.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, anyhow, we’re not going into mourning till we have to.” Mrs.
+Harriet’s lips snapped together with firm decision.</p>
+
+<p>“Of course not. I’m sure I don’t see any use in having the money if
+we’ve got to wear black and not go anywhere,” pouted Bessie.</p>
+
+<p>“Are we rich, then, really, ma?” demanded Benny.</p>
+
+<p>“We certainly are, Benny.”</p>
+
+<p>“Richer ’n the Pennocks?”</p>
+
+<p>“Very much.”</p>
+
+<p>“An’ the Gaylords?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well—hardly that”—her face clouded perceptibly—“that is, not until we
+get the rest—in two years.” She brightened again.</p>
+
+<p>“Then, if we’re rich we can have everything we want, can’t we?” Benny’s
+eyes were beginning to sparkle.</p>
+
+<p>“Well—” hesitated his mother.</p>
+
+<p>“I guess there’ll be enough to satisfy your wants, Benny,” laughed his
+Uncle Frank.</p>
+
+<p>Benny gave a whoop of delight.</p>
+
+<p>“Then we can go back to the East Side and live just as we’ve a mind
+to, without carin’ what other folks do, can’t we?” he crowed. “Cause
+if we <i>are</i> rich we won’t have ter keep tryin’ ter make folks
+<i>think</i> we are. They’ll know it without our tryin’.”</p>
+
+<p>“Benny!” The rest were laughing; but Benny’s mother had raised shocked
+hands of protest. “You are incorrigible, child. The East Side, indeed!
+We shall live in a house of our own, now, of course—but it won’t be on
+the East Side.”</p>
+
+<p>“And Fred’ll go to college,” put in Miss Flora eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes; and I shall send Bessie to a fashionable finishing school,” bowed
+Mrs. Harriet, with a shade of importance.</p>
+
+<p>“Hey, Bess, you’ve got ter be finished,” chuckled Benny.</p>
+
+<p>“What’s Mell going to do?” pouted Bessie, looking not altogether
+pleased. “Hasn’t she got to be finished, too?”</p>
+
+<p>“Mellicent hasn’t got the money to be finished—yet,” observed Mrs. Jane
+tersely.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, I don’t know what I’m going to do,” breathed Mellicent, drawing
+an ecstatic sigh. “But I hope I’m going to do—just what I want to, for
+once!”</p>
+
+<p>“And I’ll make you some pretty dresses that you can wear right off,
+while they’re in style,” beamed Miss Flora.</p>
+
+<p>Frank Blaisdell gave a sudden laugh.</p>
+
+<p>“But what are <i>you</i> going to do, Flo? Here you’ve been telling
+what everybody else is going to do with the money.”</p>
+
+<p>A blissful sigh, very like Mellicent’s own, passed Miss Flora’s lips.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, I don’t know,” she breathed in an awe-struck voice. “It don’t seem
+yet—that it’s really mine.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, ’tisn’t,” declared Mrs. Jane tartly, getting to her feet. “And
+I, for one, am going back to work—in the kitchen, where I belong.
+And—Well, if here ain’t Jim at last,” she broke off, as her younger
+brother-in-law appeared in the doorway.</p>
+
+<p>“You’re too late, pa, you’re too late! It’s all done,” clamored Benny.
+“They’ve got everything all settled.”</p>
+
+<p>The man in the doorway smiled.</p>
+
+<p>“I knew they would have, Benny; and I haven’t been needed, I’m
+sure,—your mother’s here.”</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Harriet bridled, but did not look unpleased.</p>
+
+<p>“But, say, Jim,” breathed Miss Flora, “ain’t it wonderful—ain’t it
+perfectly wonderful?”</p>
+
+<p>“It is, indeed,—very wonderful,” replied Mr. Jim</p>
+
+<p>A Babel of eager voices arose then, but Mr. Smith was not listening
+now. He was watching Mr. Jim’s face, and trying to fathom its
+expression.</p>
+
+<p>A little later, when the women had gone into the kitchen and Mr. Frank
+had clattered back to his work downstairs, Mr. Smith thought he had
+the explanation of that look on Mr. Jim’s face. Mr. Jim and Benny were
+standing over by the fireplace together.
+“Pa, ain’t you glad—about the money?” asked Benny.</p>
+
+<p>“I should be, shouldn’t I, my son?”</p>
+
+<p>“But you look—so funny, and you didn’t say anything, hardly.”</p>
+
+<p>There was a moment’s pause. The man, with his eyes fixed on the glowing
+coals in the grate, appeared not to have heard. But in a moment he
+said:—</p>
+
+<p>“Benny, if a poor old horse had been climbing a long, long hill all
+day with the hot sun on his back, and a load that dragged and dragged
+at his heels, and if he couldn’t see a thing but the dust of the road
+that blinded and choked him, and if he just felt that he couldn’t go
+another step, in spite of the whip that snapped ‘Get there—get there!’
+all day in his ears—how do you suppose that poor old horse would
+feel if suddenly the load, and the whip, and the hill, and the dust
+disappeared, and he found himself in a green pasture with the cool
+gurgle of water under green trees in his ears—how do you suppose that
+poor old horse would feel?”</p>
+
+<p>“Say, he’d like it great, wouldn’t he? But, pa, you didn’t tell me yet
+if you liked the money.”</p>
+
+<p>The man stirred, as if waking from a trance. He threw his arm around
+Benny’s shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>“Like it? Why, of course, I like it, Benny, my boy! Why, I’m going to
+have time now—to get acquainted with my children!”</p>
+
+<p>Across the room Mr. Smith, with a sudden tightening of his throat,
+slipped softly into the hall and thence to his own room. Mr. Smith,
+just then, did not wish to be seen.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X<br />
+<span class='ph3'>WHAT DOES IT MATTER?</span></h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>The days immediately following the receipt of three remarkable letters
+by the Blaisdell family were nerve-racking for all concerned. Held
+by Mrs. Jane’s insistence that they weren’t sure yet that the thing
+was true, the family steadfastly refused to give out any definite
+information. Even the eager Harriet yielded to Jane on this point,
+acknowledging that it <i>would</i> be mortifying, of course, if they
+<i>should</i> talk, and nothing came of it.</p>
+
+<p>Their enigmatic answers to questions, and their expressive shrugs and
+smiles, however, were almost as exciting as the rumors themselves; and
+the Blaisdells became at once a veritable storm center of surmises and
+gossip—a state of affairs not at all unpleasing to some of them, Mrs.
+Harriet in particular.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Maggie Duff, however, was not so well pleased. To Mr. Smith, one
+day, she freed her mind—and Miss Maggie so seldom freed her mind that
+Mr. Smith was not a little surprised.</p>
+
+<p>“I wish,” she began, “I do wish that if that Chicago lawyer is coming,
+he’d come, and get done with it! Certainly the present state of affairs
+is almost unbearable.”</p>
+
+<p>“It does make it all the harder for you, to have it drag along like
+this, doesn’t it?” murmured Mr. Smith uneasily.</p>
+
+<p>“For—ME?”</p>
+
+<p>“That you are not included in the bequest, I mean.”</p>
+
+<p>She gave an impatient gesture.</p>
+
+<p>“I didn’t mean that. I wasn’t thinking of myself. Besides, as I’ve told
+you before, there is no earthly reason why I should have been included.
+It’s the delay, I mean, for the Blaisdells—for the whole town, for that
+matter. This eternal ‘Did you know?’ and ‘They say’ is getting on my
+nerves!”</p>
+
+<p>“Why, Miss Maggie, I didn’t suppose you <i>had</i> any nerves,”
+bantered the man.</p>
+
+<p>She threw him an expressive glance.</p>
+
+<p>“Haven’t I!” she retorted. Then again she gave the impatient gesture.
+“But even the gossip and the questioning aren’t the worst. It’s the
+family themselves. Between Hattie’s pulling one way and Jane the other,
+I feel like a bone between two quarrelsome puppies. Hattie is already
+house-hunting, on the sly, and she’s bought Bessie an expensive watch
+and a string of gold beads. Jane, on the other hand, insists that Mr.
+Fulton will come back and claim the money, so she’s running her house
+now on the principle that she’s <i>lost</i> a hundred thousand dollars,
+and so must economize in every possible way. You can imagine it!”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t have to—imagine it,” murmured the man.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Maggie laughed.</p>
+
+<p>“I forgot. Of course you don’t. You do live there, don’t you? But that
+isn’t all. Flora, poor soul, went into a restaurant the other day and
+ordered roast turkey, and now she’s worrying for fear the money won’t
+come and justify her extravagance. Mellicent, with implicit faith that
+the hundred thousand is coming wants to wear her best frocks every day.
+And, as if she were not already quite excited enough, young Pennock has
+very obviously begun to sit up and take notice.”</p>
+
+<p>“You don’t mean he is trying to come back—so soon!” disbelieved Mr.
+Smith.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, he’s evidently caught the glitter of the gold from afar,” smiled
+Miss Maggie. “At all events, he’s taking notice.”</p>
+
+<p>“And—Miss Mellicent?” There was a note of anxiety in Mr. Smith’s voice.</p>
+
+<p>“Doesn’t see him, <i>apparently</i>. But she comes and tells me his
+every last move (and he’s making quite a number of them just now!), so
+I think she does see—a little.”</p>
+
+<p>“The young rascal! But she doesn’t—care?”</p>
+
+<p>“I think not—really. She’s just excited now, as any young girl would
+be; and I’m afraid she’s taking a little wicked pleasure in—not seeing
+him.”</p>
+
+<p>“Humph! I can imagine it,” chuckled Mr. Smith.</p>
+
+<p>“But it’s all bad—this delay,” chafed Miss Maggie again. “Don’t you
+see? It’s neither one thing nor another. That’s why I do wish that
+lawyer would come, if he’s coming.”</p>
+
+<p>“I reckon he’ll be here before long,” murmured Mr. Smith, with an
+elaborately casual air. “But—I wish you were coming in on the deal.”
+His kindly eyes were gazing straight into her face now.</p>
+
+<p>She shook her head.</p>
+
+<p>“I’m a Duff, not a Blaisdell—except when they want—” She bit her lip. A
+confused red suffused her face. “I mean, I’m not a Blaisdell at all,”
+she finished hastily.</p>
+
+<p>“Humph! That’s exactly it!” Mr. Smith was sitting energetically erect.
+“You’re not a Blaisdell—except when they want something of you!”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh <i>please</i>, I didn’t mean to say—I <i>didn’t</i>
+say—<i>that</i>,” cried Miss Maggie, in very genuine distress.</p>
+
+<p>“No, I know you didn’t, but I did,” flared the man. “Miss Maggie, it’s
+a downright shame—the way they impose on you sometimes.”</p>
+
+<p>“Nonsense! I like to have them—I mean, I like to do what I can for
+them,” she corrected hastily, laughing in spite of herself.</p>
+
+<p>“You like to get all tired out, I suppose.”</p>
+
+<p>“I get rested—afterward.”</p>
+
+<p>“And it doesn’t matter, anyway, of course,” he gibed.</p>
+
+<p>“Not a bit,” she smiled.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, I suspected that.” Mr. Smith was still sitting erect, still
+speaking with grim terseness. “But let me tell you right here and now
+that I don’t approve of that doctrine of yours.”</p>
+
+<p>“‘Doctrine’?”</p>
+
+<p>“That ‘It-doesn’t-matter’ doctrine of yours. I tell you it’s very
+pernicious—very! I don’t approve of it at all.”</p>
+
+<p>There was a moment’s silence.</p>
+
+<p>“No?” Miss Maggie said then, demurely. “Oh, well—it doesn’t matter—if
+you don’t.”</p>
+
+<p>He caught the twinkle in her eyes and threw up his hands despairingly.</p>
+
+<p>“You are incorrigible!”</p>
+
+<p>With a sudden businesslike air of determination Miss Maggie faced him.</p>
+
+<p>“Just what is the matter with that doctrine, please, and what do you
+mean?” she smiled.</p>
+
+<p>“I mean that things <i>do</i> matter, and that we merely shut our eyes
+to the real facts in the case when we say that they don’t. War, death,
+sin, evil—the world is full of them, and they do matter.”</p>
+
+<p>“They do matter, indeed.” Miss Maggie was speaking very gravely now.
+“They matter—woefully. I never say ‘It doesn’t matter’ to war, or
+death, or sin, or evil. But there are other things—”</p>
+
+<p>“But the other things matter, too,” interrupted the man irritably.
+“Right here and now it matters that you don’t share in the money; it
+matters that you slave half your time for a father who doesn’t anywhere
+near appreciate you; it matters that you slave the rest of the time for
+every Tom and Dick and Harry and Jane and Mehitable in Hillerton that
+has run a sliver under a thumb, either literally or metaphorically. It
+matters that—”</p>
+
+<p>But Miss Maggie was laughing merrily. “Oh, Mr. Smith, Mr. Smith, you
+don’t know what you are saying!”</p>
+
+<p>“I do, too. It’s <i>you</i> who don’t know what you are saying!”</p>
+
+<p>“But, pray, what would you have me say?” she smiled.</p>
+
+<p>“I’d have you say it <i>does</i> matter, and I’d have you insist on
+having your rights, every time.”</p>
+
+<p>“And what if I had?” she retaliated sharply. “My rights, indeed!”</p>
+
+<p>The man fell back, so sudden and so astounding was the change that had
+come to the woman opposite him. She was leaning forward in her chair,
+her lips trembling, her eyes a smouldering flame.</p>
+
+<p>“What if I had insisted on my rights, all the way up?” she quivered.
+“Would I have come home that first time from college? Would I have
+stepped into Mother Blaisdell’s shoes and kept the house? Would I have
+swept and baked and washed and ironed, day in and day out, to make a
+home for father and for Jim and Frank and Flora? Would I have come
+back again and again, when my beloved books were calling, calling,
+always calling? Would I have seen other girls love and marry and go to
+homes of their own, while I—Oh, what am I saying, what am I saying?”
+she choked, covering her eyes with the back of her hand, and turning
+her face away. “Please, if you can, forget what I said. Indeed, I
+<i>never</i>—broke out like that—before. I am so—ashamed!”</p>
+
+<p>“Ashamed! Well, you needn’t be.” Mr. Smith, on his feet, was trying to
+work off his agitation by tramping up and down the small room.</p>
+
+<p>“But I am ashamed,” moaned Miss Maggie, her face still averted. “And I
+can’t think why I should have been so—so wild. It was just something
+that you said—about my rights, I think. You see—all my life I’ve just
+<i>had</i> to learn to say ‘It doesn’t matter,’ when there were so many
+things I wanted to do, and couldn’t. And—don’t you see?—I found out,
+after a while, that it didn’t really matter, half so much—college and
+my own little wants and wishes as that I should do—what I had to do,
+willingly and pleasantly at home.”</p>
+
+<p>“But, good Heavens, how could you keep from tearing ’round and throwing
+things?”</p>
+
+<p>“I couldn’t—all the time. I—I smashed a bowl once, and two cups.” She
+laughed shamefacedly, and met his eyes now. “But I soon found—that
+it didn’t make me or anybody else—any happier, and that it didn’t
+help things at all. So I tried—to do the other way. And now, please,
+<i>please</i> say you’ll forget all this—what I’ve been saying. Indeed,
+Mr. Smith I am very much ashamed.”</p>
+
+<p>“Forget it!” Mr. Smith turned on his heel and marched up and down the
+room again. “Confound that man!”</p>
+
+<p>“What man?”</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Stanley G. Fulton, if you must know, for not giving you any of
+that money.”</p>
+
+<p>“Money, money, money!” Miss Maggie threw out both her hands with a
+gesture of repulsion. “If I’ve heard that word once, I’ve heard it a
+hundred times in the last week. Sometimes I wish I might never hear it
+again.”</p>
+
+<p>“You don’t want to be deaf, do you? Well, you’d have to be, to escape
+hearing that word.”</p>
+
+<p>“I suppose so. But—” again she threw out her hands.</p>
+
+<p>“You don’t mean—” Mr. Smith was regarding her with curious interest.
+“Don’t you <i>want</i>—money, really?”</p>
+
+<p>She hesitated; then she sighed.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, yes, of course. We all want money. We have to have money, too; but
+I don’t think it’s—everything in the world, by any means.”</p>
+
+<p>“You don’t think it brings happiness, then?”</p>
+
+<p>“Sometimes. Sometimes not.”</p>
+
+<p>“Most of—er—us would be willing to take the risk.”</p>
+
+<p>“Most of us would.”</p>
+
+<p>“Now, in the case of the Blaisdells here—don’t you think this money is
+going to bring happiness to them?”</p>
+
+<p>There was no answer. Miss Maggie seemed to be thinking.</p>
+
+<p>“Miss Maggie,” exclaimed Mr. Smith, with a concern all out of
+proportion to his supposed interest in the matter, “you don’t mean to
+say you <i>don’t</i> think this money is going to bring them happiness!”</p>
+
+<p>Miss Maggie laughed a little.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, no! This money’ll bring them happiness all right, of
+course,—particularly to some of them. But I was just wondering; if you
+don’t know how to spend five dollars so as to get the most out of it,
+how will you spend five hundred, or five hundred thousand—and get the
+most out of that?”
+“What do you mean?”</p>
+
+<p>But Miss Maggie shook her head.</p>
+
+<p>“Nothing. I was just thinking,” she said.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI<br />
+<span class='ph3'>SANTA CLAUS ARRIVES</span></h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>It was not long after this that Mr. Smith found a tall, gray-haired
+man, with keen gray eyes, talking with Mrs. Jane Blaisdell and
+Mellicent in the front room over the grocery store.</p>
+
+<p>“Well—” began Mr. Smith, a joyful light of recognition in his eyes.
+Then suddenly he stooped and picked up something from the floor. When
+he came upright his face was very red. He did not look at the tall,
+gray-haired man again as he advanced into the room.</p>
+
+<p>Mellicent turned to him eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, Mr. Smith, it’s the lawyer—he’s come. And it’s true. It <i>is</i>
+true!”</p>
+
+<p>“This is Mr. Smith, Mr. Norton,” murmured Mrs. Jane Blaisdell to the
+keen-eyed man, who, also, for no apparent reason, had grown very
+red. “Mr. Smith’s a Blaisdell, too,—distant, you know. He’s doing a
+Blaisdell book.”</p>
+
+<p>“Indeed! How interesting! How are you, Mr.—Smith?” The lawyer smiled
+and held out his hand, but there was an odd constraint in his manner.
+“So you’re a Blaisdell, too, are you?”</p>
+
+<p>“Er—yes,” said Mr. Smith, smiling straight into the lawyer’s eyes.</p>
+
+<p>“But not near enough to come in on the money, of course,” explained
+Mrs. Jane. “He isn’t a Hiller-Blaisdell. He’s just boarding here, while
+he writes his book.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh I see. So he isn’t near enough to come in—on the money.” This time
+it was the lawyer who was smiling straight into Mr. Smith’s eyes.</p>
+
+<p>But he did not smile for long. A sudden question from Mellicent seemed
+to freeze the smile on his lips.</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Norton, please, what was Mr. Stanley G. Fulton like?” she begged.</p>
+
+<p>“Why—er—you must have seen his pictures in the papers,” stammered the
+lawyer.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, what was he like? Do tell us,” urged Mr. Smith with a bland
+smile, as he seated himself.</p>
+
+<p>“Why—er—” The lawyer came to a still more unhappy pause.</p>
+
+<p>“Of course, we’ve seen his pictures,” broke in Mellicent, “but those
+don’t tell us anything. And <i>you knew him</i>. So won’t you tell us
+what he was like, please, while we’re waiting for father to come up?
+Was he nice and jolly, or was he stiff and haughty? What was he like?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, what was he like?” coaxed Mr. Smith again. Mr. Smith, for some
+reason, seemed to be highly amused.</p>
+
+<p>The lawyer lifted his head suddenly. An odd flash came to his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>“Like? Oh, just an ordinary man, you know,—somewhat conceited, of
+course.” (A queer little half-gasp came from Mr. Smith, but the lawyer
+was not looking at Mr. Smith.) “Eccentric—you’ve heard that, probably.
+And he <i>has</i> done crazy things, and no mistake. Of course, with
+his money and position, we won’t exactly say he had bats in his
+belfry—isn’t that what they call it?—but—”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smith gave a real gasp this time, and Mrs. Jane Blaisdell
+ejaculated:—</p>
+
+<p>“There, I told you so! I knew something was wrong. And now he’ll come
+back and claim the money. You see if he don’t! And if we’ve gone and
+spent any of it—” A gesture of despair finished her sentence.</p>
+
+<p>“Give yourself no uneasiness on that score, madam,” the lawyer assured
+her gravely. “I think I can safely guarantee he will not do that.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then you think he’s—dead?”</p>
+
+<p>“I did not say that, madam. I said I was very sure he would not come
+back and claim this money that is to be paid over to your husband and
+his brother and sister. Dead or alive, he has no further power over
+that money now.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh-h!” breathed Mellicent. “Then it <i>is</i>—ours!”</p>
+
+<p>“It is yours,” bowed the lawyer.</p>
+
+<p>“But Mr. Smith says we’ve probably got to pay a tax on it,” thrust in
+Mrs. Jane, in a worried voice. “Do you know how much we’ll <i>have</i>
+to pay? And isn’t there any way we can save doing that?”
+Before Mr. Norton could answer, a heavy step down the hall heralded
+Mr. Frank Blaisdell’s advance, and in the ensuing confusion of his
+arrival, Mr. Smith slipped away. As he passed the lawyer, however,
+Mellicent thought she heard him mutter, “You rascal!” But afterwards
+she concluded she must have been mistaken, for the two men appeared to
+become at once the best of friends. Mr. Norton remained in town several
+days, and frequently she saw him and Mr. Smith chatting pleasantly
+together, or starting off apparently for a walk. Mellicent was very
+sure, therefore, that she must have been mistaken in thinking she had
+heard Mr. Smith utter so remarkable an exclamation as he left the room
+that first day.</p>
+
+<p>During the stay of Mr. Norton in Hillerton, and for some days
+afterward, the Blaisdells were too absorbed in the mere details of
+acquiring and temporarily investing their wealth to pay attention to
+anything else. Under the guidance of Mr. Norton, Mr. Robert Chalmers,
+and the heads of two other Hillerton banks, the three legatees set
+themselves to the task of “finding a place to put it,” as Miss Flora
+breathlessly termed it.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Hattie said that, for her part, she should like to leave their
+share all in the bank: then she’d have it to spend whenever she wanted
+it. She yielded to the shocked protestations of the others, however,
+and finally consented that her husband should invest a large part of it
+in the bonds he so wanted, leaving a generous sum in the bank in her
+own name. She was assured that the bonds were just as good as money,
+anyway, as they were the kind that were readily convertible into cash.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Jane, when she understood the matter, was for investing every cent
+of theirs where it would draw the largest interest possible. Mrs. Jane
+had never before known very much about interest, and she was fascinated
+with its delightful possibilities. She spent whole days joyfully
+figuring percentages, and was awakened from her happy absorption only
+by the unpleasant realization that her husband was not in sympathy with
+her ideas at all. He said that the money was his, not hers, and that,
+for once in his life, he was going to have his way. “His way” in this
+case proved to be the prompt buying-out of the competing grocery on the
+other corner, and the establishing of good-sized bank account. The rest
+of the money he said Jane might invest for a hundred per cent, if she
+wanted to.</p>
+
+<p>Jane was pleased to this extent, and asked if it were possible that she
+could get such a splendid rate as one hundred per cent. She had not
+figured on that! She was not so pleased later, when Mr. Norton and the
+bankers told her what she <i>could</i> get—with safety; and she was
+very angry because they finally appealed to her husband and she was
+obliged to content herself with a paltry five or six per cent, when
+there were such lovely mining stocks and oil wells everywhere that
+would pay so much more.</p>
+
+<p>She told Flora that she ought to thank her stars that <i>she</i> had
+the money herself in her own name, to do just as she pleased with,
+without any old-fogy men bossing her.</p>
+
+<p>But Flora only shivered and said “Mercy me!” and that, for her part,
+she wished she didn’t have to say what to do with it. She was scared
+of her life of it, anyway, and she was just sure she should lose it,
+whatever she did with it; and she ’most wished she didn’t have it, only
+it would be nice, of course, to buy things with it—and she supposed she
+would buy things with it, after a while, when she got used to it, and
+was not afraid to spend it.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Flora was, indeed, quite breathless most of the time, these days.
+She tried very hard to give the kind gentlemen who were helping her
+no trouble, and she showed herself eager always to take their advice.
+But she wished they would not ask her opinion; she was always afraid
+to give it, and she didn’t have one, anyway; only she did worry, of
+course, and she had to ask them sometimes if they were real sure the
+places they had put her money were perfectly safe, and just couldn’t
+blow up. It was so comforting always to see them smile, and hear them
+say: “Perfectly, my dear Miss Flora, perfectly! Give yourself no
+uneasiness.” To be sure, one day, the big fat man, not Mr. Chalmers,
+did snap out: “No, madam; only the Lord Almighty can guarantee a
+government bond—the whole country may be blown to atoms by a volcano
+to-morrow morning!”</p>
+
+<p>She was startled, terribly startled; but she saw at once, of course,
+that it must be just his way of joking, for of course there wasn’t any
+volcano big enough to blow up the whole United States; and, anyway,
+she did not think it was nice of him, and it was almost like swearing,
+to say “the Lord Almighty” in that tone of voice. She never liked that
+fat man again. After that she always talked to Mr. Chalmers, or to the
+other man with a wart on his nose.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Flora had never had a check-book before, but she tried very
+hard to learn how to use it, and to show herself not too stupid. She
+was glad there were such a lot of checks in the book, but she didn’t
+believe she’d ever spend them all—such a lot of money! She had had a
+savings-bank book, to be sure, but she not been able to put anything in
+the bank for a long time, and she had been worrying a good deal lately
+for fear she would have to draw some out, business had been so dull.
+But she would not have to do that now, of course, with all this money
+that had come to her.</p>
+
+<p>They told her that she could have all the money she wanted by just
+filling out one of the little slips in her check-book the way they had
+told her to do it and taking it to Mr. Chalmers’s bank—that there were
+a good many thousand dollars there waiting for her to spend, just as
+she liked; and that, when they were gone, Mr. Chalmers would tell her
+how to sell some of her bonds and get more. It seemed very wonderful!</p>
+
+<p>There were other things, too, that they had told her—too many for her
+to remember—something about interest, and things called coupons that
+must be cut off the bonds at certain times. She tried to remember it
+all; but Mr. Chalmers had been very kind and had told her not to fret.
+He would help her when the time came. Meanwhile, he had rented her a
+nice tin box (that pulled out like a drawer) in the safety-deposit
+vault under the bank, where she could keep her bonds and all the other
+papers—such a lot of them!—that Mr. Chalmers told her she must keep
+very carefully.</p>
+
+<p>But it was all so new and complicated, and everybody was always talking
+at once, so!</p>
+
+<p>No wonder, indeed, that Miss Flora was quite breathless with it all.</p>
+
+<p>By the time the Blaisdells found themselves able to pay attention
+to Hillerton, or to anything outside their own astounding personal
+affairs, they became suddenly aware of the attention Hillerton was
+paying to <i>them</i>.</p>
+
+<p>The whole town was agog. The grocery store, the residence of Frank
+Blaisdell, and Miss Flora’s humble cottage might be found at nearly
+any daylight hour with from one to a dozen curious-eyed gazers on the
+sidewalk before them. The town paper had contained an elaborate account
+of the bequest and the remarkable circumstances attending it; and
+Hillerton became the Mecca of wandering automobiles for miles around.
+Big metropolitan dailies got wind of the affair, recognized the magic
+name of Stanley G. Fulton, and sent reporters post-haste to Hillerton.</p>
+
+<p>Speculation as to whether the multi-millionaire was really dead was
+prevalent everywhere, and a search for some clue to his reported South
+American exploring expedition was undertaken in several quarters.
+Various rumors concerning the expedition appeared immediately, but
+none of them seemed to have any really solid foundation. Interviews
+with the great law firm having the handling of Mr. Fulton’s affairs
+were printed, but even here little could be learned save the mere fact
+of the letter of instructions, upon which they had acted according
+to directions, and the other fact that there still remained one more
+packet—understood to be the last will and testament—to be opened in
+two years’ time if Mr. Fulton remained unheard from. The lawyers were
+bland and courteous, but they really had nothing to say, they declared,
+beyond the already published facts.</p>
+
+<p>In Hillerton the Blaisdells accepted this notoriety with characteristic
+variation. Miss Flora, after cordially welcoming one “nice young man,”
+and telling him all about how strange and wonderful it was, and how
+frightened she felt, was so shocked and distressed to find all that she
+said (and a great deal that she did not say!) staring at her from the
+first page of a big newspaper, that she forthwith barred her doors, and
+refused to open them till she satisfied herself, by surreptitious peeps
+through the blinds, that it was only a neighbor who was knocking for
+admittance. An offer of marriage from a Western ranchman and another
+from a Vermont farmer (both entire strangers) did not tend to lessen
+her perturbation of mind.</p>
+
+<p>Frank, at the grocery store, rather welcomed questioners—so long as
+there was a hope of turning them into customers; but his wife and
+Mellicent showed almost as much terror of them as did Miss Flora
+herself.</p>
+
+<p>James Blaisdell and Fred stoically endured such as refused to be
+silenced by their brusque non-committalism. Benny, at first welcoming
+everything with the enthusiasm he would accord to a circus, soon
+sniffed his disdain, as at a show that had gone stale.</p>
+
+<p>Of them all, perhaps Mrs. Hattie was the only one that found in it any
+real joy and comfort. Even Bessie, excited and interested as she was,
+failed to respond with quite the enthusiasm that her mother showed.
+Mrs. Hattie saw every reporter, talked freely of “dear Cousin Stanley”
+and his wonderful generosity, and explained that she would go into
+mourning, of course, if she knew he was really dead. She sat for two
+new portraits for newspaper use, besides graciously posing for staff
+photographers whenever requested to do so; and she treasured carefully
+every scrap of the printed interviews or references to the affair that
+she could find. She talked with the townspeople, also, and told Al
+Smith how fine it was that he could have something really worth while
+for his book.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smith, these days, was keeping rather closely to his work,
+especially when reporters were in evidence. He had been heard to
+remark, indeed, that he had no use for reporters. Certainly he fought
+shy of those investigating the Fulton-Blaisdell legacy. He read the
+newspaper accounts, though, most attentively, particularly the ones
+from Chicago that Mr. Norton kindly sent him sometimes. It was in one
+of these papers that he found this paragraph:—</p>
+
+<p>There seems to be really nothing more that can be learned about the
+extraordinary Stanley G. Fulton-Blaisdell affair. The bequests have
+been paid, the Blaisdells are reveling in their new wealth, and Mr.
+Fulton is still unheard from. There is nothing now to do but to await
+the opening of the second mysterious packet two years hence. This,
+it is understood, is the final disposition of his estate; and if he
+is really dead, such will doubtless prove to be the case. There are
+those, however, who, remembering the multi-millionaire’s well-known
+eccentricities, are suspecting him of living in quiet retirement
+somewhere, laughing in his sleeve at the tempest in the teapot that
+he has created; and that long before the two years are up, he will
+be back on Chicago’s streets, debonair and smiling as ever. The fact
+that so little can be found in regard to the South American exploring
+expedition might give color to this suspicion; but where on this
+terrestrial ball could Mr. Stanley G. Fulton find a place to live in
+<i>unreported</i> retirement?</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smith did not show this paragraph to the Blaisdells. He destroyed
+the paper containing it, indeed, promptly and effectually—with a
+furtive glance over his shoulder as he did so. It was at about this
+time, too, that Mr. Smith began to complain of his eyes and to wear
+smoked glasses. He said he found the new snow glaring.</p>
+
+<p>“But you look so funny, Mr. Smith,” said Benny, the first time he saw
+him. “Why, I didn’t hardly know you!”</p>
+
+<p>“Didn’t you, Benny?” asked Mr. Smith, with suddenly a beaming
+countenance. “Oh, well, that doesn’t matter, does it?” And Mr. Smith
+gave an odd little chuckle as he turned away.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII<br />
+<span class='ph3'>THE TOYS RATTLE OUT</span></h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>Early in December Mrs. Hattie, after an extended search, found a
+satisfactory home. It was a somewhat pretentious house, not far
+from the Gaylord place. Mrs. Hattie had it repapered and repainted
+throughout and two new bathrooms put in. (She said that everybody
+who was anybody always had lots of bathrooms.) Then she set herself
+to furnishing it. She said that, of course, very little of their old
+furniture would do at all. She was talking to Maggie Duff about it one
+day when Mr. Smith chanced to come in. She was radiant that afternoon
+in a handsome silk dress and a new fur coat.</p>
+
+<p>“You’re looking very well—and happy, Mrs. Blaisdell,” smiled Mr. Smith
+as he greeted her.</p>
+
+<p>“I am well, and I’m perfectly happy, Mr. Smith,” she beamed. “How
+could I help it? You know about the new home, of course. Well, it’s
+all ready, and I’m ordering the furnishings. Oh, you don’t know what
+it means to me to be able at last to surround myself with all the
+beautiful things I’ve so longed for all my life!”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m very glad, I’m sure.” Mr. Smith said the words as if he meant them.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, of course; and poor Maggie here, she says she’s glad, too,—though
+I don’t see how she can be, when she never got a cent, do you, Mr.
+Smith? But, poor Maggie, she’s got so used to being left out—”</p>
+
+<p>“Hush, hush!” begged Miss Maggie.</p>
+
+<p>“You’ll find money isn’t everything in this world, Hattie Blaisdell,”
+growled Mr. Duff, who, to-day, for some unknown reason, had deserted
+the kitchen cookstove for the living-room base-burner. “And when I see
+what a little money does for some folks I’m glad I’m poor. I wouldn’t
+be rich if I could. Furthermore, I’ll thank you to keep your sympathy
+at home. It ain’t needed nor wanted—here.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why, Father Duff,” bridled Mrs. Hattie indignantly, “you know how poor
+Maggie has had to—”</p>
+
+<p>“Er—but tell us about the new home,” interrupted Mr. Smith quickly,
+“and the fine new furnishings.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why, there isn’t much to tell yet—about the furnishings, I mean. I
+haven’t got them yet. But I can tell you what I’m <i>going</i> to
+have.” Mrs. Hattie settled herself more comfortably, and began to look
+happy again. “As I was saying to Maggie, when you came in, I shall get
+almost everything new—for the rooms that show, I mean,—for, of course,
+my old things won’t do at all. And I’m thinking of the pictures. I
+want oil paintings, of course, in gilt frames.” She glanced a little
+disdainfully at the oak-framed prints on Miss Maggie’s walls.</p>
+
+<p>“Going in for old masters, maybe,” suggested Mr. Duff, with a sarcasm
+that fell pointless at Mrs. Hattie’s feet.</p>
+
+<p>“Old masters?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes—oil paintings.”</p>
+
+<p>“Certainly not.” Her chin came up a little. “I’m not going to have
+anything old in my house—where it can be seen—For once I’m going to
+have <i>new</i> things—all new things. You have to make a show or you
+won’t be recognized by the best people.”</p>
+
+<p>“But, Hattie, my dear,” began Miss Maggie, flushing a little, and
+carefully avoiding Mr. Smith’s eyes, “old masters are—are very
+valuable, and—”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t care if they are,” retorted Mrs. Hattie, with decision. “If
+they’re old, I don’t want them, and that settles it. I’m going to have
+velvet carpets and the handsomest lace curtains that I can find; and
+I’m going to have some of those gold chairs, like the Pennocks have,
+only nicer. Theirs are awfully dull, some of them. And I’m going to
+buy—”</p>
+
+<p>“Humph! Pity you can’t buy a little common sense—somewhere!” snarled
+old man Duff, getting stiffly to his feet. “You’ll need it, to swing
+all that style.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, father!” murmured Miss Maggie.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, I don’t mind what Father Duff says,” laughed Mrs. Hattie. But
+there was a haughty tilt to her chin and an angry sparkle in her eyes
+as she, too, arose. “I’m just going, anyway, so you don’t need to
+disturb yourself, Father Duff.”</p>
+
+<p>But Father Duff, with another “Humph!” and a muttered something about
+having all he wanted already of “silly chatter,” stamped out into the
+kitchen, with the usual emphasis of his cane at every other step.</p>
+
+<p>It was just as well, perhaps, that he went, for Mrs. Hattie Blaisdell
+had been gone barely five minutes when her sister-in-law, Mrs. Jane,
+came in.</p>
+
+<p>“I’ve come to see you about a very important matter, Maggie,” she
+announced, as she threw off her furs—not new ones—and unbuttoned her
+coat—which also was not new.</p>
+
+<p>“Then certainly I will take myself out of the way,” said Mr. Smith,
+with a smile, making a move to go.</p>
+
+<p>“No, please don’t.” Mrs. Jane held up a detaining hand. “Part of it
+concerns you, and I’m glad you’re here, anyway. I should like your
+advice.”</p>
+
+<p>“Concerns me?” puzzled the man.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes. I’m afraid I shall have to give up boarding you, and one thing I
+came to-day for was to ask Maggie if she’d take you. I wanted to give
+poor Maggie the first chance at you, of course.”</p>
+
+<p>“<i>Chance</i> at me!” Mr. Smith laughed,—but unmistakably he blushed. “The
+first—But, my dear woman, it is just possible that Miss Maggie may
+wish to—er—decline this great honor which is being conferred upon her,
+and she may hesitate, for the sake of my feelings, to do it before me.
+<i>now</i> I’m very sure I ought to have left at once.”</p>
+
+<p>“Nonsense!” (Was Miss Maggie blushing the least bit, too?) “I shall
+be very glad to take Mr. Smith as a boarder if he wants to come—but
+<i>he’s</i> got something to say about it, remember. But tell me,
+why are you letting him go, Jane?” “Now this surely <i>will</i> be
+embarrassing,” laughed Mr. Smith again nervously. “Do I eat too much,
+or am I merely noisy, and a nuisance generally?”</p>
+
+<p>But Mrs. Jane did not appear to have heard him. She was looking at Miss
+Maggie, her eyes somber, intent.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I’ll tell you. It’s Hattie.” “Hattie!” exclaimed two amazed
+voices.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes. She says it’s perfectly absurd for me to take boarders, with all
+our money; and she’s making a terrible fuss about where we live. She
+says she’s ashamed—positively ashamed of us—that we haven’t moved into
+a decent place yet.”</p>
+
+<p>Miss Maggie’s lips puckered a little.</p>
+
+<p>“Do you want to go?”</p>
+
+<p>“Y-yes, only it will cost so much. I’ve always wanted a house—with a
+yard, I mean; and ’twould be nice for Mellicent, of course.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, why don’t you go? You have the money.”</p>
+
+<p>“Y-yes, I know I have; but it’ll cost so much, Maggie. Don’t you see?
+It costs not only the money itself, but all the interest that the money
+could be earning. Why, Maggie, I never saw anything like it.” Her face
+grew suddenly alert and happy. “I never knew before how much money,
+just <i>money</i>, could earn, while you didn’t have to do a thing but
+sit back and watch it do it. It’s the most fascinating thing I ever
+saw. I counted up the other day how much we’d have if we didn’t spend a
+cent of it for ten years—the legacy, I mean.”</p>
+
+<p>“But, great Scott, madam!” expostulated Mr. Smith. “Aren’t you going to
+spend any of that money before ten years’ time?”</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Jane fell back in her chair. The anxious frown came again to her
+face.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, yes, of course. We have spent a lot of it, already. Frank has
+bought out that horrid grocery across the street, and he’s put a
+lot in the bank, and he spends from that every day, I know. And I’m
+<i>willing</i> to spend some, of course. But we had to pay so much
+inheritance tax and all that it would be my way not to spend much
+till the interest had sort of made that up, you know; but Frank and
+Mellicent—they won’t hear to it a minute. They want to move, too, and
+they’re teasing me all the time to get new clothes, both for me and for
+her. But Hattie’s the worst. I can’t do a thing with Hattie. Now what
+shall I do?”</p>
+
+<p>“I should move. You say yourself you’d like to,” answered Miss Maggie
+promptly.</p>
+
+<p>“What do you say, Mr. Smith?”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smith leaped to his feet and thrust his hands into his pockets as
+he took a nervous turn about the room, before he spoke.</p>
+
+<p>“Good Heavens, woman, that money was given you to—that is, it was
+probably given you to use. Now, why don’t you use it?”</p>
+
+<p>“But I am using it,” argued Mrs. Jane earnestly. “I think I’m making
+the very best possible use of it when I put it where it will earn more.
+Don’t you see? Besides, what does the Bible say about that man with one
+talent that didn’t make it earn more?”</p>
+
+<p>With a jerk Mr. Smith turned on his heel and renewed his march.</p>
+
+<p>“I think the only thing money is good for is to exchange it for
+something you want,” observed Miss Maggie sententiously.</p>
+
+<p>“There, that’s it!” triumphed Mr. Smith, wheeling about. “That’s
+exactly it!”</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Jane sighed and shook her head. She gazed at Miss Maggie with
+fondly reproving eyes.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, we all know your ideas of money, Maggie. You’re very sweet and
+dear, and we love you; but you <i>are</i> extravagant.”</p>
+
+<p>“Extravagant!” demurred Miss Maggie.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes. You use everything you have every day; and you never protect a
+thing. Actually, I don’t believe there’s a tidy or a linen slip in this
+house.” (DID Mr. Smith breathe a fervent “Thank the Lord!” Miss Maggie
+wondered.) “And that brings me right up to something else I was going
+to say. I want you to know that I’m going to help you.”</p>
+
+<p>Miss Maggie looked distressed and raised a protesting hand; but Mrs.
+Jane smilingly shook her head and went on.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, I am. I always said I should, if I had money, and I shall—though
+I must confess that I’d have a good deal more heart to do it if you
+weren’t quite so extravagant. I’ve already given you Mr. Smith to
+board.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, I say!” spluttered Mr. Smith.</p>
+
+<p>But again she only smilingly shook her head and continued speaking.</p>
+
+<p>“And if we move, I’m going to give you the parlor carpet, and some rugs
+to protect it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Thank you; but, really, I don’t want the parlor carpet,” refused Miss
+Maggie, a tiny smouldering fire in her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>“And I shall give you some money, too,” smiled Mrs. Jane, very
+graciously,—“when the interest begins to come in, you know. I shall
+give you some of that. It’s too bad you should have nothing while I
+have so much.”</p>
+
+<p>“Jane, <i>please</i>!” The smouldering fire in Miss Maggie’s eyes had
+become a flame now.</p>
+
+<p>“Nonsense, Maggie, you mustn’t be so proud. It’s no shame to be poor.
+Wasn’t I poor just the other day? However, since it distresses you so,
+we won’t say any more about it now. I’ll go back to my own problems.
+Then, you advise me—you both advise me—to move, do you?”</p>
+
+<p>“I do, most certainly,” bowed Miss Maggie, still with a trace of
+constraint.</p>
+
+<p>“And you, Mr. Smith?”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smith turned and threw up both his hands.</p>
+
+<p>“For Heaven’s sake, lady, go home, and spend—some of that money!”</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Jane laughed a bit ruefully.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I don’t see but what I shall have to, with everybody against me
+like this,” she sighed, getting slowly to her feet. “But if you knew—if
+either of you knew—how really valuable money is, and how much it would
+earn for you, if you’d only let it, I don’t believe you’d be quite so
+fast to tell me to go and spend it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Perhaps not; but then, you see, we don’t know,” smiled Miss Maggie,
+once again her cheery self.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smith said nothing. Mr. Smith had turned his back just then.</p>
+
+<p>When Mrs. Jane was gone, Mr. Smith faced Miss Maggie with a quizzical
+smile.</p>
+
+<p>“Well?” he hazarded.</p>
+
+<p>“You mean—”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m awaiting orders—as your new boarder.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh! They’ll not be alarming, I assure you. Do you really want to come?”</p>
+
+<p>“Indeed I do! And I think it’s mighty good of you to take me.
+But—<i>should</i> you, do you think? Haven’t you got enough, with your
+father to care for? Won’t it be too hard for you?”</p>
+
+<p>She shook her head.</p>
+
+<p>“I think not. Besides, I’m going to have help. Annabelle and Florence
+Martin, a farmer’s daughters are very anxious to be in town to attend
+school this winter, and I have said that I would take them. They will
+work for their board.”</p>
+
+<p>The man gave a disdainful sniff.</p>
+
+<p>“I can imagine how much work you’ll let them do! It strikes me the
+‘help’ is on the other foot. However, we’ll let that pass. I shall be
+glad enough to come, and I’ll stay—unless I find you’re doing too much
+and going beyond your strength. But, how about—your father?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, he won’t mind. I’ll arrange that he proposes the idea himself.
+Besides,”—she twinkled merrily—“you really get along wonderfully with
+father, you know. And, as for the work—I shall have more time now:
+Hattie will have some one else to care for her headaches, and Jane
+won’t put down any more carpets, I fancy, for a while.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I should hope!” he shrugged. “Honestly, Miss Maggie, one of the
+best things about this Blaisdell money, in my eyes, is that it may give
+you a little rest from being chief cook and bottle washer and head
+nurse combined, on tap for any minute. But, say, that woman <i>will</i>
+spend some of that money, won’t she?”</p>
+
+<p>Miss Maggie smiled significantly.</p>
+
+<p>“I think she will. I saw Frank last evening—though I didn’t think it
+necessary to say so to her. He came to see me. I think you’ll find that
+they move very soon, and that the ladies of the family have some new
+clothes.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I hope so.”</p>
+
+<p>“You seem concerned.”</p>
+
+<p>“Concerned? Er—ah—well, I am,” he asserted stoutly. “Such a windfall
+of wealth ought to bring happiness, I think; and it seemed to, to Mrs.
+Hattie, though, of course, she’ll learn better, as time goes on how
+to spend her money. But Mrs. Jane—And, by the way, how is Miss Flora
+bearing up—under the burden?”</p>
+
+<p>Miss Maggie laughed.</p>
+
+<p>“Poor Flora!”</p>
+
+<p>“‘Poor Flora’! And do I hear ‘Poor Maggie’ say ‘Poor Flora’?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, she won’t be ‘poor’ long,” smiled Miss Maggie. “She’ll get used to
+it—this stupendous sum of money—one of these days. But just now she’s
+nearly frightened to death.”</p>
+
+<p>“Frightened!”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes-both because she’s got it, and because she’s afraid she’ll lose
+it. That doesn’t sound logical, I know, but Flora isn’t being logical
+just now. To begin with, she hasn’t the least idea how to spend money.
+Under my careful guidance, however, she has bought her a few new
+dresses—though they’re dead black—”</p>
+
+<p>“Black!” interrupted the man.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, she’s put on mourning,” smiled Miss Maggie, as he came to a
+dismayed stop. “She would do it. She declared she wouldn’t feel half
+decent unless she did, with that poor man dead, and giving her all that
+money.”</p>
+
+<p>“But he isn’t dead—that is, they aren’t sure he’s dead,” amended Mr.
+Smith hastily.</p>
+
+<p>“But Flora thinks he is. She says he must be, or he would have appeared
+in time to save all that money. She’s very much shocked, especially at
+Hattie, that there is so little respect being shown his memory. So she
+is all the more determined to do the best she can on her part.”</p>
+
+<p>“But she—she didn’t know him, so she can’t—er—really <i>mourn</i> for
+him,” stammered the man. There was a most curious helplessness on Mr.
+Smith’s face.</p>
+
+<p>“No, she says she can’t really mourn,” smiled Miss Maggie again, “and
+that’s what worries her the most of anything—because she <i>can’t</i>
+mourn, and when he’s been so good to her—and he with neither wife nor
+chick nor child <i>to</i> mourn for him, she says. But she’s determined
+to go through the outward form of it, at least. So she’s made herself
+some new black dresses, and she’s bought a veil. She’s taken Mr.
+Fulton’s picture (she had one cut from a magazine, I believe), and has
+had it framed and, hung on her wall. On the mantel beneath it she keeps
+fresh flowers always. She says it’s the nearest she can come to putting
+flowers on his grave, poor man!”</p>
+
+<p>“Good Heavens!” breathed Mr. Smith, falling limply into a chair.</p>
+
+<p>“And she doesn’t go anywhere, except to church, and for necessary
+errands.”</p>
+
+<p>“That explains why I haven’t seen her. I had wondered where she was.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes. She’s very conscientious. But she <i>is</i> going later to
+Niagara. I’ve persuaded her to do that. She’ll go with a party, of
+course,—one of those ‘personally conducted’ affairs, you know. Poor
+dear! she’s so excited! All her life she’s wanted to see Niagara.
+Now she’s going, and she can hardly believe it’s true. She wants a
+phonograph, too, but she’s decided not to get that until after six
+months’ mourning is up—it’s too frivolous and jolly for a house of
+mourning.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, good Heavens!” breathed Mr. Smith again.</p>
+
+<p>“It is funny, isn’t it, that she takes it quite so seriously? Bessie
+suggested (I’m afraid Bessie was a little naughty!) that she get the
+phonograph, but not allow it to play anything but dirges and hymn
+tunes.”</p>
+
+<p>“But isn’t the woman going to take <i>any</i> comfort with that money?”
+demanded Mr. Smith.</p>
+
+<p>“Indeed, she is! She’s taking comfort now. You have no idea, Mr. Smith,
+what it means to her, to feel that she need never want again, and
+that she can buy whatever she pleases, without thinking of the cost.
+That’s why she’s frightened—because she <i>is</i> so happy. She thinks
+it can’t be right to be so happy. It’s too pleasant—to be right. When
+she isn’t being frightened about that, she’s being frightened for fear
+she’ll lose it, and thus not have it any more. I don’t think she quite
+realizes yet what a big sum of money it is, and that she’d have to lose
+a great deal before she lost it all.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, well, she’ll get used to that, in time. They’ll all get used to
+it—in time,” declared Mr. Smith, his face clearing a little. “Then
+they’ll begin to live sanely and sensibly, and spend the money as it
+should be spent. Of course, you couldn’t expect them to know what to
+do, at the very first, with a sum like that dropped into their laps.
+What would you do yourself? Yes, what would you do?” repeated Mr.
+Smith, his face suddenly alert and interested again. “What would you do
+if you should fall heir to a hundred thousand dollars—to-morrow?”</p>
+
+<p>“What would I do? What wouldn’t I do?” laughed Miss Maggie. Then
+abruptly her face changed. Her eyes became luminous, unfathomable.
+“There is so much that a hundred thousand dollars could do—so much!
+Why, I would—” Her face changed again abruptly. She sniffed as at an
+odor from somewhere. Then lightly she sprang to her feet and crossed
+to the stove. “What would I do with a hundred thousand dollars?”
+she demanded, whisking open a damper in the pipe. “I’d buy a new
+base-burner that didn’t leak gas! That’s what I’d do with a hundred
+thousand dollars. Are you going to give it to me?”</p>
+
+<p>“Eh? Ah-what?” Mr. Smith was visibly startled.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Maggie laughed merrily.</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t worry. I wasn’t thinking of charging quite that for your board.
+But you seemed so interested, I didn’t know but what you were going to
+hand over the hundred thousand, just to see what I would do with it,”
+she challenged mischievously. “However, I’ll stop talking nonsense, and
+come down to business. If you’ll walk this way, Mr. New Boarder, I’ll
+let you choose which of two rooms you’d like.”</p>
+
+<p>And Mr. Smith went. But, as had occurred once or twice before, Mr.
+Smith’s face, as he followed her, was a study.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII<br />
+<span class='ph3'>THE DANCING BEGINS</span></h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>Christmas saw many changes in the Blaisdell families.</p>
+
+<p>The James Blaisdells had moved into the big house near the Gaylord
+place. Mrs. Hattie had installed two maids in the kitchen, bought a
+handsome touring car, and engaged an imposing-looking chauffeur. Fred
+had entered college, and Bessie had been sent to a fashionable school
+on the Hudson. Benny, to his disgust, had also been sent away to an
+expensive school. Christmas, however, found them all at home for the
+holidays, and for the big housewarming that their parents were planning
+to give on Christmas night.</p>
+
+<p>The Frank Blaisdells had also moved. They were occupying a new house
+not too far from the grocery store. They had not bought it yet. Mrs.
+Jane said that she wished to live in it awhile, so as to be sure she
+would really like it. Besides, it would save the interest on the money
+for that much time, anyway. True, she had been a little disturbed when
+her husband reminded her that they would be paying rent meanwhile. But
+she said that didn’t matter; she was not going to put all that money
+into a house just yet, anyway,—not till she was sure it was the best
+they could do for the price.</p>
+
+<p>They, too, were planning a housewarming. Theirs was to come the night
+after Christmas. Mrs. Jane told her husband that they should not want
+theirs the same night, of course, as Hattie’s, and that if she had
+hers right away the next night, she could eat up any of the cakes or
+ice cream that was left from Hattie’s party, and thus save buying so
+much new for herself. But her husband was so indignant over the idea
+of eating “Hattie’s leavings” that she had to give up this part of her
+plan, though she still arranged to have her housewarming on the day
+following her sister-in-law’s.</p>
+
+<p>Mellicent, like Bessie, was home from school, though not from the
+same school. Mrs. Jane had found another one that was just as good as
+Bessie’s, she said, and which did not cost near so much money. Mr.
+Smith was not living with them now, of course. He was boarding at Miss
+Maggie Duff’s.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Flora was living in the same little rented cottage she had
+occupied for many years. She said that she should move, of course,
+when she got through her mourning, but, until then she thought it more
+suitable for her to stay where she was. She had what she wanted to eat,
+now, however, and she did not do dressmaking any longer. She still did
+her own housework, in spite of Harriet Blaisdell’s insistence that
+she get a maid. She said that there was plenty of time for all those
+things when she had finished her mourning. She went out very little,
+though she did go to the housewarming at her brother James’s—“being a
+relative, so,” she decided that no criticism could be made.</p>
+
+<p>It seemed as if all Hillerton went to that housewarming. Those who were
+not especially invited to attend went as far as the street or the gate,
+and looked on enviously. Mrs. Hattie had been very generous with her
+invitations, however. She said that she had asked everybody who ever
+pretended to go anywhere. She told Maggie Duff that, of course, after
+this, she should be more exclusive—very exclusive, in fact; but that
+this time Jim wanted to ask everybody, and she didn’t mind so much—she
+was really rather glad to have all these people see the house, and
+all—they certainly never would have the chance again.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smith attended with Miss Maggie. Mrs. Hattie had very kindly
+included him in the invitation. She had asked Father Duff, too,
+especially, though she said she knew, of course, that he would not
+go—he never went anywhere. Father Duff bristled up at this, and
+declared that he guessed he would go, after all, just to show them that
+he could, if he wanted to. Mrs. Hattie grew actually pale, but Miss
+Maggie exclaimed joyfully that, of course, he would go—he ought to
+go, to show proper respect! Father Duff said no then, very decidedly;
+that nothing could hire him to go, and that he had no respect to show.
+He declared that he had no use for gossip and gabble and unwholesome
+eating; and he said that he should not think Maggie would care to go,
+either,—unless she could be in the kitchen, where it would seem natural
+to her!</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Hattie, however, smiled kindly, and said, of course, now she could
+afford to hire better help than Maggie (caterers from the city and all
+that), so Maggie would not have to be in the kitchen, and that with
+practice she would soon learn not to mind at all being ’round among
+folks in the parlor.</p>
+
+<p>Father Duff had become so apoplectically angry at this that Mr. Smith,
+who chanced to be present, and who also was very angry, was forced to
+forget his own wrath in his desire to make the situation easier for
+Miss Maggie.</p>
+
+<p>He had not supposed that Miss Maggie would go at all, after that. He
+had even determined not to go himself. But Miss Maggie, after a day’s
+thought, had laughed and had said, with her eyes twinkling: “Oh, well,
+it doesn’t matter, you know,—it doesn’t <i>really</i> matter, does it?”
+And they had gone.</p>
+
+<p>It was a wonderful party. Mr. Smith enjoyed it hugely. He saw almost
+everybody he knew in Hillerton, and many that he did not know. He heard
+the Blaisdells and their new wealth discussed from all viewpoints,
+and he heard some things about the missing millionaire benefactor
+that were particularly interesting—to him. The general opinion seemed
+to be that the man was dead; though a few admitted that there was a
+possibility, of course, that he was merely lost somewhere in darkest
+South America and would eventually get back to civilization, certainly
+long before the time came to open the second letter of instructions.
+Many professed to know the man well, through magazine and newspaper
+accounts (there were times when Mr. Smith adjusted more carefully the
+smoked glasses which he was still wearing); and some had much to say of
+the millionaire’s characteristics, habits, and eccentricities; all of
+which Mr. Smith enjoyed greatly.</p>
+
+<p>Then, too, there were the Blaisdells themselves. They were all there,
+even to Miss Flora, who was in dead black; and Mr. Smith talked with
+them all.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Flora told him that she was so happy she could not sleep nights,
+but that she was rather glad she couldn’t sleep, after all, for she
+spent the time mourning for poor Mr. Fulton, and thinking how good
+he had been to her. And <i>that</i> made it seem as if she was doing
+<i>something</i> for him. She said, Yes, oh, yes, she was going to stop
+black mourning in six months, and go into grays and lavenders; and she
+was glad Mr. Smith thought that was long enough, quite long enough for
+the black, but she could not think for a moment of putting on colors
+now, as he suggested. She said, too, that she had decided not to go to
+Niagara for the present. And when he demurred at this, she told him
+that really she would rather not. It would be warmer in the spring, and
+she would much rather wait till she could enjoy every minute without
+feeling that—well, that she was almost dancing over the poor man’s
+grave, as it were.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smith did not urge her after that. He turned away, indeed, rather
+precipitately—so precipitately that Miss Flora wondered if she could
+have said anything to offend him.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smith talked next with Mrs. Jane Blaisdell. Mrs. Jane was looking
+particularly well that evening. Her dress was new, and in good style,
+yet she in some way looked odd to Mr. Smith. In a moment he knew
+the reason: she wore no apron. Mr. Smith had never seen her without
+an apron before. Even on the street she wore a black silk one. He
+complimented her gallantly on her fine appearance. But Mrs. Jane did
+not smile. She frowned.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, I know. Thank you, of course,” she answered worriedly. “But it
+cost an awful lot—this dress did; but Frank and Mellicent would have
+it. That child!—have you seen her to-night?”</p>
+
+<p>“Miss Mellicent? Yes, in the distance. She, too is looking most
+charming, Mrs. Blaisdell.”</p>
+
+<p>The woman tapped her foot impatiently.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, I know she is—and some other folks so, too, I notice. Was she
+with that Pennock boy?”</p>
+
+<p>“Not when I saw her.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, she will be, if she isn’t now. He follows her everywhere.”</p>
+
+<p>“But I thought—that was broken up.” Mr. Smith now was frowning.</p>
+
+<p>“It was. <i>you</i> know what that woman said—the insult! But now,
+since this money came—” She let an expressive gesture complete the
+sentence.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smith laughed.</p>
+
+<p>“I wouldn’t worry, Mrs. Blaisdell. I don’t think he’ll make much
+headway—now.”</p>
+
+<p>“Indeed, he won’t—if I can help myself!” flashed the woman indignantly.</p>
+
+<p>“I reckon he won’t stand much show with Miss Mellicent—after what’s
+happened.”</p>
+
+<p>“I guess he won’t,” snapped the woman. “He isn’t worth half what
+<i>she</i> is now. As if I’d let her look at <i>him</i>!”</p>
+
+<p>“But I meant—” Mr. Smith stopped abruptly. There was an odd expression
+on his face.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Blaisdell filled the pause.</p>
+
+<p>“But, really, Mr. Smith, I don’t know what I am going to do—with
+Mellicent,” she sighed.</p>
+
+<p>“Do with her?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes. She’s as wild as a hawk and as—as flighty as a humming-bird,
+since this money came. She’s so crazy with joy and excited.”</p>
+
+<p>“What if she is?” challenged Mr. Smith, looking suddenly very happy
+himself. “Youth is the time for joy and laughter; and I’m sure I’m glad
+she is taking a little pleasure in life.”</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Blaisdell frowned again.</p>
+
+<p>“But, Mr. Smith, you know as well as I do that life isn’t all pink
+dresses and sugar-plums. It is a serious business, and I have tried
+to bring her up to understand it. I have taught her to be thrifty and
+economical, and to realize the value of a dollar. But now—she doesn’t
+<i>see</i> a dollar but what she wants to spend it. What can I do?”</p>
+
+<p>“You aren’t sorry—the money came?” Mr. Smith was eyeing her with a
+quizzical smile.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, no, no, indeed!” Mrs. Blaisdell’s answer was promptly emphatic.
+“And I hope I shall be found worthy of the gift, and able to handle it
+wisely.”</p>
+
+<p>“Er-ah—you mean—” Mr. Smith was looking slightly taken aback.</p>
+
+<p>“I mean that I regard wealth as one of the greatest of trusts, to be
+wisely administered, Mr. Smith,” she amplified a bit importantly.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh-h!” subsided the man.</p>
+
+<p>“That is why it distresses me so to see my daughter so carried away
+with the mere idea of spending. I thought I’d taught her differently,”
+sighed the woman.</p>
+
+<p>“Perhaps you taught her—too well. But I wouldn’t worry,” smiled Mr.
+Smith, as he turned away.</p>
+
+<p>Deliberately then Mr. Smith went in search of Mellicent. He found
+her in the music-room, which had been cleared for dancing. She was
+surrounded by four young men. One held her fan, one carried her white
+scarf on his arm, a third was handing her a glass of water. The fourth
+was apparently writing his name on her dance card. The one with the
+scarf Mr. Smith recognized as Carl Pennock. The one writing on the
+dance programme he knew was young Hibbard Gaylord.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smith did not approach at once. Leaning against a window-casing
+near by, he watched the kaleidoscopic throng, bestowing a not too
+conspicuous attention upon the group about Miss Mellicent Blaisdell.</p>
+
+<p>Mellicent was the picture of radiant loveliness. The rose in her cheeks
+matched the rose of her gown, and her eyes sparkled with happiness.
+So far as Mr. Smith could see, she dispensed her favors with rare
+impartiality; though, as he came toward them finally, he realized at
+once that there was a merry wrangle of some sort afoot. He had not
+quite reached them when, to his surprise, Mellicent turned to him in
+very evident relief.</p>
+
+<p>“There, here’s Mr. Smith,” she cried gayly. “I’m going to sit it out
+with him. I shan’t dance it with either of you.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, Miss Blaisdell!” protested young Gaylord and Carl Pennock abjectly.</p>
+
+<p>But Mellicent shook her head.</p>
+
+<p>“No. If you <i>will</i> both write your names down for the same dance,
+it is nothing more than you ought to expect.”</p>
+
+<p>“But divide it, then. Please divide it,” they begged. “We’ll be
+satisfied.”</p>
+
+<p>“_I_ shan’t be!” Mellicent shook her head again merrily.</p>
+
+<p>“I shan’t be satisfied with anything—but to sit it out with Mr. Smith.
+Thank you, Mr. Smith,” she bowed, as she took his promptly offered arm.</p>
+
+<p>And Mr. Smith bore her away followed by the despairing groans of the
+two disappointed youths and the taunting gibes of their companions.</p>
+
+<p>“There! Oh, I’m so glad you came,” sighed Mellicent. “You didn’t mind?”</p>
+
+<p>“Mind? I’m in the seventh heaven!” avowed Mr. Smith with exaggerated
+gallantry. “And it looked like a real rescue, too.”</p>
+
+<p>Mellicent laughed. Her color deepened.</p>
+
+<p>“Those boys—they’re so silly!” she pouted.</p>
+
+<p>“Wasn’t one of them young Pennock?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, the tall, dark one.”</p>
+
+<p>“He’s come back, I see.”</p>
+
+<p>She flashed an understanding look into his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, yes, he’s come back. I wonder if he thinks I don’t
+know—<i>why</i>!”</p>
+
+<p>“And—you?” Mr. Smith was smiling quizzically.</p>
+
+<p>She shrugged her shoulders with a demure dropping of her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, I let him come back—to a certain extent. I shouldn’t want him to
+think I cared or noticed enough to keep him from coming back—some.”</p>
+
+<p>“But there’s a line beyond which he may not pass, eh?”</p>
+
+<p>“There certainly is!—but let’s not talk of him. Oh, Mr. Smith, I’m so
+happy!” she breathed ecstatically.</p>
+
+<p>“I’m very glad.”</p>
+
+<p>In a secluded corner they sat down on a gilt settee.</p>
+
+<p>“And it’s all so wonderful, this—all this! Why Mr. Smith, I’m so happy
+I—I want to cry all the time. And that’s so silly—to want to cry! But
+I do. So long—all my life—I’ve had to <i>wait</i> for things so. It
+was always by and by, in the future, that I was going to have—anything
+that I wanted. And now to have them like this, all at once, everything
+I want—why, Mr. Smith, it doesn’t seem as if it could be true. It just
+can’t be true!”</p>
+
+<p>“But it is true, dear child; and I’m so glad—you’ve got your five-pound
+box of candy all at once at last. And I <i>hope</i> you can treat your
+friends to unlimited soda waters.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, I can! But that isn’t all. Listen!” A new eagerness came to her
+eyes. “I’m going to give mother a present—a frivolous, foolish present,
+such as I’ve always wanted to. I’m going to give her a gold breast-pin
+with an amethyst in it. She’s always wanted one. And I’m going to take
+my own money for it, too,—not the new money that father gives me,
+but some money I’ve been saving up for years—dimes and quarters and
+half-dollars in my baby-bank. Mother always made me save ’most every
+cent I got, you see. And I’m going to take it now for this pin. She
+won’t mind if I do spend it foolishly now—with all the rest we have.
+And she’ll be so pleased with the pin!”</p>
+
+<p>“And she’s always wanted one?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, always; but she never thought she could afford it. But now—! I’m
+going to open the bank to-morrow and count it; and I’m so excited over
+it!” She laughed shamefacedly. “I don’t believe Mr. Fulton himself ever
+took more joy counting his millions than I shall take in counting those
+quarters and half-dollars to-morrow.”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t believe he ever did.” Mr. Smith spoke with confident emphasis,
+yet in a voice that was not quite steady. “I’m sure he never did.”</p>
+
+<p>“What a comfort you are, Mr. Smith,” smiled Mellicent, a bit mistily.
+“You always <i>understand</i> so! And we miss you terribly—honestly we
+do!—since you went away. But I’m glad Aunt Maggie’s got you. Poor Aunt
+Maggie! That’s the only thing that makes me feel bad,—about the money,
+I mean,—and that is that she didn’t have some, too. But mother’s going
+to give her some. She <i>says</i> she is, and—”</p>
+
+<p>But Mellicent did not finish her sentence. A short, sandy-haired youth
+came up and pointed an accusing finger at her dance card; and Mellicent
+said yes, the next dance was his. But she smiled brightly at Mr. Smith
+as she floated away, and Mr. Smith, well content, turned and walked
+into the adjoining room.</p>
+
+<p>He came face to face then with Mrs. Hattie and her daughter. These
+two ladies, also, were pictures of radiant loveliness—especially were
+they radiant, for every beam of light found an answering flash in the
+shimmering iridescence of their beads and jewels and opalescent sequins.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, Mr. Smith, what do you think of my party?”</p>
+
+<p>As she asked the question Mrs. Hattie tapped his shoulder with her fan.</p>
+
+<p>“I think a great deal—of your party,” smiled the man. “And you?” He
+turned to Miss Bessie.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, it’ll do—for Hillerton.” Miss Bessie smiled mischievously into
+her mother’s eyes, shrugged her shoulders, and passed on into the
+music-room.</p>
+
+<p>“As if it wasn’t quite the finest thing Hillerton ever had—except
+the Gaylord parties, of course,” bridled Mrs. Hattie, turning to Mr.
+Smith. “That’s just daughter’s way of teasing me—and, of course, now
+she <i>is</i> where she sees the real thing in entertaining—she goes
+home with those rich girls in her school, you know. But this is a nice
+party, isn’t it Mr. Smith?”</p>
+
+<p>“It certainly is.”</p>
+
+<p>“Daughter says we should have wine; that everybody who is anybody has
+wine now—champagne, and cigarettes for the ladies. Think of it—in
+Hillerton! Still, I’ve heard the Gaylords do. I’ve never been there
+yet, though, of course, we shall be invited now. I’m crazy to see the
+inside of their house; but I don’t believe it’s <i>much</i> handsomer
+than this. Do you? But there! You don’t know, of course. You’ve never
+been there, any more than I have, and you’re a man of simple tastes,
+I judge, Mr. Smith.” She smiled graciously. “Benny says that Aunt
+Maggie’s got the nicest house he ever saw, and that Mr. Smith says so,
+too. So, you see, I have grounds for my opinion.”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smith laughed.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I’m not sure I ever said just that to Benny, but I’ll not
+dispute it. Miss Maggie’s house is indeed wonderfully delightful—to
+live in.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ve no doubt of it,” conceded Mrs. Hattie complacently. “Poor Maggie!
+She always did contrive to make the most of everything she had. But
+she’s never been ambitious for really nice things, I imagine. At least,
+she always seems contented enough with her shabby chairs and carpets.
+While I—” She paused, looked about her, then drew a blissful sigh.
+“Oh, Mr. Smith, you don’t know—you <i>can’t</i> know what it is to me
+to just look around and realize that they are all mine—these beautiful
+things!”</p>
+
+<p>“Then you’re very happy, Mrs. Blaisdell?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, yes. Why, Mr. Smith, there isn’t a piece of furniture in this room
+that didn’t cost more than the Pennocks’—I know, because I’ve been
+there. And my curtains are nicer, too, and my pictures, they’re so much
+brighter—some of her oil paintings are terribly dull-looking. And my
+Bessie—did you notice her dress to-night? But, there! You didn’t, of
+course. And if you had, you wouldn’t have realized how expensive it
+was. What do you know about the cost of women’s dresses?” she laughed
+archly. “But I don’t mind telling you. It was one hundred and fifty
+dollars, a <i>hundred and fifty dollars</i>, and it came from New York.
+I don’t believe that white muslin thing of Gussie Pennock’s cost fifty!
+You know Gussie?”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ve seen her.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, of course you have—with Fred. He used to go with her a lot. He
+goes with Pearl Gaylord more now. There, you can see them this minute,
+dancing together—the one in the low-cut, blue dress. Pretty, too, isn’t
+she? Her father’s worth a million, I suppose. I wonder how ’twould feel
+to be worth—a million.” She spoke musingly, her eyes following the
+low-cut blue dress. “But, then, maybe I shall know, some time,—from
+Cousin Stanley, I mean,” she explained smilingly, in answer to the
+question she thought she saw behind Mr. Smith’s smoked glasses. “Oh, of
+course, there’s nothing sure about it. But he gave us <i>some</i>, and
+if he’s dead, of course, that other letter’ll be opened in two years;
+and I don’t see why he wouldn’t give us the rest, as long as he’d shown
+he remembered he’d got us. Do you?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well—er—as to that—” Mr. Smith hesitated. He had grown strangely red.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, there aren’t any other relations so near, anyway, so I can’t
+help thinking about it, and wondering,” she interposed. “And ’twould be
+<i>millions</i>, not just one million. He’s worth ten or twenty, they
+say. But, then, we shall know in time.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, yes, you’ll know—in time,” agreed Mr. Smith with a smile, turning
+away as another guest came up to his hostess.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smith’s smile had been rather forced, and his face was still
+somewhat red as he picked his way through the crowded rooms to the
+place where he could see Frank Blaisdell standing alone, surveying the
+scene, his hands in his pockets.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, Mr. Smith, this is some show, ain’t it?” greeted the grocer, as
+Mr. Smith approached.
+“It certainly is.”</p>
+
+<p>“Gee! I should say so—though I can’t say I’m stuck on the brand,
+myself. But, as for this money business, do you know? I’m as bad as
+Flo. I can’t sense it yet—that it’s true. Gosh! Look at Hattie, now.
+Ain’t she swingin’ the style to-night?”</p>
+
+<p>“She certainly is looking handsome and very happy.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, she ought to. I believe in lookin’ happy. I believe in takin’
+some comfort as you go along—not that I’ve taken much, in times past.
+But I’m goin’ to now.”</p>
+
+<p>“Good! I’m glad to hear it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I <i>am</i>. Why, man, I’m just like a potato-top grown in a
+cellar, and I’m comin’ out and get some sunshine. And Mellicent is,
+too. Poor child! <i>she’s</i> been a potato-top in a cellar all right.
+But now—Have you seen her to-night?”</p>
+
+<p>“I have—and a very charming sight she was,” smiled Mr. Smith.</p>
+
+<p>“Ain’t she, now?” The father beamed proudly. “Well, she’s goin’ to be
+that right along now. She’s <i>goin’</i> where she wants to go, and
+<i>do</i> what she wants to do; and she’s goin’ to have all the fancy
+fluma-diddles to wear she wants.”</p>
+
+<p>“Good! I’m glad to hear that, too,” laughed Mr. Smith.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, she is. This savin’ an’ savin’ is all very well, of course, when
+you have to. But I’ve saved all my life and, by jingo, I’m goin’ to
+spend now! You see if I don’t.”</p>
+
+<p>“I hope you will.”</p>
+
+<p>“Thank you. I’m glad to have one on my side, anyhow. I only wish—You
+couldn’t talk my wife ’round to your way of thinkin’, could you?” he
+shrugged, with a whimsical smile. “My wife’s eaten sour cream to save
+the sweet all her life, an’ she hain’t learned yet that if she’d eat
+the sweet to begin with she wouldn’t have no sour cream—’twouldn’t have
+time to get sour. An’ there’s apples, too. She eats the specked ones
+always; so she don’t never eat anything but the worst there is. An’ she
+says they’re the meanest apples she ever saw. Now I tell her if she’ll
+only pick out the best there is every time, as I do she’ll not only
+enjoy every apple she eats, but she’ll think they’re the nicest apples
+that ever grew. Funny, ain’t it? Here I am havin’ to urge my wife to
+spend money, while my sister-in-law here—Talk about ducks takin’ to the
+water! That ain’t no name for the way she sails into Jim’s little pile.”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smith laughed.</p>
+
+<p>“By the way, where is Mr. Jim?” he asked.</p>
+
+<p>The other shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>“Hain’t seen him—but I can guess where he is, pretty well. You go down
+that hall and turn to your left. In a little room at the end you’ll
+find him. That’s his den. He told Hattie ’twas the only room in the
+house he’d ask for, but he wanted to fix it up himself. Hattie, she
+wanted to buy all sorts of truck and fix it up with cushions and
+curtains and Japanese gimcracks like she see a den in a book, and
+make a showplace of it. But Jim held out and had his way. There ain’t
+nothin’ in it but books and chairs and a couch and a big table; and
+they’re all old—except the books—so Hattie don’t show it much, when
+she’s showin’ off the house. You’ll find him there all right. You see
+if you don’t. Jim always would rather read than eat, and he hates
+shindigs of this sort a little worse ’n I do.” “All right. I’ll look
+him up,” nodded Mr. Smith, as he turned away.</p>
+
+<p>Deliberately, but with apparent carelessness, strolled Mr. Smith
+through the big drawing-rooms, and down the hall. Then to the left—the
+directions were not hard to follow, and the door of the room at the end
+was halfway open, giving a glimpse of James Blaisdell and Benny before
+the big fireplace.</p>
+
+<p>With a gentle tap and a cheerful “Do you allow intruders?” Mr. Smith
+pushed open the door.</p>
+
+<p>James Blaisdell sprang to his feet.</p>
+
+<p>“Er—I—oh, Mr. Smith, come in, come right in!” The frown on his face
+gave way to a smile. “I thought—Well, never mind what I thought. Sit
+down, won’t you?”</p>
+
+<p>“Thank you, if you don’t mind.”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smith dropped into a chair and looked about him.</p>
+
+<p>“Ain’t it great?” beamed Benny. “It’s ’most as nice as Aunt Maggie’s,
+ain’t it? And I can eat all the cookies here I want to, and come in
+even if my shoes are muddy, and bring the boys in, too.”</p>
+
+<p>“It certainly is—great,” agreed Mr. Smith, his admiring eyes sweeping
+the room again.</p>
+
+<p>To Mr. Smith it was like coming into another world. The deep,
+comfortable chairs, the shaded lights, the leaping fire on the hearth,
+the book-lined walls—even the rhythmic voices of the distant violins
+seemed to sing of peace and quietness and rest.</p>
+
+<p>“Dad’s been showin’ me the books he used ter like when he was a little
+boy like me,” announced Benny. “Hain’t he got a lot of ’em?—books, I
+mean.”</p>
+
+<p>“He certainly has.”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. James Blaisdell stirred a little in his chair.</p>
+
+<p>“I suppose I have—crowded them a little,” he admitted. “But, you see,
+there were so many I’d always wanted, and when the chance came—well, I
+just bought them; that’s all.”</p>
+
+<p>“And you have the time now to read them.”</p>
+
+<p>“I have, thank—Well, I suppose I should say thanks to Mr. Stanley G.
+Fulton,” he laughed, with some embarrassment. “I wish Mr. Fulton could
+know—how much I do thank him,” he finished soberly, his eyes caressing
+the rows of volumes on the shelves. “You see, when you’ve wanted
+something all your life—” He stopped with an expressive gesture.</p>
+
+<p>“You don’t care much for—that, then, I take it,” inferred Mr. Smith,
+with a wave of his hand toward the distant violins.</p>
+
+<p>“Dad says there’s only one thing worse than a party, and that’s two
+parties,” piped up Benny from his seat on the rug.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smith laughed heartily, but the other looked still more discomfited.</p>
+
+<p>“I’m afraid Benny is—is telling tales out of school,” he murmured.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, ’tis out of school, ain’t it?” maintained Benny. “Say, Mr.
+Smith, did you have ter go ter a private school when you were a
+little boy? Ma says everybody does who is anybody. But if it’s Cousin
+Stanley’s money that’s made us somebody, I wished he’d kept it at
+home—’fore I had ter go ter that old school.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, come, come, my boy,” remonstrated the father, drawing his son into
+the circle of his arm. “That’s neither kind nor grateful; besides, you
+don’t know what you’re talking about. Come, suppose we show Mr. Smith
+some of the new books.”</p>
+
+<p>From case to case, then, they went, the host eagerly displaying and
+explaining, the guest almost as eagerly watching and listening. And
+in the kindling eye and reverent fingers of the man handling the
+volumes, Mr. Smith caught some inkling of what those books meant to Jim
+Blaisdell.</p>
+
+<p>“You must be fond of—books, Mr. Blaisdell,” he said somewhat awkwardly,
+after a time.</p>
+
+<p>“Ma says dad’d rather read than eat,” giggled Benny; “but pa says
+readin’ <i>is</i> eatin’. But I’d rather have a cookie, wouldn’t you,
+Mr. Smith?”</p>
+
+<p>“You wait till you find what there <i>is</i> in these books, my son,”
+smiled his father. “You’ll love them as well as I do, some day. And
+your brother—” He paused, a swift shadow on his face. He turned to
+Mr. Smith. “My boy, Fred, loves books, too. He helped me a lot in
+my buying. He was in here—a little while ago. But he couldn’t stay,
+of course. He said he had to go and dance with the girls—his mother
+expected it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Ho! <i>Mother</i>! Just as if he didn’t want ter go himself!”
+grinned Benny derisively. “You couldn’t <i>hire</i> him ter stay
+away—’specially if Pearl Gaylord’s ’round.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, well, he’s young, and young feet always dance When Pan pipes,”
+explained the father, with a smile that was a bit forced. “But Pan
+doesn’t always pipe, and he’s ambitious—Fred is.” The man turned
+eagerly to Mr. Smith again. “He’s going to be a lawyer—you see, he’s
+got a chance now. He’s a fine student. He led his class in high school,
+and he’ll make good in college, I’m sure. He can have the best there is
+now, too, without killing himself with work to get it. He’s got a fine
+mind, and—” The man stopped abruptly, with a shamed laugh. “But—enough
+of this. You’ll forgive ‘the fond father,’ I know. I always forget
+myself when I’m talking of that boy—or, rather perhaps it’s that I’m
+<i>remembering</i> myself. You see, I want him to do all that I wanted
+to do—and couldn’t. And—”</p>
+
+<p>“Jim, <i>jim</i>!” It was Mrs. Hattie in the doorway. “There, I might
+have known where I’d find you. Come, the guests are going, and are
+looking for you to say good-night. Jim, you’ll have to come! Why,
+what’ll people say? They’ll think we don’t know anything—how to behave,
+and all that. Mr. Smith, you’ll excuse him, I know.”</p>
+
+<p>“Most certainly,” declared Mr. Smith. “I must be going myself, for that
+matter,” he finished, as he followed his hostess through the doorway.</p>
+
+<p>Five minutes later he had found Miss Maggie, and was making his adieus.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Maggie, on the way home, was strangely silent.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, that was some party,” began Mr. Smith after waiting for her to
+speak.</p>
+
+<p>“It was, indeed.”</p>
+
+<p>“Quite a house!”
+“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p>[Illustration with caption: “JIM, YOU’LL HAVE TO COME!”]</p>
+
+<p>“How pretty Miss Mellicent looked!”</p>
+
+<p>“Very pretty.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m glad at last to see that poor child enjoying herself.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smith frowned and stole a sidewise glance at his companion. Was
+it possible? Could Miss Maggie be showing at last a tinge of envy and
+jealousy? It was so unlike her! And yet—</p>
+
+<p>“Even Miss Flora seemed to be having a good time, in spite of that
+funereal black,” he hazarded again.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“And I’m sure Mrs. James Blaisdell and Miss Bessie were very radiant
+and shining.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, yes, they—shone.”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smith bit his lip, and stole another sidewise glance.</p>
+
+<p>“Er—how did you enjoy it? Did you have a good time?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, yes, very.”</p>
+
+<p>There was a brief silence. Mr. Smith drew a long breath and began again.</p>
+
+<p>“I had no idea Mr. James Blaisdell was so fond of—er—books. I had quite
+a chat with him in his den.”</p>
+
+<p>No answer.</p>
+
+<p>“He says Fred—”</p>
+
+<p>“Did you see that Gaylord girl?” Miss Maggie was galvanized into sudden
+life. “He’s perfectly bewitched with her. And she—that ridiculous
+dress—and for a young girl! Oh, I wish Hattie would let those people
+alone!”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, well, he’ll be off to college next week,” soothed Mr. Smith.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, but whom with? Her brother!—and he’s worse than she is, if
+anything. Why, he was drunk to-night, actually drunk, when he came! I
+don’t want Fred with him. I don’t want Fred with any of them.”</p>
+
+<p>“No, I don’t like their looks myself very well, but—I fancy young
+Blaisdell has a pretty level head on him. His father says—”</p>
+
+<p>“His father worships him,” interrupted Miss Maggie. “He worships all
+those children. But into Fred—into Fred he’s pouring his whole lost
+youth. You don’t know. You don’t understand, of course, Mr. Smith. You
+haven’t known him all the way, as I have.” Miss Maggie’s voice shook
+with suppressed feeling. “Jim was always the dreamer. He fairly lived
+in his books. They were food and drink to him. He planned for college,
+of course. From boyhood he was going to write—great plays, great poems,
+great novels. He was always scribbling—something. I think he even
+tried to sell his things, in his ‘teens; but of course nothing came of
+that—but rejection slips.</p>
+
+<p>“At nineteen he entered college. He was going to work his way. Of
+course, we couldn’t send him. But he was too frail. He couldn’t stand
+the double task, and he broke down completely. We sent him into the
+country to recuperate, and there he met Hattie Snow, fell head over
+heels in love with her blue eyes and golden hair, and married her on
+the spot. Of course, there was nothing to do then but to go to work,
+and Mr. Hammond took him into his real estate and insurance office.
+He’s been there ever since, plodding, plodding, plodding.”</p>
+
+<p>“By George!” murmured Mr. Smith sympathetically.</p>
+
+<p>“You can imagine there wasn’t much time left for books. I think, when
+he first went there, he thought he was still going to write the great
+poem, the great play, the great novel, that was to bring him fame and
+money. But he soon learned better. Hattie had little patience with his
+scribbling, and had less with the constant necessity of scrimping and
+economizing. She was always ambitious to get ahead and be somebody,
+and, of course, as the babies came and the expenses increased, the
+demand for more money became more and more insistent. But Jim, poor
+Jim! He never was a money-maker. He worked, and worked hard, and then
+he got a job for evenings and worked harder. But I don’t believe he
+ever quite caught up. That’s why I was so glad when this money came—for
+Jim. And now, don’t you see? he’s thrown his whole lost youth into
+Fred. And Fred—”</p>
+
+<p>“Fred is going to make good. You see if he doesn’t!”</p>
+
+<p>“I hope he will. But—I wish those Gaylords had been at the bottom of
+the Red Sea before they ever came to Hillerton,” she fumed with sudden
+vehemence as she entered her own gate.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV<br />
+<span class='ph3'>FROM ME TO YOU WITH LOVE</span></h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>It was certainly a gay one—that holiday week. Beginning with the
+James Blaisdells’ housewarming it was one continuous round of dances,
+dinners, sleigh-rides and skating parties for Hillerton’s young people,
+particularly for the Blaisdells, the Pennocks, and the Gaylords.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smith, at Miss Maggie’s, saw comparatively little of it all, though
+he had almost daily reports from Benny, Mellicent, or Miss Flora, who
+came often to Miss Maggie’s for a little chat. It was from Miss Flora
+that he learned the outcome of Mellicent’s present to her mother. The
+week was past, and Miss Flora had come down to Miss Maggie’s for a
+little visit.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smith still worked at the table in the corner of the living-room,
+though the Duff-Blaisdell records were all long ago copied. He was at
+work now sorting and tabulating other Blaisdell records. Mr. Smith
+seemed to find no end to the work that had to be done on his Blaisdell
+book.</p>
+
+<p>As Miss Flora entered the room she greeted Mr. Smith cordially, and
+dropped into a chair.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, they’ve gone at last,” she panted, handing her furs to Miss
+Maggie; “so I thought I’d come down and talk things over. No, don’t
+go, Mr. Smith,” she begged, as he made a move toward departure. “I
+hain’t come; to say nothin’ private; besides, you’re one of the family,
+anyhow. Keep right on with your work; please.”</p>
+
+<p>Thus entreated, Mr. Smith went back to his table, and Miss Flora
+settled herself more comfortably in Miss Maggie’s easiest chair.</p>
+
+<p>“So they’re all gone,” said Miss Maggie cheerily.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes; an’ it’s time they did, to my way of thinkin’. Mercy me, what
+a week it has been! They hain’t been still a minute, not one of ’em,
+except for a few hours’ sleep—toward mornin’.”</p>
+
+<p>“But what a good time they’ve had!” exulted Miss Maggie.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes. And didn’t it do your soul good to see Mellicent? But Jane—Jane
+nearly had a fit. She told Mellicent that all this gayety was nothing
+but froth and flimsiness and vexation of spirit. That she knew it
+because she’d been all through it when she was young, and she knew the
+vanity of it. And Mellicent—what do you suppose that child said?”</p>
+
+<p>“I can’t imagine,” smiled Miss Maggie.</p>
+
+<p>“She said <i>she</i> wanted to see the vanity of it, too. Pretty cute
+of her, too, wasn’t it? Still it’s just as well she’s gone back to
+school, I think myself. She’s been repressed and held back so long,
+that when she did let loose, it was just like cutting the puckering
+string of a bunched-up ruffle—she flew in all directions, and there was
+no holding her back anywhere; and I suppose she has been a bit foolish
+and extravagant in the things she’s asked for. Poor dear, though, she
+did get one setback.”</p>
+
+<p>“What do you mean?”</p>
+
+<p>“Did she tell you about the present for her mother?”</p>
+
+<p>“That she was going to get it—yes.”</p>
+
+<p>Across the room Mr. Smith looked up suddenly.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, she got it.” Miss Flora’s thin lips snapped grimly over the
+terse words. “But she had to take it back.”</p>
+
+<p>“Take it back!” cried Miss Maggie.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes. And ’twas a beauty—one of them light purple stones with two
+pearls. Mellicent showed it to me—on the way home from the store, you
+know. And she was so pleased over it! ‘Oh, I don’t mind the saving all
+those years now,’ she cried, ‘when I see what a beautiful thing they’ve
+let me get for mother.’ And she went off so happy she just couldn’t
+keep her feet from dancing.”</p>
+
+<p>“I can imagine it,” nodded Miss Maggie.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, in an hour she was back. But what a difference! All the light
+and happiness and springiness were gone. She was almost crying. She
+still carried the little box in her hand. ‘I’m takin’ it back,’ she
+choked. ‘Mother doesn’t like it.’ ‘Don’t like that beautiful pin!’ says
+I. ‘What does she want?’</p>
+
+<p>“‘Oh, yes, she liked the pin,’ said Mellicent, all teary; ‘she thinks
+it’s beautiful. But she doesn’t want anything. She says she never heard
+of such foolish goings-on—paying all that money for a silly, useless
+pin. I—I told her ’twas a <i>present</i> from me, but she made me take
+it back. I’m on my way now back to the store. I’m to get the money,
+if I can. If I can’t, I’m to get a credit slip. Mother says we can
+take it up in forks and spoons and things we need. I—I told her ’twas
+a present, but—’ She couldn’t say another word, poor child. She just
+turned and almost ran from the room. That was last night. She went away
+this morning, I suppose. I didn’t see her again, so I don’t know how
+she did come out with the store-man.”
+“Too bad—too bad!” sympathized Miss Maggie. (Over at the table Mr.
+Smith had fallen to writing furiously, with vicious little jabs of his
+pencil.) “But Jane never did believe in present-giving. They never
+gave presents to each other even at Christmas. She always called it a
+foolish, wasteful practice, and Mellicent was always <i>so</i> unhappy
+Christmas morning!”</p>
+
+<p>“I know it. And that’s just what the trouble is. Don’t you see? Jane
+never let ’em take even comfort, and now that they <i>can</i> take some
+comfort, Jane’s got so out of the habit, she don’t know how to begin.”</p>
+
+<p>“Careful, careful, Flora!” laughed Miss Maggie. “I don’t think
+<i>you</i> can say much on that score.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why, Maggie Duff, I’M taking comfort,” bridled Miss Flora. “Didn’t I
+have chicken last week and turkey three weeks ago? And do I ever skimp
+the butter or hunt for cake-rules with one egg now? And ain’t I going
+to Niagara and have a phonograph and move into a fine place just as
+soon as my mourning is up? You wait and see!”</p>
+
+<p>“All right, I’ll wait,” laughed Miss Maggie. Then, a bit anxiously, she
+asked: “Did Fred go to-day?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, looking fine as a fiddle, too. I was sweeping off the steps when
+he went by the house. He stopped and spoke. Said he was going in now
+for real work—that he’d played long enough. He said he wouldn’t be good
+for a row of pins if he had many such weeks as this had been.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m glad he realized it,” observed Miss Maggie grimly. “I suppose the
+Gaylord young people went, too.”</p>
+
+<p>“Hibbard did, but Pearl doesn’t go till next week. She isn’t in the
+same school with Bess, you know. It’s even grander than Bess’s they
+say. Hattie wants to get Bess into it next year. Oh, I forgot; we’ve
+got to call her ‘Elizabeth’ now. Did you know that?”</p>
+
+<p>Miss Maggie shook her head.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, we have. Hattie says nicknames are all out now, and that
+‘Elizabeth’ is very stylish and good form and the only proper thing to
+call her. She says we must call her ‘Harriet,’ too. I forgot that.”</p>
+
+<p>“And Benny ‘Benjamin’?” smiled Miss Maggie.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes. And Jim ‘James.’ But I’m afraid I shall forget—sometimes.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m afraid—a good many of us will,” laughed Miss Maggie.</p>
+
+<p>“It all came from them Gaylords, I believe,” sniffed Flora. “I don’t
+think much of ’em; but Hattie seems to. I notice she don’t put nothin’
+discouragin’ in the way of young Gaylord and Bess. But he pays ’most
+as much attention to Mellicent, so far as I can see, whenever Carl
+Pennock will give him a chance. Did you ever see the beat of that boy?
+It’s the money, of course. I hope Mellicent’ll give him a good lesson,
+before she gets through with it. He deserves it,” she ejaculated, as
+she picked up her fur neck-piece, and fastened it with a jerk.</p>
+
+<p>In the doorway she paused and glanced cautiously toward Mr. Smith. Mr.
+Smith, perceiving the glance, tried very hard to absorb himself in the
+rows of names dates before him; but he could not help hearing Miss
+Flora’s next words.</p>
+
+<p>“Maggie, hain’t you changed your mind a mite yet? <i>Won’t</i> you let
+me give you some of my money? I’d so <i>love</i> to, dear!”</p>
+
+<p>But Miss Maggie, with a violent shake of her head, almost pushed Miss
+Flora into the hall and shut the door firmly.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smith, left alone at his table, wrote again furiously, and with
+vicious little jabs of his pencil.</p>
+
+<p><span style="margin-left: 4em;">.&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; .</span><br /></p>
+
+<p>One by one the winter days passed. At the Duffs’ Mr. Smith was finding
+a most congenial home. He liked Miss Maggie better than ever, on closer
+acquaintance. The Martin girls fitted pleasantly into the household,
+and plainly did much to help the mistress of the house. Father Duff was
+still as irritable as ever, but he was not so much in evidence, for
+his increasing lameness was confining him almost entirely to his own
+room. This meant added care for Miss Maggie, but, with the help of the
+Martins, she still had some rest and leisure, some time to devote to
+the walks and talks with Mr. Smith. Mr. Smith said it was absolutely
+imperative, for the sake of her health, that she should have some
+recreation, and that it was an act of charity, anyway, that she should
+lighten his loneliness by letting him walk and talk with her.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smith could not help wondering a good deal these days about Miss
+Maggie’s financial resources. He knew from various indications that
+they must be slender. Yet he never heard her plead poverty or preach
+economy. In spite of the absence of protecting rugs and tidies,
+however, and in spite of the fact that she plainly conducted her life
+and household along the lines of the greatest possible comfort, he saw
+many evidences that she counted the pennies—and that she made every
+penny count.</p>
+
+<p>He knew, for a fact, that she had refused to accept any of the
+Blaisdells’ legacy. Jane, to be sure, had not offered any money yet
+(though she had offered the parlor carpet, which had been promptly
+refused), but Frank and James and Flora had offered money, and had
+urged her to take it. Miss Maggie, however would have none of it.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smith suspected that Miss Maggie was proud, and that she regarded
+such a gift as savoring too much of charity. Mr. Smith wished <i>he</i>
+could say something to Miss Maggie. Mr. Smith was, indeed, not a
+little disturbed over the matter. He did try once to say something;
+but Miss Maggie tossed it off with a merry: “Take their money? Never!
+I should feel as if I were eating up some of Jane’s interest, or one
+of Hattie’s gold chairs!” After that she would not let him get near
+the subject. There seemed then really nothing that he could do. It
+was about this time, however, that Mr. Smith began to demand certain
+extra luxuries—honey, olives, sardines, candied fruits, and imported
+jellies. They were always luxuries that must be bought, not prepared
+in the home; and he promptly increased the price of his board—but to
+a sum far beyond the extra cost of the delicacies he ordered. When
+Miss Maggie remonstrated at the size of the increase, he pooh-poohed
+her objections, and declared that even that did not pay for having
+such a nuisance of a boarder around, with all his fussy notions. He
+insisted, moreover, that the family should all partake freely of the
+various delicacies, declaring that it seemed to take away the sting of
+his fussiness if they ate as he ate, and so did not make him appear
+singular in his tastes. Of the Blaisdells Mr. Smith saw a good deal
+that winter. They often came to Miss Maggie’s, and occasionally he
+called at their homes. Mr. Smith was on excellent terms with them all.
+They seemed to regard him, indeed, as quite one of the family, and they
+asked his advice, and discussed their affairs before him with as much
+freedom as if he were, in truth, a member of the family.</p>
+
+<p>He knew that Mrs. Hattie Blaisdell was having a very gay winter, and
+that she had been invited twice to the Gaylords’. He knew that James
+Blaisdell was happy in long evenings with his books before the fire.
+From Fred’s mother he learned that Fred had made the most exclusive
+club in college, and from Fred’s father he learned that the boy was
+already leading his class in his studies. He heard of Bessie’s visits
+to the homes of wealthy New Yorkers, and of the trials Benny’s teachers
+were having with Benny.</p>
+
+<p>He knew something of Miss Flora’s placid life in her “house of
+mourning” (as Bessie had dubbed the little cottage), and he heard of
+the “perfectly lovely times” Mellicent was having at her finishing
+school. He dropped in occasionally to talk over the price of beans and
+potatoes with Mr. Frank Blaisdell in his bustling grocery store, and he
+often saw Mrs. Jane at Miss Maggie’s. It was at Miss Maggie’s, indeed,
+one day, that he heard Mrs. Jane say, as she sank wearily into a chair:—</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I declare! Sometimes I think I’ll never give anybody a thing
+again!”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smith, at his table, was conscious of a sudden lively interest. So
+often, in his earlier acquaintance with Mrs. Jane, while he boarded
+there, had he heard her say to mission-workers, church-solicitors, and
+doorway beggars, alike, something similar to this; “No, I can give
+you nothing. I have nothing to give. I’d love to, if I could—really
+I would. It makes me quite unhappy to hear of all this need and
+suffering. I’d so love to do something! And if I were rich I would; but
+as it is, I can only give you my sympathy and my prayers.”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smith was thinking of this now. He had wondered several times,
+since the money came, as to Mrs. Jane’s giving. Hence his interest now
+in what she was about to say.</p>
+
+<p>“Why, Jane, what’s the matter?” Miss Maggie was querying.</p>
+
+<p>“Everything’s the matter,” snapped Jane. “And positively a more
+ungrateful set of people all around I never saw. To begin with, take
+the church. You know I’ve never been able to do anything. We couldn’t
+afford it. And now I was so happy that I <i>could</i> do something,
+and I told them so; and they seemed real pleased at first. I gave two
+dollars apiece to the Ladies’ Aid, the Home Missionary Society, and the
+Foreign Missionary Society—and, do you know? they hardly even thanked
+me! They acted for all the world as if they expected more—the grasping
+things! And, listen! On the way home, just as I passed the Gale girls’
+I heard Sue say: ‘What’s two dollars to her? She’ll never miss it.’
+They meant me, of course. So you see it wasn’t appreciated. Now, was
+it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Perhaps not.”</p>
+
+<p>“What’s the good of giving, if you aren’t going to get any credit,
+or thanks, just because you’re rich, I should like to know? And they
+aren’t the only ones. Nothing has been appreciated,” went on Mrs. Jane
+discontentedly. “Look at Cousin Mary Davis—<i>you</i> know how poor
+they’ve always been, and how hard it’s been for them to get along. Her
+Carrie—Mellicent’s age, you know—has had to go to work in Hooper’s
+store. Well, I sent Mellicent’s old white lace party dress to Mary.
+’Twas some soiled, of course, and a little torn; but I thought she
+could clean it and make it over beautifully for Carrie. But, what do
+you think?—back it came the next day with a note from Mary saying very
+crisply that Carrie had no place to wear white lace dresses, and they
+had no time to make it over if she did. No place to wear it, indeed!
+Didn’t I invite her to my housewarming? And didn’t Hattie, too? But how
+are you going to help a person like that?”</p>
+
+<p>“But, Jane, there must be ways—some ways.” Miss Maggie’s forehead was
+wrinkled into a troubled frown. “They need help, I know. Mr. Davis has
+been sick a long time, you remember.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, I know he has; and that’s all the more reason, to my way of
+thinking, why they should be grateful for anything—<i>anything</i>! The
+trouble is, she wants to be helped in ways of her own choosing. They
+wanted Frank to take Sam, the boy,—he’s eighteen now—into the store,
+and they wanted me to get embroidery for Nellie to do at home—she’s
+lame, you know, but she does do beautiful work. But I couldn’t do
+either. Frank hates relatives in the store; he says they cause all
+sorts of trouble with the other help; and I certainly wasn’t going
+to ask him to take any relatives of <i>mine</i>. As for Nellie—I
+<i>did</i> ask Hattie if she couldn’t give her some napkins to do, or
+something, and she gave me a dozen for her—she said Nellie’d probably
+do them as cheap as anybody, and maybe cheaper. But she told me not
+to go to the Gaylords or the Pennocks, or any of that crowd, for she
+wouldn’t have them know for the world that we had a relative right
+here in town that had to take in sewing. I told her they weren’t her
+relations nor the Blaisdells’; they were mine, and they were just as
+good as her folks any day, and that it was no disgrace to be poor.
+But, dear me! You know Hattie. What could I do? Besides, she got mad
+then, and took back the dozen napkins she’d given me. So I didn’t have
+anything for poor Nellie. Wasn’t it a shame?”</p>
+
+<p>“I think it was.” Miss Maggie’s lips shut in a thin straight line.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, what could I do?” bridled Jane defiantly. “Besides, if I’d taken
+them to her, they wouldn’t have appreciated it, I know. They never
+appreciate anything. Why, last November, when the money came, I sent
+them nearly all of Mellicent’s and my old summer things—and if little
+Tottie didn’t go and say afterwards that her mamma did wish Cousin Jane
+wouldn’t send muslins in December when they hadn’t room enough to store
+a safety pin. Oh, of course, Mary didn’t say that to <i>me</i>, but she
+must have said it somewhere, else Tottie wouldn’t have got hold of it.
+‘Children and fools,’ you know,” she finished meaningly, as she rose to
+go.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smith noticed that Miss Maggie seemed troubled that evening, and he
+knew that she started off early the next morning and was gone nearly
+all day, coming home only for a hurried luncheon. It being Saturday,
+the Martin girls were both there to care for Father Duff and the house.
+Not until some days later did Mr. Smith suspect that he had learned
+the reason for all this. Then a thin-faced young girl with tired eyes
+came to tea one evening and was introduced to him as Miss Carrie Davis.
+Later, when Miss Maggie had gone upstairs to put Father Duff to bed,
+Mr. Smith heard Carrie Davis telling Annabelle Martin all about how
+kind Miss Maggie had been to Nellie, finding her all that embroidery to
+do for that rich Mrs. Gaylord, and how wonderful it was that she had
+been able to get such a splendid job for Sam right in Hooper’s store
+where she was.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smith thought he understood then Miss Maggie’s long absence on
+Saturday.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smith was often running across little kindnesses that Miss Maggie
+had done. He began to think that Miss Maggie must be a very charitable
+person—until he ran across several cases that she had not helped. Then
+he did not know exactly what to think.</p>
+
+<p>His first experience of this kind was when he met an unmistakably
+“down-and-out” on the street one day, begging clothing, food, anything,
+and telling a sorry tale of his unjust discharge from a local factory.
+Mr. Smith gave the man a dollar, and sent him to Miss Maggie. He
+happened to know that Father Duff had discarded an old suit that
+morning—and Father Duff and the beggar might have been taken for twins
+as to size. On the way home a little later he met the beggar returning,
+just as forlorn, and even more hungry-looking.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, my good fellow, couldn’t she fix you up?” questioned Mr. Smith
+in some surprise.</p>
+
+<p>“Fix me up!” glowered the man disdainfully. “Not much she did! She
+didn’t fix me up ter nothin’—but chin music!”</p>
+
+<p>And Mr. Smith had thought Miss Maggie was so charitable!</p>
+
+<p>A few days later he heard an eager-eyed young woman begging Miss Maggie
+for a contribution to the Pension Fund Fair in behalf of the underpaid
+shopgirls in Daly’s. Daly’s was a Hillerton department Store, notorious
+for its unfair treatment of its employees.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Maggie seemed interested, and asked many questions. The eager-eyed
+young woman became even more eager-eyed, and told Miss Maggie all about
+the long hours, the nerve-wearing labor, the low wages—wages upon which
+it was impossible for any girl to live decently—wages whose meagerness
+sent many a girl to her ruin.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Maggie listened attentively, and said, “Yes, yes, I see,” several
+times. But in the end the eager-eyed young woman went away empty-handed
+and sad-eyed. And Mr. Smith frowned again.</p>
+
+<p>He had thought Miss Maggie was so kind-hearted! She gave to some
+fairs—why not to this one? As soon as possible Mr. Smith hunted up the
+eager-eyed young woman and gave her ten dollars. He would have given
+her more, but he had learned from unpleasant experience that large
+gifts from unpretentious Mr. John Smith brought comments and curiosity
+not always agreeable.</p>
+
+<p>It was not until many weeks later that Mr. Smith chanced to hear of
+the complete change of policy of Daly’s department store. Hours were
+shortened, labor lightened, and wages raised. Incidentally he learned
+that it had all started from a crusade of women’s clubs and church
+committees who had “got after old Daly” and threatened all sorts of
+publicity and unpleasantness if the wrongs were not righted at once.
+He learned also that the leader in the forefront of this movement had
+been—Maggie Duff.
+As it chanced, it was on that same day that a strange man accosted him
+on the street.</p>
+
+<p>“Say, she was all right, she was, old man. I been hopin’ I’d see ye
+some day ter tell ye.”</p>
+
+<p>“To tell me?” echoed Mr. Smith stupidly.</p>
+
+<p>The man grinned.</p>
+
+<p>“Ye don’t know me, do ye? Well, I do look diff’rent, I’ll own. Ye give
+me a dollar once, an’ sent me to a lady down the street thar. Now do ye
+remember?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh! <i>oh</i>! Are <i>you</i> that man?”</p>
+
+<p>“Sure I am! Well, she was all right. ‘Member? I thought ’twas only chin
+music she was givin’ me. But let me tell ye. She hunted up the wife an’
+kids, an’ what’s more, she went an’ faced my boss, an’ she got me my
+job back, too. What do ye think of that, now?”</p>
+
+<p>“Why, I’m—I’m glad, of course!” Mr. Smith spoke as one in deep thought.</p>
+
+<p>And all the way home Mr. Smith walked—as one in deep thought.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV<br />
+<span class='ph3'>IN SEARCH OF REST</span></h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>June brought all the young people home again. It brought, also, a great
+deal of talk concerning plans for vacation. Bessie—Elizabeth—said they
+must all go away.</p>
+
+<p>From James Blaisdell this brought a sudden and vigorous remonstrance.</p>
+
+<p>“Nonsense, you’ve just got home!” he exclaimed. “Hillerton’ll be a
+vacation to you all right. Besides, I want my family together again. I
+haven’t seen a thing of my children for six months.”</p>
+
+<p>Elizabeth gave a silvery laugh. (Elizabeth had learned to give very
+silvery laughs.) She shrugged her shoulders daintily and looked at her
+rings.</p>
+
+<p>“Hillerton? Ho! You wouldn’t really doom us to Hillerton all summer,
+daddy.”</p>
+
+<p>“What’s the matter with Hillerton?”</p>
+
+<p>“What isn’t the matter with Hillerton?” laughed the daughter again.</p>
+
+<p>“But I thought we—we would have lovely auto trips,” stammered her
+mother apologetically. “Take them from here, you know, and stay
+overnight at hotels around. I’ve always wanted to do that; and we can
+now, dear.”</p>
+
+<p>“Auto trips! Pooh!” shrugged Elizabeth. “Why, mumsey, we’re going to
+the shore for July, and to the mountains for August. You and daddy and
+I. And Fred’s going, too, only he’ll be at the Gaylord camp in the
+Adirondacks, part of the time.”</p>
+
+<p>“Is that true, Fred?” James Blaisdell’s eyes, fixed on his son, were
+half wistful, half accusing.</p>
+
+<p>Fred stirred restlessly.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I sort of had to, governor,” he apologized. “Honest, I did.
+There are some things a man has to do! Gaylord asked me, and—Hang it
+all, I don’t see why you have to look at me as if I were committing a
+crime, dad!”</p>
+
+<p>“You aren’t, dear, you aren’t,” fluttered Fred’s mother hurriedly;
+“and I’m sure it’s lovely you’ve got the chance to go to the Gaylords’
+camp. And it’s right, quite right, that we should travel this summer,
+as Bessie—er—Elizabeth suggests. I never thought; but, of course, you
+young people don’t want to be hived up in Hillerton all summer!”</p>
+
+<p>“Bet your life we don’t, mater,” shrugged Fred, carefully avoiding his
+father’s eyes, “after all that grind.”</p>
+
+<p>“<i>Grind</i>, Fred?”</p>
+
+<p>But Fred had turned away, and did not, apparently, hear his father’s
+grieved question.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smith learned all about the vacation plans a day or two later from
+Benny.</p>
+
+<p>“Yep, we’re all goin’ away for all summer,” he repeated, after he had
+told the destination of most of the family. “I don’t think ma wants to,
+much, but she’s goin’ on account of Bess. Besides, she says everybody
+who is anybody always goes away on vacations, of course. So we’ve got
+to. They’re goin’ to the beach first, and I’m goin’ to a boys’ camp up
+in Vermont—Mellicent, she’s goin’ to a girls’ camp. Did you know that?”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smith shook his head.
+“Well, she is,” nodded Benny. “She tried to get Bess to go—Gussie
+Pennock’s goin’. But Bess!—my you should see her nose go up in the air!
+She said she wa’n’t goin’ where she had to wear great coarse shoes an’
+horrid middy-blouses all day, an’ build fires an’ walk miles an’ eat
+bugs an’ grasshoppers.”</p>
+
+<p>“Is Miss Mellicent going to do all that?” smiled Mr. Smith.</p>
+
+<p>“Bess says she is—I mean, <i>Elizabeth</i>. Did you know? We have to
+call her that now, when we don’t forget it. I forget it, mostly. Have
+you seen her since she came back?”</p>
+
+<p>“No.”</p>
+
+<p>“She’s swingin’ an awful lot of style—Bess is. She makes dad dress
+up in his swallow-tail every night for dinner. An’ she makes him and
+Fred an’ me stand up the minute she comes into the room, no matter
+if there’s forty other chairs in sight; an’ we have to <i>stay</i>
+standin’ till she sits down—an’ sometimes she stands up a-purpose, just
+to keep <i>us</i> standing. I know she does. She says a gentleman never
+sits when a lady is standin’ up in his presence. An’ she’s lecturin’
+us all the time on the way to eat an’ talk an’ act. Why, we can’t even
+walk natural any longer. An’ she says the way Katy serves our meals is
+a disgrace to any civilized family.”</p>
+
+<p>“How does Katy like that?”</p>
+
+<p>“Like it! She got mad an’ gave notice on the spot. An’ that made ma
+’most have hysterics—she did have one of her headaches—’cause good
+hired girls are awful scarce, she says. But Bess says, Pooh! we’ll get
+some from the city next time that know their business, an’ we’re goin’
+away all summer, anyway, an’ won’t ma please call them ‘maids,’ as she
+ought to, an’ not that plebeian ‘hired girl.’ Bess loves that word.
+Everything’s ‘plebeian’ with Bess now. Oh we’re havin’ great times at
+our house since Bess—<i>elizabeth</i>—came!” grinned Benny, tossing his
+cap in the air, and dancing down the walk much as he had danced the
+first night Mr. Smith saw him a year before.</p>
+
+<p>The James Blaisdells were hardly off to shore and camp when Miss Flora
+started on her travels. Mr. Smith learned all about her plans, too, for
+she came down one day to talk them over with Miss Maggie.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Flora was looking very well in a soft gray and white summer silk.
+Her forehead had lost its lines of care, and her eyes were no longer
+peering for wrinkles. Miss Flora was actually almost pretty.</p>
+
+<p>“How nice you look!” exclaimed Miss Maggie.</p>
+
+<p>“Do I?” panted Miss Flora, as she fluttered up the steps and sank into
+one of the porch chairs.</p>
+
+<p>“Indeed, you do!” exclaimed Mr. Smith admiringly. Mr. Smith was putting
+up a trellis for Miss Maggie’s new rosebush. He was working faithfully,
+but not with the skill of accustomedness.</p>
+
+<p>“I’m so glad you like it!” Miss Flora settled back into her chair and
+smoothed out the ruffles across her lap. “It isn’t too gay, is it? You
+know the six months are more than up now.”</p>
+
+<p>“Not a bit!” exclaimed Mr. Smith.</p>
+
+<p>“No, indeed!” cried Miss Maggie.</p>
+
+<p>“I hoped it wasn’t,” sighed Miss Flora happily. “Well, I’m all packed
+but my dresses.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why, I thought you weren’t going till Monday,” said Miss Maggie.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, I’m not.”</p>
+
+<p>“But—it’s only Friday now!”</p>
+
+<p>Miss Flora laughed shamefacedly.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, I know. I suppose I am a little ahead of time. But you see,
+I ain’t used to packing—not a big trunk, so—and I was so afraid I
+wouldn’t get it done in time. I was going to put my dresses in; but
+Mis’ Moore said they’d wrinkle awfully, if I did, and, of course, they
+would, when you come to think of it. So I shan’t put those in till
+Sunday night. I’m so glad Mis’ Moore’s going. It’ll be so nice to have
+somebody along that I know.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, indeed,” smiled Miss Maggie.</p>
+
+<p>“And she knows everything—all about tickets and checking the baggage,
+and all that. You know we’re only going to be personally conducted to
+Niagara. After that we’re going to New York and stay two weeks at some
+nice hotel. I want to see Grant’s Tomb and the Aquarium, and Mis’ Moore
+wants to go to Coney Island. She says she’s always wanted to go to
+Coney Island just as I have to Niagara.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m glad you can take her,” said Miss Maggie heartily.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, and she’s so pleased. You know, even if she has such a nice
+family, and all, she hasn’t much money, and she’s been awful nice to me
+lately. I used to think she didn’t like me, too. But I must have been
+mistaken, of course. And ’twas so with Mis’ Benson and Mis’ Pennock,
+too. But now they’ve invited me there and have come to see me, and are
+<i>so</i> interested in my trip and all. Why, I never knew I had so
+many friends, Maggie. Truly I didn’t!”</p>
+
+<p>Miss Maggie said nothing, but, there was an odd expression on her face.
+Mr. Smith pounded a small nail home with an extra blow of his hammer.</p>
+
+<p>“And they’re all so kind and interested about the money, too,” went on
+Miss Flora, gently rocking to and fro. “Bert Benson sells stocks and
+invests money for folks, you know, and Mis’ Benson said he’d got some
+splendid-payin’ ones, and he’d let me have some, and—”</p>
+
+<p>“Flo, you <i>didn’t</i> take any of that Benson gold-mine stock!”
+interrupted Miss Maggie sharply.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smith’s hammer stopped, suspended in mid-air.</p>
+
+<p>“No; oh, no! I asked Mr. Chalmers and he said better not. So I didn’t.”
+Miss Maggie relaxed in her chair, and Mr. Smith’s hammer fell with a
+gentle tap on the nail-head. “But I felt real bad about it—when Mis’
+Benson had been so kind as to offer it, you know. It looked sort of—of
+ungrateful, so.”</p>
+
+<p>“Ungrateful!” Miss Maggie’s voice vibrated with indignant scorn.
+“Flora, you won’t—you <i>won’t</i> invest your money without asking Mr.
+Chalmers’s advice first, will you?”</p>
+
+<p>“But I tell you I didn’t,” retorted Miss Flora, with unusual sharpness,
+for her. “But it was good stock, and it pays splendidly. Jane took
+some. She took a lot.”</p>
+
+<p>“Jane!—but I thought Frank wouldn’t let her.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, Frank said all right, if she wanted to, she might. I suspect he
+got tired of her teasing, and it did pay splendidly. Why, ’twill pay
+twenty-five per cent, probably, this year, Mis’ Benson says. So Frank
+give in. You see, he felt he’d got to pacify Jane some way, I s’pose,
+she’s so cut up about his selling out.”</p>
+
+<p>“Selling out!” exclaimed Miss Maggie.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, didn’t you know that? Well, then I <i>have</i> got some news!”
+Miss Flora gave the satisfied little wriggle with which a born
+news-lover always prefaces her choicest bit of information. “Frank has
+sold his grocery stores—both of ’em.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why, I can’t believe it!” Miss Maggie fell back with a puzzled frown.</p>
+
+<p>“<i>Sold</i> them! Why, I should as soon think of his—his selling himself,”
+cried Mr. Smith. “I thought they were inseparable.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, they ain’t—because he’s separated ’em.” Miss Flora was rocking a
+little faster now.</p>
+
+<p>“But why?” demanded Miss Maggie.</p>
+
+<p>“He says he wants a rest. That he’s worked hard all his life, and it’s
+time he took some comfort. He says he doesn’t take a minute of comfort
+now ’cause Jane’s hounding him all the time to get more money, to get
+more money. She’s crazy to see the interest mount up, you know—Jane
+is. But he says he don’t want any more money. He wants to <i>spend</i>
+money for a while. And he’s going to spend it. He’s going to retire
+from business and enjoy himself.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well,” ejaculated Mr. Smith, “this is a piece of news, indeed!”</p>
+
+<p>“I should say it was,” cried Miss Maggie, still almost incredulous.
+“How does Jane take it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, she’s turribly fussed up over it, as you’d know she would be. Such
+a good chance wasted, she thinks, when he might be making all that
+money earn more. You know Jane wants to turn everything into money now.
+Honestly, Maggie, I don’t believe Jane can look at the moon nowadays
+without wishing it was really gold, and she had it to put out to
+interest!”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, Flora!” remonstrated Miss Maggie faintly.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, it’s so,” maintained Miss Flora, “So ’tain’t any wonder, of
+course, that she’s upset over this. That’s why Frank give in to her,
+I think, and let her buy that Benson stock. Besides, he’s feeling
+especially flush, because he’s got the cash the stores brought, too. So
+he told her to go ahead.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m sorry about that stock,” frowned Miss Maggie.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, it’s perfectly safe. Mis’ Benson said ’twas,” comforted Miss
+Flora. “You needn’t worry about that. And ’twill pay splendid.”</p>
+
+<p>“When did this happen—the sale of the store, I mean?” asked Mr. Smith.
+Mr. Smith was not even pretending to work now.</p>
+
+<p>“Yesterday—the finish of it. I’m waiting to see Hattie. She’ll be
+tickled to death. She’s <i>always</i> hated it that Frank had a grocery
+store, you know; and since the money’s come, and she’s been going with
+the Gaylords and the Pennocks, and all that crowd, she’s felt worse
+than ever. She was saying to me only last week how ashamed she was to
+think that her friends might see her own brother-in-law any day wearing
+horrid white coat, and selling molasses over the counter. My, but
+Hattie’ll be tickled all right—or ‘Harriet,’ I suppose I should say,
+but I never can remember it.”</p>
+
+<p>“But what is Frank going to—to do with himself?” demanded Miss Maggie.
+“Why, Flora, he’ll be lost without that grocery store!”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, he’s going to travel, first. He says he always wanted to, and he’s
+got a chance now, and he’s going to. They’re going to the Yellowstone
+Park and the Garden of the Gods and to California. And that’s another
+thing that worries Jane—spending all that money for them just to ride
+in the cars.”</p>
+
+<p>“Is she going, too?” queried Mr. Smith.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, yes, she’s going, too. She says she’s got to go to keep Frank from
+spending every cent he’s got,” laughed Miss Flora. “I was over there
+last night, and they told me all about it.”</p>
+
+<p>“When do they go?”</p>
+
+<p>“Just as soon as they can get ready. Frank’s got to help Donovan, the
+man that’s bought the store, a week till he gets the run of things, he
+says. Then he’s going. You wait till you see him.” Miss Flora got to
+her feet, and smoothed out the folds of her skirt. “He’s as tickled as
+a boy with a new jack-knife. And I’m glad. Frank has been a turrible
+hard worker all his life. I’m glad he’s going to take some comfort,
+same as I am.”</p>
+
+<p>When Miss Flora had gone, Miss Maggie turned to Mr. Smith with eyes
+that still carried dazed unbelief.</p>
+
+<p>“<i>Did</i> Flora say that Frank Blaisdell had sold his grocery stores?”</p>
+
+<p>“She certainly did! You seem surprised.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m more than surprised. I’m dumfounded.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why? You don’t think, like Mrs. Jane, that he ought not to enjoy his
+money, certainly?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, no. He’s got money enough to retire, if he wants to, and he’s
+certainly worked hard enough to earn a rest.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then what is it?”</p>
+
+<p>Miss Maggie laughed a little.</p>
+
+<p>“I’m not sure I can explain. But, to me, it’s—just this: while he’s
+got plenty to retire <i>upon</i>, he hasn’t got anything to—to retire
+<i>to</i>.”</p>
+
+<p>“And, pray, what do you mean by that?”</p>
+
+<p>“Why, Mr. Smith, I’ve known that man from the time he was trading
+jack-knives and marbles and selling paper boxes for five pins. I
+remember the whipping he got, too, for filching sugar and coffee and
+beans from the pantry and opening a grocery store in our barn. From
+that time to this, that boy has always been trading <i>something</i>.
+He’s been absolutely uninterested in anything else. I don’t believe
+he’s read a book or a magazine since his school days, unless it had
+something to do with business or groceries. He hasn’t a sign of a
+fad—music, photography, collecting things—nothing. And he hates
+society. Jane has to fairly drag him out anywhere. Now, what I want to
+know is, what is the man going to do?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, he’ll find something,” laughed Mr. Smith. “He’s going to travel,
+first, anyhow.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, he’s going to travel, first. And then—we’ll see,” smiled Miss
+Maggie enigmatically, as Mr. Smith picked up his hammer again.</p>
+
+<p>By the middle of July the Blaisdells were all gone from Hillerton
+and there remained only their letters for Miss Maggie—and for Mr.
+Smith. Miss Maggie was very generous with her letters. Perceiving Mr.
+Smith’s genuine interest, she read him extracts from almost every
+one that came. And the letters were always interesting—and usually
+characteristic.</p>
+
+<p>Benny wrote of swimming and tennis matches, and of “hikes” and the
+“bully eats.” Hattie wrote of balls and gowns and the attention “dear
+Elizabeth” was receiving from some really very nice families who were
+said to be fabulously rich. Neither James nor Bessie wrote at all.
+Fred, too, remained unheard from.</p>
+
+<p>Mellicent wrote frequently—gay, breezy letters full to the brim of the
+joy of living. She wrote of tennis, swimming, camp-fire stories, and
+mountain trails: they were like Benny’s letters in petticoats, Miss
+Maggie said.</p>
+
+<p>Long and frequent epistles came from Miss Flora. Miss Flora was having
+a beautiful time. Niagara was perfectly lovely—only what a terrible
+noise it made! She was glad she did not have to stay and hear it
+always. She liked New York, only that was noisy, too, though Mrs. Moore
+did not seem to mind it. Mrs. Moore liked Coney Island, too, but Miss
+Flora much preferred Grant’s Tomb, she said. It was so much more quiet
+and ladylike. She thought some things at Coney Island were really not
+nice at all, and she was surprised that Mrs. Moore should enjoy them so
+much.</p>
+
+<p>Between the lines it could be seen that in spite of all the good times,
+Miss Flora was becoming just the least bit homesick. She wrote Miss
+Maggie that it did seem queer to go everywhere, and not see a soul to
+bow to. It gave her such a lonesome feeling—such a lot of faces, and
+not one familiar one! She had tried to make the acquaintance of several
+people—real nice people; she knew they were by the way they looked.
+But they wouldn’t say hardly anything to her, nor answer her questions;
+and they always got up and moved away very soon.</p>
+
+<p>To be sure, there was one nice young man. He was lovely to them, Miss
+Flora said. He spoke to them first, too. It was when they were down to
+Coney Island. He helped them through the crowds, and told them about
+lots of nice things they didn’t want to miss seeing. He walked with
+them, too, quite awhile, showing them the sights. He was very kind—he
+seemed so especially kind, after all those other cold-hearted people,
+who didn’t care! That was the day she and Mrs. Moore both lost their
+pocketbooks, and had such an awful time getting back to New York. It
+was right after they had said good-bye to the nice young gentleman
+that they discovered that they had lost them. They were so sorry that
+they hadn’t found it out before, Miss Flora said, for he would have
+helped them, she was sure. But though they looked everywhere for him,
+they could not find him at all, and they had to appeal to strangers,
+who took them right up to a policeman the first thing, which was very
+embarrassing, Miss Flora said. Why, she and Mrs. Moore felt as if they
+had been arrested, almost! Miss Maggie pursed her lips a little, when
+she read this letter to Mr. Smith, but she made no comment.</p>
+
+<p>From Jane, also, came several letters, and from Frank Blaisdell one
+short scrawl.</p>
+
+<p>Frank said he was having a bully time, but that he’d seen some of the
+most shiftless-looking grocery stores that he ever set eyes on. He
+asked if Maggie knew how trade was at his old store, and if Donovan was
+keeping it up to the mark. He said that Jane was well, only she was
+getting pretty tired because she <i>would</i> try to see everything at
+once, for fear she’d lose something, and not get her money’s worth, for
+all the world just as she used to eat things to save them.</p>
+
+<p>Jane wrote that she was having a very nice time, of course,—she
+couldn’t help it, with all those lovely things to see; but she said
+she never dreamed that just potatoes, meat, and vegetables could
+cost so much anywhere as they did in hotels, and as for the prices
+those dining-cars charged—it was robbery—sheer robbery! And why an
+able-bodied man should be given ten cents every time he handed you your
+own hat, she couldn’t understand.</p>
+
+<p>At Hillerton, Mr. Smith passed a very quiet summer, but a very
+contented one. He kept enough work ahead to amuse him, but never enough
+to drive him. He took frequent day-trips to the surrounding towns, and
+when possible he persuaded Miss Maggie to go with him. Miss Maggie
+was wonderfully good company. As the summer advanced, however, he did
+not see so much of her as he wanted to, for Father Duff’s increasing
+infirmities made more and more demands on her time.</p>
+
+<p>The Martin girls were still there. Annabelle was learning the
+milliner’s trade, and Florence had taken a clerkship for afternoons
+during the summer. They still helped about the work, and relieved Miss
+Maggie whenever possible. They were sensible, jolly girls, and Mr.
+Smith liked them very much.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI<br />
+<span class='ph3'>THE FLY IN THE OINTMENT</span></h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>In August Father Duff died. Miss Flora came home at once. James
+Blaisdell was already in town. Hattie was at the mountains. She wrote
+that she could not think of coming down for the funeral, but she
+ordered an expensive wreath. Frank and Jane were in the Far West, and
+could not possibly have arrived in time, anyway. None of the young
+people came.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smith helped in every way that he could help, and Miss Maggie told
+him that he was a great comfort, and that she did not know what she
+would have done without him. Miss Flora and Mr. James Blaisdell helped,
+too, in every way possible, and at last the first hard sad days were
+over, and the household had settled back into something like normal
+conditions again.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Maggie had more time now, and she went often to drive or for motor
+rides with Mr. Smith. Together they explored cemeteries for miles
+around; and although Miss Maggie worried sometimes because they found
+so little Blaisdell data, Mr. Smith did not seem to mind it at all.</p>
+
+<p>In September Miss Flora moved into an attractive house on the
+West Side, bought some new furniture, and installed a maid in the
+kitchen—all under Miss Maggie’s kindly supervision. In September, too,
+Frank and Jane Blaisdell came home, and the young people began to
+prepare for the coming school year.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smith met Mrs. Hattie one day, coming out of Miss Maggie’s gate.
+She smiled and greeted him cordially, but she looked so palpably upset
+over something that he exclaimed to Miss Maggie, as soon he entered
+the house: “What was it? <i>Is</i> anything the matter with Mrs. James
+Blaisdell?”</p>
+
+<p>Miss Maggie smiled—but she frowned, too.</p>
+
+<p>“No, oh, no—except that Hattie has discovered that a hundred thousand
+dollars isn’t a million.”</p>
+
+<p>“What do you mean by that?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, where she’s been this summer she’s measured up, of course,
+with people a great deal richer than she. And she doesn’t like it.
+Here in Hillerton her hundred—and two-hundred-dollar dresses looked
+very grand to her, but she’s discovered that there are women who pay
+five hundred and a thousand, and even more. She feels very cheap and
+poverty-stricken now, therefore, in her two-hundred-dollar gowns. Poor
+Hattie! If she only would stop trying to live like somebody else!”</p>
+
+<p>“But I thought—I thought this money was making them happy,” stammered
+Mr. Smith.</p>
+
+<p>“It was—until she realized that somebody else had more,” sighed Miss
+Maggie, with a shake of her head.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, well, she’ll get over that.”</p>
+
+<p>“Perhaps.”</p>
+
+<p>“At any rate, it’s brought her husband some comfort.”</p>
+
+<p>“Y-yes, it has; but—”</p>
+
+<p>“What do you mean by that?” he demanded, when she did not finish her
+sentence.</p>
+
+<p>“I was wondering—if it would bring him any more.”</p>
+
+<p>“They haven’t lost it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, no, but they’ve spent a lot—and Hattie is beginning again her
+old talk that she <i>must</i> have more money in order to live ‘even
+decent.’ It sounds very familiar to me, and to Jim, I suspect, poor
+fellow. I saw him the other night, and from what he said, and what she
+says, I can see pretty well how things are going. She’s trying to get
+some of her rich friends to give Jim a better position, where he’ll
+earn more. She doesn’t understand, either, why Jim can’t go into the
+stock market and make millions, as some men do. I’m afraid she isn’t
+always—patient. She says there are Fred and Elizabeth and Benjamin to
+educate, and that she’s just got to have more money to tide them over
+till the rest of the legacy comes.”</p>
+
+<p>“The rest of the legacy!” exploded Mr. Smith. “Good Heavens, does
+that woman think that—” Mr. Smith stopped with the air of one pulling
+himself back from an abyss.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Maggie laughed.</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t wonder you exclaim. It is funny—the way she takes that for
+granted, isn’t it? Still, there are grounds for it, of course.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, are there? Do <i>you</i> think—she’ll get more, then?” demanded
+Mr. Smith, almost savagely.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Maggie laughed again.</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know what to think. To my mind the whole thing was rather
+extraordinary, anyway, that he should have given them anything—utter
+strangers as they were. Still, as Hattie says, as long as he <i>has</i>
+recognized their existence, why, he may again of course. Still, on the
+other hand, he may have very reasonably argued that, having willed them
+a hundred thousand apiece, that was quite enough, and he’d give the
+rest somewhere else.”</p>
+
+<p>“Humph! Maybe,” grunted Mr. Smith.</p>
+
+<p>“And he may come back alive from South America”</p>
+
+<p>“He may.”</p>
+
+<p>“But Hattie isn’t counting on either of these contingencies, and she
+is counting on the money,” sighed Miss Maggie, sobering again. “And
+Jim,—poor Jim!—I’m afraid he’s going to find it just as hard to keep
+caught up now—as he used to.”</p>
+
+<p>“Humph!” Mr. Smith frowned. He did not speak again. He stood looking
+out of the window, apparently in deep thought.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Maggie, with another sigh, turned and went out into the kitchen.</p>
+
+<p>The next day, on the street, Mr. Smith met Mellicent Blaisdell. She was
+with a tall, manly-looking, square-jawed young fellow whom Mr. Smith
+had never seen before. Mellicent smiled and blushed adorably. Then, to
+his surprise, she stopped him with a gesture.</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Smith, I know it’s on the street, but I—I want Mr. Gray to meet
+you, and I want you to meet Mr. Gray. Mr. Smith is—is a very good
+friend of mine, Donald.”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smith greeted Donald Gray with a warm handshake and a keen glance
+into his face. The blush, the hesitation, the shy happiness in
+Mellicent’s eyes had been unmistakable. Mr. Smith felt suddenly that
+Donald Gray was a man he very much wanted to know—a good deal about. He
+chatted affably for a minute. Then he went home and straight to Miss
+Maggie.</p>
+
+<p>“Who’s Donald Gray, please?” he demanded.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Maggie laughed and threw up her hands.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, these children!”
+“But who is he?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, to begin with, he’s devoted to Mellicent.”</p>
+
+<p>“You don’t have to tell me that. I’ve seen him—and Mellicent.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh!” Miss Maggie smiled appreciatively.</p>
+
+<p>“What I want to know is, who is he?”</p>
+
+<p>“He’s a young man whom Mellicent met this summer. He plays the violin,
+and Mellicent played his accompaniments in a church entertainment.
+That’s where she met him first. He’s the son of a minister near their
+camp, where the girls went to church. He’s a fine fellow, I guess. He’s
+hard hit—that’s sure. He came to Hillerton at once, and has gone to
+work in Hammond’s real estate office. So you see he’s in earnest.”</p>
+
+<p>“I should say he was! I liked his appearance very much.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, I did—but her mother doesn’t.”</p>
+
+<p>“What do you mean? She—objects?”</p>
+
+<p>“Decidedly! She says he’s worse than Carl Pennock—that he hasn’t got
+any money, not <i>any</i> money.”</p>
+
+<p>“Money!” ejaculated Mr. Smith, in genuine amazement. “You don’t mean
+that she’s really letting money stand in the way if Mellicent cares
+for him? Why, it was only a year ago that she herself was bitterly
+censuring Mrs. Pennock for doing exactly the same thing in the case of
+young Pennock and Mellicent.”</p>
+
+<p>“I know,” nodded Miss Maggie. “But—she seems to have forgotten that.”</p>
+
+<p>“Shoe’s on the other foot this time.”</p>
+
+<p>“It seems to be.”</p>
+
+<p>“Hm-m!” muttered Mr. Smith.</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t think Jane has done much yet, by way of opposition. You see
+they’ve only reached home, and she’s just found out about it. But she
+told me she shouldn’t let it go on, not for a moment. She has other
+plans for Mellicent.”</p>
+
+<p>“Shall I be—meddling in what isn’t my business, if I ask what they
+are?” queried Mr. Smith diffidently. “You know I am very much
+interested in—Miss Mellicent.”</p>
+
+<p>“Not a bit. I’m glad to have you. Perhaps you can suggest—a way out for
+us,” sighed Miss Maggie. “The case is just this: Jane wants Mellicent
+to marry Hibbard Gaylord.”</p>
+
+<p>“Shucks! I’ve seen young Gray only once, but I’d give more for his
+little finger than I would for a cartload of Gaylords!” flung out Mr.
+Smith.</p>
+
+<p>“So would I,” approved Miss Maggie. “But Jane—well, Jane feels
+otherwise. To begin with, she’s very much flattered at Gaylord’s
+attentions to Mellicent—the more so because he’s left Bessie—I beg her
+pardon, ‘Elizabeth’—for her.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then Miss Elizabeth is in it, too?”</p>
+
+<p>“Very much in it. That’s one of the reasons why Hattie is so anxious
+for more money. She wants clothes and jewels for Bessie so she can keep
+pace with the Gaylords. You see there’s a wheel within a wheel here.”</p>
+
+<p>“I should say there was!”</p>
+
+<p>“As near as I can judge, young Gaylord is Bessie’s devoted slave—until
+Mellicent arrives; then he has eyes only for <i>her</i>, which piques
+Bessie and her mother not a little. They were together more or less all
+summer and I think Hattie thought the match was as good as made. Now,
+once in Hillerton, back he flies to Mellicent.”</p>
+
+<p>“And—Mellicent?”</p>
+
+<p>Miss Maggie’s eyes became gravely troubled.</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t understand Mellicent. I think—no, I <i>know</i> she cares
+for young Gray; but—well, I might as well admit it, she is ready any
+time to flirt outrageously with Hibbard Gaylord, or—or with anybody
+else, for that matter. I saw her flirting with you at the party last
+Christmas!” Miss Maggie’s face showed a sudden pink blush.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smith gave a hearty laugh.</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t you worry, Miss Maggie. If she’ll flirt with young Gaylord
+<i>and others</i>, it’s all right. There’s safety in numbers, you know.”</p>
+
+<p>“But I don’t like to have her flirt at all, Mr. Smith.”</p>
+
+<p>“It isn’t flirting. It’s just her bottled-up childhood and youth
+bubbling over. She can’t help bubbling, she’s been repressed so long.
+She’ll come out all right, and she won’t come out hand in hand with
+Hibbard Gaylord. You see if she does.”</p>
+
+<p>Miss Maggie shook her head and sighed.
+“You don’t know Jane. Jane will never give up. She’ll be quiet, but
+she’ll be firm. With one hand she’ll keep Gray away, and with the other
+she’ll push Gaylord forward. Even Mellicent herself won’t know how it’s
+done. But it’ll be done, and I tremble for the consequences.”</p>
+
+<p>“Hm-m!” Mr. Smith’s eyes had lost their twinkle now. To himself he
+muttered: “I wonder if maybe—I hadn’t better take a hand in this thing
+myself.”</p>
+
+<p>“You said—I didn’t understand what you said,” murmured Miss Maggie
+doubtfully.</p>
+
+<p>“Nothing—nothing, Miss Maggie,” replied the man. Then, with
+businesslike alertness, he lifted his chin. “How long do you say this
+has been going on?”</p>
+
+<p>“Why, especially since they all came home two weeks ago. Jane knew
+nothing of Donald Gray till then.”</p>
+
+<p>“Where does Carl Pennock come in?”</p>
+
+<p>Miss Maggie gave a gesture of despair.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, he comes in anywhere that he can find a chance; though, to do her
+justice, Mellicent doesn’t give him—many chances.”</p>
+
+<p>“What does her father say to all this? How does he like young Gray?”</p>
+
+<p>Miss Maggie gave another gesture of despair.</p>
+
+<p>“He says nothing—or, rather, he laughs, and says: ‘Oh, well, it will
+come out all right in time. Young folks will be young folks!’”</p>
+
+<p>“But does he like Gray? He knows him, of course.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, yes, he likes him. He’s taken him to ride in his car once, to my
+knowledge.”</p>
+
+<p>“His car! Then Mr. Frank Blaisdell has—a car?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, yes, he’s just been learning to run it. Jane says he’s crazy over
+it, and that he’s teasing her to go all the time. She says he wants to
+be on the move somewhere every minute. He’s taken up golf, too. Did you
+know that?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, no, I—didn’t.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh yes, he’s joined the Hillerton Country Club, and he goes up to the
+links every morning for practice.”</p>
+
+<p>“I can’t imagine it—Frank Blaisdell spending his mornings playing golf!”</p>
+
+<p>“You forget,” smiled Miss Maggie. “Frank Blaisdell is a retired
+business man. He has begun to take some pleasure in life now.”</p>
+
+<p>“Humph!” muttered Mr. Smith, as he turned to go into his own room.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smith called on the Frank Blaisdells that evening. Mr. Blaisdell
+took him out to the garage (very lately a barn), and showed him the
+shining new car. He also showed him his lavish supply of golf clubs,
+and told him what a “bully time” he was having these days. He told him,
+too, all about his Western trip, and said there was nothing like travel
+to broaden a man’s outlook. He said a great deal about how glad he was
+to get out of the old grind behind the counter—but in the next breath
+he asked Mr. Smith if he had ever seen a store run down as his had done
+since he left it. Donovan didn’t know any more than a cat how such a
+store should be run, he said.</p>
+
+<p>When they came back from the garage they found callers in the
+living-room. Carl Pennock and Hibbard Gaylord were chatting with
+Mellicent. Almost at once the doorbell rang, too, and Donald Gray
+came in with his violin and a roll of music. Mellicent’s mother came
+in also. She greeted all the young men pleasantly, and asked Carl
+Pennock to tell Mr. Smith all about his fishing trip. Then she sat down
+by young Gray and asked him many questions about his music. She was
+<i>so</i> interested in violins, she said.</p>
+
+<p>Gray waxed eloquent, and seemed wonderfully pleased—for about five
+minutes; then Mr. Smith saw that his glance was shifting more and
+more frequently and more and more unhappily to Mellicent and Hibbard
+Gaylord, talking tennis across the room.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smith apparently lost interest in young Pennock’s fish story
+then. At all events, another minute found him eagerly echoing Mrs.
+Blaisdell’s interest in violins—but with this difference: violins in
+the abstract with her became A violin in the concrete with him; and he
+must hear it at once.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Jane herself could not have told exactly how it was done, but she
+knew that two minutes later young Gray and Mellicent were at the piano,
+he, shining-eyed and happy, drawing a tentative bow across the strings:
+she, no less shining-eyed and happy, giving him “A” on the piano.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smith enjoyed the music very much—so much that he begged for
+another selection and yet another. Mr. Smith did not appear to realize
+that Messrs. Pennock and Gaylord were passing through sham interest and
+frank boredom to disgusted silence. Equally oblivious was he of Mrs.
+Jane’s efforts to substitute some other form of entertainment for the
+violin-playing. He shook hands very heartily, however, with Pennock
+and Gaylord when they took their somewhat haughty departure, a little
+later, and, strange to say, his interest in the music seemed to go with
+their going; for at once then he turned to Mr. and Mrs. Frank Blaisdell
+with a very animated account of some Blaisdell data he had found only
+the week before.</p>
+
+<p>He did not appear to notice that the music of the piano had become
+nothing but soft fitful snatches with a great deal of low talk and
+laughter between. He seemed interested only that Mr. Blaisdell, and
+especially Mrs. Blaisdell, should know the intimate history of one
+Ephraim Blaisdell, born in 1720, and his ten children and forty-nine
+grandchildren. He talked of various investments then, and of the
+weather. He talked of the Blaisdells’ trip, and of the cost of railroad
+fares and hotel life. He talked—indeed, Mrs. Jane told her husband
+after he left that Mr. Smith had talked of everything under the sun,
+and that she nearly had a fit because she could not get one minute to
+herself to break in upon Mellicent and that horrid Gray fellow at the
+piano. She had not supposed Mr. Smith could talk like that. She had
+never remembered he was such a talker!</p>
+
+<p>The young people had a tennis match on the school tennis court the next
+day. Mr. Smith told Miss Maggie that he thought he would drop around
+there. He said he liked very much to watch tennis games.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Maggie said yes, that she liked to watch tennis games, too. If
+this was just a wee bit of a hint, it quite failed of its purpose, for
+Mr. Smith did not offer to take her with him. He changed the subject,
+indeed, so abruptly, that Miss Maggie bit her lip and flushed a little,
+throwing a swift glance into his apparently serene countenance.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Maggie herself, in the afternoon, with an errand for an excuse,
+walked slowly by the tennis court. She saw Mr. Smith at once—but he
+did not seem at all interested in the playing. He had his back to
+the court, in fact. He was talking very animatedly with Mellicent
+Blaisdell. He was still talking with her—though on the opposite side of
+the court—when Miss Maggie went by again on her way home.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Maggie frowned and said something just under her breath about
+“that child—flirting as usual!” Then she went on, walking very fast,
+and without another glance toward the tennis ground. But a little
+farther on Miss Maggie’s step lagged perceptibly, and her head lost its
+proud poise. Miss Maggie, for a reason she could not have explained
+herself, was feeling suddenly old, and weary, and very much alone.</p>
+
+<p>To the image in the mirror as she took off her hat a few minutes later
+in her own hall, she said scornfully:</p>
+
+<p>“Well, why shouldn’t you feel old? You are old. <i>You are old!</i>”
+Miss Maggie had a habit of talking to herself in the mirror—but never
+before had she said anything like this to herself.</p>
+
+<p>An hour later Mr. Smith came home to supper.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, how did the game go?” queried Miss Maggie, without looking up
+from the stocking she was mending.</p>
+
+<p>“Game? Go? Oh! Why, I don’t remember who did win finally,” he answered.
+Nor did it apparently occur to him that for one who was so greatly
+interested in tennis, he was curiously uninformed.</p>
+
+<p>It did occur to Miss Maggie, however.</p>
+
+<p>The next day Mr. Smith left the house soon after breakfast, and,
+contrary to his usual custom, did not mention where he was going. Miss
+Maggie was surprised and displeased. More especially was she displeased
+because she <i>was</i> displeased. As if it mattered to her where he
+went, she told herself scornfully.</p>
+
+<p>The next day and the next it was much the same. On the third day she
+saw Jane.</p>
+
+<p>“Where’s Mr. Smith?” demanded Jane, without preamble, glancing at the
+vacant chair by the table in the corner.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Maggie, to her disgust, could feel the color burning in her
+cheeks; but she managed to smile as if amused.</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know, I’m sure. I’m not Mr. Smith’s keeper, Jane.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, if you were I should ask you to keep him away from Mellicent,”
+retorted Mrs. Jane tartly.</p>
+
+<p>“What do you mean?”</p>
+
+<p>“I mean he’s been hanging around Mellicent almost every day for a week.”</p>
+
+<p>Miss Maggie flushed painfully.</p>
+
+<p>“Nonsense, Jane! He’s more than twice her age. Mr. Smith is fifty if
+he’s a day.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m not saying he isn’t,” sniffed Jane, her nose uptilted. “But I do
+say, ‘No fool like an old fool’!”</p>
+
+<p>“Nonsense!” scorned Miss Maggie again. “Mr. Smith has always been fond
+of Mellicent, and—and interested in her. But I don’t believe he cares
+for her—that way.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then why does he come to see her and take her auto-riding, and hang
+around her every minute he gets a chance?” snapped Jane. “I know how
+he acts at the house, and I hear he scarcely left her side at the
+tennis match the other day.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, I—” Miss Maggie did not finish her sentence. A slow change came
+to her countenance. The flush receded, leaving her face a bit white.</p>
+
+<p>“I wonder if the man really thinks he stands any chance,” spluttered
+Jane, ignoring Miss Maggie’s unfinished sentence. “Why, he’s worse than
+that Donald Gray. He not only hasn’t got the money, but he’s old, as
+well.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, we’re all—getting old, Jane.” Miss Maggie tossed the words off
+lightly, and smiled as she uttered them. But after Mrs. Jane had gone,
+she went to the little mirror above the mantel and gazed at herself
+long and fixedly.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, what if he does? It’s nothing to you, Maggie Duff!” she muttered
+under her breath. Then resolutely she turned away, picked up her work,
+and fell to sewing very fast.</p>
+
+<p>Two days later Mellicent went back to school. Bessie went, too. Fred
+and Benny had already gone. To Miss Maggie things seemed to settle back
+into their old ways again then. With Mr. Smith she took drives and
+motor-rides, enjoying the crisp October air and the dancing sunlight on
+the reds and browns and yellows of the autumnal foliage. True, she used
+to wonder sometimes if the end always justified the means—it seemed an
+expensive business to hire an automobile to take them fifty miles and
+back, and all to verify a single date. And she could not help noticing
+that Mr. Smith appeared to have many dates that needed verifying—dates
+that were located in very diverse parts of the surrounding country.
+Miss Maggie also could not help noticing that Mr. Smith was getting
+very little new material for his Blaisdell book these days, though he
+still worked industriously over the old, re-tabulating, and recopying.
+She knew this, because she helped him do it—though she was careful
+to let him know that she recognized the names and dates as old
+acquaintances.</p>
+
+<p>To tell the truth, Miss Maggie did not like to admit, even to herself,
+that Mr. Smith must be nearing the end of his task. She did not like to
+think of the house—after Mr. Smith should have gone. She told herself
+that he was just the sort of homey boarder that she liked, and she
+wished she might keep him indefinitely.</p>
+
+<p>She thought so all the more when the long evenings of November brought
+a new pleasure; Mr. Smith fell into the way of bringing home books to
+read aloud; and she enjoyed that very much. They had long talks, too,
+over the books they read. In one there was an old man who fell in love
+with a young girl, and married her. Miss Maggie, as certain parts of
+this story were read, held her breath, and stole furtive glances into
+Mr. Smith’s face. When it was finished she contrived to question with
+careful casualness, as to his opinion of such a marriage.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smith’s answer was prompt and unequivocal. He said he did not
+believe that such a marriage should take place, nor did he believe that
+in real life, it would result in happiness. Marriage should be between
+persons of similar age, tastes, and habits, he said very decidedly. And
+Miss Maggie blushed and said yes, yes, indeed! And that night, when
+Miss Maggie gazed at herself in the glass, she looked so happy—that she
+appeared to be almost as young as Mellicent herself!</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII<br />
+<span class='ph3'>AN AMBASSADOR OF CUPID’S</span></h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>Christmas again brought all the young people home for the holidays. It
+brought, also, a Christmas party at James Blaisdell’s home. It was a
+very different party, however, from the housewarming of a year before.</p>
+
+<p>To begin with, the attendance was much smaller; Mrs. Hattie had been
+very exclusive in her invitations this time. She had not invited
+“everybody who ever went anywhere.” There were champagne, and
+cigarettes for the ladies, too.</p>
+
+<p>As before, Mr. Smith and Miss Maggie went together. Miss Maggie, who
+had not attended any social gathering since Father Duff died, yielded
+to Mr. Smith’s urgings and said that she would go to this. But Miss
+Maggie wished afterward that she had not gone—there were so many, many
+features about that party that Miss Maggie did not like.</p>
+
+<p>She did not like the champagne nor the cigarettes. She did not like
+Bessie’s showy, low-cut dress, nor her supercilious airs. She did not
+like the look in Fred’s eyes, nor the way he drank the champagne. She
+did not like Jane’s maneuvers to bring Mellicent and Hibbard Gaylord
+into each other’s company—nor the way Mr. Smith maneuvered to get
+Mellicent for himself.</p>
+
+<p>Of all these, except the very last, Miss Maggie talked with Mr. Smith
+on the way home—yet it was the very last that was uppermost in her
+mind, except perhaps, Fred. She did speak of Fred; but because that,
+too, was so much to her, she waited until the last before she spoke of
+it.</p>
+
+<p>“You saw Fred, of course,” she began then.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes.” Short as the word was, it carried a volume of meaning to Miss
+Maggie’s fearful ears. She turned to him quickly.</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Smith, it—it isn’t true, is it?”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m afraid it is.”</p>
+
+<p>“You saw him—drinking, then?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes. I saw some, and I heard—more. It’s just as I feared. He’s got
+in with Gaylord and the rest of his set at college, and they’re a bad
+lot—drinking, gambling—no good.”</p>
+
+<p>“But Fred wouldn’t—gamble, Mr. Smith! Oh, Fred wouldn’t do that. And
+he’s so ambitious to get ahead! Surely he’d know he couldn’t get
+anywhere in his studies, if—if he drank and gambled!”</p>
+
+<p>“It would seem so.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did you see his father? I saw him only a minute at the first, and he
+didn’t look well a bit, to me.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, I saw him. I found him in his den just as I did last year. He
+didn’t look well to me, either.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did he say anything about—Fred?”</p>
+
+<p>“Not a word—and that’s what worries me the most. Last year he talked a
+lot about him, and was so proud and happy in his coming success. This
+time he never mentioned him; but he looked—bad.”</p>
+
+<p>“What did he talk about?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, books, business:—nothing in particular. And he wasn’t interested
+in what he did say. He was very different from last year.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, I know. He is different,” sighed Maggie. “He’s talked with me
+quite a lot about—about the way they’re living. He doesn’t like—so much
+fuss and show and society.”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smith frowned.</p>
+
+<p>“But I thought—Mrs. Hattie would get over all that by this time, after
+the newness of the money was worn off.”</p>
+
+<p>“I hoped she would. But—she doesn’t. It’s worse, if anything,” sighed
+Miss Maggie, as they ascended the steps at her own door.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smith frowned again.</p>
+
+<p>“And Miss Bessie—” he began disapprovingly, then stopped. “Now, Miss
+Mellicent—” he resumed, in a very different voice.</p>
+
+<p>But Miss Maggie was not apparently listening. With a rather loud
+rattling of the doorknob she was pushing open the door.</p>
+
+<p>“Why, how hot it is! Did I leave that damper open?” she cried, hurrying
+into the living-room.</p>
+
+<p>And Mr. Smith, hurrying after, evidently forgot to finish his sentence.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Maggie did not attend any more of the merrymakings of that holiday
+week. But Mr. Smith did. It seemed to Miss Maggie, indeed, that Mr.
+Smith was away nearly every minute of that long week—and it <i>was</i>
+a long week to Miss Maggie. Even the Martin girls were away many of the
+evenings. Miss Maggie told herself that that was why the house seemed
+so lonesome.</p>
+
+<p>But though Miss Maggie did not participate in the gay doings, she heard
+of them. She heard of them on all sides, except from Mr. Smith—and on
+all sides she heard of the devotion of Mr. Smith to Miss Mellicent. She
+concluded that this was the reason why Mr. Smith himself was so silent.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Maggie was shocked and distressed. She was also very much puzzled.
+She had supposed that Mr. Smith understood that Mellicent and young
+Gray cared for each other, and she had thought that Mr. Smith even
+approved of the affair between them. Now to push himself on the scene
+in this absurd fashion and try “to cut everybody out,” as it was
+vulgarly termed—she never would have believed it of Mr. Smith in the
+world. And she was disappointed, too. She liked Mr. Smith very much.
+She had considered him to be a man of good sense and good judgment.
+And had he not himself said, not so long ago, that he believed lovers
+should be of the same age, tastes, and habits? And yet, here now he was—</p>
+
+<p>And there could be no mistake about it. Everybody was saying the same
+thing. The Martin girls brought it home as current gossip. Jane was
+highly exercised over it, and even Harriet had exclaimed over the
+“shameful flirtation Mellicent was carrying on with that man old enough
+to be her father!” No, there was no mistake. Besides, did she not see
+with her own eyes that Mr. Smith was gone every day and evening, and
+that, when he was at home at meal time, he was silent and preoccupied,
+and not like himself at all?</p>
+
+<p>And it was such a pity—she had thought so much of Mr. Smith! It really
+made her feel quite ill.</p>
+
+<p>And Miss Maggie looked ill on the last evening of that holiday week
+when, at nine o’clock, Mr. Smith found her sitting idle-handed before
+the stove in the living-room.</p>
+
+<p>“Why, Miss Maggie, what’s the matter with you?” cried the man, in very
+evident concern. “You don’t look like yourself to-night!”</p>
+
+<p>Miss Maggie pulled herself up hastily.</p>
+
+<p>“Nonsense! I—I’m perfectly well. I’m just—tired, I guess. You’re home
+early, Mr. Smith.” In spite of herself Miss Maggie’s voice carried a
+tinge of something not quite pleasant.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smith, however, did not appear to notice it.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, I’m home early for once, thank Heaven!” he half groaned, as he
+dropped himself into a chair.</p>
+
+<p>“It has been a strenuous week for you, hasn’t it?” Again the tinge of
+something not quite pleasant in Miss Maggie’s voice.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, but it’s been worth it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Of course!”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smith turned deliberately and looked at Miss Maggie. There was
+a vague questioning in his eyes. Obtaining, apparently, however, no
+satisfactory answer from Miss Maggie’s placid countenance, he turned
+away and began speaking again.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, anyway, I’ve accomplished what I set out to do.”</p>
+
+<p>“You-you’ve <i>already</i> accomplished it?” faltered Miss Maggie. She
+was gazing at him now with startled, half-frightened eyes.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes. Why, Miss Maggie, what’s the matter? What makes you look so—so
+queer?”</p>
+
+<p>“Queer? Nonsense! Why, nothing—nothing at all,” laughed Miss Maggie
+nervously, but very gayly. “I may have been a little—surprised, for a
+moment; but I’m very glad—very.”</p>
+
+<p>“Glad?”</p>
+
+<p>“Why, yes, for—for you. Isn’t one always glad when—when a love affair
+is—is all settled?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, then you suspected it.” Mr. Smith smiled pleasantly, but without
+embarrassment. “It doesn’t matter, of course, only—well, I had hoped it
+wasn’t too conspicuous.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, but you couldn’t expect to hide a thing like that, Mr. Smith,”
+retorted Miss Maggie, with what was very evidently intended for an arch
+smile. “I heard it everywhere—everywhere.”</p>
+
+<p>“The mischief you did!” frowned Mr. Smith, looking slightly annoyed.
+“Well, I suppose I couldn’t expect to keep a thing like that entirely
+in the dark. Still, I don’t believe the parties themselves—quite
+understood. Of course, Pennock and Gaylord knew that they were
+kept effectually away, but I don’t believe they realized just how
+systematically it was done. Of course, Gray understood from the first.”</p>
+
+<p>“Poor Mr. Gray! I—I can’t help being sorry for him.”</p>
+
+<p>“<i>Sorry</i> for him!”</p>
+
+<p>“Certainly; and I should think <i>you</i> might give him a little
+sympathy,” rejoined Miss Maggie spiritedly. “You <i>know</i> how much
+he cared for Mellicent.”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smith sat suddenly erect in his chair.</p>
+
+<p>“Cared for her! Sympathy! Why, what in the world are you talking
+about? Wasn’t I doing the best I could for them all the time? Of
+<i>course</i>, it kept <i>him</i> away from her, too, just as it did
+Pennock and Gaylord; but <i>he</i> understood. Besides, he <i>had</i>
+her part of the time. I let him in whenever it was possible.”</p>
+
+<p>“Let him in!” Miss Maggie was sitting erect now. “Whatever in the world
+are <i>you</i> talking about? Do you mean to say you were doing this
+<i>for</i> Mr. Gray, all the time?”</p>
+
+<p>“Why, of course! Whom else should I do it for? You didn’t suppose it
+was for Pennock or Gaylord, did you? Nor for—” He stopped short and
+stared at Miss Maggie in growing amazement and dismay. “You didn’t—you
+<i>didn’t</i> think—I was doing that—for <i>myself</i>?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, of course, I—I—” Miss Maggie was laughing and blushing
+painfully, but there was a new light in her eyes. “Well, anyway,
+everybody said you were!” she defended herself stoutly.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, good Heavens!” Mr. Smith leaped to his feet and thrust his hands
+into his pockets, as he took a nervous turn about the room. “For
+myself, indeed! as if, in my position, I’d—How perfectly absurd!” He
+wheeled and faced her irritably. “And you believed that? Why, I’m not
+a marrying man. I don’t like—I never saw the woman yet that I—” With
+his eyes on Miss Maggie’s flushed, half-averted face, he stopped again
+abruptly. “Well, I’ll be—” Even under his breath he did not finish his
+sentence; but, with a new, quite different expression on his face, he
+resumed his nervous pacing of the room, throwing now and then a quick
+glance at Miss Maggie’s still averted face.</p>
+
+<p>“It <i>was</i> absurd, of course, wasn’t it?” Miss Maggie stirred and
+spoke lightly, with the obvious intention of putting matters back into
+usual conditions again. “But, come, tell me, just what did you do, and
+how? I’m so interested—indeed, I am!”</p>
+
+<p>“Eh? What?” Mr. Smith spoke as if he was thinking of something else
+entirely. “Oh—<i>that</i>.” Mr. Smith sat down, but he did not go on
+speaking at once. His eyes frowningly regarded the stove.</p>
+
+<p>“You said—you kept Pennock and Gaylord away,” Miss Maggie hopefully
+reminded him.</p>
+
+<p>“Er—yes. Oh, I—it was really very simple—I just monopolized Mellicent
+myself, when I couldn’t let Donald have her. That’s all. I saw very
+soon that she couldn’t cope with her mother alone. And Gaylord—well,
+I’ve no use for that young gentleman.”</p>
+
+<p>“But you like—Donald?”</p>
+
+<p>“Very much. I’ve been looking him up for some time. He’s all right.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m glad.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes.” Mr. Smith spoke abstractedly, without enthusiasm. Plainly Mr.
+Smith was still thinking of something else.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Maggie asked other questions—Miss Maggie was manifestly
+interested—and Mr. Smith answered them, but still without enthusiasm.
+Very soon he said good-night and went to his own room.</p>
+
+<p>For some days after this, Mr. Smith did not appear at all like
+himself. He seemed abstracted and puzzled. Miss Maggie, who still felt
+self-conscious and embarrassed over her misconception of his attentions
+to Mellicent, was more talkative than usual in her nervous attempt to
+appear perfectly natural. The fact that she often found his eyes fixed
+thoughtfully upon her, and felt them following her as she moved about
+the room, did not tend to make her more at ease. At such times she
+talked faster than ever—usually, if possible, about some member of the
+Blaisdell family: Miss Maggie had learned that Mr. Smith was always
+interested in any bit of news about the Blaisdells.</p>
+
+<p>It was on such an occasion that she told him about Miss Flora and the
+new house.</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know, really, what I am going to do with her,” she said. “I
+wonder if perhaps you could help me.”</p>
+
+<p>“Help you?—about Miss Flora?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes. Can you think of any way to make her contented?”</p>
+
+<p>“<i>Contented!</i> Why, I thought—Don’t tell me <i>she</i> isn’t happy!” There
+was a curious note of almost despair in Mr. Smith’s voice. “Hasn’t she
+a new house, and everything nice to go with it?”</p>
+
+<p>Miss Maggie laughed. Then she sighed.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, yes—and that’s what’s the trouble. They’re <i>too</i> nice. She
+feels smothered and oppressed—as if she were visiting somewhere, and
+not at home. She’s actually afraid of her maid. You see, Miss Flora has
+always lived very simply. She isn’t used to maids—and the maid knows
+it, which, if you ever employed maids, you would know is a terrible
+state of affairs.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, but she—she’ll get used to that, in time.” “Perhaps,” conceded
+Miss Maggie, “but I doubt it. Some women would, but not Miss Flora. She
+is too inherently simple in her tastes. ‘Why, it’s as bad as always
+living in a hotel!’ she wailed to me last night. ‘You know on my trip I
+was so afraid always I’d do something that wasn’t quite right, before
+those awful waiters in the dining-rooms, and I was anticipating so much
+getting home where I could act natural—and here I’ve got one in my own
+house!’”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smith frowned, but he laughed, too.</p>
+
+<p>“Poor Miss Flora! But why doesn’t she dismiss the lady?”</p>
+
+<p>“She doesn’t dare to. Besides, there’s Hattie. She says Hattie is
+always telling her what is due her position, and that she must do this
+and do that. She’s being invited out, too, to the Pennocks’ and the
+Bensons’; and they’re worse than the maid, she declares. She says she
+loves to ‘run in’ and see people, and she loves to go to places and
+spend the day with her sewing; but that these things where you go and
+stand up and eat off a jiggly plate, and see everybody, and not really
+see <i>anybody</i>, are a nuisance and an abomination.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, she’s about right there,” chuckled Mr. Smith.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, I think she is,” smiled Miss Maggie; “but that isn’t telling me
+how to make her contented.”</p>
+
+<p>“Contented! Great Scott!” snapped Mr. Smith, with an irritability that
+was as sudden as it was apparently causeless. “I didn’t suppose you
+had to tell any woman on this earth how to be contented—with a hundred
+thousand dollars!”</p>
+
+<p>“It would seem so, wouldn’t it?”</p>
+
+<p>Something in Miss Maggie’s voice sent Mr. Smith’s eyes to her face in a
+keen glance of interrogation.</p>
+
+<p>“You mean—you’d like the chance to prove it? That you wish <i>you</i>
+had that hundred thousand?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, I didn’t say—that,” twinkled Miss Maggie mischievously, turning
+away.</p>
+
+<p>It was that same afternoon that Mr. Smith met Mrs. Jane Blaisdell on
+the street.</p>
+
+<p>“You’re just the man I want to see,” she accosted him eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>“Then I’ll turn and walk along with you, if I may,” smiled Mr. Smith.
+“What can I do for you?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I don’t know as you can do anything,” she sighed; “but
+somebody’s got to do something. Could you—<i>do</i> you suppose you
+could interest my husband in this Blaisdell business of yours?”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smith gave a start, looking curiously disconcerted.</p>
+
+<p>“B-Blaisdell business?” he stammered. “Why, I—I thought he
+was—er—interested in motoring and golf.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, he was, for a time; but it’s too cold for those now, and he got
+sick of them, anyway, before it did come cold, just as he does of
+everything. Well, yesterday he asked a question—something about Father
+Blaisdell’s mother; and that gave me the idea. <i>Do</i> you suppose
+you could get him interested in this ancestor business? Oh, I wish you
+could! It’s so nice and quiet, and it <i>can’t</i> cost much—not like
+golf clubs and caddies and gasoline, anyway. Do you think you could?”</p>
+
+<p>“Why, I—I don’t know, Mrs. Blaisdell,” murmured Mr. Smith, still a
+little worriedly. “I—I could show him what I have found, of course.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I wish you would, then. Anyway, <i>something’s</i> got to be
+done,” she sighed. “He’s nervous as a witch. He can’t keep still a
+minute. And he isn’t a bit well, either. He ate such a lot of rich food
+and all sorts of stuff on our trip that he got his stomach all out of
+order; and now he can’t eat anything, hardly.”</p>
+
+<p>“Humph! Well, if his stomach’s knocked out I pity him,” nodded Mr.
+Smith. “I’ve been there.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, have you? Oh, yes, I remember. You did say so when you first came,
+didn’t you? But, Mr. Smith <i>please</i>, if you know any of those
+health fads, don’t tell them to my husband. Don’t, I beg of you! He’s
+tried dozens of them until I’m nearly wild, and I’ve lost two hired
+girls already. One day it’ll be no water, and the next it’ll be all he
+can drink; and one week he won’t eat anything but vegetables, and the
+next he won’t touch a thing but meat and—is it fruit that goes with
+meat or cereals? Well, never mind. Whatever it is, he’s done it. And
+lately he’s taken to inspecting every bit of meat and groceries that
+comes into the house. Why, he spends half his time in the kitchen,
+nosing ’round the cupboards and refrigerator; and, of course, <i>no</i>
+girl will stand that! That’s why I’m hoping, oh, I <i>am</i> hoping
+that you can do <i>something</i> with him on that ancestor business.
+There, here is the Bensons’, where I’ve got to stop—and thank you ever
+so much, Mr. Smith, if you will.”</p>
+
+<p>“All right, I’ll try,” promised Mr. Smith dubiously, as he lifted his
+hat. But he frowned, and he was still frowning when he met Miss Maggie
+at the Duff supper-table half an hour later.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I’ve found another one who wants me to tell how to be contented,
+though afflicted with a hundred thousand dollars,” he greeted her
+gloweringly.</p>
+
+<p>“Is that so?” smiled Miss Maggie.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes.—<i>can’t</i> a hundred thousand dollars bring any one
+satisfaction?”</p>
+
+<p>Miss Maggie laughed, then into her eyes came the mischievous twinkle
+that Mr. Smith had learned to watch for.</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t blame the poor money,” she said then demurely. “Blame—the way it
+is spent!”</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XVIII">CHAPTER XVIII<br />
+<span class='ph3'>JUST A MATTER OF BEGGING</span></h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>True to his promise, Mr. Smith “tried” Mr. Frank Blaisdell on “the
+ancestor business” very soon. Laboriously he got out his tabulated
+dates and names and carefully he traced for him several lines of
+descent from remote ancestors. Painstakingly he pointed out a “Submit,”
+who had no history but the bare fact of her marriage to one Thomas
+Blaisdell, and a “Thankful Marsh,” who had eluded his every attempt to
+supply her with parents. He let it be understood how important these
+missing links were, and he tried to inspire his possible pupil with
+a frenzied desire to go out and dig them up. He showed some of the
+interesting letters he had received from various Blaisdells far and
+near, and he spread before him the genealogical page of his latest
+“Transcript,” and explained how one might there stumble upon the very
+missing link he was looking for.</p>
+
+<p>But Mr. Frank Blaisdell was openly bored. He said he didn’t care how
+many children his great-grandfather had, nor what they died of; and as
+for Mrs. Submit and Miss Thankful, the ladies might bury themselves
+in the “Transcript,” or hide behind that wall of dates and names till
+doomsday, for all he cared. <i>He</i> shouldn’t disturb ’em. He never
+did like figures, he said, except figures that represented something
+worth while, like a day’s sales or a year’s profits.</p>
+
+<p>And speaking of grocery stores, had Mr. Smith ever seen a store run
+down as his old one had since he sold out? For that matter, something
+must have got into all the grocery stores; for a poorer lot of goods
+than those delivered every day at his home he never saw. It was a
+disgrace to the trade.</p>
+
+<p>He said a good deal more about his grocery store—but nothing whatever
+more about his Blaisdell ancestors; so Mr. Smith felt justified in
+considering his efforts to interest Mr. Frank Blaisdell in the ancestor
+business a failure. Certainly he never tried it again.</p>
+
+<p>It was in February that a certain metropolitan reporter, short for
+feature articles, ran up to Hillerton and contributed to his paper,
+the following Sunday, a write-up on “The Blaisdells One Year After,”
+enlarging on the fine new homes, the motor cars, and the luxurious
+living of the three families. And it was three days after this article
+was printed that Miss Flora appeared at Miss Maggie’s, breathless with
+excitement.</p>
+
+<p>“Just see what I’ve got in the mail this morning!” she cried to Miss
+Maggie, and to Mr. Smith, who had opened the door for her.</p>
+
+<p>With trembling fingers she took from her bag a letter, and a small
+picture evidently cut from a newspaper.</p>
+
+<p>“There, see,” she panted, holding them out. “It’s a man in Boston,
+and these are his children. There are seven of them. He wrote me a
+beautiful letter. He said he knew I must have a real kind heart,
+and he’s in terrible trouble. He said he saw in the paper about the
+wonderful legacy I’d had, and he told his wife he was going to write to
+me, to see if I wouldn’t help them—if only a little, it would aid them
+that much.”</p>
+
+<p>“He wants money, then?” Miss Maggie had taken the letter and the
+picture rather gingerly in her hands. Mr. Smith had gone over to the
+stove suddenly—to turn a damper, apparently, though a close observer
+might have noticed that he turned it back to its former position almost
+at once.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes,” palpitated Miss Flora. “He’s sick, and he lost his position, and
+his wife’s sick, and two of the children, and one of ’em’s lame, and
+another’s blind. Oh, it was such a pitiful story, Maggie! Why, some
+days they haven’t had enough to eat—and just look at me, with all my
+chickens and turkeys and more pudding every day than I can stuff down!”</p>
+
+<p>“Did he give you any references?”</p>
+
+<p>“References! What do you mean? He didn’t ask me to <i>hire</i> him for
+anything.”</p>
+
+<p>“No, no, dear, but I mean—did he give you any references, to show that
+he was—was worthy and all right,” explained Miss Maggie patiently.</p>
+
+<p>“Of course he didn’t! Why, he didn’t need to. He told me himself how
+things were with him,” rebuked Miss Flora indignantly. “It’s all in the
+letter there. Read for yourself.”</p>
+
+<p>“But he really ought to have given you <i>some</i> reference, dear, if
+he asked you for money.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I don’t want any reference. I believe him. I’d be ashamed to
+doubt a man like that! And <i>you</i> would, after you read that
+letter, and look into those blessed children’s faces. Besides, he never
+thought of such a thing—I know he didn’t. Why, he says right in the
+letter there that he never asked for help before, and he was so ashamed
+that he had to now.”</p>
+
+<p>[Illustration with caption: “AND LOOK INTO THOSE BLESSED CHILDREN’S
+FACES”]</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smith made a sudden odd little noise in his throat. Perhaps he got
+choked. At all events, he was seized with a fit of coughing just then.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Maggie turned over the letter in her hand.</p>
+
+<p>“Where does he tell you to send the money?”</p>
+
+<p>“It’s right there—Box four hundred and something; and I got a money
+order, just as he said.”</p>
+
+<p>“You <i>got</i> one! Do you mean that you’ve already sent this money?”
+cried Miss Maggie.</p>
+
+<p>“Why, yes, of course. I stopped at the office on the way down here.”</p>
+
+<p>“And you sent—a money order?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes. He said he would rather have that than a check.”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t doubt it! You don’t seem to have—delayed any.”</p>
+
+<p>“Of course I didn’t delay! Why, Maggie, he said he <i>had</i> to have
+it at once. He was going to be turned out—<i>turned out</i> into the
+streets! Think of those seven little children in the streets! Wait,
+indeed! Why, Maggie, what can you be thinking of?”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m thinking you’ve been the easy victim of a professional beggar,
+Flora,” retorted Miss Maggie, with some spirit, handing back the letter
+and the picture.</p>
+
+<p>“Why, Maggie, I never knew you to be so—so unkind,” charged Miss Flora,
+her eyes tearful. “He can’t be a professional beggar. He <i>said</i> he
+wasn’t—that he never begged before in his life.”</p>
+
+<p>Miss Maggie, with a despairing gesture, averted her face.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Flora turned to Mr. Smith.</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Smith, you—<i>you</i> don’t think so, do you?” she pleaded.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smith grew very red—perhaps because he had to stop to cough again.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, Miss Flora, I—I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I shall have to agree
+with Miss Maggie here, to some extent.”</p>
+
+<p>“But you didn’t read the letter. You don’t know how beautifully he
+talked.”</p>
+
+<p>“You told me; and you say yourself that he gave you only a post-office
+box for an address. So you see you couldn’t look him up very well.”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t need to!” Miss Flora threw back her head a little haughtily.
+“And I’m glad I don’t doubt my fellow men and women as you and Maggie
+Duff do! If either of you <i>knew</i> what you’re talking about, I
+wouldn’t say anything. But you don’t. You <i>can’t know</i> anything
+about this man, and you didn’t ever get letters like this, either
+of you, of course. But, anyhow, I don’t care if he ain’t worthy. I
+wouldn’t let those children suffer; and I—I’m glad I sent it. I never
+in my life was so happy as I was on the way here from the post-office
+this morning.”</p>
+
+<p>Without waiting for a reply, she turned away majestically; but at the
+door she paused and looked back at Miss Maggie.</p>
+
+<p>“And let me tell you that, however good or bad this particular man may
+be, it’s given me an idea, anyway,” she choked. The haughtiness was all
+gone now “I know now why it hasn’t seemed right to be so happy. It’s
+because there are so many other folks in the world that <i>aren’t</i>
+happy. Why, my chicken and turkey would choke me now if I didn’t give
+some of it to—to all these others. And I’m going to—<i>I’m going
+to!</i>” she reiterated, as she fled from the room.</p>
+
+<p>As the door shut crisply, Miss Maggie turned and looked at Mr. Smith.
+But Mr. Smith had crossed again to the stove and was fussing with the
+damper. Miss Maggie, after a moment’s hesitation, turned and went out
+into the kitchen, without speaking.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smith and Miss Maggie saw very little of Miss Flora after this for
+some time. But they heard a good deal about her. They heard of her
+generous gifts to families all over town.</p>
+
+<p>A turkey was sent to every house on Mill Street, without exception, and
+so much candy given to the children that half of them were made ill,
+much to the distress of Miss Flora, who, it was said, promptly sent a
+physician to undo her work. The Dow family, hard-working and thrifty,
+and the Nolans, notorious for their laziness and shiftlessness, each
+received a hundred dollars outright. The Whalens, always with both
+hands metaphorically outstretched for alms, were loud in their praises
+of Miss Flora’s great kindness of heart; but the Davises (Mrs. Jane
+Blaisdell’s impecunious relatives) had very visible difficulty in
+making Miss Flora understand that gifts bestowed as she bestowed them
+were more welcome unmade.</p>
+
+<p>Every day, from one quarter or another, came stories like these to the
+ears of Miss Maggie and Mr. Smith. But Miss Flora was seen very seldom.
+Then one day, about a month later, she appeared as before at the Duff
+cottage, breathless and agitated; only this time, plainly, she had been
+crying.</p>
+
+<p>“Why, Flora, what in the world is the matter?” cried Miss Maggie, as
+she hurried her visitor into a comfortable chair and began to unfasten
+her wraps.</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll tell you in a minute. I came on purpose to tell you. But I
+want Mr. Smith, too. Oh, he ain’t here, is he?” she lamented, with a
+disappointed glance toward the vacant chair by the table in the corner.
+“I thought maybe he could help me, some way. I won’t go to Frank, or
+Jim. They’ve—they’ve said so many things. Oh, I did so hope Mr. Smith
+was here!”</p>
+
+<p>“He is here, dear. He’s in his room. He just came in. I’ll call him,”
+comforted Miss Maggie, taking off Miss Flora’s veil and hat and
+smoothing back her hair. “But you don’t want him to find you crying
+like this, Flora. What is it, dear?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, yes, I know, but I’m not crying—I mean, I won’t any more. And
+I’ll tell you just as soon as you get Mr. Smith. It’s only that I’ve
+been—so silly, I suppose. Please get Mr. Smith.”</p>
+
+<p>“All right, dear.”</p>
+
+<p>Miss Maggie, still with the disturbed frown between her eyebrows,
+summoned Mr. Smith. Then together they sat down to hear Miss Flora’s
+story.</p>
+
+<p>“It all started, of course, from—from that day I brought the letter
+here—from that man in Boston with seven children, you know.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, I remember,” encouraged Miss Maggie.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I—I did quite a lot of things after that. I was so glad and
+happy to discover I could do things for folks. It seemed to—to take
+away the wickedness of my having so much, you know; and so I gave food
+and money, oh, lots of places here in town—everywhere, ’most, that I
+could find that anybody needed it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, I know. We heard of the many kind things you did, dear.” Miss
+Maggie had the air of one trying to soothe a grieved child.</p>
+
+<p>“But they didn’t turn out to be kind—all of ’em,” quavered Miss Flora.
+“Some of ’em went wrong. I don’t know why. I <i>tried</i> to do ’em all
+right!”</p>
+
+<p>“Of course you did!”</p>
+
+<p>“I know; but ’tain’t those I came to talk about. It’s the others—the
+letters.”</p>
+
+<p>“Letters?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes. I got ’em—lots of ’em—after the first one—the one you saw. First
+I got one, then another and another, till lately I’ve been getting ’em
+every day, ’most, and some days two or three at a time.”</p>
+
+<p>“And they all wanted—money, I suppose,” observed Mr. Smith, “for their
+sick wives and children, I suppose.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, not for children always—though it was them a good deal. But it was
+for different things—and such a lot of them! I never knew there could
+be so many kinds of such things. And I was real pleased, at first,—that
+I could help, you know, in so many places.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then you always sent it—the money?” asked Mr. Smith.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, yes. Why, I just had to, the way they wrote; I wanted to, too.
+They wrote lovely letters, and real interesting ones, too. One man
+wanted a warm coat for his little girl, and he told me all about what
+hard times they’d had. Another wanted a brace for his poor little
+crippled boy, and <i>he</i> told me things. Why, I never s’posed folks
+could have such awful things, and live! One woman just wanted to borrow
+twenty dollars while she was so sick. She didn’t ask me to give it to
+her. She wasn’t a beggar. Don’t you suppose I’d send her that money? Of
+course I would! And there was a poor blind man—he wanted money to buy a
+Bible in raised letters; and of <i>course</i> I wouldn’t refuse that!
+Some didn’t beg; they just wanted to sell things. I bought a diamond
+ring to help put a boy through school, and a ruby pin of a man who
+needed the money for bread for his children. And there was—oh, there
+was lots of ’em—too many to tell.”</p>
+
+<p>“And all from Boston, I presume,” murmured Mr. Smith.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, no,—why, yes, they were, too, most of ’em, when you come to think
+of it. But how did you know?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, I—guessed it. But go on. You haven’t finished.”</p>
+
+<p>“No, I haven’t finished,” moaned Miss Flora, almost crying again. “And
+now comes the worst of it. As I said, at first I liked it—all these
+letters—and I was so glad to help. But they’re coming so fast now I
+don’t know what to do with ’em. And I never saw such a lot of things
+as they want—pensions and mortgages, and pianos, and educations, and
+wedding dresses, and clothes to be buried in, and—and there were so
+many, and—and so queer, some of ’em, that I began to be afraid maybe
+they weren’t quite honest, all of ’em, and of course I <i>can’t</i>
+send to such a lot as there are now, anyway, and I was getting so
+worried. Besides, I got another one of those awful proposals from those
+dreadful men that want to marry me. As if I didn’t know <i>that</i> was
+for my money! Then to-day, this morning, I—I got the worst of all.”
+From her bag she took an envelope and drew out a small picture of
+several children, cut apparently from a newspaper. “Look at that. Did
+you ever see that before?” she demanded.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Maggie scrutinized the picture.</p>
+
+<p>“Why, no,—yes, it’s the one you brought us a month ago, isn’t it?”</p>
+
+<p>Miss Flora’s eyes flashed angrily.</p>
+
+<p>“Indeed, it ain’t! The one I showed you before is in my bureau drawer
+at home. But I got it out this morning, when this one came, and
+compared them; and they’re just exactly alike—<i>exactly</i>!”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, he wrote again, then,—wants more money, I suppose,” frowned Miss
+Maggie.</p>
+
+<p>“No, he didn’t. It ain’t the same man. This man’s name is Haley, and
+that one was Fay. But Mr. Haley says this is a picture of his children,
+and he says that the little girl in the corner is Katy, and she’s
+deaf and dumb; but Mr. Fay said her name was Rosie, and that she was
+<i>lame</i>. And all the others—their names ain’t the same, either,
+and there ain’t any of ’em blind. And, of course, I know now that—that
+one of those men is lying to me. Why, they cut them out of the same
+newspaper; they’ve got the same reading on the back! And I—I don’t
+know what to believe now. And there are all those letters at home that
+I haven’t answered yet; and they keep coming—why, I just dread to see
+the postman turn down our street. And one man—he wrote twice. I didn’t
+like his first letter and didn’t answer it; and now he says if I
+don’t send him the money he’ll tell everybody everywhere what a stingy
+t-tight-wad I am. And another man said he’d come and <i>take</i> it if
+I didn’t send it; and you <i>know</i> how afraid of burglars I am! Oh
+what shall I do, what shall I do?” she begged piteously.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smith said a sharp word behind his teeth.</p>
+
+<p>“Do?” he cried then wrathfully. “First, don’t you worry another bit,
+Miss Flora. Second, just hand those letters over to me—every one of
+them. I’ll attend to ’em!”</p>
+
+<p>“To <i>you</i>?” gasped Miss Flora. “But—how can you?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, I’ll be your secretary. Most rich people have to have secretaries,
+you know.”</p>
+
+<p>“But how’ll you know how to answer <i>my</i> letters?” demanded Miss
+Flora dubiously. “Have you ever been—a secretary?”</p>
+
+<p>“N-no, not exactly a secretary. But—I’ve had some experience with
+similar letters,” observed Mr. Smith dryly.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Flora drew a long sigh.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, dear! I wish you could. Do you think you can? I hoped maybe you
+could help me some way, but I never thought of that—your answering ’em,
+I mean. I supposed everybody had to answer their own letters. How’ll
+you know what I want to say?”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smith laughed a little.</p>
+
+<p>“I shan’t be answering what <i>you</i> want to say—but what _I_ want
+to say. In this case, Miss Flora, I exceed the prerogatives of the
+ordinary secretary just a bit, you see. But you can count on one
+thing—I shan’t be spending any money for you.”</p>
+
+<p>“You won’t send them anything, then?”</p>
+
+<p>“Not a red cent.”</p>
+
+<p>Miss Flora looked distressed.</p>
+
+<p>“But, Mr. Smith, I want to send some of ’em something! I want to be
+kind and charitable.”</p>
+
+<p>“Of course you do, dear,” spoke up Miss Maggie. “But you aren’t being
+either kind or charitable to foster rascally fakes like that,” pointing
+to the picture in Miss Flora’s lap.</p>
+
+<p>“Are they <i>all</i> fakes, then?”</p>
+
+<p>“I’d stake my life on most of ’em,” declared Mr. Smith. “They have all
+the earmarks of fakes, all right.”</p>
+
+<p>Miss Flora stirred restlessly.</p>
+
+<p>“But I was having a beautiful time giving until these horrid letters
+began to come.”</p>
+
+<p>“Flora, do you give because <i>you</i> like the sensation of giving,
+and of receiving thanks, or because you really want to help somebody?”
+asked Miss Maggie, a bit wearily.</p>
+
+<p>“Why, Maggie Duff, I want to help people, of course,” almost wept Miss
+Flora.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, then, suppose you try and give so it will help them, then,” said
+Miss Maggie. “One of the most risky things in the world, to my way of
+thinking, is a present of—cash. Don’t you think so, Mr. Smith?”</p>
+
+<p>“Er—ah—w-what? Y-yes, of course,” stammered Mr. Smith, growing
+suddenly, for some unapparent reason, very much confused. “Yes—yes, I
+do.” As Mr. Smith finished speaking, he threw an oddly nervous glance
+into Miss Maggie’s face.</p>
+
+<p>But Miss Maggie had turned back to Miss Flora.</p>
+
+<p>“There, dear,” she admonished her, “now, you do just as Mr. Smith says.
+Just hand over your letters to him for a while, and forget all about
+them. He’ll tell you how he answers them, of course. But you won’t have
+to worry about them any more. Besides they’ll soon stop coming,—won’t
+they, Mr. Smith?”</p>
+
+<p>“I think they will. They’ll dwindle to a few scattering ones,
+anyway,—after I’ve handled them for a while.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I should like that,” sighed Miss Flora. “But—can’t I give
+anything anywhere?” she besought plaintively.</p>
+
+<p>“Of course you can!” cried Miss Maggie. “But I would investigate a
+little, first, dear. Wouldn’t you, Mr. Smith? Don’t you believe in
+investigation?”</p>
+
+<p>Once again, before he answered, Mr. Smith threw a swiftly questioning
+glance into Miss Maggie’s face.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, oh, yes; I believe in—investigation,” he said then. “And now,
+Miss Flora,” he added briskly, as Miss Flora reached for her wraps,
+“with your kind permission I’ll walk home with you and have a look
+at—my new job of secretarying.”</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIX">CHAPTER XIX<br />
+<span class='ph3'>STILL OTHER FLIES</span></h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>It was when his duties of secretaryship to Miss Flora had dwindled to
+almost infinitesimal proportions that Mr. Smith wished suddenly that he
+were serving Miss Maggie in that capacity, so concerned was he over a
+letter that had come to Miss Maggie in that morning’s mail.</p>
+
+<p>He himself had taken it from the letter-carrier’s hand and had placed
+it on Miss Maggie’s little desk. Casually, as he did so, he had noticed
+that it bore a name he recognized as that of a Boston law firm; but he
+had given it no further thought until later, when, as he sat at his
+work in the living-room, he had heard Miss Maggie give a low cry and
+had looked up to find her staring at the letter in her hand, her face
+going from red to white and back to red again.</p>
+
+<p>“Why, Miss Maggie, what is it?” he cried, springing to his feet.</p>
+
+<p>As she turned toward him he saw that her eyes were full of tears.</p>
+
+<p>“Why, it—it’s a letter telling me—” She stopped abruptly, her eyes on
+his face.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, yes, tell me,” he begged. “Why, you are—<i>crying</i>, dear!” Mr.
+Smith, plainly quite unaware of the caressing word he had used, came
+nearer, his face aglow with sympathy, his eyes very tender.</p>
+
+<p>The red surged once more over Miss Maggie’s face. She drew back a
+little, though manifestly with embarrassment, not displeasure.</p>
+
+<p>“It’s—nothing, really it’s nothing,” she stammered. “It’s just a letter
+that—that surprised me.”</p>
+
+<p>“But it made you cry!”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, well, I—I cry easily sometimes.” With hands that shook visibly,
+she folded the letter and tucked it into its envelope. Then with a
+carelessness that was a little too elaborate, she tossed it into her
+open desk. Very plainly, whatever she had meant to do in the first
+place, she did not now intend to disclose to Mr. Smith the contents of
+that letter.</p>
+
+<p>“Miss Maggie, please tell me—was it bad news?”</p>
+
+<p>“Bad? Why, of course not!” She laughed gayly.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smith thought he detected a break very like a sob in the laugh.</p>
+
+<p>“But maybe I could—help you,” he pleaded.</p>
+
+<p>She shook her head.</p>
+
+<p>“You couldn’t—indeed, you couldn’t!”</p>
+
+<p>“Miss Maggie, was it—money matters?”</p>
+
+<p>He had his answer in the telltale color that flamed instantly into her
+face—but her lips said:—</p>
+
+<p>“It was—nothing—I mean, it was nothing that need concern you.” She
+hurried away then to the kitchen, and Mr. Smith was left alone to fume
+up and down the room and frown savagely at the offending envelope
+tip-tilted against the ink bottle in Miss Maggie’s desk, just as Miss
+Maggie’s carefully careless hand had thrown it.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Maggie had several more letters from the Boston law firm, and
+Mr. Smith knew it—though he never heard Miss Maggie cry out at any
+of the other ones. That they affected her deeply, however, he was
+certain. Her very evident efforts to lead him to think that they were
+of no consequence would convince him of their real importance to her
+if nothing else had done so. He watched her, therefore, covertly,
+fearfully, longing to help her, but not daring to offer his services.</p>
+
+<p>That the affair had something to do with money matters he was sure.
+That she would not deny this naturally strengthened him in this belief.
+He came in time, therefore, to formulate his own opinion: she had lost
+money—perhaps a good deal (for her), and she was too proud to let him
+or any one else know it.</p>
+
+<p>He watched then all the more carefully to see if he could detect any
+<i>new</i> economies or new deprivations in her daily living. Then,
+because he could not discover any such, he worried all the more: if she
+<i>had</i> lost that money, she ought to economize, certainly. Could
+she be so foolish as to carry her desire for secrecy to so absurd a
+length as to live just exactly as before when she really could not
+afford it?</p>
+
+<p>It was at about this time that Mr. Smith requested to have hot water
+brought to his room morning and night, for which service he insisted,
+in spite of Miss Maggie’s remonstrances, on paying three dollars a week
+extra.</p>
+
+<p>There came a strange man to call one day. He was a member of the Boston
+law firm. Mr. Smith found out that much, but no more. Miss Maggie was
+almost hysterical after his visit. She talked very fast and laughed a
+good deal at supper that night; yet her eyes were full of tears nearly
+all the time, as Mr. Smith did not fail to perceive.</p>
+
+<p>“And I suppose she thinks she’s hiding it from me—that her heart is
+breaking!” muttered Mr. Smith savagely to himself, as he watched Miss
+Maggie’s nervous efforts to avoid meeting his eyes. “I vow I’ll have it
+out of her. I’ll have it out—to-morrow!”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smith did not “have it out” with Miss Maggie the following day,
+however. Something entirely outside of himself sent his thoughts into a
+new channel.</p>
+
+<p>He was alone in the Duff living-room, and was idling over his work, at
+his table in the corner, when Mrs. Hattie Blaisdell opened the door and
+hurried in, wringing her hands. Her face was red and swollen from tears.</p>
+
+<p>“Where’s Maggie? I want Maggie! Isn’t Maggie here?” she implored.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smith sprang to his feet and hastened toward her.</p>
+
+<p>“Why, Mrs. Blaisdell, what is it? No, she isn’t here. I’m so sorry!
+Can’t I do—anything?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, I don’t know—I don’t know,” moaned the woman, flinging herself
+into a chair. “There can’t anybody do anything, I s’pose; but I’ve
+<i>got</i> to have somebody. I can’t stay there in that house—I can’t—I
+can’t—I <i>can’t</i>!”</p>
+
+<p>“No, no, of course not. And you shan’t,” soothed the man. “And she’ll
+be here soon, I’m sure—Miss Maggie will. But just let me help you off
+with your things,” he urged, somewhat awkwardly trying to unfasten her
+heavy wraps. “You’ll be so warm here.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, I know, I know.” Impatiently she jerked off the rich fur coat and
+tossed it into his arms; then she dropped into the chair again and fell
+to wringing her hands. “Oh, what shall I do, what shall I do?”</p>
+
+<p>“But what is it?” stammered Mr. Smith helplessly. “Can’t I
+do—something? Can’t I send for—for your husband?”</p>
+
+<p>At the mention of her husband, Mrs. Blaisdell fell to weeping afresh.</p>
+
+<p>“No, no! He’s gone—to Fred, you know.”</p>
+
+<p>“To—Fred?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, yes, that’s what’s the matter. Oh, Fred, Fred, my boy!”</p>
+
+<p>“Fred! Oh, Mrs. Blaisdell, I’m so sorry! But what—<i>is</i> it?”</p>
+
+<p>The woman dropped her hands from her face and looked up wildly, half
+defiantly.</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Smith, <i>you</i> know Fred. You liked him, didn’t you? He isn’t
+bad and wicked, is he? And they can’t shut him up if—if we pay it
+back—all of it that he took? They won’t take my boy—to <i>prison</i>?”</p>
+
+<p>“To <i>prison—Fred!</i>”</p>
+
+<p>At the look of horror on Mr. Smith’s face, she began to wring her hands
+again.</p>
+
+<p>“You don’t know, of course. I’ll have to tell you—I’ll have to,” she
+moaned.</p>
+
+<p>“But, my dear woman,—not unless you want to.”</p>
+
+<p>“I do want to—I do want to! I’ve <i>got</i> to talk—to somebody. It’s
+this way.” With a visible effort she calmed herself a little and
+forced herself to talk more coherently. “We got a letter from Fred.
+It came this morning. He wanted, some money—quick. He wanted seven
+hundred dollars and forty-two cents. He said he’d got to have it—if
+he didn’t, he’d go and <i>kill</i> himself. He said he’d spent all of
+his allowance, every cent, and that’s what made him take it—this other
+money, in the first place.”</p>
+
+<p>“You mean—money that didn’t belong to him?” Mr. Smith’s voice was a
+little stern.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes; but you mustn’t blame him, you mustn’t blame him, Mr. Smith. He
+said he owed it. It was a—a debt of honor. Those were his very words.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh! A debt of honor, was it?” Mr. Smith’s lips came together grimly.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes; and—Oh, Maggie, Maggie, what shall I do? What shall I do?” she
+broke off wildly, leaping to her feet as Miss Maggie pushed open the
+door and hurried in.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, I know. Don’t worry. We’ll find something to do.” Miss Maggie,
+white-faced, but with a cheery smile, was throwing off her heavy coat
+and her hat. A moment later she came over and took Mrs. Hattie’s
+trembling hands in both her own. “Now, first, tell me all about it,
+dear.”</p>
+
+<p>“You <i>know</i>, then?”</p>
+
+<p>“Only a little,” answered Miss Maggie, gently pushing the other back
+into her chair. “I met Frank. Jim telephoned him something, just before
+he left. But I want the whole story. Now, what is it?”
+“I was just telling Mr. Smith.” She began to wring her hands again,
+but Miss Maggie caught and held them firmly. “You see, Fred, he was
+treasurer of some club, or society, or something; and—and he—he needed
+some money to—to pay a man, and he took that—the money that belonged
+to the club, you know, and he thought he could pay it back, little by
+little. But something happened—I don’t know what—a new treasurer, or
+something: anyhow, it was going to be found out—that he’d taken it.
+It was going to be found out to-morrow, and so he wrote the letter to
+his father. And Jim’s gone. But he looked so—oh, I never saw him look
+so white and terrible. And I’m so afraid—of what he’ll do—to Fred. My
+boy—my boy!”</p>
+
+<p>“Is Jim going to give him the money?” asked Miss Maggie.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, oh, yes. Jim drew it out of the bank. Fred said he must have
+cash. And he’s going to give it to him. Oh, they can’t shut him up—they
+<i>can’t</i> send him to prison <i>now</i>, can they?”</p>
+
+<p>“Hush, dear! No, they won’t send him to prison. If Jim has gone with
+the money, Fred will pay it back and nobody will know it. But, Hattie,
+Fred <i>did</i> it, just the same.”</p>
+
+<p>“I—I know it.”</p>
+
+<p>“And, Hattie, don’t you see? Something will have to be done. Don’t you
+see where all this is leading? Fred has been gambling, hasn’t he?”</p>
+
+<p>“I—I’m afraid so.”</p>
+
+<p>“And you know he drinks.”</p>
+
+<p>“Y-yes. But he isn’t going to, any more. He said he wasn’t. He wrote
+a beautiful letter. He said if his father would help him out of this
+scrape, he’d never get into another one, and he’d <i>show</i> him how
+much he appreciated it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Good! I’m glad to hear that,” cried Miss Maggie. “He’ll come out all
+right, yet.”</p>
+
+<p>“Of course he will!” Mr. Smith, over at the window, blew his nose
+vigorously. Mr. Smith had not sat down since Miss Maggie’s entrance.
+He had crossed to the window, and had stood looking out—at nothing—all
+through Mrs. Hattie’s story.</p>
+
+<p>“You do think he will, don’t you?” choked Mrs. Hattie, turning from one
+to the other piteously. “He said he was ashamed of himself; that this
+thing had been an awful lesson to him, and he promised—oh, he promised
+lots of things, if Jim would only go up and help him out of this.
+He’d never, never have to again. But he will, I know he will, if that
+Gaylord fellow stays there. The whole thing was his fault—I know it
+was. I hate him! I hate the whole family!”</p>
+
+<p>“Why, Hattie, I thought you liked them!”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t. They’re mean, stuck-up things, and they snub me awfully.
+Don’t you suppose I know when I’m being snubbed? And that Gaylord
+girl—she’s just as bad, and she’s making my Bessie just like her. I got
+Bess into the same school with her, you know, and I was so proud and
+happy. But I’m not—any longer. Why, my Bess, my own daughter, actually
+looks down on us. She’s ashamed of her own father and mother—and she
+shows it. And it’s that Gaylord girl that’s done it, too, I believe. I
+thought I—I was training my daughter to be a lady—a real lady; but I
+never meant to train her to look down on—on her own mother!”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m afraid Bessie—needs something of a lesson,” commented Miss Maggie
+tersely. “But Bessie will be older, one of these days, Hattie, and then
+she’ll—know more.”</p>
+
+<p>“But that’s what I’ve been trying to teach her—‘more,’ something more
+all the time, Maggie,” sighed Mrs. Hattie, wiping her eyes. “And I’ve
+tried to remember and call her Elizabeth, too.—but I can’t. But,
+somehow, to-day, nothing seems of any use, any way. And even if she
+learns more and more, I don’t see as it’s going to do any good. I
+haven’t got <i>any</i> friends now. I’m not fine enough yet, it seems,
+for Mrs. Gaylord and all that crowd. They don’t want me among them, and
+they show it. And all my old friends are so envious and jealous since
+the money came that <i>they</i> don’t want me, and <i>they</i> show it;
+so I don’t feel comfortable anywhere.”</p>
+
+<p>“Never mind, dear, just stop trying to live as you think other folks
+want you to live, and live as <i>you</i> want to, for a while.”</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Hattie smiled faintly, wiped her eyes again, and got to her feet.</p>
+
+<p>“You talk just like Jim. He’s always saying that.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, just try it,” smiled Miss Maggie, helping her visitor into the
+luxurious fur coat. “You’ve no idea how much more comfort you’ll take.”</p>
+
+<p>“Would I?” Mrs. Hattie’s eyes were wistful, but almost instantly they
+showed an alert gleam of anger.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, anyhow, I’m not going to try to do what those Gaylords do any
+longer. And—and you’re <i>sure</i> Fred won’t have to go to prison?”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m very sure,” nodded Miss Maggie.</p>
+
+<p>“All right, then. I can go home now with some comfort. You always make
+me feel better, Maggie, and you, too, Mr. Smith. I’m much obliged to
+you. Good-bye.”</p>
+
+<p>“Good-bye,” said Mr. Smith.</p>
+
+<p>“Good-bye,” said Miss Maggie. “Now, go home and go to bed, and don’t
+worry any more or you’ll have one of your headaches.”</p>
+
+<p>As the door closed behind her visitor, Miss Maggie turned and sank into
+a chair. She looked worn and white, and utterly weary.</p>
+
+<p>“I hope she won’t meet Frank or Jane anywhere.” She sighed profoundly.</p>
+
+<p>“Why? What do you mean? Do you think they’d blame her—about this
+unfortunate affair of Fred’s?”</p>
+
+<p>Miss Maggie sighed again.</p>
+
+<p>“I wasn’t thinking of that. I was thinking of another matter. I just
+came from Frank’s, and—”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes?” Something in her face sent a questioning frown to Mr. Smith’s
+own countenance.</p>
+
+<p>“Do you remember hearing Flora say that Jane had bought a lot of the
+Benson gold-mine stock?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, Benson has failed; and they’ve just found out that that
+gold-mine stock is worth—about two cents on a dollar.”</p>
+
+<p>“Two cents! And how much—”</p>
+
+<p>“About forty thousand dollars,” said Miss Maggie wearily.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smith sat down.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I’ll be—”</p>
+
+<p>He did not finish his sentence.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XX">CHAPTER XX<br />
+<span class='ph3'>FRANKENSTEIN: BEING A LETTER FROM JOHN SMITH TO EDWARD D. NORTON,
+ATTORNEY AT LAW</span></h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>My dear Ned:—Wasn’t there a story written once about a fellow who
+created some sort of a machine man without any soul that raised the
+very dickens and all for him? Frank—Frankenstein?—I guess that was it.
+Well, I’ve created a Frankenstein creature—and I’m dead up against it
+to know what to do with him.</p>
+
+<p>Ned, what in Heaven’s name am I going to do with Mr. John Smith? Mr.
+John Smith, let me tell you, is a very healthy, persistent, insistent,
+important person, with many kind friends, a definite position in the
+world, and no small degree of influence. Worse yet (now prepare for a
+stunning blow, Ned!), Mr. Smith has been so inconsiderate as to fall
+in love. Yes, he has. And he has fallen in love as absolutely and
+as idiotically as if he were twenty-one instead of fifty-two. Now,
+will you kindly tell me how Mr. John Smith is going to fade away into
+nothingness? And, even if he finds the way to do that, shall he, before
+fading, pop the question for Mr. Stanley G. Fulton, or shall he trust
+to Mr. Stanley G. Fulton’s being able to win for himself the love Mr.
+John Smith fondly hopes is his?</p>
+
+<p>Seriously, joking aside, I’m afraid I’ve made a mess of things, not
+only for myself, but for everybody else.</p>
+
+<p>First, my own future. I’ll spare you rhapsodies, Ned. They say, anyway,
+that there’s no fool like an old fool. But I will admit that that
+future looks very dark to me if I am not to have the companionship of
+the little woman, Maggie Duff. Oh, yes, it’s “Poor Maggie.” You’ve
+probably guessed as much. As for Miss Maggie herself, perhaps it’s
+conceited, but I believe she’s not entirely indifferent to Mr. John
+Smith. How she’ll like Mr. Stanley G. Fulton I have my doubts; but,
+alas! I have no doubts whatever as to what her opinion will be of Mr.
+Stanley G. Fulton’s masquerading as Mr. John Smith! And I don’t envy
+Mr. Stanley G. Fulton the job he’s got on his hands to put himself
+right with her, either. But there’s one thing he can be sure of, at
+least; if she does care for Mr. John Smith, it wasn’t Mr. Stanley G.
+Fulton’s money that was the bait.</p>
+
+<p>Poor Maggie! (There! you see already I have adopted the Hillerton
+vernacular.) But I fear Miss Maggie is indeed “poor” now. She has
+had several letters that I don’t like the looks of, and a call from
+a villainous-looking man from Boston—one of your craft, I believe
+(begging your pardon). I think she’s lost some money, and I don’t
+believe she had any extra to lose. She’s as proud as Lucifer, however,
+and she’s determined no one shall find out she’s lost any money, so
+her laugh is gayer than ever. But I know, just the same. I can hear
+something in her voice that isn’t laughter.</p>
+
+<p>Jove! Ned, what a mess I <i>have</i> made of it! I feel more than ever
+now like the boy with his ear to the keyhole. These people are my
+friends—or, rather, they are Mr. John Smith’s friends. As for being
+mine—who am I, Smith, or Fulton? Will they be Fulton’s friends, after
+they find he is John Smith? Will they be Smith’s friends, even, after
+they find he is Fulton? Pleasant position I am in! What?</p>
+
+<p>Oh, yes, I can hear you say that it serves me right, and that you
+warned me, and that I was deaf to all remonstrances. It does. You did.
+I was. Now, we’ll waste no more time on that. I’ve admitted all you
+could say. I’ve acknowledged my error, and my transgression is ever
+before me. I built the box, I walked into it, and I deliberately shut
+the cover down. But now I want to get out. I’ve got to get out—some
+way. I can’t spend the rest of my natural existence as John Smith,
+hunting Blaisdell data—though sometimes I think I’d be willing to, if
+it’s the only way to stay with Miss Maggie. I tell you, that little
+woman can make a home out of—</p>
+
+<p>But I couldn’t stay with Miss Maggie. John Smith wouldn’t have money
+enough to pay his board, to say nothing of inviting Miss Maggie to
+board with him, would he? The opening of Mr. Stanley G. Fulton’s last
+will and testament on the first day of next November will effectually
+cut off Mr. John Smith’s source of income. There is no provision in the
+will for Mr. John Smith. Smith would have to go to work. I don’t think
+he’d like that. By the way, I wonder: do you suppose John Smith could
+earn—his salt, if he was hard put to it? Very plainly, then, something
+has got to be done about getting John Smith to fade away, and Stanley
+G. Fulton to appear before next November.</p>
+
+<p>And I had thought it would be so easy! Early this summer John Smith was
+to pack up his Blaisdell data, bid a pleasant adieu to Hillerton, and
+betake himself to South America. In due course, after a short trip to
+some obscure Inca city, or down some little-known river, Mr. Stanley
+G. Fulton would arrive at some South American hotel from the interior,
+and would take immediate passage for the States, reaching Chicago long
+before November first.</p>
+
+<p>There would be a slight flurry, of course, and a few annoying
+interviews and write-ups; but Mr. Stanley G. Fulton always was known to
+keep his affairs to himself pretty well, and the matter would soon be
+put down as merely another of the multi-millionaire’s eccentricities.
+The whole thing would then be all over, and well over. But—nowhere
+had there been taken into consideration the possibilities of—a Maggie
+Duff. And now, to me, that same Maggie Duff is the only thing worth
+considering—anywhere. So there you are!</p>
+
+<p>And even after all this, I haven’t accomplished what I set out to
+do—that is, find the future possessor of the Fulton millions (unless
+Miss Maggie—bless her!—says “yes.” And even then, some one will have to
+have them after us). I have found out one thing, though. As conditions
+are now, I should not want either Frank, or James, or Flora to have
+them—not unless the millions could bring them more happiness than these
+hundred thousand apiece have brought.</p>
+
+<p>Honest, Ned, that miserable money has made more—But, never mind. It’s
+too long a story to write. I’ll tell you when I see you—if I ever do
+see you. There’s still the possibility, you know, that Mr. Stanley
+G. Fulton is lost in darkest South America, and of course John Smith
+<i>can</i> go to work!</p>
+
+<p>I believe I won’t sign any name—I haven’t got any name—that I feel
+really belongs to me now. Still I might—yes, I will sign it</p>
+
+<p class='right'>“<i>Frankenstein</i>.”</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXI">CHAPTER XXI<br />
+<span class='ph3'>SYMPATHIES MISPLACED</span></h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>The first time Mr. Smith saw Frank Blaisdell, after Miss Maggie’s news
+of the forty-thousand-dollar loss, he tried, somewhat awkwardly, to
+express his interest and sympathy. But Frank Blaisdell cut him short.</p>
+
+<p>“That’s all right, and I thank you,” he cried heartily. “And I know
+most folks would think losing forty thousand dollars was about as
+bad as it could be. Jane, now, is all worked up over it; can’t sleep
+nights, and has gone back to turning down the gas and eating sour cream
+so’s to save and help make it up. But me—I call it the best thing that
+ever happened.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, really,” laughed Mr. Smith; “I’m sure that’s a very delightful
+way to look at it—if you can.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I can; and I’ll tell you why. It’s put me back where I
+belong—behind the counter of a grocery store. I’ve bought out the old
+stand. Oh, I had enough left for that, and more! Closed the deal last
+night. Gorry, but I was glad to feel the old floor under my feet again!”</p>
+
+<p>“But I thought you—you were tired of work, and—wanted to enjoy
+yourself,” stammered Mr. Smith.</p>
+
+<p>Frank Blaisdell laughed.</p>
+
+<p>“Tired of work—wanted to enjoy myself, indeed! Yes, I know I did say
+something like that. But, let me tell you this, Mr. Smith. Talk about
+work!—I never worked so hard in my life as I have the last ten months
+trying to enjoy myself. How these folks can stand gadding ’round the
+country week in and week out, feeding their stomachs on a French
+dictionary instead of good United States meat and potatoes and squash,
+and spending their days traipsing off to see things they ain’t a mite
+interested in, and their nights trying to get rested so they can go and
+see some more the next day, I don’t understand.”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smith chuckled.</p>
+
+<p>“I’m afraid these touring agencies wouldn’t like to have you write
+their ads for them, Mr. Blaisdell!”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, they hadn’t better ask me to,” smiled the other grimly. “But
+that ain’t all. Since I come back I’ve been working even harder trying
+to enjoy myself here at home—knockin’ silly little balls over a
+ten-acre lot in a game a healthy ten-year-old boy would scorn to play.”</p>
+
+<p>“But how about your new car? Didn’t you enjoy riding in that?” bantered
+Mr. Smith.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, yes, I enjoyed the riding well enough; but I didn’t enjoy hunting
+for punctures, putting on new tires, or burrowing into the inside of
+the critter to find out why she didn’t go! And that’s what I was doing
+most of the time. I never did like machinery. It ain’t in my line.”</p>
+
+<p>He paused a moment, then went on a little wistfully:—</p>
+
+<p>“I suspect, Mr. Smith, there ain’t anything in my line but groceries.
+It’s all I know. It’s all I ever have known. If—if I had my life to
+live over again, I’d do different, maybe. I’d see if I couldn’t find
+out what there was in a picture to make folks stand and stare at it
+an hour at a time when you could see the whole thing in a minute—and
+it wa’n’t worth lookin’ at, anyway, even for a minute. And music,
+too. Now, I like a good tune what is a tune; but them caterwaulings
+and dirges that that chap Gray plays on that fiddle of his—gorry, Mr.
+Smith, I’d rather hear the old barn door at home squeak any day. But
+if I was younger I’d try to learn to like ’em. I would! Look at Flora,
+now. She can set by the hour in front of that phonygraph of hers, and
+not know it!”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, I know,” smiled Mr. Smith.</p>
+
+<p>“And there’s books, too,” resumed the other, still wistfully. “I’d read
+books—if I could stay awake long enough to do it—and I’d find out what
+there was in ’em to make a good sensible man like Jim Blaisdell daft
+over ’em—and Maggie Duff, too. Why, that little woman used to go hungry
+sometimes, when she was a girl, so she could buy a book she wanted. I
+know she did. Why, I’d ‘a’ given anything this last year if I could ‘a’
+got interested—really interested, readin’. I could ‘a’ killed an awful
+lot of time that way. But I couldn’t do it. I bought a lot of ’em,
+too, an’ tried it; but I expect I didn’t begin young enough. I tell
+ye, Mr. Smith, I’ve about come to the conclusion that there ain’t a
+thing in the world so hard to kill as time. I’ve tried it, and I know.
+Why, I got so I couldn’t even kill it <i>eatin’</i>—though I ’most
+killed myself <i>tryin’</i> to! An’ let me tell ye another thing. A
+full stomach ain’t in it with bein’ hungry an’ knowing a good dinner’s
+coming. Why, there was whole weeks at a time back there that I didn’t
+know the meaning of the word ‘hungry.’ You’d oughter seen the jolt I
+give one o’ them waiter-chaps one day when he comes up with his paper
+and his pencil and asks me what I wanted. ‘Want?’ says I. ‘There ain’t
+but one thing on this earth I want, and you can’t give it to me. I want
+to <i>want</i> something. I’m tired of bein’ so blamed satisfied all
+the time!’”</p>
+
+<p>“And what did—Alphonso say to that?” chuckled Mr. Smith appreciatively.</p>
+
+<p>“Alphonso? Oh, the waiter-fellow, you mean? Oh, he just stared a
+minute, then mumbled his usual ‘Yes, sir, very good, sir,’ and shoved
+that confounded printed card of his a little nearer to my nose. But,
+there! I guess you’ve heard enough of this, Mr. Smith. It’s only that I
+was trying to tell you why I’m actually glad we lost that money. It’s
+give me back my man’s job again.”</p>
+
+<p>“Good! All right, then. I won’twaste any more sympathy on you,” laughed
+Mr. Smith.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, you needn’t. And there’s another thing. I hope it’ll give me
+back a little of my old faith in my fellow-man.”</p>
+
+<p>“What do you mean by that?”</p>
+
+<p>“Just this. I won’t suspect every man, woman, and child that says a
+civil word to me now of having designs on my pocketbook. Why, Mr.
+Smith, you wouldn’t believe it, if I told you, the things that’s been
+done and said to get a little money out of me. Of course, the open
+gold-brick schemes I knew enough to dodge, ’most of ’em (unless you
+count in that darn Benson mining stock), and I spotted the blackmailers
+all right, most generally. But I <i>was</i> flabbergasted when a
+<i>woman</i> tackled the job and began to make love to me—actually
+make love to me!—one day when Jane’s back was turned. Gorry! <i>Do</i>
+I look such a fool as that, Mr. Smith? Well, anyhow, there won’t be
+any more of that kind, nor anybody after my money now, I guess,” he
+finished with a sage wag of his head as he turned away.</p>
+
+<p>To Miss Maggie that evening Mr. Smith said, after recounting the
+earlier portion of the conversation: “So you see you were right, after
+all. I shall have to own it up. Mr. Frank Blaisdell had plenty to
+retire upon, but nothing to retire to. But I’m glad—if he’s happy now.”</p>
+
+<p>“And he isn’t the only one that that forty-thousand-dollar loss has
+done a good turn to,” nodded Miss Maggie. “Mellicent has just been
+here. You know she’s home from school. It’s the Easter vacation,
+anyway, but she isn’t going back. It’s too expensive.”
+Miss Maggie spoke with studied casualness, but there was an added color
+in her cheeks—Miss Maggie always flushed a little when she mentioned
+Mellicent’s name to Mr. Smith, in spite of her indignant efforts not to
+do so.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, is that true?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes. Well, the Pennocks had a dance last night, and Mellicent went.
+She said she had to laugh to see Mrs. Pennock’s efforts to keep Carl
+away from her—the loss of the money is known everywhere now, and has
+been greatly exaggerated, I’ve heard. She said that even Hibbard
+Gaylord had the air of one trying to let her down easy. Mellicent was
+immensely amused.”</p>
+
+<p>“Where was Donald Gray?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, he wasn’t there. He doesn’t move in the Pennock crowd much. But
+Mellicent sees him, and—and everything’s all right there, now. That’s
+why Mellicent is so happy.”</p>
+
+<p>“You mean—Has her mother given in?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes. You see, Jane was at the dance, too, and she saw Carl, and she
+saw Hibbard Gaylord. And she was furious. She told Mellicent this
+morning that she had her opinion of fellows who would show so plainly
+as Carl Pennock and Hibbard Gaylord did that it was the money they were
+after.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m afraid—Mrs. Jane has changed her shoes again,” murmured Mr. Smith,
+his eyes merry.</p>
+
+<p>“Has changed—oh!” Miss Maggie’s puzzled frown gave way to a laugh.
+“Well, yes, perhaps the shoe is on the other foot again. But, anyway,
+she doesn’t love Carl or Hibbard any more, and she does love Donald
+Gray. He <i>hasn’t</i> let the loss of the money make any difference
+to him, you see. He’s been even more devoted, if anything. She told
+Mellicent this morning that he was a very estimable young man, and she
+liked him very much. Perhaps you see now why Mellicent is—happy.”</p>
+
+<p>“Good! I’m glad to know it,” cried Mr. Smith heartily. “I’m glad—” His
+face changed suddenly. His eyes grew somber. “I’m glad the <i>loss</i>
+of the money brought them some happiness—if the possession of it
+didn’t,” he finished moodily, turning to go to his own room. At the
+hall door he paused and looked back at Miss Maggie, standing by the
+table, gazing after him with troubled eyes. “Did Mellicent say—whether
+Fred was there?” he asked.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes. She said he wasn’t there. He didn’t come home for this vacation
+at all. She said she didn’t know why. I suspect Mellicent doesn’t know
+anything about that wretched affair of his.”</p>
+
+<p>“We’ll hope not. So the young gentleman didn’t show up at all?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, nor Bessie. She went home with a Long Island girl. Hattie didn’t
+go to the Pennocks’ either. Hattie has—has been very different since
+this affair of Fred’s. I think it frightened her terribly—it was so
+near a tragedy; the boy threatened to kill himself, you know, if his
+father didn’t help him out.”</p>
+
+<p>“But his father <i>did</i> help him out!” flared the man irritably.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, I know he did; and I’m afraid he found things in a pretty bad
+mess—when he got there,” sighed Miss Maggie. “It was a bad mess all
+around.”</p>
+
+<p>“You are exactly right!” ejaculated Mr. Smith with sudden and peculiar
+emphasis. “It is, indeed, a bad mess all around,” he growled as he
+disappeared through the door.</p>
+
+<p>Behind him, Miss Maggie still stood motionless, looking after him with
+troubled eyes.</p>
+
+<p>As the spring days grew warmer, Miss Maggie had occasion many times
+to look after Mr. Smith with troubled eyes. She could not understand
+him at all. One day he would be the old delightful companion, genial,
+cheery, generously donating a box of chocolates to the center-table
+bonbon dish or a dozen hothouse roses to the mantel vase. The next, he
+would be nervous, abstracted, almost irritable. Yet she could see no
+possible reason for the change.</p>
+
+<p>Sometimes she wondered fearfully if Mellicent could have anything to
+do with it. Was it possible that he had cared for Mellicent, and to
+see her now so happy with Donald Gray was more than he could bear? It
+did not seem credible. There was his own statement that he had devoted
+himself to her solely and only to help keep the undesirable lovers away
+and give Donald Gray a chance.</p>
+
+<p>Besides, had he not said that he was not a marrying man, anyway?
+To be sure, that seemed a pity—a man so kind and thoughtful and so
+delightfully companionable! But then, it was nothing to her, of
+course—only she did hope he was not feeling unhappy over Mellicent!</p>
+
+<p>Miss Maggie wished, too, that Mr. Smith would not bring flowers and
+candy so often. It worried her. She felt as if he were spending too
+much money—and she had got the impression in some way that he did not
+have any too much money to spend. And there were the expensive motor
+trips, too—she feared Mr. Smith <i>was</i> extravagant. Yet she could
+not tell him so, of course. He never seemed to realize the value of a
+dollar, anyway, and he very obviously did not know how to get the most
+out of it. Look at his foolish generosity in regard to the board he
+paid her!</p>
+
+<p>Miss Maggie wondered sometimes if it might not be worry over money
+matters that was making him so nervous and irritable on occasions now.
+Plainly he was very near the end of his work there in Hillerton. He was
+not getting so many letters on Blaisdell matters from away, either.
+For a month now he had done nothing but a useless repetition of old
+work; and of late, a good deal of the time, he was not even making
+that pretense of being busy. For days at a time he would not touch
+his records. That could mean but one thing, of course; his work was
+done. Yet he seemed to be making no move toward departure. Not that
+she wanted him to go. She should miss him very much when he went, of
+course. But she did not like to feel that he was staying simply because
+he had nowhere to go and nothing to do. Miss Maggie did not believe in
+able-bodied men who had nowhere to go and nothing to do—and she wanted
+very much to believe in Mr. Smith.</p>
+
+<p>She had been under the impression that he was getting the Blaisdell
+material together for a book, and that he was intending to publish it
+himself. He had been very happy and interested. Now he was unhappy
+and uninterested. His book must be ready, but he was making no move
+to publish it. To Miss Maggie this could mean but one thing: some
+financial reverses had made it impossible for him to carry out his
+plans, and had left him stranded with no definite aim for the future.</p>
+
+<p>She was so sorry!—but there seemed to be nothing that she could do.
+She <i>had</i> tried to help by insisting that he pay less for his
+board; but he had not only scouted that idea, but had brought her more
+chocolates and flowers than ever—for all the world as if he had divined
+her suspicions and wished to disprove them.</p>
+
+<p>That Mr. Smith was trying to keep something from her, Miss Maggie
+was sure. She was the more sure, perhaps, because she herself had
+something that she was trying to keep from Mr. Smith—and she thought
+she recognized the symptoms.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile April budded into May, and May blossomed into June; and June
+brought all the Blaisdells together again in Hillerton.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXII">CHAPTER XXII<br />
+<span class='ph3'>WITH EVERY JIM A JAMES</span></h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>Two days after Fred Blaisdell had returned from college, his mother
+came to see Miss Maggie. Mr. Smith was rearranging the books on Miss
+Maggie’s shelves and trying to make room for the new ones he had
+brought her through the winter. When Mrs. Hattie came in, red-eyed and
+flushed-faced, he ceased his work at once and would have left the room,
+but she stopped him with a gesture.</p>
+
+<p>“No, don’t go. You know all about it, anyway,—and I’d just as soon you
+knew the rest. So you can keep right to work. I just came down to talk
+things over with Maggie. I—I’m sure I don’t know w-what I’m going to
+do—when I can’t.”</p>
+
+<p>“But you always can, dear,” soothed Miss Maggie cheerily, handing her
+visitor a fan and taking a chair near her.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smith, after a moment’s hesitation, turned quietly back to his
+bookshelves.</p>
+
+<p>“But I can’t,” choked Mrs. Hattie. “I—I’m going away.”</p>
+
+<p>“Away? Where? What do you mean?” cried Miss Maggie. “Not to—live!”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes. That’s what I came to tell you.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why, Hattie Blaisdell, where are you going?”</p>
+
+<p>“To Plainville—next month.”</p>
+
+<p>“Plainville? Oh, well, cheer up! That’s only forty miles from here. I
+guess we can still see each other. Now, tell me, what does all this
+mean?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, of course, it began with Fred—his trouble, you know.”</p>
+
+<p>“But I thought Jim fixed that all up, dear.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, he did. He paid the money, and nobody there at college knew a
+thing about it. But there were—other things. Fred told us some of
+them night before last. He says he’s ashamed of himself, but that he
+believes there’s enough left in him to make a man of him yet. But he
+says he can’t do it—there.”</p>
+
+<p>“You mean—he doesn’t want to go back to college?” Miss Maggie’s voice
+showed her disappointment.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, he wants to go to college—but not there.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh,” nodded Miss Maggie. “I see.”</p>
+
+<p>“He says he’s had too much money to spend—and that ’twouldn’t be easy
+not to spend it—if he was back there, in the old crowd. So he wants to
+go somewhere else.”
+“Well, that’s all right, isn’t it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Y-yes, oh, yes. Jim says it is. He’s awfully happy over it, and—and I
+guess I am.”</p>
+
+<p>“Of course you are! But now, what is this about Plainville?” “Oh, that
+grew out of it—all this. Mr. Hammond is going to open a new office in
+Plainville and he’s offered Jim—James—no, <i>Jim</i>—I’m not going to
+call him ‘James’ any more!—the chance to manage it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, that’s fine, I’m sure.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, of course that part is fine—splendid. He’ll get a bigger
+salary, and all that, and—and I guess I’m glad to go, anyway—I don’t
+like Hillerton any more. I haven’t got any friends here, Maggie.
+Of course, I wouldn’t have anything to do with the Gaylords now,
+after what’s happened,—that boy getting my boy to drink and gamble,
+and—and everything. And yet—<i>you</i> know how I’ve strained every
+nerve for years, and worked and worked to get where my children
+could—<i>could</i> be with them!”</p>
+
+<p>“It didn’t pay, did it, Hattie?”</p>
+
+<p>“I guess it didn’t! They’re perfectly horrid—every one of them, and I
+hate them!”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, Hattie, Hattie!”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I do. Look at what they’ve done to Fred, and Bessie, too! I
+shan’t let <i>her</i> be with them any more, either. There aren’t any
+folks here we can be with now. That’s why I don’t mind going away. All
+our friends that we used to know don’t like us any more, they’re so
+jealous on account of the money. Oh, yes, I know you think I’m to blame
+for that,” she went on aggrievedly. “I can see you do, by your face.
+Jim says so, too. And maybe I am. But it was just so I could get ahead.
+I did so want to <i>be</i> somebody!”</p>
+
+<p>“I know, Hattie.” Miss Maggie looked as if she would like to say
+something more—but she did not say it.</p>
+
+<p>Over at the bookcase Mr. Smith was abstractedly opening and shutting
+the book in his hand. His gaze was out the window near him. He had not
+touched the books on the shelves for some time.</p>
+
+<p>“And look at how I’ve tried and see what it has come to—Bessie so
+high-headed and airy she makes fun of us, and Fred a gambler and a
+drunkard, and ’most a thief. And it’s all that horrid hundred thousand
+dollars!”</p>
+
+<p>The book in Mr. Smith’s hand slipped to the floor with a bang; but no
+one was noticing Mr. Smith.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, Hattie, don’t blame the hundred thousand dollars,” cried Miss
+Maggie.</p>
+
+<p>“Jim says it was, and Fred does, too. They talked awfully. Fred said
+it was all just the same kind of a way that I’d tried to make folks
+call Jim ‘James.’ He said I’d been trying to make every single ‘Jim’ we
+had into a ‘James,’ until I’d taken away all the fun of living. And I
+suppose maybe he’s right, too.” Mrs. Hattie sighed profoundly. “Well,
+anyhow, I’m not going to do it any more. There isn’t any fun in it,
+anyway. It doesn’t make any difference how hard I tried to get ahead,
+I always found somebody else a little ‘aheader’ as Benny calls it. So
+what’s the use?”</p>
+
+<p>“There isn’t any use—in that kind of trying, Hattie.”</p>
+
+<p>“No, I suppose there isn’t. Jim said I was like the little boy that
+they asked what would make him the happiest of anything in the world,
+and he answered, ‘Everything that I haven’t got.’ And I suppose I have
+been something like that. But I don’t see as I’m any worse than other
+folks. Everybody goes for money; but I’m sure I don’t see why—if it
+doesn’t make them any happier than it has me! Well, I must be going.”
+Mrs. Hattie rose wearily. “We shall begin to pack the first of the
+month. It looks like a mountain to me, but Jim and Fred say they’ll
+help, and—”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smith did not hear any more, for Miss Maggie and her guest had
+reached the hall and had closed the door behind them. But when Miss
+Maggie returned, Mr. Smith was pacing up and down the room nervously.</p>
+
+<p>“Well,” he demanded with visible irritation, as soon as she appeared,
+“will you kindly tell me if there is anything—desirable—that that
+confounded money has done?”</p>
+
+<p>Miss Maggie looked up in surprise.</p>
+
+<p>“You mean—Jim Blaisdell’s money?” she asked.</p>
+
+<p>“I mean all the money—I mean the three hundred thousand dollars
+that those three people received. Has it ever brought any good or
+happiness—anywhere?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, yes, I know,” smiled Miss Maggie, a little sadly. “But—” Her
+countenance changed abruptly. A passionate earnestness came to her
+eyes. “Don’t blame the money—blame the <i>spending</i> of it! The money
+isn’t to blame. The dollar that will buy tickets to the movies will
+just as quickly buy a good book; and if you’re hungry, it’s up to you
+whether you put your money into chocolate eclairs or roast beef. Is the
+<i>money</i> to blame that goes for a whiskey bill or a gambling debt
+instead of for shoes and stockings for the family?”</p>
+
+<p>“Why, n-no.” Mr. Smith had apparently lost his own irritation in his
+amazement at hers. “Why, Miss Maggie, you—you seem worked up over this
+matter.”</p>
+
+<p>“I am worked up. I’m always worked up—over money. It’s been money,
+money, money, ever since I could remember! We’re all after it, and we
+all want it, and we strain every nerve to get it. We think it’s going
+to bring us happiness. But it won’t—unless we do our part. And there
+are some things that even money can’t buy. Besides, it isn’t the money
+that does the things, anyway,—it’s the man behind the money. What do
+you think money is good for, Mr. Smith?”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smith, now thoroughly dazed, actually blinked his eyes at the
+question, and at the vehemence with which it was hurled into his face.</p>
+
+<p>“Why, Miss Maggie, it—it—I—I—”</p>
+
+<p>“It isn’t good for anything unless we can exchange it for something we
+want, is it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Why, I—I suppose we can <i>give</i> it—”</p>
+
+<p>“But even then we’re exchanging it for something we want, aren’t we? We
+want to make the other fellow happy, don’t we?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, yes, we do.” Mr. Smith spoke with sudden fervor. “But it doesn’t
+always work that way. Look at the case right here. Now, very likely
+this—er—Mr. Fulton thought those three hundred thousand dollars were
+going to make these people happy. Personification of happiness—that
+woman was, a few minutes ago, wasn’t she?” Mr. Smith had regained his
+air of aggrieved irritation.</p>
+
+<p>“No, she wasn’t. But that wasn’t the money’s fault. It was her own. She
+didn’t know how to spend it. And that’s just what I mean when I say
+we’ve got to do our part—money won’t buy happiness, unless we exchange
+it for the things that will bring happiness. If we don’t know how to
+get any happiness out of five dollars, we won’t know how to get it out
+of five hundred, or five thousand, or five hundred thousand, Mr. Smith.
+I don’t mean that we’ll get the same amount out of five dollars, of
+course,—though I’ve seen even that happen sometimes!—but I mean that
+we’ve got to know how to spend five dollars—and to make the most of it.”</p>
+
+<p>“I reckon—you’re right, Miss Maggie.”</p>
+
+<p>“I know I’m right, and ’tisn’t the money’s fault when things go wrong.
+Money’s all right. I love money. Oh, yes, I know—we’re taught that the
+love of money is the root of all evil. But I don’t think it should be
+so—necessarily. I think money’s one of the most wonderful things in
+the world. It’s more than a trust and a gift—it’s an opportunity, and
+a test. It brings out what’s strongest in us, every time. And it does
+that whether it’s five dollars or five hundred thousand dollars. If—if
+we love chocolate eclairs and the movies better than roast beef and
+good books, we’re going to buy them, whether they’re chocolate eclairs
+and movies on five dollars, or or—champagne suppers and Paris gowns on
+five hundred thousand dollars!”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, by—by Jove!” ejaculated Mr. Smith, rather feebly.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Maggie gave a shamefaced laugh and sank back in her chair.</p>
+
+<p>“You don’t know what to think of me, of course; and no wonder,” she
+sighed. “But I’ve felt so bad over this—this money business right here
+under my eyes. I love them all, every one of them. And <i>you</i> know
+how it’s been, Mr. Smith. Hasn’t it worked out to prove just what I
+say? Take Hattie this afternoon. She said that Fred declared she’d been
+trying to make every one of her ‘Jims’ a ‘James,’ ever since the money
+came. But he forgot that she did that very same thing before it came.
+All her life she’s been trying to make five dollars look like ten; so
+when she got the hundred thousand, it wasn’t six months before she was
+trying to make that look like two hundred thousand.”</p>
+
+<p>“I reckon you’re right.”</p>
+
+<p>“Jane is just the opposite. Jane used to buy ingrain carpets and cheap
+chairs and cover them with mats and tidies to save them.”</p>
+
+<p>“You’re right she did!”</p>
+
+<p>Miss Maggie laughed appreciatively.</p>
+
+<p>“They got on your nerves, too, didn’t they? Such layers upon layers
+of covers for everything! It brought me to such a pass that I went to
+the other extreme. I wouldn’t protect <i>anything</i>—which was very
+reprehensible, of course. Well, now she has pretty dishes and solid
+silver—but she hides them in bags and boxes, and never uses them except
+for company. She doesn’t take any more comfort with them than she did
+with the ingrain carpets and cheap chairs. Of course, that’s a little
+thing. I only mentioned it to illustrate my meaning. Jane doesn’t know
+how to play. She never did. When you can’t spend five cents out of a
+hundred dollars for pleasure without wincing, you needn’t expect you’re
+going to spend five dollars out of a hundred thousand without feeling
+the pinch,” laughed Miss Maggie.</p>
+
+<p>“And Miss Flora? You haven’t mentioned her,” observed Mr. Smith, a
+little grimly.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Maggie smiled; then she sighed.</p>
+
+<p>“Poor Flora—and when she tried so hard to quiet her conscience because
+she had so much money! But <i>you</i> know how that was. <i>You</i>
+helped her out of that scrape. And she’s so grateful! She told me
+yesterday that she hardly ever gets a begging letter now.”</p>
+
+<p>“No; and those she does get she investigates,” asserted Mr. Smith. “So
+the fakes don’t bother her much these days. And she’s doing a lot of
+good, too, in a small way.”</p>
+
+<p>“She is, and she’s happy now,” declared Miss Maggie, “except that she
+still worries a little because she is so happy. She’s dismissed the
+maid and does her own work—I’m afraid Miss Flora never was cut out for
+a fine-lady life of leisure, and she loves to putter in the kitchen.
+She says it’s such a relief, too, not to keep dressed up in company
+manners all the time, and not to have that horrid girl spying ’round
+all day to see if she behaves proper. But Flora’s a dear.”</p>
+
+<p>“She is! and I reckon it worked the best with her of any of them.”</p>
+
+<p>“<i>Worked?</i>” hesitated Miss Maggie.</p>
+
+<p>“Er—that is, I mean, perhaps she’s made the best use of the hundred
+thousand,” stammered Mr. Smith. “She’s been—er—the happiest.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why, y-yes, perhaps she has, when you come to look at it that way.”</p>
+
+<p>“But you wouldn’t—er—advise this Mr. Fulton to leave her—his twenty
+millions?”</p>
+
+<p>“Mercy!” laughed Miss Maggie, throwing up both hands. “She’d faint dead
+away at the mere thought of it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Humph! Yes, I suppose so.” Mr. Smith turned on his heel and resumed
+his restless pacing up and down the room. From time to time he glanced
+furtively at Miss Maggie. Miss Maggie, her hands idly resting in her
+lap, palms upward, was gazing fixedly at nothing.</p>
+
+<p>“Of just what—are you thinking?” he demanded at last, coming to a pause
+at her side.</p>
+
+<p>“I was thinking—of Mr. Stanley G. Fulton,” she answered, not looking up.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, you were!” There was an odd something in Mr. Smith’s voice.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes. I was wondering—about those twenty millions.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, you were!” The odd something had increased, but Miss Maggie’s eyes
+were still dreamily fixed on space.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes. I was wondering what he had done with them.”</p>
+
+<p>“Had done with them!”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, in the letter, I mean.” She looked up now in faint surprise.
+“Don’t you remember? There was a letter—a second letter to be opened in
+two years’ time. They said that that was to dispose of the remainder of
+the property—his last will and testament.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, yes, I remember,” assented Mr. Smith, turning on his heel again.
+“Then you think—Mr. Fulton is—dead?” Mr. Smith was very carefully not
+meeting Miss Maggie’s eyes.</p>
+
+<p>“Why, yes, I suppose so.” Miss Maggie turned back to her meditative
+gazing at nothing. “The two years are nearly up, you know,—I was
+talking with Jane the other day—just next November.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, I know.” The words were very near a groan, but at once Mr. Smith
+hurriedly repeated, “I know—I know!” very lightly, indeed, with an
+apprehensive glance at Miss Maggie.</p>
+
+<p>“So it seems to me if he were alive that he’d be back by this time. And
+so I was wondering—about those millions,” she went on musingly. “What
+do <i>you</i> suppose he has done with them?” she asked, with sudden
+animation, turning full upon him.</p>
+
+<p>“Why, I—I—How should I know?” stuttered Mr. Smith, a swift crimson
+dyeing his face.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Maggie laughed merrily.</p>
+
+<p>“You wouldn’t, of course—but that needn’t make you look as if I’d
+intimated that <i>you</i> had them! I was only asking for your opinion,
+Mr. Smith,” she twinkled, with mischievous eyes.</p>
+
+<p>“Of course!” Mr. Smith laughed now, a little precipitately. “But,
+indeed, Miss Maggie, you turned so suddenly and the question was so
+unexpected that I felt like the small boy who, being always blamed for
+everything at home that went wrong, answered tremblingly, when the
+teacher sharply demanded, ‘Who made the world?’ ‘Please, ma’am, I did;
+but I’ll never do it again!’”</p>
+
+<p>“And now,” said Mr. Smith, when Miss Maggie had done laughing at his
+little story, “suppose I turn the tables on you? What do <i>you</i>
+think Mr. Fulton has done—with that money?”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know what to think.” Miss Maggie shifted her position, her
+face growing intently interested again. “I’ve been trying to remember
+what I know of the man.”</p>
+
+<p>“What you—<i>know</i> of him!” cried Mr. Smith, with startled eyes.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, from the newspaper and magazine accounts of him. Of course,
+there was quite a lot about him at the time the money came; and Flora
+let me read some things she’d saved, in years gone. Flora was always
+interested in him, you know.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, what did you find?”</p>
+
+<p>“Why, not much, really, about the man. Besides, very likely what I did
+find wasn’t true. Oh, he was eccentric. Everything mentioned that. But
+I was trying to find out how he’d spent his money himself. I thought
+that might give me a clue—about the will, I mean.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, I see.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes; but I didn’t find much. In spite of his reported eccentricities,
+he seems to me to have done nothing very extraordinary.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, indeed!” murmured Mr. Smith.</p>
+
+<p>“He doesn’t seem to have been very bad.”</p>
+
+<p>“No?” Mr. Smith’s eyebrows went up.</p>
+
+<p>“Nor very good either, for that matter.”</p>
+
+<p>“Sort of a—nonentity, perhaps.” Mr. Smith’s lips snapped tight shut.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Maggie laughed softly.</p>
+
+<p>“Perhaps—though I suppose he couldn’t really be that—not very well—with
+twenty millions, could he? But I mean, he wasn’t very bad, nor very
+good. He didn’t seem to be dissipated, or mixed up in any scandal, or
+to be recklessly extravagant, like so many rich men. On the other hand,
+I couldn’t find that he’d done any particular good in the world. Some
+charities were mentioned, but they were perfunctory, apparently, and I
+don’t believe, from the accounts, that he ever really <i>interested</i>
+himself in any one—that he ever really cared for—any one.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, you don’t!” If Miss Maggie had looked up, she would have met a
+most disconcerting expression in the eyes bent upon her. But Miss
+Maggie did not look up.</p>
+
+<p>“No,” she proceeded calmly. “Why, he didn’t even have a wife and
+children to stir him from his selfishness. He had a secretary, of
+course, and he probably never saw half his begging letters. I can
+imagine his tossing them aside with a languid ‘Fix them up, James,—give
+the creatures what they want, only don’t bother me.’”</p>
+
+<p>“He <i>never</i> did!” stormed Mr. Smith; then, hastily: “I’m sure he
+never did. You wrong him. I’m sure you wrong him.”</p>
+
+<p>“Maybe I do,” sighed Miss Maggie. “But when I think of what he
+might do—Twenty millions! I can’t grasp it. Can you? But he didn’t
+do—anything—worth while with them, so far as I can see, when he was
+living, so that’s why I can’t imagine what his will may be. Probably
+the same old perfunctory charities, however, with the Chicago law
+firm instead of ‘James’ as disburser—unless, of course, Hattie’s
+expectations are fulfilled, and he divides them among the Blaisdells
+here.”</p>
+
+<p>“You think—there’s something worth while he <i>might</i> have done with
+those millions, then?” pleaded Mr. Smith, a sudden peculiar wistfulness
+in his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>“Something he <i>might</i> have done with them!” exclaimed Miss Maggie.
+“Why, it seems to me there’s no end to what he might have done—with
+twenty millions.”</p>
+
+<p>“What would <i>you</i> do?”</p>
+
+<p>“I?—do with twenty millions?” she breathed.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, you.” Mr. Smith came nearer, his face working with emotion. “Miss
+Maggie, if a man with twenty millions—that is, could you love a man
+with twenty millions, if—if Mr. Fulton should ask you—if _I_ were Mr.
+Fulton—if—” His countenance changed suddenly. He drew himself up with
+a cry of dismay. “Oh, no—no—I’ve spoiled it all now. That isn’t what
+I meant to say first. I was going to find out—I mean, I was going to
+tell—Oh, good Heavens, what a—That confounded money—again!”</p>
+
+<p>Miss Maggie sprang to her feet.</p>
+
+<p>“Why, Mr. Smith, w-what—” Only the crisp shutting of the door answered
+her. With a beseeching look and a despairing gesture Mr. Smith had gone.</p>
+
+<p>Once again Miss Maggie stood looking after Mr. Smith with dismayed
+eyes. Then, turning to sit down, she came face to face with her own
+image in the mirror.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, now you’ve done it, Maggie Duff,” she whispered wrathfully to
+the reflection in the glass. “And you’ve broken his heart! He was—was
+going to say something—I know he was. And you? You’ve talked money,
+money, <i>money</i> to him for an hour. You said you <i>loved</i>
+money; and you told what you’d do—if you had twenty millions of
+dollars. And you know—you <i>know</i> he’s as poor as Job’s turkey,
+and that just now he’s more than ever plagued over—money! And yet
+you—Twenty millions of dollars! As if that counted against—”</p>
+
+<p>With a little sobbing cry Miss Maggie covered her face with her hands
+and sat down, helplessly, angrily.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXIII">CHAPTER XXIII<br />
+<span class='ph3'>REFLECTIONS—MIRRORED AND OTHERWISE</span></h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>Miss Maggie was still sitting in the big chair with her face in her
+hands when the door opened and Mr. Smith came in. He was very white.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Maggie, dropping her hands and starting up at his entrance, caught
+a glimpse of his face in the mirror in front of her. With a furtive,
+angry dab of her fingers at her wet eyes, she fell to rearranging the
+vases and photographs on the mantel.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, back again, Mr. Smith?” she greeted him, with studied unconcern.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smith shut the door and advanced determinedly.</p>
+
+<p>“Miss Maggie, I’ve got to face this thing out, of course. Even if I
+had—made a botch of things at the very start, it didn’t help any to—to
+run away, as I did. And I was a coward to do it. It was only because
+I—I—But never mind that. I’m coming now straight to the point. Miss
+Maggie, will you—marry me?”</p>
+
+<p>The photograph in Miss Maggie’s hand fell face down on the shelf. Miss
+Maggie’s fingers caught the edge of the mantel in a convulsive grip. A
+swift glance in the mirror before her disclosed Mr. Smith’s face just
+over her shoulder, earnest, pleading, and still very white. She dropped
+her gaze, and turned half away. She did not want to meet Mr. Smith’s
+eyes just then. She tried to speak, but only a half-choking little
+breath came.</p>
+
+<p>Then Mr. Smith spoke again.</p>
+
+<p>“Miss Maggie, please don’t say no—yet. Let me—explain—about how I
+came here, and all that. But first, before I do that, let me tell
+you how—how I love you—how I have loved you all these long months. I
+<i>think</i> I loved you from the first time I saw you. Whatever comes,
+I want you to know that. And if you could care for me a little—just
+a little, I’m sure I could make it more—in time, so you would marry
+me. And we would be so happy! Don’t you believe I’d try to make you
+happy—dear?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, oh, yes,” murmured Miss Maggie, still with her head turned away.</p>
+
+<p>“Good! Then all you’ve got to say is that you’ll let me try. And we
+will be happy, dear! Why, until I came here to this little house, I
+didn’t know what living, real living, was. And I <i>have</i> been, just
+as you said, a selfish old thing.”</p>
+
+<p>Miss Maggie, with a start of surprise, faced the image in the mirror;
+but Mr. Smith was looking at her, not at her reflection, so she did not
+meet his ayes.</p>
+
+<p>“Why, I never—” she stammered.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, you did, a minute ago. Don’t you remember? Oh, of course you
+didn’t realize—everything, and perhaps you wouldn’t have said it if
+you’d known. But you said it—and you meant it, and I’m glad you said
+it. And, dear little woman, don’t you see? That’s only another reason
+why you should say yes. You can show me how not to be selfish.”</p>
+
+<p>“But, Mr. Smith, I—I—” stammered Miss Maggie, still with puzzled eyes.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, you can. You can show me how to make life really worth while, for
+me, and for—for lots of others. And <i>now</i> I have some one to care
+for. And, oh, little woman, I—I care so much, it can’t be that you—you
+don’t care—any!”</p>
+
+<p>Miss Maggie caught her breath and turned away again.</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t you care—a little?”</p>
+
+<p>The red crept up Miss Maggie’s neck to her forehead but still she was
+silent.</p>
+
+<p>“If I could only see your eyes,” pleaded the man. Then, suddenly, he
+saw Miss Maggie’s face in the mirror. The next moment Miss Maggie
+herself turned a little, and in the mirror their eyes met—and
+in the mirror Mr. Smith found his answer. “You <i>do</i> care—a
+<i>little</i>!” he breathed, as he took her in his arms.</p>
+
+<p>“But I don’t!” Miss Maggie shook her head vigorously against his
+coat-collar.</p>
+
+<p>“What?” Mr. Smith’s clasp loosened a little.</p>
+
+<p>“I care—a <i>great deal</i>,” whispered Miss Maggie to the coat-collar,
+with shameless emphasis.</p>
+
+<p>“You—darling!” triumphed the man, bestowing a rapturous kiss on the tip
+of a small pink ear—the nearest point to Miss Maggie’s lips that was
+available, until, with tender determination, he turned her face to his.</p>
+
+<p>A moment later, blushing rosily, Miss Maggie drew herself away.</p>
+
+<p>“There, we’ve been quite silly enough—old folks like us.”</p>
+
+<p>“We’re not silly. Love is never silly—not real love like ours.
+Besides, we’re only as old as we feel. Do you feel old? I don’t. I’ve
+lost—<i>years</i> since this morning. And you know I’m just beginning
+to live—really live, anyway! I feel—twenty-one.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m afraid you act it,” said Miss Maggie, with mock severity.</p>
+
+<p>“<i>You</i> would—if you’d been through what _I_ have,” retorted Mr. Smith,
+drawing a long breath. “And when I think what a botch I made of it, to
+begin with—You see, I didn’t mean to start off with that, first thing;
+and I was so afraid that—that even if you did care for John Smith, you
+wouldn’t for me—just at first. But you do, dear!” At arms’ length he
+held her off, his hands on her shoulders. His happy eyes searching her
+face saw the dawn of the dazed, question.</p>
+
+<p>“Wouldn’t care for <i>you</i> if I did for John Smith! Why, you
+<i>are</i> John Smith. What do you mean?” she demanded, her eyes slowly
+sweeping him from head to foot and back again. “What <i>do</i> you
+mean?”</p>
+
+<p>“<i>Miss Maggie!</i>” Instinctively his tongue went back to the old
+manner of address, but his hands still held her shoulders. “You
+don’t mean—you can’t mean that—that you didn’t understand—that you
+<i>don’t</i> understand that I am—Oh, good Heavens! Well, I have
+made a mess of it this time,” he groaned. Releasing his hold on her
+shoulders, he turned and began to tramp up and down the room. “Nice
+little John-Alden-Miles-Standish affair this is now, upon my word! Miss
+Maggie, have I got to—to propose to you all over again for—for another
+man, now?”</p>
+
+<p>“For—<i>another man!</i> I—I don’t think I understand you.” Miss Maggie
+had grown a little white.</p>
+
+<p>“Then you don’t know—you didn’t understand a few minutes ago, when I—I
+spoke first, when I asked you about—about those twenty millions—”</p>
+
+<p>She lifted her hand quickly, pleadingly.</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Smith, please, don’t let’s bring money into it at all. I don’t
+care—I don’t care a bit if you haven’t got any money.”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smith’s jaw dropped.</p>
+
+<p>“If I <i>haven’t</i> got any money!” he ejaculated stupidly.</p>
+
+<p>“No! Oh, yes, I know, I said I loved money.” The rich red came back
+to her face in a flood. “But I didn’t mean—And it’s just as much of
+a test and an opportunity when you <i>don’t</i> have money—more so,
+if anything. I didn’t mean it—that way. I never thought of—of how you
+might take it—as if I <i>wanted</i> it. I don’t. Indeed, I don’t! Oh,
+can’t you—understand?”</p>
+
+<p>“Understand! Good Heavens!” Mr. Smith threw up both his hands. “And I
+thought I’d given myself away! Miss Maggie.” He came to her and stood
+close, but he did not offer to touch her. “I thought, after I’d said
+what I did about—about those twenty millions that you understood—that
+you knew I was—Stanley Fulton himself.”</p>
+
+<p>“That you were—who?” Miss Maggie stood motionless, her eyes looking
+straight into his, amazed incredulous.</p>
+
+<p>“Stanley Fulton. I am Stanley Fulton. My God! Maggie, don’t look at me
+like that. I thought—I had told you. Indeed, I did!”</p>
+
+<p>She was backing away now, slowly, step by step. Anger, almost loathing,
+had taken the place of the amazement and incredulity in her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>“And <i>you</i> are Mr. Fulton?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, yes! But—”</p>
+
+<p>“And you’ve been here all these months—yes, years—under a false name,
+pretending to be what you weren’t—talking to us, eating at our tables,
+winning our confidence, letting us talk to you about yourself, even
+pretending that—Oh, how could you?” Her voice broke.</p>
+
+<p>“Maggie, dearest,” he begged, springing toward her, “if you’ll only let
+me—”</p>
+
+<p>But she stopped him peremptorily, drawing herself to her full height.</p>
+
+<p>“I am <i>not</i> your dearest,” she flamed angrily. “I did not give my
+love—to <i>you</i>.”</p>
+
+<p>“Maggie!” he implored.</p>
+
+<p>But she drew back still farther.</p>
+
+<p>“No! I gave it to John Smith—gentleman, I supposed. A man—poor,
+yes, I believed him poor; but a man who at least had a right to his
+<i>name</i>! I didn’t give it to Mr. Stanley G. Fulton, spy, trickster,
+who makes life itself a masquerade for <i>sport</i>! I do not know Mr.
+Stanley G. Fulton, and—I do not wish to.” The words ended in a sound
+very like a sob; but Miss Maggie, with her head still high, turned her
+back and walked to the window.</p>
+
+<p>The man, apparently stunned for a moment, stood watching her, his eyes
+grieved, dismayed, hopeless. Then, white-faced, he turned and walked
+toward the door. With his hand almost on the knob he slowly wheeled
+about and faced the woman again. He hesitated visibly, then in a dull,
+lifeless voice he began to speak.</p>
+
+<p>“Miss Maggie, before John Smith steps entirely out of your life, he
+would like to say just this, please, not on justification, but on
+explanation of——of Stanley G. Fulton. Fulton did not intend to be a
+spy, or a trickster, or to make life a masquerade for—sport. He was
+a lonely old man—he felt old. He had no wife or child. True, he had
+no one to care for, but—he had no one to care for <i>him</i>, either.
+Remember that, please. He did have a great deal of money—more than
+he knew what to do with. Oh, he tried—various ways of spending it.
+Never mind what they were. They are not worth speaking of here. They
+resulted, chiefly, in showing him that he wasn’t—as wise as he might be
+in that line, perhaps.”</p>
+
+<p>The man paused and wet his lips. At the window Miss Maggie still stood,
+with her back turned as before.</p>
+
+<p>“The time came, finally,” resumed the man, “when Fulton began to wonder
+what would become of his millions when he was done with them. He had a
+feeling that he would like to will a good share of them to some of his
+own kin; but he had no nearer relatives than some cousins back East,
+in—Hillerton.”</p>
+
+<p>Miss Maggie at the window drew in her breath, and held it suspended,
+letting it out slowly.</p>
+
+<p>“He didn’t know anything about these cousins,” went on the man dully,
+wearily, “and he got to wondering what they would do with the money. I
+think he felt, as you said to-day that you feel, that one must know how
+to spend five dollars if one would get the best out of five thousand.
+So Fulton felt that, before he gave a man fifteen or twenty millions,
+he would like to know—what he would probably do with them. He had seen
+so many cases where sudden great wealth had brought—great sorrow.</p>
+
+<p>“And so then he fixed up a little scheme; he would give each one of
+these three cousins of his a hundred thousand dollars apiece, and then,
+unknown to them, he would get acquainted with them, and see which of
+them would be likely to make the best use of those twenty millions.
+It was a silly scheme, of course,—a silly, absurd foolishness from
+beginning to end. It—”</p>
+
+<p>He did not finish his sentence. There was a rush of swift feet, a swish
+of skirts, then full upon him there fell a whirlwind of sobs, clinging
+arms, and incoherent ejaculations.</p>
+
+<p>“It wasn’t silly—it wasn’t silly. It was perfectly splendid!
+I see it all now. I see it all! I understand. Oh, I think it
+was—<i>wonderful</i>! And I—I’m so <i>ashamed</i>!”</p>
+
+<p>Later—very much later, when something like lucid coherence had become
+an attribute of their conversation, as they sat together upon the old
+sofa, the man drew a long breath and said:—</p>
+
+<p>“Then I’m quite forgiven?”</p>
+
+<p>“There is nothing to forgive.”</p>
+
+<p>“And you consider yourself engaged to <i>both</i> John Smith and
+Stanley G. Fulton?”</p>
+
+<p>“It sounds pretty bad, but—yes,” blushed Miss Maggie.</p>
+
+<p>“And you must love Stanley G. Fulton just exactly as well—no, a little
+better, than you did John Smith.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll—try to—if he’s as lovable.” Miss Maggie’s head was at a saucy
+tilt.</p>
+
+<p>“He’ll try to be; but—it won’t be all play, you know, for you. You’ve
+got to tell him what to do with those twenty millions. By the way, what
+<i>will</i> you do with them?” he demanded interestedly.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Maggie looked up, plainly startled.</p>
+
+<p>“Why, yes, that’s so. You—you—if you’re Mr. Fulton, you <i>have</i>
+got—And I forgot all about—those twenty millions. And they’re
+<i>yours</i>, Mr. Smith!”</p>
+
+<p>“No, they’re not Mr. Smith’s,” objected the man. “They belong
+to Fulton, if you please. Furthermore, <i>can’t</i> you call me
+anything but that abominable ‘Mr. Smith’? My name is Stanley. You
+might—er—abbreviate it to—er—‘Stan,’ now.”</p>
+
+<p>“Perhaps so—but I shan’t,” laughed Miss Maggie,—“not yet. You may be
+thankful I have wits enough left to call you anything—after becoming
+engaged to two men all at once.”</p>
+
+<p>“And with having the responsibility of spending twenty millions, too.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, yes, the money!” Her eyes began to shine. She drew another long
+breath. “Oh, we can do so much with that money! Why, only think what is
+needed right <i>here</i>—better milk for the babies, and a community
+house, and the streets cleaner, and a new carpet for the church, and a
+new hospital with—”</p>
+
+<p>“But, see here, aren’t you going to spend some of that money on
+yourself?” he demanded. “Isn’t there something <i>you</i> want?”</p>
+
+<p>She gave him a merry glance.</p>
+
+<p>“Myself? Dear me, I guess I am! I’m going to Egypt, and China, and
+Japan—with you, of course; and books—oh, you never saw such a lot of
+books as I shall buy. And—oh, I’ll spend heaps on just my selfish
+self—you see if I don’t! But, first,—oh, there are so many things that
+I’ve so wanted to do, and it’s just come over me this minute that
+<i>now</i> I can do them! And you <i>know</i> how Hillerton needs a new
+hospital.” Her eyes grew luminous and earnest again. “And I want to
+build a store and run it so the girls can <i>live</i>, and a factory,
+too, and decent homes for the workmen, and a big market, where they can
+get their food at cost; and there’s the playground for the children,
+and—”</p>
+
+<p>But Mr. Smith was laughing, and lifting both hands in mock despair.</p>
+
+<p>“Look here,” he challenged, “I <i>thought</i> you were marrying
+<i>me</i>, but—<i>are</i> you marrying me or that confounded money?”</p>
+
+<p>Miss Maggie laughed merrily.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, I know; but you see—” She stopped short. An odd expression came
+to her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly she laughed again, and threw into his eyes a look so merry, so
+whimsical, so altogether challenging, that he demanded:—</p>
+
+<p>“Well, what is it now?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, it’s so good, I have—half a mind to tell you.”</p>
+
+<p>“Of course you’ll tell me. Where are you going?” he asked
+discontentedly.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Maggie had left the sofa, and was standing, as if half-poised for
+flight, midway to the door.</p>
+
+<p>“I think—yes, I will tell you,” she nodded, her cheeks very pink; “but
+I wanted to be—over here to tell it.”</p>
+
+<p>“’Way over there?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, ’way over here. Do you remember those letters I got awhile ago,
+and the call from the Boston; lawyer, that I—I wouldn’t tell you about?”</p>
+
+<p>“I should say I did!”</p>
+
+<p>“Well; you know you—you thought they—they had something to do with—my
+money; that I—I’d lost some.”</p>
+
+<p>“I did, dear.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, they—they did have something to do—with money.”</p>
+
+<p>“I knew they did!” triumphed the man. “Oh, why wouldn’t you tell me
+then—and let me help you some way?”</p>
+
+<p>She shook her head nervously and backed nearer the door. He had half
+started from his seat.</p>
+
+<p>“No, stay there. If you don’t—I won’t tell you.”</p>
+
+<p>He fell back, but with obvious reluctance.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, as I said, it did have something to do—with my money; but just
+now, when you asked me if I—I was marrying you or your money—”</p>
+
+<p>“But I was in fun—you know I was in fun!” defended the man hotly.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, yes, I knew that,” nodded Miss Maggie. “But it—it made me laugh
+and remember—the letters. You see, they weren’t as you thought. They
+didn’t tell me of—of money lost. They told me of money—gained.”</p>
+
+<p>“Gained?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes. That father’s Cousin George in Alaska had died and left me—fifty
+thousand dollars.”</p>
+
+<p>“But, my dear woman, why in Heaven’s name wouldn’t you tell me that?”</p>
+
+<p>“Because.” Miss Maggie took a step nearer the door. “You see, I thought
+you were poor—very poor, and I—I wouldn’t even own up to it myself, but
+I knew, in my heart, that I was afraid, if you heard I had this money,
+you wouldn’t—you wouldn’t—ask me to—to—”</p>
+
+<p>She was blushing so adorably now that the man understood and leaped to
+his feet.</p>
+
+<p>“Maggie, you—darling!”</p>
+
+<p>But the door had shut—Miss Maggie had fled.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXIV">CHAPTER XXIV<br />
+<span class='ph3'>THAT MISERABLE MONEY</span></h2>
+</div>
+
+<p>In the evening, after the Martin girls had gone to their rooms, Miss
+Maggie and Mr. Smith faced the thing squarely.</p>
+
+<p>“Of course,” he began with a sigh, “I’m really not out of the woods
+at all. Blissfully happy as I am, I’m really deeper in the woods than
+ever, for now I’ve got you there with me, to look out for. However
+successfully John Smith might dematerialize into nothingness—Maggie
+Duff can’t.”</p>
+
+<p>“No, I know she can’t,” admitted Miss Maggie soberly.</p>
+
+<p>“Yet if she marries John Smith she’ll have to—and if she doesn’t marry
+him, how’s Stanley G. Fulton going to do his courting? He can’t come
+here.”</p>
+
+<p>“But he must!” Miss Maggie looked up with startled eyes. “Why, Mr.
+Smith, you’ll <i>have</i> to tell them—who you are. You’ll have to tell
+them right away.”</p>
+
+<p>The man made a playfully wry face.</p>
+
+<p>“I shall be glad,” he observed, “when I shan’t have to be held off at
+the end of a ‘Mr.’! However, we’ll let that pass—until we settle the
+other matter. Have you given any thought as to <i>how</i> I’m going to
+tell Cousin Frank and Cousin James and Cousin Flora that I am Stanley
+G. Fulton?”</p>
+
+<p>“No—except that you must do it,” she answered decidedly. “I don’t think
+you ought to deceive them another minute—not another minute.”</p>
+
+<p>“Hm-m.” Mr. Smith’s eyes grew reflective. “And had you thought—as to
+what would happen when I did tell them?”</p>
+
+<p>“Why, n-no, not particularly, except that—that they naturally wouldn’t
+like it, at first, and that you’d have to explain—just as you did to
+me—why you did it.”</p>
+
+<p>“And do you think they’ll like it any better—when I do explain? Think!”</p>
+
+<p>Miss Maggie meditated; then, a little tremulously she drew in her
+breath. She lifted startled eyes to his face.</p>
+
+<p>“Why, you’d have to tell them that—that you did it for a test, wouldn’t
+you?”</p>
+
+<p>“If I told the truth—yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“And they’d know—they couldn’t help knowing—that they had failed to
+meet it adequately.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes. And would that help matters any—make things any happier, all
+around?”</p>
+
+<p>“No—oh, no,” she frowned despairingly.</p>
+
+<p>“Would it do anybody any <i>real</i> good, now? Think of that.”</p>
+
+<p>“N-no,” she admitted reluctantly, “except that—that you’d be doing
+right.”</p>
+
+<p>“But <i>would</i> I be doing right? And another thing—aside from the
+mortification, dismay, and anger of my good cousins, have you thought
+what I’d be bringing on you?”</p>
+
+<p>“<i>Me!</i>”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes. In less than half a dozen hours after the Blaisdells knew that
+Mr. John Smith was Stanley G. Fulton, Hillerton would know it. And
+in less than half a dozen more hours, Boston, New York, Chicago,—to
+say nothing of a dozen lesser cities,—would know it—if there didn’t
+happen to be anything bigger on foot. Headlines an inch high would
+proclaim the discovery of the missing Stanley G. Fulton, and the fine
+print below would tell everything that happened, and a great deal that
+didn’t happen, in the carrying-out of the eccentric multi-millionaire’s
+extraordinary scheme of testing his relatives with a hundred thousand
+dollars apiece to find a suitable heir. Your picture would adorn the
+front page of the yellowest of yellow journals, and—”</p>
+
+<p>“<i>My</i> picture! Oh, no, no!” gasped Miss Maggie.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, yes, yes,” smiled the man imperturbably. “You’ll be in it, too.
+Aren’t you the affianced bride of Mr. Stanley G. Fulton? I can see them
+now: ‘In Search of an Heir and Finds a Wife.’—‘Charming Miss Maggie
+Duff Falls in Love with Plain John Smith,’ and—”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, no, no,” moaned Miss Maggie, shrinking back as if already the
+lurid headlines were staring her in the face.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smith laughed.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, well, it might not be so bad as that, of course. But you never can
+tell. Undoubtedly there are elements for a pretty good story in the
+case, and some man, with nothing more important to write up, is bound
+to make the most of it somewhere. Then other papers will copy. There’s
+sure to be unpleasant publicity, my dear, if the truth once leaks out.”</p>
+
+<p>“But what—what <i>had</i> you planned to do?” she faltered, shuddering
+again.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I <i>had</i> planned something like this: pretty quick, now,
+Mr. Smith was to announce the completion of his Blaisdell data, and,
+with properly grateful farewells, take his departure from Hillerton. He
+would go to South America. There he would go inland on some sort of a
+simple expedition with a few native guides and carriers, but no other
+companion. Somewhere in the wilderness he would shed his beard and his
+name, and would emerge in his proper person of Stanley G. Fulton and
+promptly take passage for the States. Of course, upon the arrival in
+Chicago of Mr. Stanley G. Fulton, there would be a slight flurry at
+his appearance, and a few references to the hundred-thousand-dollar
+gifts to the Eastern relatives, and sundry speculations as to the
+why and how of the exploring trip. There would be various rumors and
+alleged interviews; but Mr. Stanley G. Fulton never was noted for
+his communicativeness, and, after a very short time, the whole thing
+would be dismissed as probably another of the gentleman’s well-known
+eccentricities. And there it would end.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, I see,” murmured Miss Maggie, in very evident relief. “That would
+be better—in some ways; only it does seem terrible not to—to tell them
+who you are.”</p>
+
+<p>“But we have just proved that to do that wouldn’t bring happiness
+anywhere, and would bring misery everywhere, haven’t we?”</p>
+
+<p>“Y-yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then why do it?—particularly as by not doing it I am not defrauding
+anybody in the least. No; that part isn’t worrying me a bit now—but
+there is one point that does worry me very much.”</p>
+
+<p>“What do you mean? What is it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yourself. My scheme gets Stanley G. Fulton back to life and Chicago
+very nicely; but it doesn’t get Maggie Duff there worth a cent! Maggie
+Duff can’t marry Mr. John Smith in Hillerton and arrive in Chicago as
+the wife of Stanley G. Fulton, can she?”</p>
+
+<p>“N-no, but he—he can come back and get her—if he wants her.” Miss
+Maggie blushed.</p>
+
+<p>“If he wants her, indeed!” (Miss Maggie blushed all the more at the
+method and the fervor of Mr. Smith’s answer to this.) “Come back as
+Mr. Stanley G. Fulton, you mean?” went on Mr. Smith, smiling at Miss
+Maggie’s hurried efforts to smooth her ruffled hair. “Too risky, my
+dear! He’d look altogether too much like—like Mr. John Smith.”</p>
+
+<p>“But your beard will be gone—I wonder how I shall like you without a
+beard.” She eyed him critically.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smith laughed and threw up his hands with a doleful shrug.</p>
+
+<p>“That’s what comes of courting as one man and marrying as another,” he
+groaned. Then, sternly: “I’ll warn you right now, Maggie Duff, that
+Stanley G. Fulton is going to be awfully jealous of John Smith if you
+don’t look out.”</p>
+
+<p>“He should have thought of that before,” retorted Miss Maggie, her eyes
+mischievous. “But, tell me, wouldn’t you <i>ever</i> dare to come—in
+your proper person?”</p>
+
+<p>“Never!—or, at least, not for some time. The beard would be gone, to be
+sure; but there’d be all the rest to tattle—eyes, voice, size, manner,
+walk—everything; and smoked glasses couldn’t cover all that, you know.
+Besides, glasses would be taboo, anyway. They’d only result in making
+me look more like John Smith than ever. John Smith, you remember, wore
+smoked glasses for some time to hide Mr. Stanley G. Fulton from the
+ubiquitous reporter. No, Mr. Stanley G. Fulton can’t come to Hillerton.
+So, as Mahomet can’t go to the mountain, the mountain must come to
+Mahomet.”</p>
+
+<p>“Meaning—?” Miss Maggie’s eyes were growing dangerously mutinous.</p>
+
+<p>“That you will have to come to Chicago—yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“And court you? No, sir—thank you!”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smith chuckled softly.</p>
+
+<p>“I love you with your head tilted that way.” (Miss Maggie promptly
+tilted it the other.) “Or that, either, for that matter,” continued Mr.
+Smith genially. “However, speaking of courting—Mr. Fulton will do that,
+all right, and endeavor to leave nothing lacking, either as to quantity
+or quality. Think, now. Don’t you know any one in Chicago? Haven’t you
+got some friend that you can visit?”</p>
+
+<p>“No!” Miss Maggie’s answer was prompt and emphatic—too prompt and too
+emphatic for unquestioning acceptance.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, yes, you have,” asserted the man cheerfully. “I don’t know her
+name—but she’s there. She’s waving a red flag from your face this
+minute! Now, listen. Well, turn your head away, if you like—if you can
+listen better that way,” he went on tranquilly paying no attention to
+her little gasp. “Well, all you have to do is to write the lady you’re
+coming, and go. Never mind who she is—Mr. Stanley G. Fulton will find a
+way to meet her. Trust him for that! Then he’ll call and meet you—and
+be so pleased to see you! The rest will be easy. There’ll be a regular
+whirlwind courtship then—calls, dinners, theaters, candy, books,
+flowers! Then Mr. Stanley G. Fulton will propose marriage. You’ll be
+immensely surprised, of course, but you’ll accept. Then we’ll get
+married,” he finished with a deep sigh of satisfaction.
+“<i>Mr. Smith</i>!” ejaculated Miss Maggie faintly.</p>
+
+<p>“Say, <i>can’t</i> you call me anything—” he began wrathfully, but
+interrupted himself. “However, it’s better that you don’t, after all.
+Because I’ve got to be ‘Mr. Smith’ as long as I stay here. But you wait
+till you meet Mr. Stanley G. Fulton in Chicago! Now, what’s her name,
+and where does she live?”</p>
+
+<p>Miss Maggie laughed in spite of herself, as she said severely: “Her
+name, indeed! I’m afraid Mr. Stanley G. Fulton is so in the habit of
+having his own way that he forgets he is still Mr. John Smith. However,
+there <i>is</i> an old schoolmate,” she acknowledged demurely.</p>
+
+<p>“Of course there is! Now, write her at once, and tell her you’re
+coming.”</p>
+
+<p>“But she—she may not be there.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then get her there. She’s <i>got</i> to be there. And, listen. I think
+you’d better plan to go pretty soon after I go to South America. Then
+you can be there when Mr. Stanley G. Fulton arrives in Chicago and
+can write the news back here to Hillerton. Oh, they’ll get it in the
+papers, in time, of course; but I think it had better come from you
+first. You see—the reappearance on this earth of Mr. Stanley G. Fulton
+is going to be of—of some moment to them, you know. There is Mrs.
+Hattie, for instance, who is counting on the rest of the money next
+November.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, I know, it will mean a good deal to them, of course. Still, I
+don’t believe Hattie is really expecting the money. At any rate, she
+hasn’t said anything about it very lately—perhaps because she’s been
+too busy bemoaning the pass the present money has brought them to.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, I know,” frowned Mr. Smith, with a gloomy sigh. “That miserable
+money!”</p>
+
+<p>“No, no—I didn’t mean to bring that up,” apologized Miss Maggie
+quickly, with an apprehensive glance into his face. “And it wasn’t
+miserable money a bit! Besides, Hattie has—has learned her lesson, I’m
+sure, and she’ll do altogether differently in the new home. But, Mr.
+Smith, am I never to—to come back here? Can’t we come back—ever?”</p>
+
+<p>“Indeed we can—some time, by and by, when all this has blown over,
+and they’ve forgotten how Mr. Smith looks. We can come back then.
+Meanwhile, you can come alone—a <i>very</i> little. I shan’t let you
+leave me very much. But I understand; you’ll have to come to see your
+friends. Besides, there are all those playgrounds for the babies and
+cleaner milk for the streets, and—”</p>
+
+<p>“Cleaner milk for the streets, indeed!”</p>
+
+<p>“Eh? What? Oh, yes, it <i>was</i> the milk for the babies, wasn’t
+it?” he teased. “Well, however that may be you’ll have to come back
+to superintend all those things you’ve been wanting to do so long.
+But”—his face grew a little wistful—“you don’t want to spend too much
+time here. You know—Chicago has a few babies that need cleaner milk.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, I know, I know!” Her face grew softly luminous as it had grown
+earlier in the afternoon.</p>
+
+<p>“So you can bestow some of your charity there; and—”</p>
+
+<p>“It isn’t charity,” she interrupted with suddenly flashing eyes. “Oh,
+how I hate that word—the way it’s used, I mean. Of course, the real
+charity means love. Love, indeed! I suppose it was <i>love</i> that
+made John Daly give one hundred dollars to the Pension Fund Fair—after
+he’d jewed it out of those poor girls behind his counters! And Mrs.
+Morse went around everywhere telling how kind dear Mr. Daly was to
+give so much to charity! <i>Charity</i>! Nobody wants charity—except
+a few lazy rascals like those beggars of Flora’s! But we all want our
+<i>rights</i>. And if half the world gave the other half its rights
+there wouldn’t <i>be</i> any charity, I believe.”</p>
+
+<p>“Dear, dear! What have we here? A rabid little Socialist?” Mr. Smith
+held up both hands in mock terror. “I shall be petitioning her for my
+bread and butter, yet!”</p>
+
+<p>“Nonsense! But, honestly, Mr. Smith, when I think of all that
+money”—her eyes began to shine again—“and of what we can do with it,
+I—I just can’t believe it’s so!”</p>
+
+<p>“But you aren’t expecting that twenty millions are going to right all
+the wrongs in the world, are you?” Mr. Smith’s eyes were quizzical.</p>
+
+<p>“No, oh, no; but we can help <i>some</i> that we know about. But it
+isn’t that I just want to <i>give</i>, you know. We must get behind
+things—to the causes. We must—”</p>
+
+<p>“We must make the Mr. Dalys pay more to their girls before they pay
+anything to pension funds, eh?” laughed Mr. Smith, as Miss Maggie came
+to a breathless pause.</p>
+
+<p>“Exactly!” nodded Miss Maggie earnestly. “Oh, can’t you <i>see</i> what
+we can do—with that twenty million dollars?”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smith, his gaze on Miss Maggie’s flushed cheeks and shining eyes,
+smiled tenderly. Then with mock severity he frowned.</p>
+
+<p>“I see—that I’m being married for my money—after all!” he scolded.</p>
+
+<p>“Pooh!” sniffed Miss Maggie, so altogether bewitchingly that Mr. Smith
+gave her a rapturous kiss.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXV">CHAPTER XXV<br />
+<span class='ph3'>EXIT MR. JOHN SMITH</span></h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>Early in July Mr. Smith took his departure from Hillerton. He made a
+farewell call upon each of the Blaisdell families, and thanked them
+heartily for all their kindness in assisting him with his Blaisdell
+book.</p>
+
+<p>The Blaisdells, one and all, said they were very sorry to have him go.
+Miss Flora frankly wiped her eyes, and told Mr. Smith she could never,
+never thank him enough for what he had done for her. Mellicent, too,
+with shy eyes averted, told him she should never forget what he had
+done for her—and for Donald.</p>
+
+<p>James and Flora and Frank—and even Jane!—said that they would like to
+have one of the Blaisdell books, when they were published, to hand down
+in the family. Flora took out her purse and said that she would pay for
+hers now; but Mr. Smith hastily, and with some evident embarrassment,
+refused the money, saying that he could not tell yet what the price of
+the book would be.</p>
+
+<p>All the Blaisdells, except Frank, Fred, and Bessie, went to the station
+to see Mr. Smith off. They said they wanted to. They told him he was
+just like one of the family, anyway, and they declared they hoped he
+would come back soon. Frank telephoned him that he would have gone,
+too, if he had not had so much to do at the store.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Smith seemed pleased at all this attention—he seemed, indeed,
+quite touched; but he seemed also embarrassed—in fact, he seemed often
+embarrassed during those last few days at Hillerton.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Maggie Duff did not go to the station to see Mr. Smith off. Miss
+Flora, on her way home, stopped at the Duff cottage and reproached Miss
+Maggie for the delinquency.</p>
+
+<p>“Nonsense! Why should I go?” laughed Miss Maggie.</p>
+
+<p>“Why <i>shouldn’t</i> you?” retorted Miss Flora. “All the rest of us
+did, ’most.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, that’s all right. You’re Blaisdells—but I’m not, you know.”</p>
+
+<p>“You’re just as good as one, Maggie Duff! Besides, hasn’t that man
+boarded here for over a year, and paid you good money, too?”</p>
+
+<p>“Why, y-yes, of course.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, then, I don’t think it would have hurt you any to show him this
+last little attention. He’ll think you don’t like him, or—or are mad
+about something, when all the rest of us went.”</p>
+
+<p>“Nonsense, Flora!”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, then, if—Why, Maggie Duff, you’re <i>blushing</i>!” she broke
+off, peering into Miss Maggie’s face in a way that did not tend to
+lessen the unmistakable color that was creeping to her forehead. “You
+<i>are</i> blushing! I declare, if you were twenty years younger, and
+I didn’t know better, I should say that—” She stopped abruptly, then
+plunged on, her countenance suddenly alight with a new idea. “<i>Now</i> I
+know why you didn’t go to the station, Maggie Duff! That man proposed
+to you, and you refused him!” she triumphed.</p>
+
+<p>“Flora!” gasped Miss Maggie, her face scarlet.</p>
+
+<p>“He did, I know he did! Hattie always said it would be a match—from the
+very first, when he came here to your house.”</p>
+
+<p>“<i>Flora!</i>” gasped Miss Maggie again, looking about her very much as if
+she were meditating flight.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, she did—but I didn’t believe it. Now I know. You refused
+him—now, didn’t you?”</p>
+
+<p>“Certainly not!” Miss Maggie caught her breath a little convulsively.</p>
+
+<p>“Honest?”</p>
+
+<p>“Flora! Stop this silly talk right now. I have answered you once. I
+shan’t again.”</p>
+
+<p>“Hm-m.” Miss Flora fell back in her chair. “Well, I suppose you didn’t,
+then, if you say so. And I don’t need to ask if you accepted him. You
+didn’t, of course, or you’d have been there to see him off. And he
+wouldn’t have gone then, anyway, probably. So he didn’t ask you, I
+suppose. Well, I never did believe, like Hattie did, that—”</p>
+
+<p>“Flora,” interrupted Miss Maggie desperately, “<i>Will</i> you stop talking in
+that absurd way? Listen, I did not care to go to the station to-day. I
+am very busy. I am going away next week. I am going—to Chicago.”</p>
+
+<p>“To <i>chicago</i>—you!” Miss Flora came erect in her chair.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, for a visit. I’m going to see my old classmate, Nellie
+Maynard—Mrs. Tyndall.”</p>
+
+<p>“Maggie!”</p>
+
+<p>“What’s the matter?”</p>
+
+<p>“Why, n-nothing. It’s lovely, of course, only—only I—I’m so surprised!
+You never go anywhere.”</p>
+
+<p>“All the more reason why I should, then. It’s time I did,” smiled Miss
+Maggie. Miss Maggie was looking more at ease now.</p>
+
+<p>“When are you going?”</p>
+
+<p>“Next Wednesday. I heard from Nellie last night. She is expecting me
+then.”</p>
+
+<p>“How perfectly splendid! I’m so glad! And I do hope you can <i>do</i>
+it, and that it won’t peter out at the last minute, same’s most of
+your good times do. Poor Maggie! And you’ve had such a hard life—and
+your boarder leaving, too! That’ll make a lot of difference in your
+pocketbook, won’t it? But, Maggie, you’ll have to have some new
+clothes.”</p>
+
+<p>“Of course. I’ve been shopping this afternoon. I’ve got to have—oh,
+lots of things.”</p>
+
+<p>“Of course you have. And, Maggie,”—Miss Flora’s face grew
+eager,—“please, <i>please</i>, won’t you let me help you a little—about
+those clothes? And get some nice ones—some real nice ones, for once.
+You <i>know</i> how I’d love to! Please, Maggie, there’s a good girl!”</p>
+
+<p>“Thank you, no, dear,” refused Miss Maggie, shaking her head with a
+smile. “But I appreciate your kindness just the same—indeed, I do!”</p>
+
+<p>“If you wouldn’t be so horrid proud,” pouted Miss Flora.</p>
+
+<p>But Miss Maggie stopped her with a gesture.</p>
+
+<p>“No, no,—listen! I—I have something to tell you. I was going to tell
+you soon, anyway, and I’ll tell it now. I <i>have</i> money, dear,—lots
+of it now.”</p>
+
+<p>“You <i>have</i> money!”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes. Father’s Cousin George died two months ago.”</p>
+
+<p>“The rich one, in Alaska?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes; and to father’s daughter he left—fifty thousand dollars.”</p>
+
+<p>“<i>Mag</i>-gie!”</p>
+
+<p>“And I never even <i>saw</i> him! But he loved father, you know, years
+ago, and father loved him.”</p>
+
+<p>“But had you ever heard from him—late years?”</p>
+
+<p>“Not much. Father was very angry because he went to Alaska in the first
+place, you know, and they haven’t ever written very often.”</p>
+
+<p>“Fifty thousand! And you’ve got it now?”</p>
+
+<p>“Not yet—all of it. They sent me a thousand—just for pin money, they
+said. The lawyer’s written several times, and he’s been here once. I
+believe it’s all to come next month.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, I’m so glad, Maggie,” breathed Flora. “I’m so glad! I don’t know
+of anybody I’d rather see take a little comfort in life than you!”</p>
+
+<p>At the door, fifteen minutes later, Miss Flora said again how glad she
+was; but she added wistfully:—</p>
+
+<p>“I’m sure I don’t know, though, what I’m going to do all summer without
+you. Just think how lonesome we’ll be—you gone to Chicago, Hattie and
+Jim and all their family moved to Plainville, and even Mr. Smith gone,
+too! And I think we’re going to miss Mr. Smith a whole lot, too. He was
+a real nice man. Don’t you think so, Maggie?”</p>
+
+<p>“Indeed, I do think he was a very nice man!” declared Miss Maggie.
+“Now, Flora, I shall want you to go shopping with me lots. Can you?”</p>
+
+<p>And Miss Flora, eagerly entering into Miss Maggie’s discussion of
+frills and flounces, failed to notice that Miss Maggie had dropped the
+subject of Mr. Smith somewhat hastily.</p>
+
+<p>Hillerton had much to talk about during those summer days. Mr. Smith’s
+going had created a mild discussion—the “ancestor feller” was well
+known and well liked in the town. But even his departure did not arouse
+the interest that was bestowed upon the removal of the James Blaisdells
+to Plainville; and this, in turn, did not cause so great an excitement
+as did the news that Miss Maggie Duff had inherited fifty thousand
+dollars and had gone to Chicago to spend it. And the fact that nearly
+all who heard this promptly declared that they hoped she <i>would</i>
+spend a good share of it—in Chicago, or elsewhere—on herself, showed
+pretty well just where Miss Maggie Duff stood in the hearts of
+Hillerton.</p>
+
+<p>. . . . . .</p>
+
+<p>It was early in September that Miss Flora had the letter from Miss
+Maggie. Not but that she had received letters from Miss Maggie
+before, but that the contents of this one made it at once, to all the
+Blaisdells, “the letter.”</p>
+
+<p>Miss Flora began to read it, gave a little cry, and sprang to her feet.
+Standing, her breath suspended, she finished it. Five minutes later,
+gloves half on and hat askew, she was hurrying across the common to her
+brother Frank’s home.</p>
+
+<p>“Jane, Jane,” she panted, as soon as she found her sister-in-law. “I’ve
+had a letter from Maggie. Mr. Stanley G. Fulton has come back. <i>He’s
+come back!</i>”</p>
+
+<p>“Come back! Alive, you mean? Oh, my goodness gracious! What’ll Hattie
+do? She’s just been living on having that money. And us, with all we’ve
+lost, too! But, then, maybe we wouldn’t have got it, anyway. My stars!
+And Maggie wrote you? Where’s the letter?”</p>
+
+<p>“There! And I never thought to bring it,” ejaculated Miss Flora
+vexedly. “But, never mind! I can tell you all she said. She didn’t
+write much. She said it would be in all the Eastern papers right
+away, of course, but she wanted to tell us first, so we wouldn’t be
+so surprised. He’s just come. Walked into his lawyer’s office without
+a telegram, or anything. Said he didn’t want any fuss made. Mr.
+Tyndall brought home the news that night in an ‘Extra’; but that’s all
+it told—just that Mr. Stanley G. Fulton, the multi-millionaire who
+disappeared nearly two years ago on an exploring trip to South America,
+had come back alive and well. Then it told all about the two letters
+he left, and the money he left to us, and all that, Maggie said; and
+it talked a lot about how lucky it was that he got back just in time
+before the other letter had to be opened next November. But it didn’t
+say any more about his trip, or anything. The morning papers will have
+more, Maggie said, probably.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, of course, of course,” nodded Jane, rolling the corner of her
+upper apron nervously. (Since the forty-thousand-dollar loss Jane had
+gone back to her old habit of wearing two aprons.) “Where <i>do</i> you
+suppose he’s been all this time? Was he lost or just exploring?”</p>
+
+<p>“Maggie said it wasn’t known—that the paper didn’t say. It was an
+‘Extra’ anyway, and it just got in the bare news of his return. But
+we’ll know, of course. The papers here will tell us. Besides, Maggie’ll
+write again about it, I’m sure. Poor Maggie! I’m so glad she’s having
+such a good time!”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, of course, of course,” nodded Jane again nervously. “Say, Flora,
+I wonder—do you suppose <i>we’ll</i> ever hear from him? He left us
+all that money—he knows that, of course. He can’t ask for it back—the
+lawyer said he couldn’t do that! Don’t you remember? But, I wonder—do
+you suppose we ought to write him and—and thank him?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, mercy!” exclaimed Miss Flora, aghast. “Mercy me, Jane! I’d be
+scared to death to do such a thing as that. Oh, you don’t think we’ve
+got to do <i>that</i>?” Miss Flora had grown actually pale.</p>
+
+<p>Jane frowned.</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know. We’d want to do what was right and proper, of course.
+But I don’t see—” She paused helplessly.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Flora gave a sudden hysterical little laugh.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I don’t see how we’re going to find out what’s proper, in this
+case,” she giggled. “We can’t write to a magazine, same as I did when
+I wanted to know how to answer invitations and fix my knives and forks
+on the table. We <i>can’t</i> write to them, ’cause nothing like this
+ever happened before, and they wouldn’t know what to say. How’d we look
+writing, ‘Please, dear Editor, when a man wills you a hundred thousand
+dollars and then comes to life again, is it proper or not proper to
+write and thank him?’ They’d think we was crazy, and they’d have reason
+to! For my part, I—”</p>
+
+<p>The telephone bell rang sharply, and Jane rose to answer it. She was
+gone some time. When she came back she was even more excited.</p>
+
+<p>“It was Frank. He’s heard it. It was in the papers to-night.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did it tell anything more?”</p>
+
+<p>“Not much, I guess. Still, there was some. He’s going to bring it home.
+It’s ’most supper-time. Why don’t you wait?” she questioned, as Miss
+Flora got hastily to her feet.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Flora shook her head.</p>
+
+<p>“I can’t. I left everything just as it was and ran, when I got the
+letter. I’ll get a paper myself on the way home. I’m going to call up
+Hattie, too, on the long distance. My, it’s ’most as exciting as it was
+when it first came,—the money, I mean,—isn’t it?” panted Miss Flora as
+she hurried away.</p>
+
+<p>The Blaisdells bought many papers during the next few days. But even by
+the time that the Stanley G. Fulton sensation had dwindled to a short
+paragraph in an obscure corner of a middle page, they (and the public
+in general) were really little the wiser, except for these bare facts:—</p>
+
+<p>Stanley G. Fulton had arrived at a South American hotel, from the
+interior, had registered as S. Fulton, frankly to avoid publicity,
+and had taken immediate passage to New York. Arriving at New York,
+still to avoid publicity, he had not telegraphed his attorneys, but
+had taken the sleeper for Chicago, and had fortunately not met any one
+who recognized him until his arrival in that city. He had brought home
+several fine specimens of Incan textiles and potteries: and he declared
+that he had had a very enjoyable and profitable trip. Beyond that he
+would say nothing. He did not care to talk of his experiences, he said.</p>
+
+<p>For a time, of course, his return was made much of. Fake interviews
+and rumors of threatened death and disaster in impenetrable jungles
+made frequent appearance; but in an incredibly short time the flame of
+interest died from want of fuel to feed upon; and, as Mr. Stanley G.
+Fulton himself had once predicted, the matter was soon dismissed as
+merely another of the multi-millionaire’s well-known eccentricities.</p>
+
+<p>All of this the Blaisdells heard from Miss Maggie in addition to seeing
+it in the newspapers. But very soon, from Miss Maggie, they began to
+learn more. Before a fortnight had passed, Miss Flora received another
+letter from Chicago that sent her flying as before to her sister-in-law.</p>
+
+<p>“Jane, Jane, Maggie’s <i>met him</i>!” she cried, breathlessly bursting
+into the kitchen where Jane was paring the apples that she would not
+trust to the maid’s more wasteful knife.</p>
+
+<p>“Met him! Met who?”</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Fulton. She’s <i>talked</i> with him! She wrote me all about it.”</p>
+
+<p>“<i>Our</i> Mr. Fulton?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“<i>Flora!</i>” With a hasty twirl of a now reckless knife, Jane finished the
+last apple, set the pan on the table before the maid, and hurried her
+visitor into the living-room. “Now, tell me quick—what did she say? Is
+he nice? Did she like him? Did he know she belonged to us?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes—yes—everything,” nodded Miss Flora, sinking into a chair. “She
+liked him real well, she said and he knows all about that she belongs
+to us. She said he was real interested in us. Oh, I hope she didn’t
+tell him about—Fred!”</p>
+
+<p>“And that awful gold-mine stock,” moaned Jane. “But she wouldn’t—I know
+she wouldn’t!”</p>
+
+<p>“Of course she wouldn’t,” cried Miss Flora. “’Tisn’t like Maggie one
+bit! She’d only tell the nice things, I’m sure. And, of course, she’d
+tell him how pleased we were with the money!”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, of course, of course. And to think she’s met him—really met him!”
+breathed Jane. “Mellicent!” She turned an excited face to her daughter,
+who had just entered the room. “What do you think? Aunt Flora’s just
+had a letter from Aunt Maggie, and she’s met Mr. Fulton—actually
+<i>talked</i> with him!”</p>
+
+<p>“Really? Oh, how perfectly splendid! Is he nice? Did she like him?”</p>
+
+<p>Miss Flora laughed.</p>
+
+<p>“That’s just what your mother asked. Yes, he’s real nice, your Aunt
+Maggie says, and she likes him very much.”</p>
+
+<p>“But how’d she do it? How’d she happen to meet him?” demanded Jane.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, it seems he knew Mr. Tyndall, and Mr. Tyndall brought him home
+one night and introduced him to his wife and Maggie; and since then
+he’s been very nice to them. He’s taken them out in his automobile, and
+taken them to the theater twice.”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s because she belongs to us, of course,” nodded Jane wisely.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, I suppose so,” agreed Flora. “And I think it’s very kind of him.”</p>
+
+<p>“Pooh!” sniffed Mellicent airily. “_I_ think he does it because he
+<i>wants</i> to. You never did appreciate Aunt Maggie. I’ll warrant
+she’s nicer and sweeter and—and, yes, <i>prettier</i> than lots of
+those old Chicago women. Aunt Maggie looked positively <i>handsome</i>
+that day she left here last July. She looked so—so absolutely happy!
+Probably he <i>likes</i> to take her to places. Anyhow, I’m glad she’s
+having one good time before she dies.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, so am I, my dear. We all are,” sighed Miss Flora. “Poor Maggie!”</p>
+
+<p>“I only wish he’d marry her and—and give her a good time all her life,”
+avowed Mellicent, lifting her chin.</p>
+
+<p>“Marry her!” exclaimed two scornful voices.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, why not? She’s good enough for him,” bridled Mellicent. “Aunt
+Maggie’s good enough for anybody!”</p>
+
+<p>“Of course she is, child!” laughed Miss Flora. “Maggie’s a saint—if
+ever there was one.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, but I shouldn’t call her a <i>marrying</i> saint,” smiled Jane.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I don’t know about that,” frowned Miss Flora thoughtfully.
+“Hattie always declared there’d be a match between her and Mr. Smith,
+you know.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes. But there wasn’t one, was there?” twitted Jane. “Well, then, I
+shall stick to my original statement that Maggie Duff is a saint, all
+right, but not a marrying one—unless some one marries her now for her
+money, of course.”</p>
+
+<p>“As if Aunt Maggie’d stand for that!” scoffed Mellicent. “Besides, she
+wouldn’t have to! Aunt Maggie’s good enough to be married for herself.”</p>
+
+<p>“There, there, child, just because you are a love-sick little piece
+of romance just now, you needn’t think everybody else is,” her mother
+reproved her a little sharply.</p>
+
+<p>But Mellicent only laughed merrily as she disappeared into her own room.</p>
+
+<p>“Speaking of Mr. Smith, I wonder where he is, and if he’ll ever come
+back here,” mused Miss Flora, aloud. “I wish he would. He was a very
+nice man, and I liked him.”</p>
+
+<p>“Goodness, Flora, <i>you</i> aren’t, getting romantic, too, are you?”
+teased her sister-in-law.</p>
+
+<p>“Nonsense, Jane!” ejaculated Miss Flora sharply, buttoning up her coat.
+“I’m no more romantic than—than poor Maggie herself is!”</p>
+
+<p>Two weeks later, to a day, came Miss Maggie’s letter announcing her
+engagement to Mr. Stanley G. Fulton, and saying that she was to be
+married in Chicago before Christmas.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXVI">CHAPTER XXVI<br />
+<span class='ph3'>REENTER MR. STANLEY G. FULTON</span></h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>In the library of Mrs. Thomas Tyndall’s Chicago home Mr. Stanley G.
+Fulton was impatiently awaiting the appearance of Miss Maggie Duff.
+In a minute she came in, looking charmingly youthful in her new,
+well-fitting frock.</p>
+
+<p>The man, quickly on his feet at her entrance, gave her a lover’s ardent
+kiss; but almost instantly he held her off at arms’ length.</p>
+
+<p>“Why, dearest, what’s the matter?” he demanded.</p>
+
+<p>“W-what do you mean?”</p>
+
+<p>“You look as if—if something had happened—not exactly a bad something,
+but—What is it?”</p>
+
+<p>Miss Maggie laughed softly.</p>
+
+<p>“That’s one of the very nicest things about you, Mr.
+Stanley-G.-Fulton-John-Smith,” she sighed, nestling comfortably
+into the curve of his arm, as they sat down on the divan;—“that
+you <i>notice</i> things so. And it seems so good to me to have
+somebody—<i>notice</i>.”</p>
+
+<p>“Poor lonely little woman! And to think of all these years I’ve wasted!”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, but I shan’t be lonely any more now. And, listen—I’ll tell you
+what made me look so funny. I’ve had a letter from Flora. You know I
+wrote them—about my coming marriage.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, yes,” eagerly. “Well, what did they say?”</p>
+
+<p>Miss Maggie laughed again.</p>
+
+<p>“I believe—I’ll let you read the letter for yourself, Stanley. It tells
+some things, toward the end that I think you’ll like to know,” she
+said, a little hesitatingly, as she held out the letter she had brought
+into the room with her.</p>
+
+<p>“Good! I’d like to read it,” cried Fulton, whisking the closely written
+sheets from the envelope.</p>
+
+<div class='blockquote'><span class="smcap">My Dear Maggie</span> (Flora had written): Well, mercy me, you have
+given us a surprise this time, and no mistake! Yet we’re all real
+glad, Maggie, and we hope you’ll be awfully happy. You deserve it,
+all right. Poor Maggie! You’ve had such an awfully hard time all your
+life!</div>
+
+<div class='blockquote'>Well, when your letter came, we were just going out to Jim’s for an
+old-fashioned Thanksgiving dinner, so I took it along with me and
+read it to them all. I kept it till we were all together, too, though
+I most bursted with the news all the way out.</div>
+
+<div class='blockquote'>Well, you ought to have heard their tongues wag! They were all struck
+dumb first, for a minute, all except Mellicent. She spoke up the very
+first thing, and clapped her hands.</div>
+
+<div class='blockquote'>“There,” she cried. “What did I tell you? I knew Aunt Maggie was good
+enough for anybody!”</div>
+
+<div class='blockquote'>To explain that I’ll have to go back a little. We were talking one
+day about you—Jane and Mellicent and me—and we said you were a saint,
+only not a marrying saint. But Mellicent thought you were, and it
+seems she was right. Oh, of course, we’d all thought once Mr. Smith
+might take a fancy to you, but we never dreamed of such a thing as
+this—Mr. Stanley G. Fulton! Sakes alive—I can hardly sense it yet!</div>
+
+<div class='blockquote'>Jane, for a minute, forgot how rich he was, and spoke right up real
+quick—“It’s for her money, of course. I <i>knew</i> some one would
+marry her for that fifty thousand dollars!” But she laughed then,
+right off, with the rest of us, at the idea of a man worth twenty
+millions marrying <i>anybody</i> for fifty thousand dollars.</div>
+
+<div class='blockquote'>Benny says there ain’t any man alive good enough for his Aunt
+Maggie, so if Mr. Fulton gets to being too high-headed sometimes, you
+can tell him what Benny says.</div>
+
+<div class='blockquote'>But we’re all real pleased, honestly, Maggie, and of course we’re
+terribly excited. We’re so sorry you’re going to be married out
+there in Chicago. Why can’t you make him come to Hillerton? Jane
+says she’d be glad to make a real nice wedding for you—and when Jane
+says a thing like that, you can know how much she’s really saying,
+for Jane’s feeling awfully poor these days, since they lost all that
+money, you know.</div>
+
+<div class='blockquote'>And we’d all like to see Mr. Fulton, too—“Cousin Stanley,” as Hattie
+always calls him. Please give him our congratulations—but there, that
+sounds funny, doesn’t it? (But the etiquette editors in the magazines
+say we must always give best wishes to the bride and congratulations
+to the groom.) Only it seems funny here, to congratulate that rich
+Mr. Fulton on marrying you. Oh, dear! I didn’t mean it that way,
+Maggie. I declare, if that sentence wasn’t ’way in the middle of this
+third page, and so awfully hard for me to write, anyway, I’d tear up
+this sheet and begin another. But, after all, you’ll understand, I’m
+sure. You <i>know</i> we all think the world of you, Maggie, and that
+I didn’t mean anything against <i>you</i>. It’s just that—that Mr.
+Fulton is—is such a big man, and all—But you know what I meant.</div>
+
+<div class='blockquote'>Well, anyway, if you can’t come here to be married, we hope you’ll
+bring him here soon so we can see him, and see you, too. We miss you
+awfully, Maggie,—truly we do, especially since Jim’s folks went, and
+with Mr. Smith gone, too, Jane and I are real lonesome.</div>
+
+<div class='blockquote'>Jim and Hattie like real well where they are. They’ve got a real
+pretty home, and they’re the biggest folks in town, so Hattie
+doesn’t have to worry for fear she won’t live quite so fine as her
+neighbors—though really I think Hattie’s got over that now a good
+deal. That awful thing of Fred’s sobered her a lot, and taught her
+who her real friends were, and that money ain’t everything.</div>
+
+<div class='blockquote'>Fred is doing splendidly now, just as steady as a clock. It does my
+soul good to see him and his father together. They are just like
+chums. And Bessie—she isn’t near so disagreeable and airy as she was.
+Hattie took her out of that school and put her into another where
+she’s getting some real learning and less society and frills and
+dancing. Jim is doing well, and I think Hattie’s real happy. Oh, of
+course, when we first heard that Mr. Fulton had got back, I think
+she was kind of disappointed. You know she always did insist we were
+going to have the rest of that money if he didn’t show up. But she
+told me just Thanksgiving Day that she didn’t know but ’twas just as
+well, after all, that they didn’t have the money, for maybe Fred’d
+go wrong again, or it would strike Benny this time. Anyhow, however
+much money she had, she said, she’d never let her children spend so
+much again, and she’d found out money didn’t bring happiness, always,
+anyway.</div>
+
+<div class='blockquote'>Mellicent and Donald are going to be married next summer. Donald
+don’t get a very big salary yet, but Mellicent says she won’t mind a
+bit going back to economizing again, now that for once she’s had all
+the chocolates and pink dresses she wanted. What a funny girl she
+is—but she’s a dear girl, just the same, and she’s settled down real
+sensible now. She and Donald are as happy as can be, and even Jane
+likes Donald real well now.</div>
+
+<div class='blockquote'>Jane’s gone back to her tidies and aprons and skimping on everything.
+She says she’s got to, to make up that forty thousand dollars. But
+she enjoys it, I believe. Honestly, she acts ’most as happy trying
+to save five cents as Frank does earning it in his old place behind
+the counter. And that’s saying a whole lot, as you know. Jane knows
+very well she doesn’t have to pinch that way. They’ve got lots of the
+money left, and Frank’s business is better than ever. But she just
+likes to.</div>
+
+<div class='blockquote'>You complain because I don’t tell you anything about myself in my
+letters, but there isn’t anything to tell. I am well and happy, and
+I’ve just thought up the nicest thing to do. Mary Hicks came home
+from Boston sick last September, and she’s been here at my house ever
+since. Her own home ain’t no place for a sick person, you know, with
+all those children, and they’re awfully poor, too. So I took her here
+with me. She’s a real nice girl. She works in a department store and
+was all played out, but she’s picked up wonderfully here and is going
+back next week.</div>
+
+<div class='blockquote'>Well, she was telling me about a girl that works with her at the same
+counter, and saying how she wished she had a place like this to go to
+for a rest and change, so I’m going to do it—give them one, I mean,
+she and the other girls. Mary says there are a dozen girls that she
+knows right there that are half-sick, but would get well in a minute
+if they only had a few weeks of rest and quiet and good food. So I’m
+going to take them, two at a time, so they’ll be company for each
+other. Mary is going to fix it up for me down there, and pick out
+the girls, and she says she knows the man who owns the store will
+be glad to let them off, for they are all good help, and he’s been
+afraid he’d lose them. He’d offered them a month off, besides their
+vacation, but they couldn’t take it, because they didn’t have any
+place to go or money to pay. Of course, that part will be all right
+now. And I’m so glad and excited I don’t know what to do. Oh, I do
+hope you’ll tell Mr. Fulton some time how happy he’s made me, and how
+perfectly splendid that money’s been for me.</div>
+
+<div class='blockquote'>Well, Maggie, this is a long letter, and I must close. Tell me all
+about the new clothes you are getting, and I hope you will get a lot.</div>
+
+<div class='blockquote'><span style="margin-left: 22em;">Lovingly yours,</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 28em;"><span class="smcap">Flora.</span></span></div>
+
+<div class='blockquote'>P.S. Does Mr. Fulton look like his pictures? You know I’ve got one. F.</div>
+
+<div class='blockquote'>P.S. again. Maggie Duff, for pity’s sake, never, never tell that man
+that I ever went into mourning for him and put flowers before his
+picture. I’d be mortified to death!</div>
+<p>“Bless her heart!” With a smile Mr. Fulton folded the letter and handed
+it back to Miss Maggie.</p>
+
+<p>“I didn’t feel that I was betraying confidences—under the
+circumstances,” murmured Miss Maggie.</p>
+
+<p>“Hardly!”</p>
+
+<p>“And there was a good deal in the letter that I <i>did</i> want you to
+see,” added Miss Maggie.</p>
+
+<p>“Hm-m; the congratulations, for one thing, of course,” twinkled the
+man. “Poor Maggie!”</p>
+
+<p>“I wanted you to see how really, in the end, that money was not doing
+so much harm, after all,” asserted Miss Maggie, with some dignity,
+shaking her head at him reprovingly. “I thought you’d be <i>glad</i>,
+sir!”</p>
+
+<p>“I am glad. I’m so glad that, when I come to make my will now, I
+shouldn’t wonder if I remembered them all again—a little—that is, if I
+have anything left to will,” he teased shamelessly. “Oh, by the way,
+that makes me think. I’ve just been putting up a monument to John
+Smith.”</p>
+
+<p>“Stanley!” Miss Maggie’s voice carried genuine shocked distress.</p>
+
+<p>“But, my dear Maggie, something was due the man,” maintained Fulton,
+reaching for a small flat parcel near him and placing it in Miss
+Maggie’s hands.</p>
+
+<p>“But—oh, Stanley, how could you?” she shivered, her eyes on the words
+the millionaire had penciled on the brown paper covering of the parcel.</p>
+
+<p><span style="margin-left: 9em;">Sacred to the memory of John Smith.</span><br /></p>
+
+<p>“Open it,” directed the man.</p>
+
+<p>With obvious reluctance Miss Maggie loosened the paper covers and
+peered within. The next moment she gave a glad cry.</p>
+
+<p>In her hands lay a handsome brown leather volume with gold letters,
+reading:—</p>
+
+<p><span style="margin-left: 12.5em;">The Blaisdell Family</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 17em;">By</span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 15em;">John Smith</span><br /></p>
+
+<p>“And you—did that?” she asked, her eyes luminous.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes. I shall send a copy each to Frank and Jim and Miss Flora, of
+course. That’s the monument. I thought it due—Mr. John Smith. Poor man,
+it’s the least I can do for him—and the most—unless—” He hesitated with
+an unmistakable look of embarrassment.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes,” prompted Miss Maggie eagerly. “Yes!”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, unless—I let you take me to Hillerton one of these days and
+see if—if Stanley G. Fulton, with your gracious help, can make peace
+for John Smith with those—er—cousins of mine. You see, I still feel
+confoundedly like that small boy at the keyhole, and I’d like—to open
+that door! Could we do it, do you think?”</p>
+
+<p>“Do it? Of course we could! And, oh, Stanley, it’s the one thing needed
+to make me perfectly happy,” she sighed blissfully.</p>
+
+
+<p><span style="margin-left: 16em;">THE END</span></p>
+
+
+
+
+<div style='display:block;margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OH, MONEY! MONEY! ***</div>
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diff --git a/5962-h/images/cover.jpg b/5962-h/images/cover.jpg
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+in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES.
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+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for
+eBook #5962 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/5962)
diff --git a/old/5962-2016-06-20.txt b/old/5962-2016-06-20.txt
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Oh, Money! Money!, by Eleanor Hodgman Porter
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Oh, Money! Money!
+
+Author: Eleanor Hodgman Porter
+
+Posting Date: October 26, 2012 [EBook #5962]
+Release Date: June, 2004
+First Posted: October 1, 2002
+Last Updated: June 20, 2016
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OH, MONEY! MONEY! ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Charles Franks, Charles Aldarondo, and the
+Online Distributed Proofreading Team.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration by Helen Mason Grose with caption: "I was thinking--of
+Mr. Stanley G. Fulton"]
+
+
+OH, MONEY! MONEY!
+
+A NOVEL
+
+BY
+
+ELEANOR H. PORTER
+
+Author of
+
+The Road to Understanding, Just David, Etc.
+
+WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY HELEN MASON GROSE
+
+
+
+
+
+To
+
+My Friend
+
+EVA BAKER
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+I.     EXIT MR. STANLEY G. FULTON
+
+II.    ENTER MR. JOHN SMITH
+
+III.   THE SMALL BOY AT THE KEYHOLE
+
+IV.    IN SEARCH OF SOME DATES
+
+V.     IN MISS FLORA'S ALBUM
+
+VI.    POOR MAGGIE
+
+VII.   POOR MAGGIE AND SOME OTHERS
+
+VIII.  A SANTA CLAUS HELD UP
+
+IX.    "DEAR COUSIN STANLEY"
+
+X.     WHAT DOES IT MATTER?
+
+XI.    SANTA CLAUS ARRIVES
+
+XII.   THE TOYS RATTLE OUT
+
+XIII.  THE DANCING BEGINS
+
+XIV.   FROM ME TO YOU WITH LOVE
+
+XV.    IN SEARCH OF REST
+
+XVI.   THE FLY IN THE OINTMENT
+
+XVII.  AN AMBASSADOR OF CUPID'S
+
+XVIII. JUST A MATTER OF BEGGING
+
+XIX.   STILL OTHER FLIES
+
+XX.    FRANKENSTEIN: BEING A LETTER FROM JOHN SMITH TO EDWARD D.
+       NORTON, ATTORNEY AT LAW
+
+XXI.   SYMPATHIES MISPLACED
+
+XXII.  WITH EVERY JIM A JAMES
+
+XXIII. REFLECTIONS--MIRRORED AND OTHERWISE
+
+XXIV.  THAT MISERABLE MONEY
+
+XXV.   EXIT MR. JOHN SMITH
+
+XXVI.  REENTER MR. STANLEY G. FULTON
+
+
+
+
+ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+"I WAS THINKING--OF MR. STANLEY G. FULTON" Frontispiece
+
+"I CAN'T HELP IT, AUNT MAGGIE. I'VE JUST GOT TO BE AWAY!"
+
+"JIM, YOU'LL HAVE TO COME!"
+
+"AND LOOK INTO THOSE BLESSED CHILDREN'S FACES"
+
+From drawings by Mrs. Howard B. Grose, Jr.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+EXIT MR. STANLEY G. FULTON
+
+
+There was a thoughtful frown on the face of the man who was the
+possessor of twenty million dollars. He was a tall, spare man, with a
+fringe of reddish-brown hair encircling a bald spot. His blue eyes,
+fixed just now in a steady gaze upon a row of ponderous law books
+across the room, were friendly and benevolent in direct contradiction
+to the bulldog, never-let-go fighting qualities of the square jaw below
+the firm, rather thin lips.
+
+The lawyer, a youthfully alert man of sixty years, trimly gray as to
+garb, hair, and mustache, sat idly watching him, yet with eyes that
+looked so intently that they seemed to listen.
+
+For fully five minutes the two men had been pulling at their cigars in
+silence when the millionaire spoke.
+
+"Ned, what am I going to do with my money?"
+
+Into the lawyer's listening eyes flashed, for a moment, the keenly
+scrutinizing glance usually reserved for the witness on the other side.
+Then quietly came the answer.
+
+"Spend it yourself, I hope--for some years to come, Stanley."
+
+Mr. Stanley G. Fulton was guilty of a shrug and an uplifted eyebrow.
+
+"Thanks. Very pretty, and I appreciate it, of course. But I can't wear
+but one suit of clothes at a time, nor eat but one dinner--which, by
+the way, just now consists of somebody's health biscuit and hot water.
+Twenty millions don't really what you might call melt away at that
+rate."
+
+The lawyer frowned.
+
+"Shucks, Fulton!" he expostulated, with an irritable twist of his hand.
+"I thought better of you than that. This poor rich man's 'one-suit,
+one-dinner, one-bed-at-a-time' hard-luck story doesn't suit your style.
+Better cut it out!"
+
+"All right. Cut it is." The man smiled good-humoredly. "But you see I
+was nettled. You didn't get me at all. I asked you what was to become
+of my money after I'd done spending it myself--the little that is left,
+of course."
+
+Once more from the lawyer's eyes flashed that keenly scrutinizing
+glance.
+
+"What was it, Fulton? A midnight rabbit, or a wedge of mince pie NOT
+like mother used to make? Why, man alive, you're barely over fifty,
+yet. Cheer up! It's only a little matter of indigestion. There are a
+lot of good days and good dinners coming to you, yet."
+
+The millionaire made a wry face.
+
+"Very likely--if I survive the biscuits. But, seriously, Ned, I'm in
+earnest. No, I don't think I'm going to die--yet awhile. But I ran
+across young Bixby last night--got him home, in fact. Delivered him to
+his white-faced little wife. Talk about your maudlin idiots!"
+
+"Yes, I know. Too bad, too bad!"
+
+"Hm-m; well, that's what one million did--inherited. It set me to
+thinking--of mine, when I get through with them."
+
+"I see." The lawyer's lips came together a little grimly. "You've not
+made your will, I believe."
+
+"No. Dreaded it, somehow. Funny how a man'll fight shy of a little
+thing like that, isn't it? And when we're so mighty particular where it
+goes while we're living!"
+
+"Yes, I know; you're not the only one. You have relatives--somewhere, I
+surmise."
+
+"Nothing nearer than cousins, third or fourth, back East. They'd get
+it, I suppose--without a will."
+
+"Why don't you marry?"
+
+The millionaire repeated the wry face of a moment before.
+
+"I'm not a marrying man. I never did care much for women; and--I'm not
+fool enough to think that a woman would be apt to fall in love with my
+bald head. Nor am I obliging enough to care to hand the millions over
+to the woman that falls in love with THEM, taking me along as the
+necessary sack that holds the gold. If it comes to that, I'd rather
+risk the cousins. They, at least, are of my own blood, and they didn't
+angle to get the money."
+
+"You know them?"
+
+"Never saw 'em."
+
+"Why not pick out a bunch of colleges and endow them?"
+
+The millionaire shook his head.
+
+"Doesn't appeal to me, somehow. Oh, of course it ought to, but--it just
+doesn't. That's all. Maybe if I was a college man myself; but--well, I
+had to dig for what education I got."
+
+"Very well--charities, then. There are numberless organizations
+that--" He stopped abruptly at the other's uplifted hand.
+
+"Organizations! Good Heavens, I should think there were! I tried 'em
+once. I got that philanthropic bee in my bonnet, and I gave thousands,
+tens of thousands to 'em. Then I got to wondering where the money went."
+
+Unexpectedly the lawyer chuckled.
+
+"You never did like to invest without investigating, Fulton," he
+observed.
+
+With only a shrug for an answer the other plunged on.
+
+"Now, understand. I'm not saying that organized charity isn't all
+right, and doesn't do good, of course. Neither am I prepared to propose
+anything to take its place. And maybe the two or three I dealt with
+were particularly addicted to the sort of thing I objected to. But,
+honestly, Ned, if you'd lost heart and friends and money, and were just
+ready to chuck the whole shooting-match, how would you like to become a
+'Case,' say, number twenty-three thousand seven hundred and forty-one,
+ticketed and docketed, and duly apportioned off to a six-by-nine rule
+of 'do this' and 'do that,' while a dozen spectacled eyes watched you
+being cleaned up and regulated and wound up with a key made of just so
+much and no more pats and preachments carefully weighed and labeled?
+How WOULD you like it?"
+
+The lawyer laughed.
+
+"I know; but, my dear fellow, what would you have? Surely, UNorganized
+charity and promiscuous giving is worse--"
+
+"Oh, yes, I've tried that way, too," shrugged the other. "There was a
+time when every Tom, Dick, and Harry, with a run-down shoe and a ragged
+coat, could count on me for a ten-spot by just holding out his hand, no
+questions asked. Then a serious-eyed little woman sternly told me one
+day that the indiscriminate charity of a millionaire was not only a
+curse to any community, but a corruption to the whole state. I believe
+she kindly included the nation, as well, bless her! And I thought I was
+doing good!" "What a blow--to you!" There was a whimsical smile in the
+lawyer's eyes.
+
+"It was." The millionaire was not smiling. "But she was right. It set
+me to thinking, and I began to follow up those ten-spots--the ones that
+I could trace. Jove! what a mess I'd made of it! Oh, some of them were
+all right, of course, and I made THOSE fifties on the spot. But the
+others--! I tell you, Ned, money that isn't earned is the most risky
+thing in the world. If I'd left half those wretches alone, they'd have
+braced up and helped themselves and made men of themselves, maybe. As
+it was--Well, you never can tell as to the results of a so-called
+'good' action. From my experience I should say they are every whit as
+dangerous as the bad ones."
+
+The lawyer laughed outright.
+
+"But, my dear fellow, that's just where the organized charity comes in.
+Don't you see?"
+
+"Oh, yes, I know--Case number twenty-three thousand seven hundred and
+forty-one! And that's all right, of course. Relief of some sort is
+absolutely necessary. But I'd like to see a little warm sympathy
+injected into it, some way. Give the machine a heart, say, as well as
+hands and a head."
+
+"Then why don't you try it yourself?"
+
+"Not I!" His gesture of dissent was emphatic. "I have tried it, in a
+way, and failed. That's why I'd like some one else to tackle the job.
+And that brings me right back to my original question. I'm wondering
+what my money will do, when I'm done with it. I'd like to have one of
+my own kin have it--if I was sure of him. Money is a queer proposition,
+Ned, and it's capable of--'most anything."
+
+"It is. You're right."
+
+"What I can do with it, and what some one else can do with it, are two
+quite different matters. I don't consider my efforts to circulate it
+wisely, or even harmlessly, exactly what you'd call a howling success.
+Whatever I've done, I've always been criticized for not doing something
+else. If I gave a costly entertainment, I was accused of showy
+ostentation. If I didn't give it, I was accused of not putting money
+into honest circulation. If I donated to a church, it was called
+conscience money; and if I didn't donate to it, they said I was mean
+and miserly. So much for what I've done. I was just wondering--what the
+other fellow'd do with it."
+
+"Why worry? 'T won't be your fault."
+
+"But it will--if I give it to him. Great Scott, Ned! what money does
+for folks, sometimes--folks that aren't used to it! Look at Bixby; and
+look at that poor little Marston girl, throwing herself away on that
+worthless scamp of a Gowing who's only after her money, as everybody
+(but herself) knows! And if it doesn't make knaves and martyrs of them,
+ten to one it does make fools of 'em. They're worse than a kid with a
+dollar on circus day; and they use just about as much sense spending
+their pile, too. You should have heard dad tell about his pals in the
+eighties that struck it rich in the gold mines. One bought up every
+grocery store in town and instituted a huge free grab-bag for the
+populace; and another dropped his hundred thousand in the dice box
+before it was a week old. I wonder what those cousins of mine back East
+are like!"
+
+"If you're fearful, better take Case number twenty-three thousand seven
+hundred and forty-one," smiled the lawyer.
+
+"Hm-m; I suppose so," ejaculated the other grimly, getting to his feet.
+"Well, I must be off. It's biscuit time, I see."
+
+A moment later the door of the lawyer's sumptuously appointed office
+closed behind him. Not twenty-four hours afterward, however, it opened
+to admit him again. He was alert, eager-eyed, and smiling. He looked
+ten years younger. Even the office boy who ushered him in cocked a
+curious eye at him.
+
+The man at the great flat-topped desk gave a surprised ejaculation.
+
+"Hullo, Fulton! Those biscuits must be agreeing with you," he laughed.
+"Mind telling me their name?"
+
+"Ned, I've got a scheme. I think I can carry it out." Mr. Stanley G.
+Fulton strode across the room and dropped himself into the waiting
+chair. "Remember those cousins back East? Well, I'm going to find out
+which of 'em I want for my heir."
+
+"Another case of investigating before investing, eh?"
+
+"Exactly."
+
+"Well, that's like you. What is it, a little detective work? Going to
+get acquainted with them, I suppose, and see how they treat you. Then
+you can size them up as to hearts and habits, and drop the golden plum
+into the lap of the worthy man, eh?"
+
+"Yes, and no. But not the way you say. I'm going to give 'em say fifty
+or a hundred thousand apiece, and--"
+
+"GIVE it to them--NOW?"
+
+"Sure! How'm I going to know how they'll spend money till they have it
+to spend?"
+
+"I know; but--"
+
+"Oh, I've planned all that. Don't worry. Of course you'll have to fix
+it up for me. I shall leave instructions with you, and when the time
+comes all you have to do is to carry them out."
+
+The lawyer came erect in his chair.
+
+"LEAVE instructions! But you, yourself--?"
+
+"Oh, I'm going to be there, in Hillerton."
+
+"There? Hillerton?"
+
+"Yes, where the cousins live, you know. Of course I want to see how it
+works."
+
+"Humph! I suppose you think you'll find out--with you watching their
+every move!" The lawyer had settled back in his chair, an ironical
+smile on his lips.
+
+"Oh, they won't know me, of course, except as John Smith."
+
+"John Smith!" The lawyer was sitting erect again.
+
+"Yes. I'm going to take that name--for a time."
+
+"Nonsense, Fulton! Have you lost your senses?"
+
+"No." The millionaire still smiled imperturbably. "Really, my dear Ned,
+I'm disappointed in you. You don't seem to realize the possibilities of
+this thing."
+
+"Oh, yes, I do--perhaps better than you, old man," retorted the other
+with an expressive glance.
+
+"Oh, come, Ned, listen! I've got three cousins in Hillerton. I never
+saw them, and they never saw me. I'm going to give them a tidy little
+sum of money apiece, and then have the fun of watching them spend it.
+Any harm in that, especially as it's no one's business what I do with
+my money?"
+
+"N--no, I suppose not--if you can carry such a wild scheme through."
+
+"I can, I think. I'm going to be John Smith."
+
+"Nice distinctive name!"
+
+"I chose a colorless one on purpose. I'm going to be a colorless
+person, you see."
+
+"Oh! And--er--do you think Mr. Stanley G. Fulton, multi-millionaire,
+with his pictured face in half the papers and magazines from the
+Atlantic to the Pacific, CAN hide that face behind a colorless John
+Smith?"
+
+"Maybe not. But he can hide it behind a nice little close-cropped
+beard." The millionaire stroked his smooth chin reflectively.
+
+"Humph! How large is Hillerton?"
+
+"Eight or ten thousand. Nice little New England town, I'm told."
+
+"Hm-m. And your--er--business in Hillerton, that will enable you to be
+the observing fly on your cousins' walls?"
+
+"Yes, I've thought that all out, too; and that's another brilliant
+stroke. I'm going to be a genealogist. I'm going to be at work tracing
+the Blaisdell family--their name is Blaisdell. I'm writing a book which
+necessitates the collection of an endless amount of data. Now how about
+that fly's chances of observation. Eh?"
+
+"Mighty poor, if he's swatted--and that's what he will be! New England
+housewives are death on flies, I understand."
+
+"Well, I'll risk this one."
+
+"You poor fellow!" There were exasperation and amusement in the
+lawyer's eyes, but there was only mock sympathy in his voice. "And to
+think I've known you all these years, and never suspected it, Fulton!"
+
+The man who owned twenty millions still smiled imperturbably.
+
+"Oh, yes, I know what you mean, but I'm not crazy. And really I'm
+interested in genealogy, too, and I've been thinking for some time I'd
+go digging about the roots of my ancestral tree. I have dug a little,
+in years gone. My mother was a Blaisdell, you know. Her grandfather was
+brother to some ancestor of these Hillerton Blaisdells; and I really am
+interested in collecting Blaisdell data. So that's all straight. I
+shall be telling no fibs. And think of the opportunity it gives me!
+Besides, I shall try to board with one of them. I've decided that."
+
+"Upon my word, a pretty little scheme!"
+
+"Yes, I knew you'd appreciate it, the more you thought about it." Mr.
+Stanley G. Fulton's blue eyes twinkled a little.
+
+With a disdainful gesture the lawyer brushed this aside.
+
+"Do you mind telling me how you happened to think of it, yourself?"
+
+"Not a bit. 'Twas a little booklet got out by a Trust Company."
+
+"It sounds like it!"
+
+"Oh, they didn't suggest exactly this, I'll admit; but they did suggest
+that, if you were fearful as to the way your heirs would handle their
+inheritance, you could create a trust fund for their benefit while you
+were living, and then watch the way the beneficiaries spent the income,
+as well as the way the trust fund itself was managed. In this way you
+could observe the effects of your gifts, and at the same time be able
+to change them if you didn't like results. That gave me an idea. I've
+just developed it. That's all. I'm going to make my cousins a little
+rich, and see which, if any of them, can stand being very rich."
+
+"But the money, man! How are you going to drop a hundred thousand
+dollars into three men's laps, and expect to get away without an
+investigation as to the why and wherefore of such a singular
+proceeding?"
+
+"That's where your part comes in," smiled the millionaire blandly.
+"Besides, to be accurate, one of the laps is--er--a petticoat one."
+
+"Oh, indeed! So much the worse, maybe. But--And so this is where I come
+in, is it? Well, and suppose I refuse to come in?"
+
+"Regretfully I shall have to employ another attorney."
+
+"Humph! Well?"
+
+"But you won't refuse." The blue eyes opposite were still twinkling.
+"In the first place, you're my good friend--my best friend. You
+wouldn't be seen letting me start off on a wild-goose chase like this
+without your guiding hand at the helm to see that I didn't come a
+cropper."
+
+"Aren't you getting your metaphors a trifle mixed?" This time the
+lawyer's eyes were twinkling.
+
+"Eh? What? Well, maybe. But I reckon you get my meaning. Besides, what
+I want you to do is a mere routine of regular business, with you."
+
+"It sounds like it. Routine, indeed!"
+
+"But it is--your part. Listen. I'm off for South America, say, on an
+exploring tour. In your charge I leave certain papers with instructions
+that on the first day of the sixth month of my absence (I being unheard
+from), you are to open a certain envelope and act according to
+instructions within. Simplest thing in the world, man. Now isn't it?"
+
+"Oh, very simple--as you put it."
+
+"Well, meanwhile I'll start for South America--alone, of course; and,
+so far as you're concerned, that ends it. If on the way, somewhere, I
+determine suddenly on a change of destination, that is none of your
+affair. If, say in a month or two, a quiet, inoffensive gentleman by
+the name of Smith arrives in Hillerton on the legitimate and perfectly
+respectable business of looking up a family pedigree, that also is none
+of your concern." With a sudden laugh the lawyer fell back in his chair.
+
+"By Jove, Fulton, if I don't believe you'll pull this absurd thing off!"
+
+"There! Now you're talking like a sensible man, and we can get
+somewhere. Of course I'll pull it off! Now here's my plan. In order
+best to judge how my esteemed relatives conduct themselves under the
+sudden accession of wealth, I must see them first without it, of
+course. Hence, I plan to be in Hillerton some months before your letter
+and the money arrive. I intend, indeed, to be on the friendliest terms
+with every Blaisdell in Hillerton before that times comes."
+
+"But can you? Will they accept you without references or introduction?"
+
+"Oh, I shall have the best of references and introductions. Bob
+Chalmers is the president of a bank there. Remember Bob? Well, I shall
+take John Smith in and introduce him to Bob some day. After that,
+Bob'll introduce John Smith? See? All I need is a letter as to my
+integrity and respectability, I reckon, so my kinsmen won't suspect me
+of designs on their spoons when I ask to board with them. You see, I'm
+a quiet, retiring gentleman, and I don't like noisy hotels."
+
+With an explosive chuckle the lawyer clapped his knee. "Fulton, this is
+absolutely the richest thing I ever heard of! I'd give a farm to be a
+fly on YOUR wall and see you do it. I'm blest if I don't think I'll go
+to Hillerton myself--to see Bob. By George, I will go and see Bob!"
+
+"Of course," agreed the other serenely. "Why not? Besides, it will be
+the most natural thing in the world--business, you know. In fact, I
+should think you really ought to go, in connection with the bequests."
+
+"Why, to be sure." The lawyer frowned thoughtfully. "How much are you
+going to give them?"
+
+"Oh, a hundred thousand apiece, I reckon."
+
+"That ought to do--for pin money."
+
+"Oh, well, I want them to have enough, you know, for it to be a real
+test of what they would do with wealth. And it must be cash--no
+securities. I want them to do their own investing."
+
+"But how are you going to fix it? What excuse are you going to give for
+dropping a hundred thousand into their laps like that? You can't tell
+your real purpose, naturally! You'd defeat your own ends."
+
+"That part we'll have to fix up in the letter of instructions. I think
+we can. I've got a scheme."
+
+"I'll warrant you have! I'll believe anything of you now. But what are
+you going to do afterward--when you've found out what you want to know,
+I mean? Won't it be something of a shock, when John Smith turns into
+Mr. Stanley G. Fulton? Have you thought of that?"
+
+"Y-yes, I've thought of that, and I will confess my ideas are a little
+hazy, in spots. But I'm not worrying. Time enough to think of that
+part. Roughly, my plan is this now. There'll be two letters of
+instructions: one to open in six months, the other to be opened in,
+say, a couple of years, or so. (I want to give myself plenty of time
+for my observations, you see.) The second letter will really give you
+final instructions as to the settling of my estate--my will. I'll have
+to make some sort of one, I suppose."
+
+"But, good Heavens, Stanley, you--you--" the lawyer came to a helpless
+pause. His eyes were startled.
+
+"Oh, that's just for emergency, of course, in case
+anything--er--happened. What I really intend is that long before the
+second letter of instructions is due to be opened, Mr. Stanley G.
+Fulton will come back from his South American explorations. He'll then
+be in a position to settle his affairs to suit himself, and--er--make a
+new will. Understand?"
+
+"Oh, I see. But--there's John Smith? How about Smith?"
+
+The millionaire smiled musingly, and stroked his chin again.
+
+"Smith? Oh! Well, Smith will have finished collecting Blaisdell data,
+of course, and will be off to parts unknown. We don't have to trouble
+ourselves with Smith any longer."
+
+"Fulton, you're a wizard," laughed the lawyer. "But now about the
+cousins. Who are they? You know their names, of course."
+
+"Oh, yes. You see I've done a little digging already--some years
+ago--looking up the Blaisdell family. (By the way, that'll come in fine
+now, won't it?) And an occasional letter from Bob has kept me posted as
+to deaths and births in the Hillerton Blaisdells. I always meant to
+hunt them up some time, they being my nearest kith and kin. Well, with
+what I already had, and with what Bob has written me, I know these
+facts."
+
+He paused, pulled a small notebook from his pocket, and consulted it.
+
+"There are two sons and a daughter, children of Rufus Blaisdell. Rufus
+died years ago, and his widow married a man by the name of Duff. But
+she's dead now. The elder son is Frank Blaisdell. He keeps a grocery
+store. The other is James Blaisdell. He works in a real estate office.
+The daughter, Flora, never married. She's about forty-two or three, I
+believe, and does dressmaking. James Blaisdell has a son, Fred,
+seventeen, and two younger children. Frank Blaisdell has one daughter,
+Mellicent. That's the extent of my knowledge, at present. But it's
+enough for our purpose."
+
+"Oh, anything's enough--for your purpose! What are you going to do
+first?"
+
+"I've done it. You'll soon be reading in your morning paper that Mr.
+Stanley G. Fulton, the somewhat eccentric multi-millionaire, is about
+to start for South America, and that it is hinted he is planning to
+finance a gigantic exploring expedition. The accounts of what he's
+going to explore will vary all the way from Inca antiquities to the
+source of the Amazon. I've done a lot of talking to-day, and a good
+deal of cautioning as to secrecy, etc. It ought to bear fruit by
+to-morrow, or the day after, at the latest. I'm going to start next
+week, and I'm really going EXPLORING, too--though not exactly as they
+think. I came in to-day to make a business appointment for to-morrow,
+please. A man starting on such a hazardous journey must be prepared,
+you understand. I want to leave my affairs in such shape that you will
+know exactly what to do--in emergency. I may come to-morrow?"
+
+The lawyer hesitated, his face an odd mixture of determination and
+irresolution.
+
+"Oh, hang it all--yes. Of course you may come. To-morrow at ten--if
+they don't shut you up before."
+
+With a boyish laugh Mr. Stanley G. Fulton leaped to his feet.
+
+"Thanks. To-morrow at ten, then." At the door he turned back jauntily.
+"And, say, Ned, what'll you bet I don't grow fat and young over this
+thing? What'll you bet I don't get so I can eat real meat and 'taters
+again?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+ENTER MR. JOHN SMITH
+
+
+It was on the first warm evening in early June that Miss Flora
+Blaisdell crossed the common and turned down the street that led to her
+brother James's home.
+
+The common marked the center of Hillerton. Its spacious green lawns and
+elm-shaded walks were the pride of the town. There was a trellised
+band-stand for summer concerts, and a tiny pond that accommodated a few
+boats in summer and a limited number of skaters in winter. Perhaps,
+most important of all, the common divided the plebeian East Side from
+the more pretentious West. James Blaisdell lived on the West Side. His
+wife said that everybody did who WAS anybody. They had lately moved
+there, and were, indeed, barely settled.
+
+Miss Blaisdell did dressmaking. Her home was a shabby little rented
+cottage on the East Side. She was a thin-faced little woman with an
+anxious frown and near-sighted, peering eyes that seemed always to be
+looking for wrinkles. She peered now at the houses as she passed slowly
+down the street. She had been only twice to her brother's new home, and
+she was not sure that she would recognize it, in spite of the fact that
+the street was still alight with the last rays of the setting sun.
+Suddenly across her worried face flashed a relieved smile.
+
+"Well, if you ain't all here out on the piazza!" she exclaimed,
+turning, in at the walk leading up to one of the ornate little houses.
+"My, ain't this grand!"
+
+"Oh, yes, it's grand, all right," nodded the tired-looking man in the
+big chair, removing his feet from the railing. He was in his
+shirt-sleeves, and was smoking a pipe. The droop of his thin mustache
+matched the droop of his thin shoulders--and both indefinably but
+unmistakably spelled disillusion and discouragement. "It's grand, but I
+think it's too grand--for us. However, daughter says the best is none
+too good--in Hillerton. Eh, Bess?"
+
+Bessie, the pretty, sixteen-year-old daughter of the family, only
+shrugged her shoulders a little petulantly. It was Harriet, the wife,
+who spoke--a large, florid woman with a short upper lip, and a
+bewilderment of bepuffed light hair. She was already on her feet,
+pushing a chair toward her sister-in-law.
+
+"Of course it isn't too grand, Jim, and you know it. There aren't any
+really nice houses in Hillerton except the Pennocks' and the old
+Gaylord place. There, sit here, Flora. You look tired."
+
+"Thanks. I be--turrible tired. Warm, too, ain't it?" The little
+dressmaker began to fan herself with the hat she had taken off. "My,
+'tis fur over here, ain't it? Not much like 'twas when you lived right
+'round the corner from me! And I had to put on a hat and gloves, too.
+Someway, I thought I ought to--over here."
+
+Condescendingly the bepuffed head threw an approving nod in her
+direction.
+
+"Quite right, Flora. The East Side is different from the West Side, and
+no mistake. And what will do there won't do here at all, of course."
+
+"How about father's shirt-sleeves?" It was a scornful gibe from Bessie
+in the hammock. "I don't notice any of the rest of the men around here
+sitting out like that."
+
+"Bessie!" chided her mother wearily. "You know very well I'm not to
+blame for what your father wears. I've tried hard enough, I'm sure!"
+
+"Well, well, Hattie," sighed the man, with a gesture of abandonment. "I
+supposed I still had the rights of a freeborn American citizen in my
+own home; but it seems I haven't." Resignedly he got to his feet and
+went into the house. When he returned a moment later he was wearing his
+coat.
+
+Benny, perched precariously on the veranda railing, gave a sudden
+indignant snort. Benny was eight, the youngest of the family.
+
+"Well, I don't think I like it here, anyhow," he chafed. "I'd rather go
+back an' live where we did. A feller can have some fun there. It hasn't
+been anything but 'Here, Benny, you mustn't do that over here, you
+mustn't do that over here!' ever since we came. I'm going home an' live
+with Aunt Flora. Say, can't I, Aunt Flo?"
+
+"Bless the child! Of course you can," beamed his aunt. "But you won't
+want to, I'm sure. Why, Benny, I think it's perfectly lovely here."
+
+"Pa don't."
+
+"Indeed I do, Benny," corrected his father hastily. "It's very nice
+indeed here, of course. But I don't think we can afford it. We had to
+squeeze every penny before, and how we're going to meet this rent I
+don't know." He drew a profound sigh.
+
+"You'll earn it, just being here--more business," asserted his wife
+firmly. "Anyhow, we've just got to be here, Jim! We owe it to ourselves
+and our family. Look at Fred to-night!"
+
+"Oh, yes, where is Fred?" queried Miss Flora.
+
+"He's over to Gussie Pennock's, playing tennis," interposed Bessie,
+with a pout. "The mean old thing wouldn't ask me!"
+
+"But you ain't old enough, my dear," soothed her aunt. "Wait; your turn
+will come by and by."
+
+"Yes, that's exactly it," triumphed the mother. "Her turn WILL come--if
+we live here. Do you suppose Fred would have got an invitation to
+Gussie Pennock's if we'd still been living on the East Side? Not much
+he would! Why, Mr. Pennock's worth fifty thousand, if he's worth a
+dollar! They are some of our very first people."
+
+"But, Hattie, money isn't everything, dear," remonstrated her husband
+gently. "We had friends, and good friends, before."
+
+"Yes; but you wait and see what kind of friends we have now!"
+
+"But we can't keep up with such people, dear, on our income; and--"
+
+"Ma, here's a man. I guess he wants--somebody." It was a husky whisper
+from Benny.
+
+James Blaisdell stopped abruptly. Bessie Blaisdell and the little
+dressmaker cocked their heads interestedly. Mrs. Blaisdell rose to her
+feet and advanced toward the steps to meet the man coming up the walk.
+
+He was a tall, rather slender man, with a close-cropped, sandy beard,
+and an air of diffidence and apology. As he took off his hat and came
+nearer, it was seen that his eyes were blue and friendly, and that his
+hair was reddish-brown, and rather scanty on top of his head.
+
+"I am looking for Mr. Blaisdell--Mr. James Blaisdell," he murmured
+hesitatingly.
+
+Something in the stranger's deferential manner sent a warm glow of
+importance to the woman's heart. Mrs. Blaisdell was suddenly reminded
+that she was Mrs. James D. Blaisdell of the West Side.
+
+"I am Mrs. Blaisdell," she replied a bit pompously. "What can we do for
+you, my good man?" She swelled again, half unconsciously. She had never
+called a person "my good man" before. She rather liked the experience.
+
+The man on the steps coughed slightly behind his hand--a sudden
+spasmodic little cough. Then very gravely he reached into his pocket
+and produced a letter.
+
+"From Mr. Robert Chalmers--a note to your husband," he bowed,
+presenting the letter.
+
+A look of gratified surprise came into the woman's face.
+
+"Mr. Robert Chalmers, of the First National? Jim!" She turned to her
+husband joyously. "Here's a note from Mr. Chalmers. Quick--read it!"
+
+Her husband, already on his feet, whisked the sheet of paper from the
+unsealed envelope, and adjusted his glasses. A moment later he held out
+a cordial hand to the stranger.
+
+"Ah, Mr. Smith, I'm glad to see you. I'm glad to see any friend of Bob
+Chalmers'. Come up and sit down. My wife and children, and my sister,
+Miss Blaisdell. Mr. Smith, ladies--Mr. John Smith." (Glancing at the
+open note in his hand.) "He is sent to us by Mr. Chalmers, of the First
+National."
+
+"Yes, thank you. Mr. Chalmers was so kind." Still with that deference
+so delightfully heart-warming, the newcomer bowed low to the ladies,
+and made his way to the offered chair. "I will explain at once my
+business," he said then. "I am a genealogist."
+
+"What's that?" It was an eager question from Benny on the veranda
+railing. "Pa isn't anything, but ma's a Congregationalist."
+
+"Hush, child!" protested a duet of feminine voices softly; but the
+stranger, apparently ignoring the interruption, continued speaking.
+
+"I am gathering material for a book on the Blaisdell family."
+
+"The Blaisdell family!" repeated Mr. James Blaisdell, with cordial
+interest.
+
+"Yes," bowed the other. "It is my purpose to remain some time in your
+town. I am told there are valuable records here, and an old
+burying-ground of particular interest in this connection. The
+neighboring towns, too, have much Blaisdell data, I understand. As I
+said, I am intending to make this place my headquarters, and I am
+looking for an attractive boarding-place. Mr. Chalmers was good enough
+to refer me to you."
+
+"To us--for a BOARDING-place!" There was an unmistakable frown on Mrs.
+James D. Blaisdell's countenance as she said the words. "Well, I'm sure
+I don't see why he should. WE don't keep boarders!"
+
+"But, Hattie, we could," interposed her husband eagerly. "There's that
+big front room that we don't need a bit. And it would help a lot if--"
+At the wrathful warning in his wife's eyes he fell back silenced.
+
+"I said that we didn't keep boarders," reiterated the lady distinctly.
+"Furthermore, we do need the room ourselves."
+
+"Yes, yes, of course; I understand," broke in Mr. Smith, as if in hasty
+conciliation. "I think Mr. Chalmers meant that perhaps one of you"--he
+glanced uncertainly at the anxious-eyed little woman at his
+left--"might--er--accommodate me. Perhaps you, now--" He turned his
+eyes full upon Miss Flora Blaisdell, and waited.
+
+The little dressmaker blushed painfully.
+
+"Me? Oh, mercy, no! Why, I live all alone--that is, I mean, I couldn't,
+you know," she stammered confusedly. "I dressmake, and I don't get any
+sort of meals--not fit for a man, I mean. Just women's things--tea,
+toast, and riz biscuit. I'm so fond of riz biscuit! But, of course,
+you--" She came to an expressive pause.
+
+"Oh, I could stand the biscuit, so long as they're not health biscuit,"
+laughed Mr. Smith genially. "You see, I've been living on those and hot
+water quite long enough as it is."
+
+"Oh, ain't your health good, sir?" The little dressmaker's face wore
+the deepest concern.
+
+"Well, it's better than it was, thank you. I think I can promise to be
+a good boarder, all right."
+
+"Why don't you go to a hotel?" Mrs. James D. Blaisdell still spoke with
+a slightly injured air.
+
+Mr. Smith lifted a deprecatory hand.
+
+"Oh, indeed, that would not do at all--for my purpose," he murmured. "I
+wish to be very quiet. I fear I should find it quite disturbing--the
+noise and confusion of a public place like that. Besides, for my work,
+it seemed eminently fitting, as well as remarkably convenient, if I
+could make my home with one of the Blaisdell family."
+
+With a sudden exclamation the little dressmaker sat erect.
+
+"Say, Harriet, how funny we never thought! He's just the one for poor
+Maggie! Why not send him there?"
+
+"Poor Maggie?" It was the mild voice of Mr. Smith.
+
+"Our sister--yes. She lives--"
+
+"Your SISTER!" Into Mr. Smith's face had come a look of startled
+surprise--a look almost of terror. "But there weren't but three--that
+is, I thought--I understood from Mr. Chalmers that there were but three
+Blaisdells, two brothers, and one sister--you, yourself."
+
+"Oh, poor Maggie ain't a Blaisdell," explained the little dressmaker,
+with a smile. "She's just Maggie Duff, father Duff's daughter by his
+first wife, you know. He married our mother years ago, when we children
+were little, so we were brought up with Maggie, and always called her
+sister; though, of course, she really ain't any relation to us at all."
+
+"Oh, I see. Yes, to be sure. Of course!" Mr. Smith seemed oddly
+thoughtful. He appeared to be settling something in his mind. "She
+isn't a Blaisdell, then."
+
+"No, but she's so near like one, and she's a splendid cook, and---"
+
+"Well, I shan't send him to Maggie," cut in Mrs. James D. Blaisdell
+with emphasis. "Poor Maggie's got quite enough on her hands, as it is,
+with that father of hers. Besides, she isn't a Blaisdell at all."
+
+"And she couldn't come and cook and take care of us near so much,
+either, could she," plunged in Benny, "if she took this man ter feed?"
+
+"That will do, Benny," admonished his mother, with nettled dignity.
+"You forget that children should be seen and not heard."
+
+"Yes'm. But, please, can't I be heard just a minute for this? Why don't
+ye send the man ter Uncle Frank an' Aunt Jane? Maybe they'd take him."
+
+"The very thing!" cried Miss Flora Blaisdell. "I wouldn't wonder a mite
+if they did."
+
+"Yes, I was thinking of them," nodded her sister-in-law. "And they're
+always glad of a little help,--especially Jane."
+
+"Anybody should be," observed Mr. James Blaisdell quietly.
+
+Only the heightened color in his wife's cheeks showed that she had
+heard--and understood.
+
+"Here, Benny," she directed, "go and show the gentleman where Uncle
+Frank lives."
+
+"All right!" With a spring the boy leaped to the lawn and pranced to
+the sidewalk, dancing there on his toes. "I'll show ye, Mr. Smith."
+
+The gentleman addressed rose to his feet.
+
+"I thank you, Mr. Blaisdell," he said, "and you, ladies. I shall hope
+to see you again soon. I am sure you can help me, if you will, in my
+work. I shall want to ask--some questions."
+
+"Certainly, sir, certainly! We shall be glad to see you," promised his
+host. "Come any time, and ask all the questions you want to."
+
+"And we shall be so interested," fluttered Miss Flora. "I've always
+wanted to know about father's folks. And are you a Blaisdell, too?"
+
+There was the briefest of pauses. Mr. Smith coughed again twice behind
+his hand.
+
+"Er--ah--oh, yes, I may say that I am. Through my mother I am descended
+from the original immigrant, Ebenezer Blaisdell."
+
+"Immigrant!" exclaimed Miss Flora.
+
+"An IMMIGRANT!" Mrs. James Blaisdell spoke the word as if her tongue
+were a pair of tongs that had picked up a noxious viper.
+
+"Yes, but not exactly as we commonly regard the term nowadays," smiled
+Mr. Smith. "Mr. Ebenezer Blaisdell was a man of means and distinction.
+He was the founder of the family in this country. He came over in 1647."
+
+"My, how interesting!" murmured the little dressmaker, as the visitor
+descended the steps.
+
+"Good-night--good-night! And thank you again," bowed Mr. John Smith to
+the assembled group on the veranda. "And now, young man, I'm at your
+service," he smiled, as he joined Benny, still prancing on the sidewalk.
+
+"Now he's what I call a real nice pleasant-spoken gentleman," avowed
+Miss Flora, when she thought speech was safe. "I do hope Jane'll take
+him."
+
+"Oh, yes, he's well enough," condescended Mrs. Hattie Blaisdell, with a
+yawn.
+
+"Hattie, why wouldn't you take him in?" reproached her husband. "Just
+think how the pay would help! And it wouldn't be a bit of work, hardly,
+for you. Certainly it would be a lot easier than the way we are doing."
+
+The woman frowned impatiently.
+
+"Jim, don't, please! Do you suppose I got over here on the West Side to
+open a boarding-house? I guess not--yet!"
+
+"But what shall we do?"
+
+"Oh, we'll get along somehow. Don't worry!"
+
+"Perhaps if you'd worry a little more, I wouldn't worry so much,"
+sighed the man deeply.
+
+"Well, mercy me, I must be going," interposed the little dressmaker,
+springing to her feet with a nervous glance at her brother and his
+wife. "I'm forgetting it ain't so near as it used to be. Good-night!"
+
+"Good-night, good-night! Come again," called the three on the veranda.
+Then the door closed behind them, as they entered the house.
+
+Meanwhile, walking across the common, Benny was entertaining Mr. Smith.
+
+"Yep, they'll take ye, I bet ye--Aunt Jane an' Uncle Frank will!"
+
+"Well, that's good, I'm sure."
+
+"Yep. An' it'll be easy, too. Why, Aunt Jane'll just tumble over
+herself ter get ye, if ye just mention first what yer'll PAY. She'll
+begin ter reckon up right away then what she'll save. An' in a minute
+she'll say, 'Yes, I'll take ye.'"
+
+"Indeed!"
+
+The uncertainty in Mr. Smith's voice was palpable even to
+eight-year-old Benny.
+
+"Oh, you don't need ter worry," he hastened to explain. "She won't
+starve ye; only she won't let ye waste anythin'. You'll have ter eat
+all the crusts to yer pie, and finish 'taters before you can get any
+puddin', an' all that, ye know. Ye see, she's great on savin'--Aunt
+Jane is. She says waste is a sinful extravagance before the Lord."
+
+"Indeed!" Mr. Smith laughed outright this time. "But are you sure, my
+boy, that you ought to talk--just like this, about your aunt?"
+
+Benny's eyes widened.
+
+"Why, that's all right, Mr. Smith. Ev'rybody in town knows Aunt Jane.
+Why, Ma says folks say she'd save ter-day for ter-morrer, if she could.
+But she couldn't do that, could she? So that's just silly talk. But you
+wait till you see Aunt Jane."
+
+"All right. I'll wait, Benny."
+
+"Well, ye won't have ter wait long, Mr. Smith, 'cause here's her house.
+She lives over the groc'ry store, ter save rent, ye know. It's Uncle
+Frank's store. An' here we are," he finished, banging open a door and
+leading the way up a flight of ill-lighted stairs.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+THE SMALL BOY AT THE KEYHOLE
+
+
+At the top of the stairs Benny tried to open the door, but as it did
+not give at his pressure, he knocked lustily, and called "Aunt Jane,
+Aunt Jane!"
+
+"Isn't this the bell?" hazarded Mr. Smith, his finger almost on a small
+push-button near him.
+
+"Yep, but it don't go now. Uncle Frank wanted it fixed, but Aunt Jane
+said no; knockin' was just as good, an' 'twas lots cheaper, 'cause
+'twould save mendin', and didn't use any 'lectricity. But Uncle Frank
+says---"
+
+The door opened abruptly, and Benny interrupted himself to give eager
+greeting.
+
+"Hullo, Aunt Jane! I've brought you somebody. He's Mr. Smith. An'
+you'll be glad. You see if yer ain't!"
+
+In the dim hallway Mr. Smith saw a tall, angular woman with graying
+dark hair and high cheek bones. Her eyes were keen and just now
+somewhat sternly inquiring, as they were bent upon himself.
+
+Perceiving that Benny considered his mission as master of ceremonies at
+an end, Mr. Smith hastened to explain.
+
+"I came from your husband's brother, madam. He--er--sent me. He thought
+perhaps you had a room that I could have."
+
+"A room?" Her eyes grew still more coldly disapproving.
+
+"Yes, and board. He thought--that is, THEY thought that perhaps--you
+would be so kind."
+
+"Oh, a boarder! You mean for pay, of course?"
+
+"Most certainly!"
+
+"Oh!" She softened visibly, and stepped back. "Well, I don't know. I
+never have--but that isn't saying I couldn't, of course. Come in. We
+can talk it over. THAT doesn't cost anything. Come in; this way,
+please." As she finished speaking she stepped to the low-burning gas
+jet and turned it carefully to give a little more light down the narrow
+hallway.
+
+"Thank you," murmured Mr. Smith, stepping across the threshold.
+
+Benny had already reached the door at the end of the hall. The woman
+began to tug at her apron strings.
+
+"I hope you'll excuse my gingham apron, Mr.--er--Smith. Wasn't that the
+name?"
+
+"Yes." The man bowed with a smile.
+
+"I thought that was what Benny said. Well, as I was saying, I hope
+you'll excuse this apron." Her fingers were fumbling with the knot at
+the back. "I take it off, mostly, when the bell rings, evenings or
+afternoons; but I heard Benny, and I didn't suppose 't was anybody but
+him. There, that's better!" With a jerk she switched off the dark blue
+apron, hung it over her arm, and smoothed down the spotless white apron
+which had been beneath the blue. The next instant she hurried after
+Benny with a warning cry. "Careful, child, careful! Oh, Benny, you're
+always in such a hurry!"
+
+Benny, with a cheery "Come on!" had already banged open the door before
+him, and was reaching for the gas burner.
+
+A moment later the feeble spark above had become a flaring sputter of
+flame.
+
+"There, child, what did I tell you?" With a frown Mrs. Blaisdell
+reduced the flaring light to a moderate flame, and motioned Mr. Smith
+to a chair. Before she seated herself, however, she went back into the
+hall to lower the gas there.
+
+During her momentary absence the man, Smith, looked about him, and as
+he looked he pulled at his collar. He felt suddenly a choking,
+suffocating sensation. He still had the curious feeling of trying to
+catch his breath when the woman came back and took the chair facing
+him. In a moment he knew why he felt so suffocated--it was because that
+nowhere could he see an object that was not wholly or partially covered
+with some other object, or that was not serving as a cover itself.
+
+The floor bore innumerable small rugs, one before each chair, each
+door, and the fireplace. The chairs themselves, and the sofa, were
+covered with gray linen slips, which, in turn, were protected by
+numerous squares of lace and worsted of generous size. The green silk
+spread on the piano was nearly hidden beneath a linen cover, and the
+table showed a succession of layers of silk, worsted, and linen, topped
+by crocheted mats, on which rested several books with paper-enveloped
+covers. The chandelier, mirror, and picture frames gleamed dully from
+behind the mesh of pink mosquito netting. Even through the doorway into
+the hall might be seen the long, red-bordered white linen path that
+carried protection to the carpet beneath.
+
+"I don't like gas myself." (With a start the man pulled himself
+together to listen to what the woman was saying.) "I think it's a
+foolish extravagance, when kerosene is so good and so cheap; but my
+husband will have it, and Mellicent, too, in spite of anything I
+say--Mellicent's my daughter. I tell 'em if we were rich, it would be
+different, of course. But this is neither here nor there, nor what you
+came to talk about! Now just what is it that you want, sir?"
+
+"I want to board here, if I may."
+
+"How long?"
+
+"A year--two years, perhaps, if we are mutually satisfied."
+
+"What do you do for a living?"
+
+Smith coughed suddenly. Before he could catch his breath to answer
+Benny had jumped into the breach.
+
+"He sounds something like a Congregationalist, only he ain't that, Aunt
+Jane, and he ain't after money for missionaries, either."
+
+Jane Blaisdell smiled at Benny indulgently. Then she sighed and shook
+her head.
+
+"You know, Benny, very well, that nothing would suit Aunt Jane better
+than to give money to all the missionaries in the world, if she only
+had it to give!" She sighed again as she turned to Mr. Smith. "You're
+working for some church, then, I take it."
+
+Mr. Smith gave a quick gesture of dissent.
+
+"I am a genealogist, madam, in a small way. I am collecting data for a
+book on the Blaisdell family."
+
+"Oh!" Mrs. Blaisdell frowned slightly. The look of cold disapproval
+came back to her eyes. "But who pays you? WE couldn't take the book,
+I'm sure. We couldn't afford it."
+
+"That would not be necessary, madam, I assure you," murmured Mr. Smith
+gravely.
+
+"But how do you get money to live on? I mean, how am I to know that
+I'll get my pay?" she persisted. "Excuse me, but that kind of business
+doesn't sound very good-paying; and, you see, I don't know you. And in
+these days--" An expressive pause finished her sentence.
+
+Mr. Smith smiled.
+
+"Quite right, madam. You are wise to be cautious. I had a letter of
+introduction to your brother from Mr. Robert Chalmers. I think he will
+vouch for me. Will that do?"
+
+"Oh, that's all right, then. But that isn't saying how MUCH you'll pay.
+Now, I think--"
+
+There came a sharp knock at the outer door. The eager Benny jumped to
+his feet, but his aunt shook her head and went to the door herself.
+There was a murmur of voices, then a young man entered the hall and sat
+down in the chair near the hatrack. When Mrs. Blaisdell returned her
+eyes were very bright. Her cheeks showed two little red spots. She
+carried herself with manifest importance.
+
+"If you'll just excuse me a minute," she apologized to Mr. Smith, as
+she swept by him and opened a door across the room, nearly closing it
+behind her.
+
+Distinctly then, from beyond the imperfectly closed door, came to the
+ears of Benny and Mr. Smith these words, in Mrs. Blaisdell's most
+excited accents:--"Mellicent, it's Carl Pennock. He wants you to go
+auto-riding with him down to the Lake with Katie Moore and that crowd."
+
+"Mother!" breathed an ecstatic voice.
+
+What followed Mr. Smith did not hear, for a nearer, yet more excited,
+voice demanded attention.
+
+"Gee! Carl Pennock!" whispered Benny hoarsely. "Whew! Won't my sister
+Bess be mad? She thinks Carl Pennock's the cutest thing going. All the
+girls do!"
+
+With a warning "Sh-h!" and an expressive glance toward the hall, Mr.
+Smith tried to stop further revelations; but Benny was not to be
+silenced.
+
+"They're rich--awful rich--the Pennocks are," he confided still more
+huskily. "An' there's a girl--Gussie. She's gone on Fred. He's my
+brother, ye know. He's seventeen; an' Bess is mad 'cause she isn't
+seventeen, too, so she can go an' play tennis same as Fred does. She'll
+be madder 'n ever now, if Mell goes auto-riding with Carl, an'--"
+
+"Sh-h!" So imperative were Mr. Smith's voice and gesture this time that
+Benny fell back subdued.
+
+At once then became distinctly audible again the voices from the other
+room. Mr. Smith, forced to hear in spite of himself, had the air of one
+who finds he has abandoned the frying pan for the fire.
+
+"No, dear, it's quite out of the question," came from beyond the door,
+in Mrs. Blaisdell's voice. "I can't let you wear your pink. You will
+wear the blue or stay at home. Just as you choose."
+
+"But, mother, dear, it's all out of date," wailed a young girl's voice.
+
+"I can't help that. It's perfectly whole and neat, and you must save
+the pink for best."
+
+"But I'm always saving things for best, mother, and I never wear my
+best. I never wear a thing when it's in style! By the time you let me
+wear the pink I shan't want to wear it. Sleeves'll be small then--you
+see if they aren't--I shall be wearing big ones. I want to wear big
+ones now, when other girls do. Please, mother!"
+
+"Mellicent, why will you tease me like this, when you know it will do
+no good?--when you know I can't let you do it? Don't you think I want
+you to be as well-dressed as anybody, if we could afford it? Come, I'm
+waiting. You must wear the blue or stay at home. What shall I tell him?"
+
+There was a pause, then there came an inarticulate word and a choking
+half-sob. The next moment the door opened and Mrs. Blaisdell appeared.
+The pink spots in her cheeks had deepened. She shut the door firmly,
+then hurried through the room to the hall beyond. Another minute and
+she was back in her chair.
+
+"There," she smiled pleasantly. "I'm ready now to talk business, Mr.
+Smith."
+
+And she talked business. She stated plainly what she expected to do for
+her boarder, and what she expected her boarder would do for her. She
+enlarged upon the advantages and minimized the discomforts, with the
+aid of a word now and then from the eager and interested Benny.
+
+Mr. Smith, on his part, had little to say. That that little was most
+satisfactory, however, was very evident; for Mrs. Blaisdell was soon
+quite glowing with pride and pleasure. Mr. Smith was not glowing. He
+was plainly ill at ease, and, at times, slightly abstracted. His eyes
+frequently sought the door which Mrs. Blaisdell had closed so firmly a
+short time before. They were still turned in that direction when
+suddenly the door opened and a young girl appeared.
+
+She was a slim little girl with long-lashed, starlike eyes and a
+wild-rose flush in her cheeks. Beneath her trim hat her light brown
+hair waved softly over her ears, glinting into gold where the light
+struck it. She looked excited and pleased, yet not quite happy. She
+wore a blue dress, plainly made.
+
+"Don't stay late. Be in before ten, dear," cautioned Mrs. Blaisdell.
+"And Mellicent, just a minute, dear. This is Mr. Smith. You might as
+well meet him now. He's coming here to live--to board, you know. My
+daughter, Mr. Smith."
+
+Mr. Smith, already on his feet, bowed and murmured a conventional
+something. From the starlike eyes he received a fleeting glance that
+made him suddenly conscious of his fifty years and the bald spot on the
+top of his head. Then the girl was gone, and her mother was speaking
+again.
+
+"She's going auto-riding--Mellicent is--with a young man, Carl
+Pennock--one of the nicest in town. There are four others in the party.
+They're going down to the Lake for cake and ice cream, and they're all
+nice young people, else I shouldn't let her go, of course. She's
+eighteen, for all she's so small. She favors my mother in looks, but
+she's got the Blaisdell nose, though. Oh, and 'twas the Blaisdells you
+said you were writing a book about, wasn't it? You don't mean OUR
+Blaisdells, right here in Hillerton?"
+
+"I mean all Blaisdells, wherever I find them," smiled Mr. Smith.
+
+"Dear me! What, US? You mean WE'll be in the book?" Now that the matter
+of board had been satisfactorily settled, Mrs. Blaisdell apparently
+dared to show some interest in the book.
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"You don't say! My, how pleased Hattie'll be--my sister-in-law, Jim's
+wife. She just loves to see her name in print--parties, and club
+banquets, and where she pours, you know. But maybe you don't take
+women, too."
+
+"Oh, yes, if they are Blaisdells, or have married Blaisdells."
+
+"Oh! That's where we'd come in, then, isn't it? Mellicent and I? And
+Frank, my husband, he'll like it, too,--if you tell about the grocery
+store. And of course you would, if you told about him. You'd have
+to--'cause that's all there is to tell. He thinks that's about all
+there is in the world, anyway,--that grocery store. And 'tis a good
+store, if I do say it. And there's his sister, Flora; and Maggie--But,
+there! Poor Maggie! She won't be in it, will she, after all? She isn't
+a Blaisdell, and she didn't marry one. Now that's too bad!"
+
+"Ho! She won't mind." Benny spoke with conviction. "She'll just laugh
+and say it doesn't matter; and then Grandpa Duff'll ask for his drops
+or his glasses, or something, and she'll forget all about it. She won't
+care."
+
+"Yes, I know; but--Poor Maggie! Always just her luck." Mrs. Blaisdell
+sighed and looked thoughtful. "But Maggie KNOWS a lot about the
+Blaisdells," she added, brightening; "so she could tell you lots of
+things--about when they were little, and all that."
+
+"Yes. But--that isn't--er--" Mr. Smith hesitated doubtfully, and Mrs.
+Blaisdell jumped into the pause.
+
+"And, really, for that matter, she knows about us NOW, too, better than
+'most anybody else. Hattie's always sending for her, and Flora, too, if
+they're sick, or anything. Poor Maggie! Sometimes I think they actually
+impose upon her. And she's such a good soul, too! I declare, I never
+see her but I wish I could do something for her. But, of course, with
+my means--But, there! Here I am, running on as usual. Frank says I
+never do know when to stop, when I get started on something; and of
+course you didn't come here to talk about poor Maggie. Now I'll go back
+to business. When is it you want to start in--to board, I mean?"
+
+"To-morrow, if I may." With some alacrity Mr. Smith got to his feet.
+"And now we must be going--Benny and I. I'm at the Holland House. With
+your permission, then, Mrs. Blaisdell, I'll send up my trunks to-morrow
+morning. And now good-night--and thank you."
+
+"Why--but, Mr. Smith!" The woman, too, came to her feet, but her face
+was surprised. "Why, you haven't even seen your room yet! How do you
+know you'll like it?"
+
+"Eh? What? Oh!" Mr. Smith laughed. There was a quizzical lift to his
+eyebrows. "So I haven't, have I? And people usually do, don't they?
+Well--er--perhaps I will just take a look at--the room, though I'm not
+worrying any, I assure you. I've no doubt it will be quite right, quite
+right," he finished, as he followed Mrs. Blaisdell to a door halfway
+down the narrow hall.
+
+Five minutes later, once more on the street, he was walking home with
+Benny. It was Benny who broke the long silence that had immediately
+fallen between them.
+
+"Say, Mr. Smith, I'll bet ye YOU'll never be rich!"
+
+Mr. Smith turned with a visible start.
+
+"Eh? What? I'll never be--What do you mean, boy?"
+
+Benny giggled cheerfully.
+
+"'Cause you paid Aunt Jane what she asked the very first time. Why,
+Aunt Jane never expects ter get what she asks, pa says. She sells him
+groceries in the store, sometimes, when Uncle Frank's away, ye know. Pa
+says what she asks first is for practice--just ter get her hand in; an'
+she expects ter get beat down. But you paid it, right off the bat.
+Didn't ye see how tickled Aunt Jane was, after she'd got over bein'
+surprised?"
+
+"Why--er--really, Benny," murmured Mr. Smith.
+
+But Benny had yet more to say.
+
+"Oh, yes, sir, you could have saved a lot every week, if ye hadn't bit
+so quick. An' that's why I say you won't ever get rich. Savin' 's what
+does it, ye know--gets folks rich. Aunt Jane says so. She says a penny
+saved 's good as two earned, an' better than four spent."
+
+"Well, really, indeed!" Mr. Smith laughed lightly. "That does look as
+if there wasn't much chance for me, doesn't it?"
+
+"Yes, sir." Benny spoke soberly, and with evident sympathy. He spoke
+again, after a moment, but Mr. Smith did not seem to hear at once. Mr.
+Smith was, indeed, not a little abstracted all the way to Benny's home,
+though his good-night was very cheerful at parting. Benny would have
+been surprised, indeed, had he known that Mr. Smith was thinking, not
+about his foolishly extravagant agreement for board, but about a pair
+of starry eyes with wistful lights in them, and a blue dress, plainly
+made.
+
+In the hotel that night, Mr. John Smith wrote the following letter to
+Edward D. Norton, Esq., Chicago:
+
+MY DEAR NED,--Well, I'm here. I've been here exactly six hours, and
+already I'm in possession of not a little Blaisdell data for
+my--er--book. I've seen Mr. and Mrs. James, their daughter, Bessie, and
+their son, Benny. Benny, by the way, is a gushing geyser of current
+Blaisdell data which, I foresee, I shall find interesting, but
+embarrassing, perhaps, at times. I've also seen Miss Flora, and Mrs.
+Jane Blaisdell and her daughter, Mellicent.
+
+There's a "Poor Maggie" whom I haven't seen. But she isn't a Blaisdell.
+She's a Duff, daughter of the man who married Rufus Blaisdell's widow,
+some thirty years or more ago. As I said, I haven't seen her yet, but
+she, too, according to Mrs. Frank Blaisdell, must be a gushing geyser
+of Blaisdell data, so I probably soon shall see her. Why she's "poor" I
+don't know.
+
+As for the Blaisdell data already in my possession--I've no comment to
+make. Really, Ned, to tell the truth, I'm not sure I'm going to relish
+this job, after all. In spite of a perfectly clear conscience, and the
+virtuous realization that I'm here to bring nothing worse than a
+hundred thousand dollars apiece with the possible addition of a few
+millions on their devoted heads--in spite of all this, I yet have an
+uncomfortable feeling that I'm a small boy listening at the keyhole.
+
+However, I'm committed to the thing now, so I'll stuff it out, I
+suppose,--though I'm not sure, after all, that I wouldn't chuck the
+whole thing if it wasn't that I wanted to see how Mellicent will enjoy
+her pink dresses. How many pink dresses will a hundred thousand dollars
+buy, anyway,--I mean PRETTY pink dresses, all fixed up with frills and
+furbelows?
+
+As ever yours,
+
+STAN--er--JOHN SMITH.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+IN SEARCH OF SOME DATES
+
+
+Very promptly the next morning Mr. John Smith and his two trunks
+appeared at the door of his new boarding-place. Mrs. Jane Blaisdell
+welcomed him cordially. She wore a high-necked, long-sleeved gingham
+apron this time, which she neither removed nor apologized for--unless
+her cheerful "You see, mornings you'll find me in working trim, Mr.
+Smith," might be taken as an apology.
+
+Mellicent, her slender young self enveloped in a similar apron, was
+dusting his room as he entered it. She nodded absently, with a casual
+"Good-morning, Mr. Smith," as she continued at her work. Even the
+placing of the two big trunks, which the shuffling men brought in, won
+from her only a listless glance or two. Then, without speaking again,
+she left the room, as her mother entered it.
+
+"There!" Mrs. Blaisdell looked about her complacently. "With this
+couch-bed with its red cover and cushions, and all the dressing things
+moved to the little room in there, it looks like a real sitting-room in
+here, doesn't it?"
+
+"It certainly does, Mrs. Blaisdell."
+
+"And you had 'em take the trunks in there, too. That's good," she
+nodded, crossing to the door of the small dressing-room beyond. "I
+thought you would. Well, I hope you'll be real happy with us, Mr.
+Smith, and I guess you will. And you needn't be a mite afraid of
+hurting anything. I've covered everything with mats and tidies and
+spreads."
+
+"Yes, I see." A keen listener would have noticed an odd something in
+Mr. Smith's voice; but Mrs. Blaisdell apparently noticed nothing.
+
+"Yes, I always do--to save wearing and soiling, you know. Of course, if
+we had money to buy new all the time, it would be different. But we
+haven't. And that's what I tell Mellicent when she complains of so many
+things to dust and brush. Now make yourself right at home, Mr. Smith.
+Dinner's at twelve o'clock, and supper is at six--except in the winter.
+We have it earlier then, so's we can go to bed earlier. Saves gas, you
+know. But it's at six now. I do like the long days, don't you? Well,
+I'll be off now, and let you unpack. As I said before, make yourself
+perfectly at home, perfectly at home."
+
+Left alone, Mr. Smith drew a long breath and looked about him. It was a
+pleasant room, in spite of its cluttered appearance. There was an
+old-fashioned desk for his papers, and the chairs looked roomy and
+comfortable. The little dressing-room carried many conveniences, and
+the windows of both rooms looked out upon the green of the common.
+
+"Oh, well, I don't know. This might be lots worse--in spite of the
+tidies!" chuckled Mr. John Smith, as he singled out the keys of his
+trunks.
+
+At the noon dinner-table Mr. Smith met Mr. Frank Blaisdell. He was a
+portly man with rather thick gray hair and "mutton-chop" gray whiskers.
+He ate very fast, and a great deal, yet he still found time to talk
+interestedly with his new boarder.
+
+He was plainly a man of decided opinions--opinions which he did not
+hesitate to express, and which he emphasized with resounding thumps of
+his fists on the table. The first time he did this, Mr. Smith, taken
+utterly by surprise, was guilty of a visible start. After that he
+learned to accept them with the serenity evinced by the rest of the
+family.
+
+When the dinner was over, Mr. Smith knew (if he could remember them)
+the current market prices of beans, corn, potatoes, sugar, and flour;
+and he knew (again if he could remember) why some of these commodities
+were higher, and some lower, than they had been the week before. In a
+way, Mr. John Smith was interested. That stocks and bonds fluctuated,
+he was well aware. That "wheat" could be cornered, he realized. But of
+the ups and downs of corn and beans as seen by the retail grocer he
+knew very little. That is, he had known very little until after that
+dinner with Mr. Frank Blaisdell.
+
+It was that afternoon that Mr. Smith began systematically to gather
+material for his Blaisdell book. He would first visit by turns all the
+Hillerton Blaisdells, he decided; then, when he had exhausted their
+resources, he would, of course, turn to the town records and cemeteries
+of Hillerton and the neighboring villages.
+
+Armed with a pencil and a very businesslike looking notebook,
+therefore, he started at two o'clock for the home of James Blaisdell.
+Remembering Mr. Blaisdell's kind permission to come and ask all the
+questions he liked, he deemed it fitting to begin there.
+
+He had no trouble in finding the house, but there was no one in sight
+this time, as he ascended the steps. The house, indeed, seemed
+strangely quiet. He was just about to ring the bell when around the
+corner of the veranda came a hurried step and a warning voice.
+
+"Oh, please, don't ring the bell! What is it? Isn't it something that I
+can do for you?"
+
+Mr. Smith turned sharply. He thought at first, from the trim, slender
+figure, and the waving hair above the gracefully poised head, that he
+was confronting a young woman. Then he saw the silver threads at the
+temples, and the fine lines about the eyes.
+
+"I am looking for Mrs. Blaisdell--Mrs. James Blaisdell," he answered,
+lifting his hat.
+
+"Oh, you're Mr. Smith. Aren't you Mr. Smith?" She smiled brightly, then
+went on before he could reply. "You see, Benny told me. He described
+you perfectly."
+
+The man's eyebrows went up.
+
+"Oh, did he? The young rascal! I fancy I should be edified to hear
+it--that description."
+
+The other laughed. Then, a bit roguishly, she demanded:--"Should you
+like to hear it--really?"
+
+"I certainly should. I've already collected a few samples of Benny's
+descriptive powers."
+
+"Then you shall have this one. Sit down, Mr. Smith." She motioned him
+to a chair, and dropped easily into one herself. "Benny said you were
+tall and not fat; that you had a wreath of light hair 'round a bald
+spot, and whiskers that were clipped as even as Mr. Pennock's hedge;
+and that your lips, without speaking, said, 'Run away, little boy,' but
+that your eyes said, 'Come here.' Now I think Benny did pretty well."
+"So I judge, since you recognized me without any difficulty," rejoined
+Mr. Smith, a bit dryly. "But--YOU--? You see you have the advantage of
+me. Benny hasn't described you to me." He paused significantly.
+
+"Oh, I'm just here to help out. Mrs. Blaisdell is ill upstairs--one of
+her headaches. That is why I asked you not to ring. She gets so nervous
+when the bell rings. She thinks it's callers, and that she won't be
+ready to receive them; and she hurries up and begins to dress. So I
+asked you not to ring."
+
+"But she isn't seriously ill?"
+
+"Oh, no, just a headache. She has them often. You wanted to see her?"
+
+"Yes. But it's not important at all. Another time, just as well. Some
+questions--that is all."
+
+"Oh, for the book, of course. Oh, yes, I have heard about that, too."
+She smiled again brightly. "But can't you wait? Mr. Blaisdell will soon
+be here. He's coming early so I can go home. I HAVE to go home."
+
+"And you are--"
+
+"Miss Duff. My name is Duff."
+
+"You don't mean--'Poor Maggie'!" (Not until the words were out did Mr.
+Smith realize quite how they would sound.) "Er--ah--that is--" He
+stumbled miserably, and she came to his rescue.
+
+"Oh, yes, I'm--'Poor Maggie.'" There was an odd something in her
+expressive face that Mr. Smith could not fathom. He was groping for
+something--anything to say, when suddenly there was a sound behind
+them, and the little woman at his side sprang to her feet.
+
+"Oh, Hattie, you came down!" she exclaimed as Mrs. James Blaisdell
+opened the screen door and stepped out on to the veranda. "Here's Mrs.
+Blaisdell now, Mr. Smith."
+
+"Oh, it's only Mr. Smith!" With a look very like annoyance Mrs.
+Blaisdell advanced and held out her hand. She looked pale, and her hair
+hung a bit untidily about one ear below a somewhat twisted pyramid of
+puffs. Her dress, though manifestly an expensive one, showed haste in
+its fastenings. "Yes, I heard voices, and I thought some one had
+come--a caller. So I came down."
+
+"I'm glad--if you're better," smiled Miss Maggie. "Then I'll go, if you
+don't mind. Mr. Smith has come to ask you some questions, Hattie.
+Good-bye!" With another cheery smile and a nod to Mr. Smith, she
+disappeared into the house. A minute later Mr. Smith saw her hurrying
+down a side path to the street.
+
+"You called to ask some questions?" Mrs. Blaisdell sank languidly into
+a chair.
+
+"About the Blaisdell family--yes. But perhaps another day, when you are
+feeling better, Mrs. Blaisdell."
+
+"Oh, no." She smiled a little more cordially. "I can answer to-day as
+well as any time--though I'm not sure I can tell you very much, ever. I
+think it's fine you are making the book, though. Some way it gives a
+family such a standing, to be written up like that. Don't you think so?
+And the Blaisdells are really a very nice family--one of the oldest in
+Hillerton, though, of course, they haven't much money."
+
+"I ought to find a good deal of material here, then, if they have lived
+here so long."
+
+"Yes, I suppose so. Now, what can I tell you? Of course I can tell you
+about my own family. My husband is in the real estate business. You
+knew that, didn't you? Perhaps you see 'The Real Estate Journal.' His
+picture was in it a year ago last June. There was a write-up on
+Hillerton. I was in it, too, though there wasn't much about me. But
+I've got other clippings with more, if you'd like to see them--where
+I've poured, and been hostess, and all that, you know."
+
+Mr. Smith took out his notebook and pencil.
+
+"Let me see, Mrs. Blaisdell, your husband's father's name was Rufus, I
+believe. What was his mother's maiden name, please?"
+
+"His mother's maiden name? Oh, 'Elizabeth.' Our little girl is named
+for her--Bessie, you know--you saw her last night. Jim wanted to, so I
+let him. It's a pretty name--Elizabeth--still, it sounds a little
+old-fashioned now, don't you think? Of course we are anxious to have
+everything just right for our daughter. A young lady soon coming out,
+so,--you can't be too particular. That's one reason why I wanted to get
+over here--on the West Side, I mean. Everybody who is anybody lives on
+the West Side in Hillerton. You'll soon find that out."
+
+"No doubt, no doubt! And your mother Blaisdell's surname?" Mr. Smith's
+pencil was poised over the open notebook.
+
+"Surname? Mother Blaisdell's? Oh, before she was married. I see. But,
+dear me, I don't know. I suppose Jim will, or Flora, or maybe
+Frank--though I don't believe HE will, unless her folks kept groceries.
+Did you ever see anybody that didn't know anything but groceries like
+Frank Blaisdell?" The lady sighed and shrugged her somewhat heavy
+shoulders with an expressive glance.
+
+Mr. Smith smiled understandingly.
+
+"Oh, well, it's good--to be interested in one's business, you know."
+
+"But such a business!" murmured the lady, with another shrug.
+
+"Then you can't tell me Mrs. Rufus Blaisdell's surname?"
+
+"No. But Jim--Oh, I'll tell you who will know," she broke off
+interestedly; "and that's Maggie Duff. You saw her here a few minutes
+ago, you know. Father Duff's got all of Mother Blaisdell's papers and
+diaries. Oh, Maggie can tell you a lot of things. Poor Maggie! Benny
+says if we want ANYTHING we ask Aunt Maggie, and I don't know but he's
+right. And here I am, sending you to her, so soon!"
+
+"Very well, then," smiled Mr. Smith. "I don't see but what I shall have
+to interview Miss Maggie, and Miss Flora. Is there nothing more, then,
+that you can tell me?"
+
+"Well, there's Fred, my son. You haven't seen him yet. We're very proud
+of Fred. He's at the head of his class, and he's going to college and
+be a lawyer. And that's another reason why I wanted to come over to
+this side--on Fred's account. I want him to meet the right sort of
+people. You know it helps so much! We think we're going to have Fred a
+big man some day."
+
+"And he was born, when?" Mr. Smith's pencil still poised above an
+almost entirely blank page.
+
+"He's seventeen. He'll be eighteen the tenth of next month."
+
+"And Miss Bessie, and Benny?"
+
+"Oh, she's sixteen. She'll be seventeen next winter. She wants to come
+out then, but I think I shall wait--a little, she's so very young;
+though Gussie Pennock's out, and she's only seventeen, and the Pennocks
+are some of our very best people. They're the richest folks in town,
+you know."
+
+"And Benny was born--when?"
+
+"He's eight--or rather nine, next Tuesday. Dear me, Mr. Smith, don't
+you want ANYTHING but dates? They're tiresome things, I think,--make
+one feel so old, you know, and it shows up how many years you've been
+married. Don't you think so? But maybe you're a bachelor."
+
+"Yes, I'm a bachelor."
+
+"Are you, indeed? Well, you miss a lot, of course,--home and wife and
+children. Still, you gain some things. You aren't tied down, and you
+don't have so much to worry about. Is your mother living, or your
+father?"
+
+"No. I have no--near relatives." Mr. Smith stirred a little uneasily,
+and adjusted his book. "Perhaps, now, Mrs. Blaisdell, you can give me
+your own maiden name."
+
+"Oh, yes, I can give you that!" She laughed and bridled
+self-consciously. "But you needn't ask when I was born, for I shan't
+tell you, if you do. My name was Hattie Snow."
+
+"'Harriet,' I presume." Mr. Smith's pencil was busily at work.
+
+"Yes--Harriet Snow. And the Snows were just as good as the Blaisdells,
+if I do say it. There were a lot that wanted me--oh, I was pretty THEN,
+Mr. Smith." She laughed, and bridled again self-consciously. "But I
+took Jim. He was handsome then, very--big dark eyes and dark hair, and
+so dreamy and poetical-looking; and there wasn't a girl that hadn't set
+her cap for him. And he's been a good husband to me. To be sure, he
+isn't quite so ambitious as he might be, perhaps. _I_ always did
+believe in being somebody, and getting somewhere. Don't you? But
+Jim--he's always for hanging back and saying how much it'll cost. Ten
+to one he doesn't end up by saying we can't afford it. He's like
+Jane,--Frank's wife, where you board, you know,--only Jane's worse than
+Jim ever thought of being. She won't spend even what she's got. If
+she's got ten dollars, she won't spend but five cents, if she can help
+it. Now, I believe in taking some comfort as you go along. But
+Jane--greatest saver I ever did see. Better look out, Mr. Smith, that
+she doesn't try to save feeding you at all!" she finished merrily.
+
+"I'm not worrying!" Mr. Smith smiled cheerily, snapped his book shut
+and got to his feet.
+
+"Oh, won't you wait for Mr. Blaisdell? He can tell you more, I'm sure."
+
+"Not to-day, thank you. At his office, some time, I'll see Mr.
+Blaisdell," murmured Mr. Smith, with an odd haste. "But I thank you
+very much, Mrs. Blaisdell," he bowed in farewell.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+IN MISS FLORA'S ALBUM
+
+
+It was the next afternoon that Mr. Smith inquired his way to the home
+of Miss Flora Blaisdell. He found it to be a shabby little cottage on a
+side street. Miss Flora herself answered his knock, peering at him
+anxiously with her near-sighted eyes.
+
+Mr. Smith lifted his hat.
+
+"Good-afternoon, Miss Blaisdell," he began with a deferential bow. "I
+am wondering if you could tell me something of your father's family."
+Miss Flora, plainly pleased, but flustered, stepped back for him to
+enter.
+
+"Oh, Mr. Smith, come in, come in! I'm sure I'm glad to tell you
+anything I know," she beamed, ushering him into the unmistakably
+little-used "front room." "But you really ought to go to Maggie. I can
+tell you some things, but Maggie's got the Bible. Mother had it, you
+know, and it's all among her things. And of course we had to let it
+stay, as long as Father Duff lives. He doesn't want anything touched.
+Poor Maggie--she tried to get 'em for us; but, mercy! she never tried
+but once. But I've got some things. I've got pictures of a lot of them,
+and most of them I know quite a lot about."
+
+As she spoke she nicked up from the table a big red plush photograph
+album. Seating herself at his side she opened it, and began to tell him
+of the pictures, one by one.
+
+She did, indeed, know "quite a lot" of most of them. Tintypes,
+portraying stiffly held hands and staring eyes, ghostly reproductions
+of daguerreotypes of stern-lipped men and women, in old-time stock and
+kerchief; photographs of stilted family groups after the
+"he-is-mine-and-I-am-his" variety; snap-shots of adorable babies with
+blurred thumbs and noses--never had Mr. John Smith seen their like
+before.
+
+Politely he listened. Busily, from time to time, he jotted down a name
+or date. Then, suddenly, as she turned a page, he gave an involuntary
+start. He was looking at a pictured face, evidently cut from a magazine.
+
+"Why, what--who--" he stammered.
+
+"That? Oh, that's Mr. Fulton, the millionaire, you know." Miss Flora's
+hands fluttered over the page a little importantly, adjusting a corner
+of the print. "You must have seen his picture. It's been everywhere.
+He's our cousin, too."
+
+"Oh, is he?"
+
+"Yes, 'way back somewhere. I can't tell you just how, only I know he
+is. His mother was a Blaisdell. That's why I've always been so
+interested in him, and read everything I could--in the papers and
+magazines, you know."
+
+"Oh, I see." Mr. John Smith's voice had become a little uncertain.
+
+"Yes. He ain't very handsome, is he?" Miss Flora's eyes were musingly
+fixed on the picture before her--which was well, perhaps: Mr. John
+Smith's face was a study just then.
+
+"Er--n-no, he isn't."
+
+"But he's turribly rich, I s'pose. I wonder how it feels to have so
+much money."
+
+There being no reply to this, Miss Flora went on after a moment.
+
+"It must be awful nice--to buy what you want, I mean, without fretting
+about how much it costs. I never did. But I'd like to."
+
+"What would you do--if you could--if you had the money, I mean?"
+queried Mr. Smith, almost eagerly.
+
+Miss Flora laughed.
+
+"Well, there's three things I know I'd do. They're silly, of course,
+but they're what I WANT. It's a phonygraph, and to see Niagara Falls,
+and to go into Noell's restaurant and order what I want without even
+looking at the prices after 'em. Now you're laughing at me!"
+
+"Laughing? Not a bit of it!" There was a curious elation in Mr. Smith's
+voice. "What's more, I hope you'll get them--some time."
+
+Miss Flora sighed. Her face looked suddenly pinched and old.
+
+"I shan't. I couldn't, you know. Why, if I had the money, I shouldn't
+spend it--not for them things. I'd be needing shoes or a new dress. And
+I COULDN'T be so rich I wouldn't notice what the prices was--of what I
+ate. But, then, I don't believe anybody's that, not even him." She
+pointed to the picture still open before them.
+
+"No?" Mr. Smith, his eyes bent upon the picture, was looking
+thoughtful. He had the air of a man to whom has come a brand-new,
+somewhat disconcerting idea.
+
+Miss Flora, glancing from the man to the picture, and back again, gave
+a sudden exclamation.
+
+"There, now I know who it is that you remind me of, Mr. Smith. It's
+him--Mr. Fulton, there."
+
+"Eh? What?" Mr. Smith looked not a little startled.
+
+"Something about the eyes and nose." Miss Flora was still interestedly
+comparing the man and the picture, "But, then, that ain't so strange.
+You're a Blaisdell yourself. Didn't you say you was a Blaisdell?"
+
+"Er--y-yes, oh, yes. I'm a Blaisdell," nodded Mr. Smith hastily. "Very
+likely I've got the--er--Blaisdell nose. Eh?" Then he turned a leaf of
+the album abruptly, decidedly. "And who may this be?" he demanded,
+pointing to the tintype of a bright-faced young girl.
+
+"That? Oh, that's my cousin Grace when she was sixteen. She died; but
+she was a wonderful girl. I'll tell you about her."
+
+"Yes, do," urged Mr. Smith; and even the closest observer, watching his
+face, could not have said that he was not absorbedly interested in Miss
+Flora's story of "my cousin Grace."
+
+It was not until the last leaf of the album was reached that they came
+upon the picture of a small girl, with big, hungry eyes looking out
+from beneath long lashes.
+
+"That's Mellicent--where you're boarding, you know--when she was
+little." Miss Flora frowned disapprovingly. "But it's horrid, poor
+child!"
+
+"But she looks so--so sad," murmured Mr. Smith.
+
+"Yes, I know. She always did." Miss Flora sighed and frowned again. She
+hesitated, then burst out, as if irresistibly impelled from within.
+"It's only just another case of never having what you want WHEN you
+want it, Mr. Smith. And it ain't 'cause they're poor, either. They
+AIN'T poor--not like me, I mean. Frank's always done well, and he's
+been a good provider; but it's my sister-in-law--her way, I mean. Not
+that I'm saying anything against Jane. I ain't. She's a good woman, and
+she's very kind to me. She's always saying what she'd do for me if she
+only had the money. She's a good housekeeper, too, and her house is as
+neat as wax. But it's just that she never thinks she can USE anything
+she's got till it's so out of date she don't want it. I dressmake for
+her, you see, so I know--about her sleeves and skirts, you know. And if
+she ever does wear a decent thing she's so afraid it will rain she
+never takes any comfort in it!"
+
+"Well, that is--unfortunate."
+
+"Yes, ain't it? And she's brought up that poor child the same way. Why,
+from babyhood, Mellicent never had her rattles till she wanted blocks,
+nor her blocks till she wanted dolls, nor her dolls till she was big
+enough for beaus! And that's what made the poor child always look so
+wall-eyed and hungry. She was hungry--even if she did get enough to
+eat."
+
+"Mrs. Blaisdell probably believed in--er--economy," hazarded Mr. Smith.
+
+"Economy! My stars, I should think she did! But, there, I ought not to
+have said anything, of course. It's a good trait. I only wish some
+other folks I could mention had more of it. There's Jim's wife, for
+instance. Now, if she's got ten cents, she'll spend fifteen--and five
+more to show HOW she spent it. She and Jane ought to be shaken up in a
+bag together. Why, Mr. Smith, Jane doesn't let herself enjoy anything.
+She's always keeping it for a better time. Though sometimes I think she
+DOES enjoy just seeing how far she can make a dollar go. But Mellicent
+don't, nor Frank; and it's hard on them."
+
+"I should say it might be." Mr. Smith was looking at the wistful eyes
+under the long lashes.
+
+"'T is; and 't ain't right, I believe. There IS such a thing as being
+too economical. I tell Jane she'll be like a story I read once about a
+man who pinched and saved all his life, not even buying peanuts, though
+he just doted on 'em. And when he did get rich, so he could buy the
+peanuts, he bought a big bag the first thing. But he didn't eat 'em. He
+hadn't got any teeth left to chew 'em with."
+
+"Well, that was a catastrophe!" laughed Mr. Smith, as he pocketed his
+notebook and rose to his feet. "And now I thank you very much, Miss
+Blaisdell, for the help you've been to me."
+
+"Oh, you're quite welcome, indeed you are, Mr. Smith," beamed Miss
+Blaisdell. "It's done me good, just to talk to you about all these
+folks and pictures. I we enjoyed it. I do get lonesome sometimes, all
+alone, so! and I ain't so busy as I wish I was, always. But I'm afraid
+I haven't helped you much--just this."
+
+"Oh, yes, you have--perhaps more than think," smiled the man, with an
+odd look in his eyes.
+
+"Have I? Well, I'm glad, I'm sure. And don't forget to go to Maggie's,
+now. She'll have a lot to tell you. Poor Maggie! And she'll be so glad
+to show you!"
+
+"All right, thank you; I'll surely interview--Miss Maggie," smiled the
+man in good-bye.
+
+He had almost said "poor" Maggie himself, though why she should be POOR
+Maggie had come to be an all-absorbing question with him. He had been
+tempted once to ask Miss Flora, but something had held him back. That
+evening at the supper table, however, in talking with Mrs. Jane
+Blaisdell, the question came again to his lips; and this time it found
+utterance.
+
+Mrs. Jane herself had introduced Miss Maggie's name, and had said an
+inconsequential something about her when Mr. Smith asked:--
+
+"Mrs. Blaisdell, please,--may I ask? I must confess to a great
+curiosity as to why Miss Duff is always 'poor Maggie.'"
+
+Mrs. Blaisdell laughed pleasantly.
+
+"Why, really, I don't know," she answered, "only it just comes natural,
+that's all. Poor Maggie's been so unfortunate. There! I did it again,
+didn't I? That only goes to show how we all do it, unconsciously."
+
+Frank Blaisdell, across the table, gave a sudden emphatic sniff.
+
+"Humph! Well, I guess if you had to live with Father Duff, Jane, it
+would be 'poor Jane' with you, all right!"
+
+"Yes, I know." His wife sighed complacently.
+
+"Father Duff's a trial, and no mistake. But Maggie doesn't seem to
+mind."
+
+"Mind! Aunt Maggie's a saint--that's what she is!" It was Mellicent who
+spoke, her young voice vibrant with suppressed feeling. "She's the
+dearest thing ever! There COULDN'T be anybody better than Aunt Maggie!"
+
+Nothing more was said just then, but in the evening, later, after
+Mellicent had gone to walk with young Pennock, and her father had gone
+back down to the store, Mrs. Blaisdell took up the matter of "Poor
+Maggie" again.
+
+"I've been thinking what you said," she began, "about our calling her
+'poor Maggie,' and I've made up my mind it's because we're all so sorry
+for her. You see, she's been so unfortunate, as I said. Poor Maggie!
+I've so often wished there was something I could do for her. Of course,
+if we only had money--but we haven't; so I can't. And even money
+wouldn't take away her father, either. Oh, mercy! I didn't mean that,
+really,--not the way it sounded," broke off Mrs. Blaisdell, in shocked
+apology. "I only meant that she'd have her father to care for, just the
+same."
+
+"He's something of a trial, I take it, eh?" smiled Mr. Smith.
+
+"Trial! I should say he was. Poor Maggie! How ever she endures it, I
+can't imagine. Of course, we call him Father Duff, but he's really not
+any relation to us--I mean to Frank and the rest. But their mother
+married him when they were children, and they never knew their own
+father much, so he's the father they know. When their mother died,
+Maggie had just entered college. She was eighteen, and such a pretty
+girl! I knew the family even then. Frank was just beginning to court me.
+
+"Well, of course Maggie had to come home right away. None of the rest
+wanted to take care of him and Maggie had to. There was another Duff
+sister then--a married sister (she's died since), but SHE wouldn't take
+him, so Maggie had to. Of course, none of the Blaisdells wanted the
+care of him--and he wasn't their father, anyway. Frank was wanting to
+marry me, and Jim and Flora were in school and wanted to stay there, of
+course. So Maggie came. Poor girl! It was real hard for her. She was so
+ambitious, and so fond of books. But she came, and went right into the
+home and kept it so Frank and Jim and Flora could live there just the
+same as when their mother was alive. And she had to do all the work,
+too. They were too poor to keep a girl. Kind of hard, wasn't it?--and
+Maggie only eighteen!"
+
+"It was, indeed!" Mr. Smith's lips came together a bit grimly.
+
+"Well, after a time Frank and Jim married, and there was only Flora and
+Father Duff at home. Poor Maggie tried then to go to college again. She
+was over twenty-one, and supposed to be her own mistress, of course.
+She found a place where she could work and pay her way through college,
+and Flora said she'd keep the house and take care of Father Duff. But,
+dear me; it wasn't a month before that ended, and Maggie had to come
+home again. Flora wasn't strong, and the work fretted her. Besides, she
+never could get along with Father Duff, and she was trying to learn
+dressmaking, too. She stuck it out till she got sick, though, then of
+course Maggie had to come back."
+
+"Well, by Jove!" ejaculated Mr. Smith.
+
+"Yes, wasn't it too bad? Poor Maggie, she tried it twice again. She
+persuaded her father to get a girl. But that didn't work, either. The
+first girl and her father fought like cats and dogs, and the last time
+she got one her father was taken sick, and again she had to come home.
+Some way, it's always been that way with poor Maggie. No sooner does
+she reach out to take something than it's snatched away, just as she
+thinks she's got it. Why, there was her father's cousin George--he was
+going to help her once. But a streak of bad luck hit him at just that
+minute, and he gave out."
+
+"And he never tried--again?"
+
+"No. He went to Alaska then. Hasn't ever been back since. He's done
+well, too, they say, and I always thought he'd send back something; but
+he never has. There was some trouble, I believe, between him and Father
+Duff at the time he went to Alaska, so that explains it, probably.
+Anyway, he's never done anything for them. Well, when he gave out,
+Maggie just gave up college then, and settled down to take care of her
+father, though I guess she's always studied some at home; and I know
+that for years she didn't give up hope but that she could go some time.
+But I guess she has now. Poor Maggie!"
+
+"How old is she?"
+
+"Why, let me see--forty-three, forty-four--yes, she's forty-five. She
+had her forty-third birthday here--I remember I gave her a handkerchief
+for a birthday present--when she was helping me take care of Mellicent
+through the pneumonia; and that was two years ago. She used to come
+here and to Jim's and Flora's days at a time; but she isn't quite so
+free as she was--Father Duff's worse now, and she don't like to leave
+him nights, much, so she can't come to us so often. See?"
+
+"Yes, I--see." There was a queer something in Mr. Smith's voice. "And
+just what is the matter with Mr. Duff?"
+
+"Matter!" Mrs. Jane Blaisdell gave a short laugh and shrugged her
+shoulders. "Everything's the matter--with Father Duff! Oh, it's nerves,
+mostly, the doctor says, and there are some other things--long names
+that I can't remember. But, as I said, everything's the matter with
+Father Duff. He's one of those men where there isn't anything quite
+right. Frank says he's got so he just objects to everything--on general
+principles. If it's blue, he says it ought to be black, you know. And,
+really, I don't know but Frank's right. How Maggie stands him I don't
+see; but she's devotion itself. Why, she even gave up her lover years
+ago, for him. She wouldn't leave her father, and, of course, nobody
+would think of taking HIM into the family, when he wasn't BORN into it,
+so the affair was broken off. I don't know, really, as Maggie cared
+much. Still, you can't tell. She never was one to carry her heart on
+her sleeve. Poor Maggie! I've always so wished I could do something for
+her!
+
+"There, how I have run on! But, then, you asked, and you're interested,
+I know, and that's what you're here for--to find out about the
+Blaisdells."
+
+"To--to--f-find out--" stammered Mr. Smith, grown suddenly very red.
+
+"Yes, for your book, I mean."
+
+"Oh, yes--of course; for my book," agreed Mr. Smith, a bit hastily. He
+had the guilty air of a small boy who has almost been caught in a raid
+on the cooky jar.
+
+"And although poor Maggie isn't really a Blaisdell herself, she's
+nearly one; and they've got lots of Blaisdell records down there--among
+Mother Blaisdell's things, you know. You'll want to see those."
+
+"Yes; yes, indeed. I'll want to see those, of course," declared Mr.
+Smith, rising to his feet, preparatory to going to his own room.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+POOR MAGGIE
+
+
+It was some days later that Mr. Smith asked Benny one afternoon to show
+him the way to Miss Maggie Duff's home.
+
+"Sure I will," agreed Benny with alacrity. "You don't ever have ter do
+any teasin' ter get me ter go ter Aunt Maggie's."
+
+"You're fond of Aunt Maggie, then, I take it."
+
+Benny's eyes widened a little.
+
+"Why, of course! Everybody's fond of Aunt Maggie. Why, I don't know
+anybody that don't like Aunt Maggie."
+
+"I'm sure that speaks well--for Aunt Maggie," smiled Mr. Smith.
+
+"Yep! A feller can take some comfort at Aunt Maggie's," continued
+Benny, trudging along at Mr. Smith's side. "She don't have anythin'
+just for show, that you can't touch, like 'tis at my house, and there
+ain't anythin' but what you can use without gettin' snarled up in a
+mess of covers an' tidies, like 'tis at Aunt Jane's. But Aunt Maggie
+don't save anythin', Aunt Jane says, an' she'll die some day in the
+poor-house, bein' so extravagant. But I don't believe she will. Do you,
+Mr. Smith?"
+
+"Well, really, Benny, I--er--" hesitated the man.
+
+"Well, I don't believe she will," repeated Benny. "I hope she won't,
+anyhow. Poorhouses ain't very nice, are they?"
+
+"I--I don't think I know very much about them, Benny."
+
+"Well, I don't believe they are, from what Aunt Jane says. And if they
+ain't, I don't want Aunt Maggie ter go. She hadn't ought ter have
+anythin'--but Heaven--after Grandpa Duff. Do you know Grandpa Duff?"
+
+"No, my b-boy." Mr. Smith was choking over a cough.
+
+"He's sick. He's got a chronic grouch, ma says. Do you know what that
+is?"
+
+"I--I have heard of them."
+
+"What are they? Anything like chronic rheumatism? I know what chronic
+means. It means it keeps goin' without stoppin'--the rheumatism, I
+mean, not the folks that's got it. THEY don't go at all, sometimes. Old
+Dr. Cole don't, and that's what he's got. But when I asked ma what a
+grouch was, she said little boys should be seen and not heard. Ma
+always says that when she don't want to answer my questions. Do you?
+Have you got any little boys, Mr. Smith?"
+
+"No, Benny. I'm a poor old bachelor."
+
+"Oh, are you POOR, too? That's too bad."
+
+"Well, that is, I--I--"
+
+"Ma was wonderin' yesterday what you lived on. Haven't you got any
+money, Mr. Smith?"
+
+"Oh, yes, Benny, I've got money enough--to live on." Mr. Smith spoke
+promptly, and with confidence this time.
+
+"Oh, that's nice. You're glad, then, ain't you? Ma says we haven't--got
+enough ter live on, I mean; but pa says we have, if we didn't try ter
+live like everybody else lives what's got more."
+
+Mr. Smith bit his lip, and looked down a little apprehensively at the
+small boy at his side.
+
+"I--I'm not sure, Benny, but _I_ shall have to say little boys should
+be seen and not--" He stopped abruptly. Benny, with a stentorian shout,
+had run ahead to a gate before a small white cottage. On the cozy,
+vine-shaded porch sat a white-haired old man leaning forward on his
+cane.
+
+"Hi, there, Grandpa Duff, I've brought somebody ter see ye!" The gate
+was open now, and Benny was halfway up the short walk. "It's Mr. Smith.
+Come in, Mr. Smith. Here's grandpa right here."
+
+With a pleasant smile Mr. Smith doffed his hat and came forward.
+
+"Thank you, Benny. How do you do, Mr. Duff?"
+
+The man on the porch looked up sharply from beneath heavy brows.
+
+"Humph! Your name's Smith, is it?"
+
+"That's what they call me." The corners of Mr. Smith's mouth twitched a
+little.
+
+"Humph! Yes, I've heard of you."
+
+"You flatter me!" Mr. Smith, on the topmost step, hesitated. "Is
+your--er--daughter in, Mr. Duff?" He was still smiling cheerfully.
+
+Mr. Duff was not smiling. His somewhat unfriendly gaze was still bent
+upon the newcomer.
+
+"Just what do you want of my daughter?"
+
+"Why, I--I--" Plainly nonplused, the man paused uncertainly. Then, with
+a resumption of his jaunty cheerfulness, he smiled straight into the
+unfriendly eyes. "I'm after some records, Mr. Duff,--records of the
+Blaisdell family. I'm compiling a book on--
+
+"Humph! I thought as much," interrupted Mr. Duff curtly, settling back
+in his chair. "As I said, I've heard of you. But you needn't come here
+asking your silly questions. I shan't tell you a thing, anyway, if you
+do. It's none of your business who lived and died and what they did
+before you were born. If the Lord had wanted you to know he'd 'a' put
+you here then instead of now!"
+
+Looking very much as if he had received a blow in the face, Mr. Smith
+fell back.
+
+"Aw, grandpa"--began Benny, in grieved expostulation. But a cheery
+voice interrupted, and Mr. Smith turned to see Miss Maggie Duff
+emerging from the doorway.
+
+"Oh, Mr. Smith, how do you do?" she greeted him, extending a cordial
+hand. "Come up and sit down."
+
+For only the briefest of minutes he hesitated. Had she heard? Could she
+have heard, and yet speak so unconcernedly? It seemed impossible. And
+yet--He took the chair she offered--but with a furtive glance toward
+the old man. He had only a moment to wait.
+
+Sharply Mr. Duff turned to his daughter.
+
+"This Mr. Smith tells me he has come to see those records. Now, I'm--"
+
+"Oh, father, dear, you couldn't!" interrupted his daughter with
+admonishing earnestness. "You mustn't go and get all those down!" (Mr.
+Smith almost gasped aloud in his amazement, but Miss Maggie did not
+seem to notice him at all.) "Why, father, you couldn't--they're too
+heavy for you! There are the Bible, and all those papers. They're too
+heavy father. I couldn't let you. Besides, I shouldn't think you'd want
+to get them!"
+
+If Mr. Smith, hearing this, almost gasped aloud in his amazement, he
+quite did so at what happened next. His mouth actually fell open as he
+saw the old man rise to his feet with stern dignity.
+
+"That will do, Maggie. I'm not quite in my dotage yet. I guess I'm
+still able to fetch downstairs a book and a bundle of papers." With his
+thumping cane a resolute emphasis to every other step, the old man
+hobbled into the house.
+
+"There, grandpa, that's the talk!" crowed Benny. "But you said--"
+
+"Er--Benny, dear," interposed Miss Maggie, in a haste so precipitate
+that it looked almost like alarm, "run into the pantry and see what you
+can find in the cooky jar." The last of her sentence was addressed to
+Benny's flying heels as they disappeared through the doorway.
+
+Left together, Mr. Smith searched the woman's face for some hint, some
+sign that this extraordinary shift-about was recognized and understood;
+but Miss Maggie, with a countenance serenely expressing only cheerful
+interest, was over by the little stand, rearranging the pile of books
+and newspapers on it.
+
+"I think, after all," she began thoughtfully, pausing in her work,
+"that it will be better indoors. It blows so out here that you'll be
+bothered in your copying, I am afraid."
+
+She was still standing at the table, chatting about the papers,
+however, when at the door, a few minutes later, appeared her father, in
+his arms a big Bible, and a sizable pasteboard box.
+
+"Right here, father, please," she said then, to Mr. Smith's dumfounded
+amazement. "Just set them down right here."
+
+The old man frowned and cast disapproving eyes on his daughter and the
+table.
+
+"There isn't room. I don't want them there," he observed coldly. "I
+shall put them in here." With the words he turned back into the house.
+
+Once again Mr. Smith's bewildered eyes searched Miss Maggie's face and
+once again they found nothing but serene unconcern. She was already at
+the door.
+
+"This way, please," she directed cheerily. And, still marveling, he
+followed her into the house.
+
+Mr. Smith thought he had never seen so charming a living-room. A
+comfortable chair invited him, and he sat down. He felt suddenly rested
+and at home, and at peace with the world. Realizing that, in some way,
+the room had produced this effect, he looked curiously about him,
+trying to solve the secret of it.
+
+Reluctantly to himself he confessed that it was a very ordinary room.
+The carpet was poor, and was badly worn. The chairs, while comfortable
+looking, were manifestly not expensive, and had seen long service.
+Simple curtains were at the windows, and a few fair prints were on the
+walls. Two or three vases, of good lines but cheap materials, held
+flowers, and there was a plain but roomy set of shelves filled with
+books--not immaculate, leather-backed, gilt-lettered "sets" but rows of
+dingy, worn volumes, whose very shabbiness was at once an invitation
+and a promise. Nowhere, however, could Mr. Smith see protecting cover
+mat, or tidy. He decided then that this must be why he felt suddenly so
+rested and at peace with all mankind. Even as the conviction came to
+him, however he was suddenly aware that everything was not, after all,
+peaceful or harmonious.
+
+At the table Mr. Duff and his daughter were arranging the Bible and the
+papers. Miss Maggie suggested piles in a certain order: her father
+promptly objected, and arranged them otherwise. Miss Maggie placed the
+papers first for perusal: her father said "Absurd!" and substituted the
+Bible. Miss Maggie started to draw up a chair to the table: her father
+derisively asked her if she expected a man to sit in that--and drew up
+a different one. Yet Mr. Smith, when he was finally invited to take a
+seat at the table, found everything quite the most convenient and
+comfortable possible.
+
+Once more into Miss Maggie's face he sent a sharply inquiring glance,
+and once more he encountered nothing but unruffled cheerfulness.
+
+With a really genuine interest in the records before him, Mr. Smith
+fell to work then. The Bible had been in the Blaisdell family for
+generations, and it was full of valuable names and dates. He began at
+once to copy them.
+
+Mr. Duff, on the other side of the table, was arranging into piles the
+papers before him. He complained of the draft, and Miss Maggie shut the
+window. He said then that he didn't mean he wanted to suffocate, and
+she opened the one on the other side. The clock had hardly struck three
+when he accused her of having forgotten his medicine. Yet when she
+brought it he refused to take it. She had not brought the right kind of
+spoon, he said, and she knew perfectly well he never took it out of
+that narrow-bowl kind. He complained of the light, and she lowered the
+curtain; but he told her that he didn't mean he didn't want to see at
+all, so she put it up halfway. He said his coat was too warm, and she
+brought another one. He put it on grudgingly, but he declared that it
+was as much too thin as the other was too thick.
+
+Mr. Smith, in spite of his efforts to be politely deaf and blind, found
+himself unable to confine his attention to birth, death, and marriage
+notices. Once he almost uttered an explosive "Good Heavens, how do you
+stand it?" to his hostess. But he stopped himself just in time, and
+fiercely wrote with a very black mark that Submit Blaisdell was born in
+eighteen hundred and one. A little later he became aware that Mr.
+Duff's attention was frowningly turned across the table toward himself.
+
+"If you will spend your time over such silly stuff, why don't you use a
+bigger book?" demanded the old man at last.
+
+"Because it wouldn't fit my pocket," smiled Mr. Smith.
+
+"Just what business of yours is it, anyhow, when these people lived and
+died?"
+
+"None, perhaps," still smiled Mr. Smith good humoredly.
+
+"Why don't you let them alone, then? What do you expect to find?"'
+
+"Why, I--I--" Mr. Smith was plainly non-plused.
+
+"Well, I can tell you it's a silly business, whatever you find. If you
+find your grandfather's a bigger man than you are, you'll be proud of
+it, but you ought to be ashamed of it--'cause you aren't bigger
+yourself! On the other hand, if you find he ISN'T as big as you are,
+you'll be ashamed of that, when you ought to be proud of it--'cause
+you've gone him one better. But you won't. I know your kind. I've seen
+you before. But can't you do any work, real work?"
+
+"He is doing work, real work, now, father," interposed Miss Maggie
+quickly. "He's having a woeful time, too. If you'd only help him, now,
+and show him those papers."
+
+A real terror came into Mr. Smith's eyes, but Mr. Duff was already on
+his feet.
+
+"Well, I shan't," he observed tartly. "I'M not a fool, if he is. I'm
+going out to the porch where I can get some air."
+
+"There, work as long as you like, Mr. Smith. I knew you'd rather work
+by yourself," nodded Miss Maggie, moving the piles of papers nearer him.
+
+"But, good Heavens, how do you stand--" exploded Mr. Smith before he
+realized that this time he had really said the words aloud. He blushed
+a painful red.
+
+Miss Maggie, too, colored. Then, abruptly, she laughed. "After all, it
+doesn't matter. Why shouldn't I be frank with you? You couldn't help
+seeing--how things were, of course, and I forgot, for a moment, that
+you were a stranger. Everybody in Hillerton understands. You see,
+father is nervous, and not at all well. We have to humor him."
+
+"But do you mean that you always have to tell him to do what you don't
+want, in order to--well--that is--" Mr. Smith, finding himself in very
+deep water, blushed again painfully.
+
+Miss Maggie met his dismayed gaze with cheerful candor.
+
+"Tell him to do what I DON'T want in order to get him to do what I do
+want him to? Yes, oh, yes. But I don't mind; really I don't. I'm used
+to it now. And when you know how, what does it matter? After all, where
+is the difference? To most of the world we say, 'Please do,' when we
+want a thing, while to him we have to say, 'Please don't.' That's all.
+You see, it's really very simple--when you know how."
+
+"Simple! Great Scott!" muttered Mr. Smith. He wanted to say more; but
+Miss Maggie, with a smiling nod, turned away, so he went back to his
+work.
+
+Benny, wandering in from the kitchen, with both hands full of cookies,
+plumped himself down on the cushioned window-seat, and drew a sigh of
+content.
+
+"Say, Aunt Maggie."
+
+"Yes, dear."
+
+"Can I come ter live with you?"
+
+"Certainly not!" The blithe voice and pleasant smile took all the sting
+from the prompt refusal.
+
+"What would father and mother do?"
+
+"Oh, they wouldn't mind."
+
+"Benny!"
+
+"They wouldn't. Maybe pa would--a little; but Bess and ma wouldn't. And
+I'D like it."
+
+"Nonsense, Benny!" Miss Maggie crossed to a little stand and picked up
+a small box. "Here's a new picture puzzle. See if you can do it."
+
+Benny shifted his now depleted stock of cookies to one hand, dropped to
+his knees on the floor, and dumped the contents of the box upon the
+seat before him.
+
+"They won't let me eat cookies any more at home--in the house, I mean.
+Too many crumbs."
+
+"But you know you have to pick up your crumbs here, dear."
+
+"Yep. But I don't mind--after I've had the fun of eatin' first. But
+they won't let me drop 'em ter begin with, there, nor take any of the
+boys inter the house. Honest, Aunt Maggie, there ain't anything a
+feller can do, 'seems so, if ye live on the West Side," he persisted
+soberly.
+
+Mr. Smith, copying dates at the table, was conscious of a slightly
+apprehensive glance in his direction from Miss Maggie's eyes, as she
+murmured:--
+
+"But you're forgetting your puzzle, Benny. You've put only five pieces
+together."
+
+"I can't do puzzles there, either." Benny's voice was still mournful.
+
+"All the more reason, then, why you should like to do them here. See,
+where does this dog's head go?"
+
+Listlessly Benny took the bit of pictured wood in his fingers and began
+to fit it into the pattern before him.
+
+"I used ter do 'em an' leave 'em 'round, but ma says I can't now.
+Callers might come and find 'em, an' what would they say--on the West
+Side! An' that's the way 'tis with everything. Ma an' Bess are always
+doin' things, or not doin' 'em, for those callers. An' I don't see why.
+They never come--not new ones.'
+
+"Yes, yes, dear, but they will, when they get acquainted. You haven't
+found where the dog's head goes yet."
+
+"Pa says he don't want ter get acquainted. He'd rather have the old
+friends, what don't mind baked beans, an' shirt-sleeves, an' doin' yer
+own work, an' what thinks more of yer heart than they do of yer
+pocketbook. But ma wants a hired girl. An' say, we have ter wash our
+hands every meal now--on the table, I mean--in those little glass
+wash-dishes. Ma went down an' bought some, an' she's usin' 'em every
+day, so's ter get used to 'em. She says everybody that is anybody has
+'em nowadays. Bess thinks they're great, but I don't. I don't like 'em
+a mite."
+
+"Oh, come, come, Benny! It doesn't matter--it doesn't really matter,
+does it, if you do have to use the little dishes? Come, you're not half
+doing the puzzle."
+
+"I know it." Benny shifted his position, and picked up a three-cornered
+bit of wood carrying the picture of a dog's paw. "But I was just
+thinkin'. You see, things are so different--on the West Side. Why even
+pa--he's different. He isn't there hardly any now. He's got a new job."
+
+"What?" Miss Maggie turned from the puzzle with a start.
+
+"Oh, just for evenin's. It's keepin' books for a man. It brings in
+quite a lot extry, ma says; but she wouldn't let me have some new
+roller skates when mine broke. She's savin' up for a chafin' dish.
+What's a chafin' dish? Do you know? You eat out of it, some way--I
+mean, it cooks things ter eat; an' Bess wants one. Gussie Pennock's got
+one. ALL our eatin's different, 'seems so, on the West Side. Ma has
+dinners nights now, instead of noons. She says the Pennocks do, an'
+everybody does who is anybody. But I don't like it. Pa don't, either,
+an' half the time he can't get home in time for it, anyhow, on account
+of gettin' back to his new job, ye know, an'--"
+
+"Oh, I've found where the dog's head goes," cried Miss Maggie, There
+was a hint of desperation in her voice. "I shall have your puzzle all
+done for you myself, if you don't look out, Benny. I don't believe you
+can do it, anyhow."
+
+"I can, too. You just see if I can't!" retorted Benny, with sudden
+spirit, falling to work in earnest. "I never saw a puzzle yet I
+couldn't do!"
+
+Mr. Smith, bending assiduously over his work at the table, heard Miss
+Maggie's sigh of relief--and echoed it, from sympathy.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+POOR MAGGIE AND SOME OTHERS
+
+
+It was half an hour later, when Mr. Smith and Benny were walking across
+the common together, that Benny asked an abrupt question.
+
+"Is Aunt Maggie goin' ter be put in your book, Mr. Smith?"
+
+"Why--er--yes; her name will be entered as the daughter of the man who
+married the Widow Blaisdell, probably. Why?"
+
+"Nothin'. I was only thinkin'. I hoped she was. Aunt Maggie don't have
+nothin' much, yer know, except her father an' housework--housework
+either for him or some of us. An' I guess she's had quite a lot of
+things ter bother her, an' make her feel bad, so I hoped she'd be in
+the book. Though if she wasn't, she'd just laugh an' say it doesn't
+matter, of course. That's what she always says."
+
+"Always says?" Mr. Smith's voice was mildly puzzled.
+
+"Yes, when things plague, an' somethin' don't go right. She says it
+helps a lot ter just remember that it doesn't matter. See?"
+
+"Well, no,--I don't think I do see," frowned Mr. Smith.
+
+"Oh, yes," plunged in Benny; "'cause, you see, if yer stop ter think
+about it--this thing that's plaguin' ye--you'll see how really small
+an' no-account it is, an' how, when you put it beside really big things
+it doesn't matter at all--it doesn't REALLY matter, ye know. Aunt
+Maggie says she's done it years an' years, ever since she was just a
+girl, an' somethin' bothered her; an' it's helped a lot."
+
+"But there are lots of things that DO matter," persisted Mr. Smith,
+still frowning.
+
+"Oh, yes!" Benny swelled a bit importantly, "I know what you mean. Aunt
+Maggie says that, too; an' she says we must be very careful an' not get
+it wrong. It's only the little things that bother us, an' that we wish
+were different, that we must say 'It doesn't matter' about. It DOES
+matter whether we're good an' kind an' tell the truth an' shame the
+devil; but it DOESN'T matter whether we have ter live on the West Side
+an' eat dinner nights instead of noons, an' not eat cookies any of the
+time in the house,--see?"
+
+"Good for you, Benny,--and good for Aunt Maggie!" laughed Mr. Smith
+suddenly.
+
+"Aunt Maggie? Oh, you don't know Aunt Maggie, yet. She's always tryin'
+ter make people think things don't matter. You'll see!" crowed Benny.
+
+A moment later he had turned down his own street, and Mr. Smith was
+left to go on alone.
+
+Very often, in the days that followed, Mr. Smith thought of this speech
+of Benny's. He had opportunity to verify it, for he was seeing a good
+deal of Miss Maggie, and it seemed, indeed, to him that half the town
+was coming to her to learn that something "didn't matter"--though very
+seldom, except to Benny, did he hear her say the words themselves. It
+was merely that to her would come men, women, and children, each with a
+sorry tale of discontent or disappointment. And it was always as if
+they left with her their burden, for when they turned away, head and
+shoulders were erect once more, eyes were bright, and the step was
+alert and eager.
+
+He used to wonder how she did it. For that matter, he wondered how she
+did--a great many things.
+
+Mr. Smith was, indeed, seeing a good deal of Miss Maggie these days. He
+told himself that it was the records that attracted him. But he did not
+always copy records. Sometimes he just sat in one of the comfortable
+chairs and watched Miss Maggie, content if she gave him a word now and
+then.
+
+He liked the way she carried her head, and the way her hair waved away
+from her shapely forehead. He liked the quiet strength of the way her
+capable hands lay motionless in her lap when their services were not
+required. He liked to watch for the twinkle in her eye, and for the
+dimple in her cheek that told a smile was coming. He liked to hear her
+talk to Benny. He even liked to hear her talk to her father--when he
+could control his temper sufficiently. Best of all he liked his own
+comfortable feeling of being quite at home, and at peace with all the
+world--the feeling that always came to him now whenever he entered the
+house, in spite of the fact that the welcome accorded him by Mr. Duff
+was hardly more friendly than at the first.
+
+To Mr. Smith it was a matter of small moment whether Mr. Duff welcomed
+him cordially or not. He even indulged now and then in a bout of his
+own with the gentleman, chuckling inordinately when results showed that
+he had pitched his remark at just the right note of contrariety to get
+what he wanted.
+
+For the most part, however, Mr. Smith, at least nominally, spent his
+time at his legitimate task of studying and copying the Blaisdell
+family records, of which he was finding a great number. Rufus Blaisdell
+apparently had done no little "digging" himself in his own day, and Mr.
+Smith told Miss Maggie that it was all a great "find" for him.
+
+Miss Maggie seemed pleased. She said that she was glad if she could be
+of any help to him, and she told him to come whenever he liked. She
+arranged the Bible and the big box of papers on a little table in the
+corner, and told him to make himself quite at home; and she showed so
+plainly that she regarded him as quite one of the family, that Mr.
+Smith might be pardoned for soon considering himself so.
+
+It was while at work in this corner that he came to learn so much of
+Miss Maggie's daily life, and of her visitors.
+
+Although many of these visitors were strangers to him, some of them he
+knew.
+
+One day it was Mrs. Hattie Blaisdell, with a countenance even more
+florid than usual. She was breathless and excited, and her eyes were
+worried. She was going to give a luncheon, she said. She wanted Miss
+Maggie's silver spoons, and her forks, and her hand painted
+sugar-and-creamer, and Mother Blaisdell's cut-glass dish.
+
+Mr. Smith, supposing that Miss Maggie herself was to be at the
+luncheon, was just rejoicing within him that she was to have this
+pleasant little outing, when he heard Mrs. Blaisdell telling her to be
+sure to come at eleven to be in the kitchen, and asking where could she
+get a maid to serve in the dining-room, and what should she do with
+Benny. He'd have to be put somewhere, or else he'd be sure to upset
+everything.
+
+Mr. Smith did not hear Miss Maggie's answer to all this, for she
+hurried her visitor to the kitchen at once to look up the spoons, she
+said. But indirectly he obtained a very conclusive reply; for he found
+Miss Maggie gone one day when he came; and Benny, who was in her place,
+told him all about it, even to the dandy frosted cake Aunt Maggie had
+made for the company to eat.
+
+Another day it was Mrs. Jane Blaisdell who came. Mrs. Jane had a tired
+frown between her brows and a despairing droop to her lips. She carried
+a large bundle which she dropped unceremoniously into Miss Maggie's lap.
+
+"There, I'm dead beat out, and I've brought it to you. You've just got
+to help me," she finished, sinking into a chair.
+
+"Why, of course, if I can. But what is it?" Miss Maggie's deft fingers
+were already untying the knot.
+
+"It's my old black silk. I'm making it over."
+
+"AGAIN? But I thought the last time it couldn't ever be done again."
+
+"Yes, I know; but there's lots of good in it yet," interposed Mrs. Jane
+decidedly; "and I've bought new velvet and new lace, and some buttons
+and a new lining. I THOUGHT I could do it alone, but I've reached a
+point where I just have got to have help. So I came right over."
+
+"Yes, of course, but"--Miss Maggie was lifting a half-finished sleeve
+doubtfully--"why didn't you go to Flora? She'd know exactly--"
+
+Mrs. Jane stiffened.
+
+"Because I can't afford to go to Flora," she interrupted coldly. "I
+have to pay Flora, and you know it. If I had the money I should be glad
+to do it, of course. But I haven't, and charity begins at home I think.
+Besides, I do go to her for NEW dresses. But this old thing--! Of
+course, if you don't WANT to help me--"
+
+"Oh, but I do," plunged in Miss Maggie hurriedly. "Come out into the
+kitchen where we'll have more room," she exclaimed, gathering the
+bundle into her arms and springing to her feet.
+
+"I've got some other lace at home--yards and yards. I got a lot, it was
+so cheap," recounted Mrs. Jane, rising with alacrity. "But I'm afraid
+it won't do for this, and I don't know as it will do for anything, it's
+so--"
+
+The kitchen door slammed sharply, and Mr. Smith heard no more. Half an
+hour later, however, he saw Mrs. Jane go down the walk. The frown was
+gone from her face and the droop from the corners of her mouth. Her
+step was alert and confident. She carried no bundle.
+
+The next day it was Miss Flora. Miss Flora's thin little face looked
+more pinched than ever, and her eyes more anxious, Mr. Smith thought.
+Even her smile, as she acknowledged Mr. Smith's greeting, was so wan he
+wished she had not tried to give it.
+
+She sat down then, by the window, and began to chat with Miss Maggie;
+and very soon Mr. Smith heard her say this:--
+
+"No, Maggie, I don't know, really, what I am going to do--truly I
+don't. Business is so turrible dull! Why, I don't earn enough to pay my
+rent, hardly, now, ter say nothin' of my feed."
+
+Miss Maggie frowned.
+
+"But I thought that Hattie--ISN'T Hattie having some new dresses--and
+Bessie, too?"
+
+A sigh passed Miss Flora's lips.
+
+"Yes, oh, yes; they are having three or four. But they don't come to ME
+any more. They've gone to that French woman that makes the Pennocks'
+things, you know, with the queer name. And of course it's all right,
+and you can't blame 'em, livin' on the West Side, as they do now. And,
+of course, I ain't so up ter date as she is. And just her name counts."
+
+"Nonsense! Up to date, indeed!" (Miss Maggie laughed merrily, but Mr.
+Smith, copying dates at the table, detected a note in the laugh that
+was not merriment.) "You're up to date enough for me. I've got just the
+job for you, too. Come out into the kitchen." She was already almost at
+the door. "Why, Maggie, you haven't, either!" (In spite of the
+incredulity of voice and manner, Miss Flora sprang joyfully to her
+feet.) "You never had me make you a--" Again the kitchen door slammed
+shut, and Mr. Smith was left to finish the sentence for himself.
+
+But Mr. Smith was not finishing sentences. Neither was his face
+expressing just then the sympathy which might be supposed to be
+showing, after so sorry a tale as Miss Flora had been telling. On the
+contrary, Mr. Smith, with an actual elation of countenance, was
+scribbling on the edge of his notebook words that certainly he had
+never found in the Blaisdell records before him: "Two months more,
+then--a hundred thousand dollars. And may I be there to see it!"
+
+Half an hour later, as on the previous day, Mr. Smith saw a
+metamorphosed woman hurrying down the little path to the street. But
+the woman to-day was carrying a bundle--and it was the same bundle that
+the woman the day before had brought.
+
+But not always, as Mr. Smith soon learned, were Miss Maggie's visitors
+women. Besides Benny, with his grievances, young Fred Blaisdell came
+sometimes, and poured into Miss Maggie's sympathetic ears the story of
+Gussie Pennock's really remarkable personality, or of what he was going
+to do when he went to college--and afterwards.
+
+Mr. Jim Blaisdell drifted in quite frequently Sunday afternoons, though
+apparently all he came for was to smoke and read in one of the big
+comfortable chairs. Mr. Smith himself had fallen into the way of
+strolling down to Miss Maggie's almost every Sunday after dinner.
+
+One Saturday afternoon Mr. Frank Blaisdell rattled up to the door in
+his grocery wagon. His face was very red, and his mutton-chop whiskers
+were standing straight out at each side.
+
+Jane had collapsed, he said, utterly collapsed. All the week she had
+been house-cleaning and doing up curtains; and now this morning,
+expressly against his wishes, to save hiring a man, she had put down
+the parlor carpet herself. Now she was flat on her back, and supper to
+be got for the boarder, and the Saturday baking yet to be done. And
+could Maggie come and help them out?
+
+Before Miss Maggie could answer, Mr. Smith hurried out from his corner
+and insisted that "the boarder" did not want any supper anyway--and
+could they not live on crackers and milk for the coming few days?
+
+But Miss Maggie laughed and said, "Nonsense!" And in an incredibly
+short time she was ready to drive back in the grocery wagon. Later,
+when he went home, Mr. Smith found her there, presiding over one of the
+best suppers he had eaten since his arrival in Hillerton. She came
+every day after that, for a week, for Mrs. Jane remained "flat on her
+back" seven days, with a doctor in daily attendance, supplemented by a
+trained nurse peremptorily ordered by that same doctor from the nearest
+city.
+
+Miss Maggie, with the assistance of Mellicent, attended to the
+housework. But in spite of the excellence of the cuisine, meal time was
+a most unhappy period to everybody concerned, owing to the sarcastic
+comments of Mr. Frank Blaisdell as to how much his wife had "saved" by
+not having a man to put down that carpet.
+
+Mellicent had little time now to go walking or auto-riding with Carl
+Pennock. Her daily life was, indeed, more pleasure-starved than
+ever--all of which was not lost on Mr. Smith. Mr. Smith and Mellicent
+were fast friends now. Given a man with a sympathetic understanding on
+one side, and a girl hungry for that same sympathy and understanding,
+and it could hardly be otherwise. From Mellicent's own lips Mr. Smith
+knew now just how hungry a young girl can be for fun and furbelows.
+
+"Of course I've got my board and clothes, and I ought to be thankful
+for them," she stormed hotly to him one day. "And I AM thankful for
+them. But sometimes it seems as if I'd actually be willing to go hungry
+for meat and potato, if for once--just once--I could buy a five-pound
+box of candy, and eat it up all at once, if I wanted to! But now, why
+now I can't even treat a friend to an ice-cream soda without seeing
+mother's shocked, reproachful eyes over the rim of the glass!"
+
+It was not easy then (nor many times subsequently) for Mr. Smith to
+keep from asking Mellicent the utterly absurd question of how many
+five-pound boxes of candy she supposed one hundred thousand dollars
+would buy. But he did keep from it--by heroic self-sacrifice and the
+comforting recollection that she would know some day, if she cared to
+take the trouble to reckon it up.
+
+In Mellicent's love affair with young Pennock Mr. Smith was enormously
+interested. Not that he regarded it as really serious, but because it
+appeared to bring into Mellicent's life something of the youth and
+gayety to which he thought she was entitled. He was almost as concerned
+as was Miss Maggie, therefore, when one afternoon, soon after Mrs. Jane
+Blaisdell's complete recovery from her "carpet tax" (as Frank Blaisdell
+termed his wife's recent illness), Mellicent rushed into the Duff
+living-room with rose-red cheeks and blazing eyes, and an
+explosive:--"Aunt Maggie, Aunt Maggie, can't you get mother to let me
+go away somewhere--anywhere, right off?"
+
+[Illustration caption: "I CAN'T HELP IT, AUNT MAGGIE. I'VE JUST GOT TO
+BE AWAY!"]
+
+"Why, Mellicent! Away? And just to-morrow the Pennocks' dance?"
+
+"But that's it--that's why I want to go," flashed Mellicent. "I don't
+want to be at the dance--and I don't want to be in town, and NOT at the
+dance."
+
+Mr. Smith, at his table in the corner, glanced nervously toward the
+door, then bent assiduously over his work, as being less conspicuous
+than the flight he had been tempted for a moment to essay. But even
+this was not to be, for the next moment, to his surprise, the girl
+appealed directly to him.
+
+"Mr. Smith, please, won't YOU take me somewhere to-morrow?"
+
+"Mellicent!" Even Miss Maggie was shocked now, and showed it.
+
+"I can't help it, Aunt Maggie. I've just got to be away!" Mellicent's
+voice was tragic.
+
+"But, my dear, to ASK a gentleman--" reproved Miss Maggie. She came to
+an indeterminate pause. Mr. Smith had crossed the room and dropped into
+a chair near them.
+
+"See here, little girl, suppose you tell us just what is behind--all
+this," he began gently.
+
+Mellicent shook her head stubbornly.
+
+"I can't. It's too--silly. Please let it go that I want to be away.
+That's all."
+
+"Mellicent, we can't do that." Miss Maggie's voice was quietly firm.
+"We can't do--anything, until you tell us what it is."
+
+There was a brief pause. Mellicent's eyes, still mutinous, sought first
+the kindly questioning face of the man, then the no less kindly but
+rather grave face of the woman. Then in a little breathless burst it
+came.
+
+"It's just something they're all saying Mrs. Pennock said--about me."
+
+"What was it?" Two little red spots had come into Miss Maggie's cheeks.
+
+"Yes, what was it?" Mr. Smith was looking actually belligerent.
+
+"It was just that--that they weren't going to let Carl Pennock go with
+me any more--anywhere, or come to see me, because I--I didn't belong to
+their set."
+
+"Their set!" exploded Mr. Smith.
+
+Miss Maggie said nothing, but the red spots deepened.
+
+"Yes. It's just--that we aren't rich like them. I haven't got--money
+enough."
+
+"That you haven't got--got--Oh, ye gods!" For no apparent reason
+whatever Mr. Smith threw back his head suddenly and laughed. Almost
+instantly, however, he sobered: he had caught the expression of the two
+faces opposite.
+
+"I beg your pardon," he apologized promptly. "It was only that to
+me--there was something very funny about that."
+
+"But, Mellicent, are you sure? I don't believe she ever said it,"
+doubted Miss Maggie.
+
+"He hasn't been near me--for a week. Not that I care!" Mellicent turned
+with flashing eyes. "I don't care a bit--not a bit--about THAT!"
+
+"Of course you don't! It's not worth even thinking of either. What does
+it matter if she did say it, dear? Forget it!"
+
+"But I can't bear to have them all talk--and notice," choked Mellicent.
+"And we were together such a lot before; and now--I tell you I CAN'T go
+to that dance to-morrow night!"
+
+"And you shan't, if you don't want to," Mr. Smith assured her. "Right
+here and now I invite you and your Aunt Maggie to drive with me
+to-morrow to Hubbardville. There are some records there that I want to
+look up. We'll get dinner at the hotel. It will take all day, and we
+shan't be home till late in the evening. You'll go?"
+
+"Oh, Mr. Smith, you--you DEAR! Of course we'll go! I'll go straight now
+and telephone to somebody--everybody--that I shan't be there; that I'm
+going to be OUT OF TOWN!" She sprang joyously to her feet--but Miss
+Maggie held out a restraining hand.
+
+"Just a minute, dear. You don't care--you SAID you didn't care--that
+Carl Pennock doesn't come to see you any more?"
+
+"Indeed I don't!"
+
+"Then you wouldn't want others to think you did, would you?"
+
+"Of course not!" The red dyed Mellicent's forehead.
+
+"You have said that you'd go to this party, haven't you? That is, you
+accepted the invitation, didn't you, and people know that you did,
+don't they?"
+
+"Why, yes, of course! But that was before--Mrs. Pennock said what she
+did."
+
+"Of course. But--just what do you think these people are going to say
+to-morrow night, when you aren't there?"
+
+"Why, that I--I--" The color drained from her face and left it white.
+"They wouldn't EXPECT me to go after that--insult."
+
+"Then they'll understand that you--CARE, won't they?"
+
+"Why, I--I--They--I CAN'T--" She turned sharply and walked to the
+window. For a long minute she stood, her back toward the two watching
+her. Then, with equal abruptness, she turned and came back. Her cheeks
+were very pink now, her eyes very bright. She carried her head with a
+proud little lift.
+
+"I think, Mr. Smith, that I won't go with you to-morrow, after all,"
+she said steadily. "I've decided to go--to that dance."
+
+The next moment the door shut crisply behind her.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+A SANTA CLAUS HELD UP
+
+
+It was about five months after the multi-millionaire, Mr. Stanley G.
+Fulton, had started for South America, that Edward D. Norton, Esq.,
+received the following letter:--
+
+DEAR NED:--I'm glad there's only one more month to wait. I feel like
+Santa Claus with a box of toys, held up by a snowdrift, and I just
+can't wait to see the children dance--when they get them.
+
+And let me say right here and now how glad I am that I did this thing.
+Oh, yes, I'll admit I still feel like the small boy at the keyhole, at
+times, perhaps; but I'll forget that--when the children begin to dance.
+
+And, really, never have I seen a bunch of people whom I thought a
+little money would do more good to than the Blaisdells here in
+Hillerton. My only regret is that I didn't know about Miss Maggie Duff,
+so that she could have had some, too. (Oh, yes, I've found out all
+about "Poor Maggie" now, and she's a dear--the typical
+self-sacrificing, self-effacing bearer of everybody's burdens,
+including a huge share of her own!) However, she isn't a Blaisdell, of
+course, so I couldn't have worked her into my scheme very well, I
+suppose, even if I had known about her. They are all fond of
+her--though they impose on her time and her sympathies abominably. But
+I reckon she'll get some of the benefits of the others' thousands. Mrs.
+Jane, in particular, is always wishing she could do something for "Poor
+Maggie," so I dare say she'll be looked out for all right.
+
+As to who will prove to be the wisest handler of the hundred thousand,
+and thus my eventual heir, I haven't the least idea. As I said before,
+they all need money, and need it badly--need it to be comfortable and
+happy, I mean. They aren't really poor, any of them, except, perhaps,
+Miss Flora. She is a little hard up, poor soul. Bless her heart! I
+wonder what she'll get first, Niagara, the phonograph, or something to
+eat without looking at the price. Did I ever write you about those
+"three wishes" of hers?
+
+I can't see that any of the family are really extravagant unless,
+perhaps, it's Mrs. James--"Hattie." She IS ambitious, and is inclined
+to live on a scale a little beyond her means, I judge. But that will be
+all right, of course, when she has the money to gratify her tastes.
+Jim--poor fellow, I shall be glad to see him take it easy, for once. He
+reminds me of the old horse I saw the other day running one of those
+infernal treadmill threshing machines--always going, but never getting
+there. He works, and works hard, and then he gets a job nights and
+works harder; but he never quite catches up with his bills, I fancy.
+What a world of solid comfort he'll take with that hundred thousand! I
+can hear him draw the long breath now--for once every bill paid!
+
+Of course, the Frank Blaisdells are the most thrifty of the bunch--at
+least, Mrs. Frank, "Jane," is--and I dare say they would be the most
+conservative handlers of my millions. But time will tell. Anyhow, I
+shall be glad to see them enjoy themselves meanwhile with the hundred
+thousand. Maybe Mrs. Jane will be constrained to clear my room of a few
+of the mats and covers and tidies! I have hopes. At least, I shall
+surely have a vacation from her everlasting "We can't afford it," and
+her equally everlasting "Of course, if I had the money I'd do it."
+Praise be for that!--and it'll be worth a hundred thousand to me,
+believe me, Ned.
+
+As for her husband--I'm not sure how he will take it. It isn't corn or
+peas or flour or sugar, you see, and I'm not posted as to his opinion
+of much of anything else. He'll spend some of it, though,--I'm sure of
+that. I don't think he always thoroughly appreciates his wife's thrifty
+ideas of economy. I haven't forgotten the night I came home to find
+Mrs. Jane out calling, and Mr. Frank rampaging around the house with
+every gas jet at full blast. It seems he was packing his bag to go on a
+hurried business trip. He laughed a little sheepishly--I suppose he saw
+my blinking amazement at the illumination--and said something about
+being tired of always feeling his way through pitch-dark rooms. So, as
+I say, I'm not quite sure of Mr. Frank when he comes into possession of
+the hundred thousand. He's been cooped up in the dark so long he may
+want to blow in the whole hundred thousand in one grand blare of light.
+However, I reckon I needn't worry--he'll still have Mrs. Jane--to turn
+some of the gas jets down!
+
+As for the younger generation--they're fine, every one of them; and
+just think what this money will mean to them in education and
+advantages! Jim's son, Fred, eighteen, is a fine, manly boy. He's got
+his mother's ambitions, and he's keen for college--even talks of
+working his way (much to his mother's horror) if his father can't find
+the money to send him. Of course, that part will be all right now--in a
+month.
+
+The daughter, Bessie (almost seventeen), is an exceedingly pretty girl.
+She, too, is ambitious--almost too much so, perhaps, for her happiness,
+in the present state of their pocketbook. But of course that, too, will
+be all right, after next month. Benny, the nine-year-old, will be
+concerned as little as any one over that hundred thousand dollars, I
+imagine. The real value of the gift he will not appreciate, of course;
+in fact, I doubt if he even approves of it--lest his privileges as to
+meals and manners be still further curtailed. Poor Benny! Now,
+Mellicent--
+
+Perhaps in no one do I expect to so thoroughly rejoice as I do in poor
+little pleasure-starved Mellicent. I realize, of course, that it will
+mean to her the solid advantages of college, music-culture, and travel;
+but I must confess that in my dearest vision, the child is reveling in
+one grand whirl of pink dresses and chocolate bonbons. Bless her dear
+heart! I GAVE her one five-pound box of candy, but I never repeated the
+mistake. Besides enduring the manifestly suspicious disapproval of her
+mother because I had made the gift, I have had the added torment of
+seeing that box of chocolates doled out to that poor child at the rate
+of two pieces a day. They aren't gone yet, but I'll warrant they're as
+hard as bullets--those wretched bonbons. I picked the box up yesterday.
+You should have heard it rattle!
+
+But there is yet another phase of the money business in connection with
+Mellicent that pleases me mightily. A certain youth by the name of Carl
+Pennock has been beauing her around a good deal, since I came. The
+Pennocks have some money--fifty thousand, or so, I believe--and it is
+reported that Mrs. Pennock has put her foot down on the budding
+romance--because the Blaisdells HAVE NOT GOT MONEY ENOUGH! (Begin to
+see where my chuckles come in?) However true this report may be, the
+fact remains that the youth has not been near the house for a month
+past, nor taken Mellicent anywhere. Of course, it shows him and his
+family up--for just what they are; but it has been mortifying for poor
+Mellicent. She's showing her pluck like a little trump, however, and
+goes serenely on her way with her head just enough in the air--but not
+too much.
+
+I don't think Mellicent's real heart is affected in the least--she's
+only eighteen, remember--but her pride IS. And her mother--! Mrs. Jane
+is thoroughly angry as well as mortified. She says Mellicent is every
+whit as good as those Pennocks, and that the woman who would let a
+paltry thing like money stand in the way of her son's affections is a
+pretty small specimen. For her part, she never did have any use for
+rich folks, anyway, and she is proud and glad that she's poor! I'm
+afraid Mrs. Jane was very angry when she said that. However, so much
+for her--and she may change her opinion one of these days.
+
+My private suspicion is that young Pennock is already repentant, and is
+pulling hard at his mother's leading-strings; for I was with Mellicent
+the other day when we met the lad face to face on the street. Mellicent
+smiled and nodded casually, but Pennock--he turned all colors of the
+rainbow with terror, pleading, apology, and assumed indifference all
+racing each other across his face. Dear, dear, but he was a sight!
+
+There is, too, another feature in the case. It seems that a new family
+by the name of Gaylord have come to town and opened up the old Gaylord
+mansion. Gaylord is a son of old Peter Gaylord, and is a millionaire.
+They are making quite a splurge in the way of balls and liveried
+servants, and motor cars, and the town is agog with it all. There are
+young people in the family, and especially there is a girl, Miss Pearl,
+whom, report says, the Pennocks have selected as being a suitable mate
+for Carl. At all events the Pennocks and the Gaylords have struck up a
+furious friendship, and the young people of both families are in the
+forefront of innumerable social affairs--in most of which Mellicent is
+left out.
+
+So now you have it--the whole story. And next month comes to
+Mellicent's father one hundred thousand dollars. Do you wonder I say
+the plot thickens?
+
+As for myself--you should see me! I eat whatever I like. (The man who
+says health biscuit to me now gets knocked down--and I've got the
+strength to do it, too!) I can walk miles and not know it. I've gained
+twenty pounds, and I'm having the time of my life. I'm even enjoying
+being a genealogist--a little. I've about exhausted the resources of
+Hillerton, and have begun to make trips to the neighboring towns. I can
+even spend an afternoon in an old cemetery copying dates from
+moss-grown gravestones, and not entirely lose my appetite for dinner--I
+mean, supper. I was even congratulating myself that I was really quite
+a genealogist when, the other day, I met the REAL THING. Heavens, Ned,
+that man had fourteen thousand four hundred and seventy-two dates at
+his tongue's end, and he said them all over to me. He knows the name of
+every Blake (he was a Blake) back to the year one, how many children
+they had (and they had some families then, let me tell you!), and when
+they all died, and why. I met him one morning in a cemetery. I was
+hunting for a certain stone and I asked him a question. Heavens! It was
+like setting a match to one of those Fourth-of-July flower-pot
+sky-rocket affairs. That question was the match that set him going, and
+thereafter he was a gushing geyser of names and dates. I never heard
+anything like it.
+
+He began at the Blaisdells, but skipped almost at once to the
+Blakes--there were a lot of them near us. In five minutes he had me
+dumb from sheer stupefaction. In ten minutes he had made a century run,
+and by noon he had got to the Crusades. We went through the Dark Ages
+very appropriately, waiting in an open tomb for a thunderstorm to pass.
+We had got to the year one when I had to leave to drive back to
+Hillerton. I've invited him to come to see Father Duff. I thought I'd
+like to have them meet. He knows a lot about the Duffs--a Blake married
+one, 'way back somewhere. I'd like to hear him and Father Duff
+talk--or, rather, I'd like to hear him TRY to talk to Father Duff. Did
+I ever write you Father Duff's opinion of genealogists? I believe I did.
+
+I'm not seeing so much of Father Duff these days. Now that it's grown a
+little cooler he spends most of his time in his favorite chair before
+the cook stove in the kitchen.
+
+Jove, what a letter this is! It should be shipped by freight and read
+in sections. But I wanted you to know how things are here. You can
+appreciate it the more--when you come.
+
+You're not forgetting, of course, that it's on the first day of
+November that Mr. Stanley G. Fulton's envelope of instructions is to be
+opened.
+
+As ever yours,
+
+JOHN SMITH.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+"DEAR COUSIN STANLEY"
+
+
+It was very early in November that Mr. Smith, coming home one
+afternoon, became instantly aware that something very extraordinary had
+happened.
+
+In the living-room were gathered Mr. Frank Blaisdell, his wife, Jane,
+and their daughter, Mellicent. Mellicent's cheeks were pink, and her
+eyes more star-like than ever. Mrs. Jane's cheeks, too, were pink. Her
+eyes were excited, but incredulous. Mr. Frank was still in his white
+work-coat, which he wore behind the counter, but which he never wore
+upstairs in his home. He held an open letter in his hand.
+
+It was an ecstatic cry from Mellicent that came first to Mr. Smith's
+ears.
+
+"Oh, Mr. Smith, Mr. Smith, you can't guess what's happened! You
+couldn't guess in a million years!"
+
+"No? Something nice, I hope." Mr. Smith was looking almost as happily
+excited as Mellicent herself.
+
+"Nice--NICE!" Mellicent clasped her hands before her. "Why, Mr. Smith,
+we are going to have a hundred thousand--"
+
+"Mellicent, I wouldn't talk of it--yet," interfered her mother sharply.
+
+"But, mother, it's no secret. It can't be kept secret!"
+
+"Of course not--if it's true. But it isn't true," retorted the woman,
+with excited emphasis. "No man in his senses would do such a thing."
+
+"Er--ah--w-what?" stammered Mr. Smith, looking suddenly a little less
+happy.
+
+"Leave a hundred thousand dollars apiece to three distant relations he
+never saw."
+
+"But he was our cousin--you said he was our cousin," interposed
+Mellicent, "and when he died--"
+
+"The letter did not say he had died," corrected her mother. "He just
+hasn't been heard from. But he will be heard from--and then where will
+our hundred thousand dollars be?"
+
+"But the lawyer's coming to give it to us," maintained Mr. Frank
+stoutly. Then abruptly he turned to Mr. Smith. "Here, read this,
+please, and tell us if we have lost our senses--or if somebody else
+has."
+
+Mr. Smith took the letter. A close observer might have noticed that his
+hand shook a little. The letterhead carried the name of a Chicago law
+firm, but Mr. Smith did not glance at that. He plunged at once into the
+text of the letter.
+
+"Aloud, please, Mr. Smith. I want to hear it again," pleaded Mellicent.
+
+DEAR SIR (read Mr. Smith then, after clearing his throat),--I
+understand that you are a distant kinsman of Mr. Stanley G. Fulton, the
+Chicago millionaire.
+
+Some six months ago Mr. Fulton left this city on what was reported to
+be a somewhat extended exploring tour of South America. Before his
+departure he transferred to me, as trustee, certain securities worth
+about $300,000. He left with me a sealed envelope, entitled "Terms of
+Trust," and instructed me to open such envelope in six months from the
+date written thereon--if he had not returned--and thereupon to dispose
+of the securities according to the terms of the trust. I will add that
+he also left with me a second sealed envelope entitled "Last Will and
+Testament," but instructed me not to open such envelope until two years
+from the date written thereon.
+
+The period of six months has now expired. I have opened the envelope
+entitled "Terms of Trust," and find that I am directed to convert the
+securities into cash with all convenient speed, and forthwith to pay
+over one third of the net proceeds to his kinsman, Frank G. Blaisdell;
+one third to his kinsman, James A. Blaisdell; and one third to his
+kinswoman, Flora B. Blaisdell, all of Hillerton.
+
+I shall, of course, discharge my duty as trustee under this instrument
+with all possible promptness. Some of the securities have already been
+converted into cash, and within a few days I shall come to Hillerton to
+pay over the cash in the form of certified checks; and I shall ask you
+at that time to be so good as to sign a receipt for your share.
+Meanwhile this letter is to apprise you of your good fortune and to
+offer you my congratulations.
+
+Very truly yours,
+
+EDWARD D. NORTON.
+
+"Oh-h!" breathed Mellicent.
+
+"Well, what do you think of it?" demanded Mr. Frank Blaisdell, his arms
+akimbo.
+
+"Why, it's fine, of course. I congratulate you," cried Mr. Smith,
+handing back the letter.
+
+"Then it's all straight, you think?"
+
+"Most assuredly!"
+
+"Je-hos-a-phat!" exploded the man.
+
+"But he'll come back--you see if he don't!" Mrs. Jane's voice was still
+positive.
+
+"What if he does? You'll still have your hundred thousand," smiled Mr.
+Smith.
+
+"He won't take it back?"
+
+"Of course not! I doubt if he could, if he wanted to."
+
+"And we're really going to have a whole hundred thousand dollars?"
+breathed Mellicent.
+
+"I reckon you are--less the inheritance tax, perhaps.
+
+"What's that? What do you mean?" demanded Mrs. Jane. "Do you mean we've
+got to PAY because we've got that money?"
+
+"Why, y-yes, I suppose so. Isn't there an inheritance tax in this
+State?"
+
+"How much does it cost?" Mrs. Jane's lips were at their most economical
+pucker. "Do we have to pay a GREAT deal? Isn't there any way to save
+doing that?"
+
+"No, there isn't," cut in her husband crisply. "And I guess we can pay
+the inheritance tax--with a hundred thousand to pay it out of. We're
+going to SPEND some of this money, Jane."
+
+The telephone bell in the hall jangled its peremptory summons, and Mr.
+Frank answered it. In a minute he returned, a new excitement on his
+face.
+
+"It's Hattie. She's crazy, of course. They're coming right over."
+
+"Oh, yes! And they've got it, too, haven't they?" remembered Mellicent.
+"And Aunt Flora, and--" She stopped suddenly, a growing dismay in her
+eyes. "Why, he didn't--he didn't leave a cent to AUNT MAGGIE!" she
+cried.
+
+"Gosh! that's so. Say, now, that's too bad!" There was genuine concern
+in Frank Blaisdell's voice.
+
+"But why?" almost wept Mellicent.
+
+Her mother sighed sympathetically.
+
+"Poor Maggie! How she is left out--always!"
+
+"But we can give her some of ours, mother,--we can give her some of
+ours," urged the girl.
+
+"It isn't ours to give--yet," remarked her mother, a bit coldly.
+
+"But, mother, you WILL do it," importuned Mellicent. "You've always
+said you would, if you had it to give."
+
+"And I say it again, Mellicent. I shall never see her suffer, you may
+be sure,--if I have the money to relieve her. But--" She stopped
+abruptly at the sound of an excited voice down the hall. Miss Flora,
+evidently coming in through the kitchen, was hurrying toward them.
+
+"Jane--Mellicent--where are you? Isn't anybody here? Mercy me!" she
+panted, as she reached the room and sank into a chair. "Did you ever
+hear anything like it in all your life? You had one, too, didn't you?"
+she cried, her eyes falling on the letter in her brother's hand. "But
+'tain't true, of course!"
+
+Miss Flora wore no head-covering. She wore one glove (wrong side out),
+and was carrying the other one. Her dress, evidently donned hastily for
+the street, was unevenly fastened, showing the topmost button without a
+buttonhole.
+
+"Mr. Smith says it's true," triumphed Mellicent.
+
+"How does he know? Who told him 'twas true?" demanded Miss Flora.
+
+So almost accusing was the look in her eyes that Mr. Smith actually
+blinked a little. He grew visibly confused.
+
+"Why--er--ah--the letter speaks for itself Miss Flora," he stammered.
+
+"But it CAN'T be true," reiterated Miss Flora. "The idea of a man I
+never saw giving me a hundred thousand dollars like that!--and Frank
+and Jim, too!"
+
+"But he's your cousin--you said he was your cousin," Mr. Smith reminded
+her. "And you have his picture in your album. You showed it to me."
+
+"I know it. But, my sakes! I didn't know HE knew I was his cousin. I
+don't s'pose he's got MY picture in HIS album! But how did he know
+about us? It's some other Flora Blaisdell, I tell you."
+
+"There, I never thought of that," cried Jane. "It probably is some
+other Blaisdells. Well, anyhow, if it is, we won't have to pay that
+inheritance tax. We can save that much."
+
+"Save! Well, what do we lose?" demanded her husband apoplectically.
+
+At this moment the rattling of the front-door knob and an imperative
+knocking brought Mrs. Jane to her feet.
+
+"There's Hattie, now, and that door's locked," she cried, hurrying into
+the hall.
+
+When she returned a moment later Harriet Blaisdell and Bessie were with
+her.
+
+There was about Mrs. Harriet Blaisdell a new, indescribable air of
+commanding importance. To Mr. Smith she appeared to have grown inches
+taller.
+
+"Well, I do hope, Jane, NOW you'll live in a decent place," she was
+saying, as they entered the room, "and not oblige your friends to climb
+up over a grocery store."
+
+"Well, I guess you can stand the grocery store a few more days, Hattie,"
+observed Frank Blaisdell dryly. "How long do you s'pose we'd live--any
+of us--if 'twa'n't for the grocery stores to feed us? Where's Jim?"
+
+"Isn't he here? I told him I was coming here, and to come right over
+himself at once; that the very first thing we must have was a family
+conclave, just ourselves, you know, so as to plan what to give out to
+the public."
+
+"Er--ah--" Mr. Smith was on his feet, looking somewhat embarrassed;
+"perhaps, then, you would rather I were not present at the--er--family
+conclave."
+
+"Nonsense!" shouted Frank Blaisdell.
+
+"Why, you ARE one of the family, 'seems so," cried Mellicent.
+
+"No, indeed, Mr. Smith, don't go," smiled Mrs. Hattie pleasantly.
+"Besides, you are interested in what concerns us, I know--for the book;
+so, of course, you'll be interested in this legacy of dear Cousin
+Stanley's."
+
+Mr. Smith collapsed suddenly behind his handkerchief, with one of the
+choking coughs to which he appeared to be somewhat addicted.
+
+"Ain't you getting a little familiar with 'dear Cousin Stanley,'
+Hattie?" drawled Frank Blaisdell.
+
+Miss Flora leaned forward earnestly.
+
+"But, Hattie, we were just sayin', 'fore you came, that it couldn't be
+true; that it must mean some other Blaisdells somewhere."
+
+"Absurd!" scoffed Harriet. "There couldn't be any other Frank and Jim
+and Flora Blaisdell, in a Hillerton, too. Besides, Jim said over the
+telephone that that was one of the best law firms in Chicago. Don't you
+suppose they know what they're talking about? I'm sure, I think it's
+quite the expected thing that he should leave his money to his own
+people. Come, don't let's waste any more time over that. What we've got
+to decide is what to DO. First, of course, we must order expensive
+mourning all around."
+
+"Mourning!" ejaculated an amazed chorus.
+
+"Oh, great Scott!" spluttered Mr. Smith, growing suddenly very red. "I
+never thought--" He stopped abruptly, his face almost purple.
+
+But nobody was noticing Mr. Smith. Bessie Blaisdell had the floor.
+
+"Why, mother, I look perfectly horrid in black, you know I do," she was
+wailing. "And there's the Gaylords' dance just next week; and if I'm in
+mourning I can't go there, nor anywhere. What's the use in having all
+that money if we've got to shut ourselves up like that, and wear horrid
+stuffy black, and everything?"
+
+"For shame, Bessie!" spoke up Miss Flora, with unusual sharpness for
+her. "I think your mother is just right. I'm sure the least we can do
+in return for this wonderful gift is to show our respect and
+appreciation by going into the very deepest black we can. I'm sure I'd
+be glad to."
+
+"Wait!" Mrs. Harriet had drawn her brows together in deep thought. "I'm
+not sure, after all, that it would be best. The letter did not say that
+dear Cousin Stanley had died--he just hadn't been heard from. In that
+case, I don't think we ought to do it. And it would be too bad--that
+Gaylord dance is going to be the biggest thing of the season, and of
+course if we WERE in black--No; on the whole, I think we won't, Bessie.
+Of course, in two years from now, when we get the rest, it will be
+different."
+
+"When you--what?" It was a rather startled question from Mr. Smith.
+
+"Oh, didn't you know? There's another letter to be opened in two years
+from now, disposing of the rest of the property. And he was worth
+millions, you know, millions!"
+
+"But maybe he--er--Did it say you were to--to get those millions then?"
+
+"Oh, no, it didn't SAY it, Mr. Smith." Mrs. Harriet Blaisdell's smile
+was a bit condescending. "But of course we will. We are his kinsmen. He
+said we were. He just didn't give it all now because he wanted to give
+himself two more years to come back in, I suppose. You know he's gone
+exploring. And, of course, if he hadn't come back by then, he would be
+dead. Then we'd get it all. Oh, yes, we shall get it, I'm sure."
+
+"Oh-h!" Mr. Smith settled back in his chair. He looked somewhat
+nonplused.
+
+"Humph! Well, I wouldn't spend them millions--till I'd got 'em,
+Hattie," advised her brother-in-law dryly.
+
+"I wasn't intending to, Frank," she retorted with some dignity. "But
+that's neither here nor there. What we're concerned with now is what to
+do with what we have got. Even this will make a tremendous sensation in
+Hillerton. It ought to be written up, of course, for the papers, and by
+some one who knows. We want it done just right. Why, Frank, do you
+realize? We shall be rich--RICH--and all in a flash like this! I wonder
+what the Pennocks will say NOW about Mellicent's not having money
+enough for that precious son of theirs! Oh, I can hardly believe it yet.
+And it'll mean--everything to us. Think what we can do for the
+children. Think--"
+
+"Aunt Jane, Aunt Jane, is ma here?" Wide open banged the front door as
+Benny bounded down the hall. "Oh, here you are! Say, is it true? Tommy
+Hooker says our great-grandfather in Africa has died an' left us a
+million dollars, an' that we're richer'n Mr. Pennock or even the
+Gaylords, or anybody! Is it true? Is it?"
+
+His mother laughed indulgently.
+
+"Not quite, Benny, though we have been left a nice little fortune by
+your cousin, Stanley G. Fulton--remember the name, dear, your cousin,
+Stanley G. Fulton. And it wasn't Africa, it was South America."
+
+"And did you all get some, too?" panted Benny, looking eagerly about
+him.
+
+"We sure did," nodded his Uncle Frank, "all but poor Mr. Smith here. I
+guess Mr. Stanley G. Fulton didn't know he was a cousin, too," he
+joked, with a wink in Mr. Smith's direction.
+
+"But where's Aunt Maggie? Why ain't she here? She got some, too, didn't
+she?" Benny began to look anxious.
+
+His mother lifted her eyebrows.
+
+"No. You forget, my dear. Your Aunt Maggie is not a Blaisdell at all.
+She's a Duff--a very different family."
+
+"I don't care, she's just as good as a Blaisdell," cut in Mellicent;
+"and she seems like one of us, anyway."
+
+"And she didn't get anything?" bemoaned Benny. "Say," he turned
+valiantly to Mr. Smith, "shouldn't you think he might have given Aunt
+Maggie a little of that money?"
+
+"I should, indeed!" Mr. Smith spoke with peculiar emphasis.
+
+"I guess he would if he'd known her!"
+
+"I'm sure he would!" Once more the peculiar earnestness vibrated
+through Mr. Smith's voice.
+
+"But now he's dead, an' he can't. I guess if he could see Aunt Maggie
+he'd wish he hadn't died 'fore he could fix her up just as good as the
+rest."
+
+"I'm VERY sure he would!" Mr. Smith was laughing now, but his voice was
+just as emphatic, and there was a sudden flame of color in his face.
+
+"Your Cousin Stanley isn't dead, my dear,--that is, we are not sure he
+is dead," spoke up Benny's mother quickly. "He just has not been heard
+from for six months."
+
+"But he must be dead, or he'd have come back," reasoned Miss Flora,
+with worried eyes; "and I, for my part, think we OUGHT to go into
+mourning, too."
+
+"Of course he'd have come back," declared Mrs. Jane, "and kept the
+money himself. Don't you suppose he knew what he'd written in that
+letter, and don't you suppose he'd have saved those three hundred
+thousand dollars if he could? Well, I guess he would! The man is dead.
+That's certain enough."
+
+"Well, anyhow, we're not going into mourning till we have to." Mrs.
+Harriet's lips snapped together with firm decision.
+
+"Of course not. I'm sure I don't see any use in having the money if
+we've got to wear black and not go anywhere," pouted Bessie.
+
+"Are we rich, then, really, ma?" demanded Benny.
+
+"We certainly are, Benny."
+
+"Richer 'n the Pennocks?"
+
+"Very much."
+
+"An' the Gaylords?"
+
+"Well--hardly that"--her face clouded perceptibly--"that is, not until
+we get the rest--in two years." She brightened again.
+
+"Then, if we're rich we can have everything we want, can't we?" Benny's
+eyes were beginning to sparkle.
+
+"Well--" hesitated his mother.
+
+"I guess there'll be enough to satisfy your wants, Benny," laughed his
+Uncle Frank.
+
+Benny gave a whoop of delight.
+
+"Then we can go back to the East Side and live just as we've a mind to,
+without carin' what other folks do, can't we?" he crowed. "Cause if we
+ARE rich we won't have ter keep tryin' ter make folks THINK we are.
+They'll know it without our tryin'."
+
+"Benny!" The rest were laughing; but Benny's mother had raised shocked
+hands of protest. "You are incorrigible, child. The East Side, indeed!
+We shall live in a house of our own, now, of course--but it won't be on
+the East Side."
+
+"And Fred'll go to college," put in Miss Flora eagerly.
+
+"Yes; and I shall send Bessie to a fashionable finishing school," bowed
+Mrs. Harriet, with a shade of importance.
+
+"Hey, Bess, you've got ter be finished," chuckled Benny.
+
+"What's Mell going to do?" pouted Bessie, looking not altogether
+pleased. "Hasn't she got to be finished, too?"
+
+"Mellicent hasn't got the money to be finished--yet," observed Mrs.
+Jane tersely.
+
+"Oh, I don't know what I'm going to do," breathed Mellicent, drawing an
+ecstatic sigh. "But I hope I'm going to do--just what I want to, for
+once!"
+
+"And I'll make you some pretty dresses that you can wear right off,
+while they're in style," beamed Miss Flora.
+
+Frank Blaisdell gave a sudden laugh.
+
+"But what are YOU going to do, Flo? Here you've been telling what
+everybody else is going to do with the money."
+
+A blissful sigh, very like Mellicent's own, passed Miss Flora's lips.
+
+"Oh, I don't know," she breathed in an awe-struck voice. "It don't seem
+yet--that it's really mine."
+
+"Well, 't isn't," declared Mrs. Jane tartly, getting to her feet. "And
+I, for one, am going back to work--in the kitchen, where I belong.
+And--Well, if here ain't Jim at last," she broke off, as her younger
+brother-in-law appeared in the doorway.
+
+"You're too late, pa, you're too late! It's all done," clamored Benny.
+"They've got everything all settled."
+
+The man in the doorway smiled.
+
+"I knew they would have, Benny; and I haven't been needed, I'm
+sure,--your mother's here."
+
+Mrs. Harriet bridled, but did not look unpleased.
+
+"But, say, Jim," breathed Miss Flora, "ain't it wonderful--ain't it
+perfectly wonderful?"
+
+"It is, indeed,--very wonderful," replied Mr. Jim
+
+A Babel of eager voices arose then, but Mr. Smith was not listening
+now. He was watching Mr. Jim's face, and trying to fathom its
+expression.
+
+A little later, when the women had gone into the kitchen and Mr. Frank
+had clattered back to his work downstairs, Mr. Smith thought he had the
+explanation of that look on Mr. Jim's face. Mr. Jim and Beany were
+standing over by the fireplace together.
+
+"Pa, ain't you glad--about the money?" asked Benny.
+
+"I should be, shouldn't I, my son?"
+
+"But you look--so funny, and you didn't say anything, hardly."
+
+There was a moment's pause. The man, with his eyes fixed on the glowing
+coals in the grate, appeared not to have heard. But in a moment he
+said:--
+
+"Benny, if a poor old horse had been climbing a long, long hill all day
+with the hot sun on his back, and a load that dragged and dragged at
+his heels, and if he couldn't see a thing but the dust of the road that
+blinded and choked him, and if he just felt that he couldn't go another
+step, in spite of the whip that snapped 'Get there--get there!' all day
+in his ears--how do you suppose that poor old horse would feel if
+suddenly the load, and the whip, and the hill, and the dust
+disappeared, and he found himself in a green pasture with the cool
+gurgle of water under green trees in his ears--how do you suppose that
+poor old horse would feel?"
+
+"Say, he'd like it great, wouldn't he? But, pa, you didn't tell me yet
+if you liked the money."
+
+The man stirred, as if waking from a trance. He threw his arm around
+Benny's shoulders.
+
+"Like it? Why, of course, I like it, Benny, my boy! Why, I'm going to
+have time now--to get acquainted with my children!"
+
+Across the room Mr. Smith, with a sudden tightening of his throat,
+slipped softly into the hall and thence to his own room. Mr. Smith,
+just then, did not wish to be seen.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+WHAT DOES IT MATTER?
+
+
+The days immediately following the receipt of three remarkable letters
+by the Blaisdell family were nerve-racking for all concerned. Held by
+Mrs. Jane's insistence that they weren't sure yet that the thing was
+true, the family steadfastly refused to give out any definite
+information. Even the eager Harriet yielded to Jane on this point,
+acknowledging that it WOULD be mortifying, of course, if they SHOULD
+talk, and nothing came of it.
+
+Their enigmatic answers to questions, and their expressive shrugs and
+smiles, however, were almost as exciting as the rumors themselves; and
+the Blaisdells became at once a veritable storm center of surmises and
+gossip--a state of affairs not at all unpleasing to some of them, Mrs.
+Harriet in particular.
+
+Miss Maggie Duff, however, was not so well pleased. To Mr. Smith, one
+day, she freed her mind--and Miss Maggie so seldom freed her mind that
+Mr. Smith was not a little surprised.
+
+"I wish," she began, "I do wish that if that Chicago lawyer is coming,
+he'd come, and get done with it! Certainly the present state of affairs
+is almost unbearable."
+
+"It does make it all the harder for you, to have it drag along like
+this, doesn't it?" murmured Mr. Smith uneasily.
+
+"For--ME?"
+
+"That you are not included in the bequest, I mean."
+
+She gave an impatient gesture.
+
+"I didn't mean that. I wasn't thinking of myself. Besides, as I've told
+you before, there is no earthly reason why I should have been included.
+It's the delay, I mean, for the Blaisdells--for the whole town, for
+that matter. This eternal 'Did you know?' and 'They say' is getting on
+my nerves!"
+
+"Why, Miss Maggie, I didn't suppose you HAD any nerves," bantered the
+man.
+
+She threw him an expressive glance.
+
+"Haven't I!" she retorted. Then again she gave the impatient gesture.
+"But even the gossip and the questioning aren't the worst. It's the
+family themselves. Between Hattie's pulling one way and Jane the other,
+I feel like a bone between two quarrelsome puppies. Hattie is already
+house-hunting, on the sly, and she's bought Bessie an expensive watch
+and a string of gold beads. Jane, on the other hand, insists that Mr.
+Fulton will come back and claim the money, so she's running her house
+now on the principle that she's LOST a hundred thousand dollars, and so
+must economize in every possible way. You can imagine it!"
+
+"I don't have to--imagine it," murmured the man.
+
+Miss Maggie laughed.
+
+"I forgot. Of course you don't. You do live there, don't you? But that
+isn't all. Flora, poor soul, went into a restaurant the other day and
+ordered roast turkey, and now she's worrying for fear the money won't
+come and justify her extravagance. Mellicent, with implicit faith that
+the hundred thousand is coming wants to wear her best frocks every day.
+And, as if she were not already quite excited enough, young Pennock has
+very obviously begun to sit up and take notice."
+
+"You don't mean he is trying to come back--so soon!" disbelieved Mr.
+Smith.
+
+"Well, he's evidently caught the glitter of the gold from afar," smiled
+Miss Maggie. "At all events, he's taking notice."
+
+"And--Miss Mellicent?" There was a note of anxiety in Mr. Smith's voice.
+
+"Doesn't see him, APPARENTLY. But she comes and tells me his every last
+move (and he's making quite a number of them just now!), so I think she
+does see--a little."
+
+"The young rascal! But she doesn't--care?"
+
+"I think not--really. She's just excited now, as any young girl would
+be; and I'm afraid she's taking a little wicked pleasure in--not seeing
+him."
+
+"Humph! I can imagine it," chuckled Mr. Smith.
+
+"But it's all bad--this delay," chafed Miss Maggie again. "Don't you
+see? It's neither one thing nor another. That's why I do wish that
+lawyer would come, if he's coming."
+
+"I reckon he'll be here before long," murmured Mr. Smith, with an
+elaborately casual air. "But--I wish you were coming in on the deal."
+His kindly eyes were gazing straight into her face now.
+
+She shook her head.
+
+"I'm a Duff, not a Blaisdell--except when they want--" She bit her lip.
+A confused red suffused her face. "I mean, I'm not a Blaisdell at all,"
+she finished hastily.
+
+"Humph! That's exactly it!" Mr. Smith was sitting energetically erect.
+"You're not a Blaisdell--except when they want something of you!"
+
+"Oh PLEASE, I didn't mean to say--I DIDN'T say--THAT," cried Miss
+Maggie, in very genuine distress.
+
+"No, I know you didn't, but I did," flared the man. "Miss Maggie, it's
+a downright shame--the way they impose on you sometimes."
+
+"Nonsense! I like to have them--I mean, I like to do what I can for
+them," she corrected hastily, laughing in spite of herself.
+
+"You like to get all tired out, I suppose."
+
+"I get rested--afterward."
+
+"And it doesn't matter, anyway, of course," he gibed.
+
+"Not a bit," she smiled.
+
+"Yes, I suspected that." Mr. Smith was still sitting erect, still
+speaking with grim terseness. "But let me tell you right here and now
+that I don't approve of that doctrine of yours."
+
+"'Doctrine'?"
+
+"That 'It-doesn't-matter' doctrine of yours. I tell you it's very
+pernicious--very! I don't approve of it at all."
+
+There was a moment's silence.
+
+"No?" Miss Maggie said then, demurely. "Oh, well--it doesn't matter--if
+you don't."
+
+He caught the twinkle in her eyes and threw up his hands despairingly.
+
+"You are incorrigible!"
+
+With a sudden businesslike air of determination Miss Maggie faced him.
+
+"Just what is the matter with that doctrine, please, and what do you
+mean?" she smiled.
+
+"I mean that things DO matter, and that we merely shut our eyes to the
+real facts in the case when we say that they don't. War, death, sin,
+evil--the world is full of them, and they do matter."
+
+"They do matter, indeed." Miss Maggie was speaking very gravely now.
+"They matter--woefully. I never say 'It doesn't matter' to war, or
+death, or sin, or evil. But there are other things--"
+
+"But the other things matter, too," interrupted the man irritably.
+"Right here and now it matters that you don't share in the money; it
+matters that you slave half your time for a father who doesn't anywhere
+near appreciate you; it matters that you slave the rest of the time for
+every Tom and Dick and Harry and Jane and Mehitable in Hillerton that
+has run a sliver under a thumb, either literally or metaphorically. It
+matters that--"
+
+But Miss Maggie was laughing merrily. "Oh, Mr. Smith, Mr. Smith, you
+don't know what you are saying!"
+
+"I do, too. It's YOU who don't know what you are saying!"
+
+"But, pray, what would you have me say?" she smiled.
+
+"I'd have you say it DOES matter, and I'd have you insist on having
+your rights, every time."
+
+"And what if I had?" she retaliated sharply. "My rights, indeed!"
+
+The man fell back, so sudden and so astounding was the change that had
+come to the woman opposite him. She was leaning forward in her chair,
+her lips trembling, her eyes a smouldering flame.
+
+"What if I had insisted on my rights, all the way up?" she quivered.
+"Would I have come home that first time from college? Would I have
+stepped into Mother Blaisdell's shoes and kept the house? Would I have
+swept and baked and washed and ironed, day in and day out, to make a
+home for father and for Jim and Frank and Flora? Would I have come back
+again and again, when my beloved books were calling, calling, always
+calling? Would I have seen other girls love and marry and go to homes
+of their own, while I--Oh, what am I saying, what am I saying?" she
+choked, covering her eyes with the back of her hand, and turning her
+face away. "Please, if you can, forget what I said. Indeed, I
+NEVER--broke out like that--before. I am so--ashamed!"
+
+"Ashamed! Well, you needn't be." Mr. Smith, on his feet, was trying to
+work off his agitation by tramping up and down the small room.
+
+"But I am ashamed," moaned Miss Maggie, her face still averted. "And I
+can't think why I should have been so--so wild. It was just something
+that you said--about my rights, I think. You see--all my life I've just
+HAD to learn to say 'It doesn't matter,' when there were so many things
+I wanted to do, and couldn't. And--don't you see?--I found out, after a
+while, that it didn't really matter, half so much--college and my own
+little wants and wishes as that I should do--what I had to do,
+willingly and pleasantly at home."
+
+"But, good Heavens, how could you keep from tearing 'round and throwing
+things?"
+
+"I couldn't--all the time. I--I smashed a bowl once, and two cups." She
+laughed shamefacedly, and met his eyes now. "But I soon found--that it
+didn't make me or anybody else--any happier, and that it didn't help
+things at all. So I tried--to do the other way. And now, please, PLEASE
+say you'll forget all this--what I've been saying. Indeed, Mr. Smith I
+am very much ashamed."
+
+"Forget it!" Mr. Smith turned on his heel and marched up and down the
+room again. "Confound that man!"
+
+"What man?"
+
+"Mr. Stanley G. Fulton, if you must know, for not giving you any of
+that money."
+
+"Money, money, money!" Miss Maggie threw out both her hands with a
+gesture of repulsion. "If I've heard that word once, I've heard it a
+hundred times in the last week. Sometimes I wish I might never hear it
+again."
+
+"You don't want to be deaf, do you? Well, you'd have to be, to escape
+hearing that word."
+
+"I suppose so. But--" again she threw out her hands.
+
+"You don't mean--" Mr. Smith was regarding her with curious interest.
+"Don't you WANT--money, really?"
+
+She hesitated; then she sighed.
+
+"Oh, yes, of course. We all want money. We have to have money, too; but
+I don't think it's--everything in the world, by any means."
+
+"You don't think it brings happiness, then?"
+
+"Sometimes. Sometimes not."
+
+"Most of--er--us would be willing to take the risk."
+
+"Most of us would."
+
+"Now, in the case of the Blaisdells here--don't you think this money is
+going to bring happiness to them?"
+
+There was no answer. Miss Maggie seemed to be thinking.
+
+"Miss Maggie," exclaimed Mr. Smith, with a concern all out of
+proportion to his supposed interest in the matter, "you don't mean to
+say you DON'T think this money is going to bring them happiness!"
+
+Miss Maggie laughed a little.
+
+"Oh, no! This money'll bring them happiness all right, of
+course,--particularly to some of them. But I was just wondering; if you
+don't know how to spend five dollars so as to get the most out of it,
+how will you spend five hundred, or five hundred thousand--and get the
+most out of that?"
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+But Miss Maggie shook her head.
+
+"Nothing. I was just thinking," she said.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+SANTA CLAUS ARRIVES
+
+
+It was not long after this that Mr. Smith found a tall, gray-haired
+man, with keen gray eyes, talking with Mrs. Jane Blaisdell and
+Mellicent in the front room over the grocery store.
+
+"Well--" began Mr. Smith, a joyful light of recognition in his eyes.
+Then suddenly he stooped and picked up something from the floor. When
+he came upright his face was very red. He did not look at the tall,
+gray-haired man again as he advanced into the room.
+
+Mellicent turned to him eagerly.
+
+"Oh, Mr. Smith, it's the lawyer--he's come. And it's true. It IS true!"
+
+"This is Mr. Smith, Mr. Norton," murmured Mrs. Jane Blaisdell to the
+keen-eyed man, who, also, for no apparent reason, had grown very red.
+"Mr. Smith's a Blaisdell, too,--distant, you know. He's doing a
+Blaisdell book."
+
+"Indeed! How interesting! How are you, Mr.--Smith?" The lawyer smiled
+and held out his hand, but there was an odd constraint in his manner.
+"So you're a Blaisdell, too, are you?"
+
+"Er--yes," said Mr. Smith, smiling straight into the lawyer's eyes.
+
+"But not near enough to come in on the money, of course," explained
+Mrs. Jane. "He isn't a Hiller-Blaisdell. He's just boarding here, while
+he writes his book.
+
+"Oh I see. So he isn't near enough to come in--on the money." This time
+it was the lawyer who was smiling straight into Mr. Smith's eyes.
+
+But he did not smile for long. A sudden question from Mellicent seemed
+to freeze the smile on his lips.
+
+"Mr. Norton, please, what was Mr. Stanley G. Fulton like?" she begged.
+
+"Why--er--you must have seen his pictures in the papers," stammered the
+lawyer.
+
+"Yes, what was he like? Do tell us," urged Mr. Smith with a bland
+smile, as he seated himself.
+
+"Why--er--" The lawyer came to a still more unhappy pause.
+
+"Of course, we've seen his pictures," broke in Mellicent, "but those
+don't tell us anything. And YOU KNEW HIM. So won't you tell us what he
+was like, please, while we're waiting for father to come up? Was he
+nice and jolly, or was he stiff and haughty? What was he like?"
+
+"Yes, what was he like?" coaxed Mr. Smith again. Mr. Smith, for some
+reason, seemed to be highly amused.
+
+The lawyer lifted his head suddenly. An odd flash came to his eyes.
+
+"Like? Oh, just an ordinary man, you know,--somewhat conceited, of
+course." (A queer little half-gasp came from Mr. Smith, but the lawyer
+was not looking at Mr. Smith.) "Eccentric--you've heard that, probably.
+And he HAS done crazy things, and no mistake. Of course, with his money
+and position, we won't exactly say he had bats in his belfry--isn't
+that what they call it?--but--"
+
+Mr. Smith gave a real gasp this time, and Mrs. Jane Blaisdell
+ejaculated:--
+
+"There, I told you so! I knew something was wrong. And now he'll come
+back and claim the money. You see if he don't! And if we've gone and
+spent any of it--" A gesture of despair finished her sentence.
+
+"Give yourself no uneasiness on that score, madam," the lawyer assured
+her gravely. "I think I can safely guarantee he will not do that."
+
+"Then you think he's--dead?"
+
+"I did not say that, madam. I said I was very sure he would not come
+back and claim this money that is to be paid over to your husband and
+his brother and sister. Dead or alive, he has no further power over
+that money now."
+
+"Oh-h!" breathed Mellicent. "Then it IS--ours!"
+
+"It is yours," bowed the lawyer.
+
+"But Mr. Smith says we've probably got to pay a tax on it," thrust in
+Mrs. Jane, in a worried voice. "Do you know how much we'll HAVE to pay?
+And isn't there any way we can save doing that?"
+
+Before Mr. Norton could answer, a heavy step down the hall heralded Mr.
+Frank Blaisdell's advance, and in the ensuing confusion of his arrival,
+Mr. Smith slipped away. As he passed the lawyer, however, Mellicent
+thought she heard him mutter, "You rascal!" But afterwards she
+concluded she must have been mistaken, for the two men appeared to
+become at once the best of friends. Mr. Norton remained in town several
+days, and frequently she saw him and Mr. Smith chatting pleasantly
+together, or starting off apparently for a walk. Mellicent was very
+sure, therefore, that she must have been mistaken in thinking she had
+heard Mr. Smith utter so remarkable an exclamation as he left the room
+that first day.
+
+During the stay of Mr. Norton in Hillerton, and for some days
+afterward, the Blaisdells were too absorbed in the mere details of
+acquiring and temporarily investing their wealth to pay attention to
+anything else. Under the guidance of Mr. Norton, Mr. Robert Chalmers,
+and the heads of two other Hillerton banks, the three legatees set
+themselves to the task of "finding a place to put it," as Miss Flora
+breathlessly termed it.
+
+Mrs. Hattie said that, for her part, she should like to leave their
+share all in the bank: then she'd have it to spend whenever she wanted
+it. She yielded to the shocked protestations of the others, however,
+and finally consented that her husband should invest a large part of it
+in the bonds he so wanted, leaving a generous sum in the bank in her
+own name. She was assured that the bonds were just as good as money,
+anyway, as they were the kind that were readily convertible into cash.
+
+Mrs. Jane, when she understood the matter, was for investing every cent
+of theirs where it would draw the largest interest possible. Mrs. Jane
+had never before known very much about interest, and she was fascinated
+with its delightful possibilities. She spent whole days joyfully
+figuring percentages, and was awakened from her happy absorption only
+by the unpleasant realization that her husband was not in sympathy with
+her ideas at all. He said that the money was his, not hers, and that,
+for once in his life, he was going to have his way. "His way" in this
+case proved to be the prompt buying-out of the competing grocery on the
+other corner, and the establishing of good-sized bank account. The rest
+of the money he said Jane might invest for a hundred per cent, if she
+wanted to.
+
+Jane was pleased to this extent, and asked if it were possible that she
+could get such a splendid rate as one hundred per cent. She had not
+figured on that! She was not so pleased later, when Mr. Norton and the
+bankers told her what she COULD get--with safety; and she was very
+angry because they finally appealed to her husband and she was obliged
+to content herself with a paltry five or six per cent, when there were
+such lovely mining stocks and oil wells everywhere that would pay so
+much more.
+
+She told Flora that she ought to thank her stars that SHE had the money
+herself in her own name, to do just as she pleased with, without any
+old-fogy men bossing her.
+
+But Flora only shivered and said "Mercy me!" and that, for her part,
+she wished she didn't have to say what to do with it. She was scared
+of her life of it, anyway, and she was just sure she should lose it,
+whatever she did with it; and she 'most wished she didn't have it, only
+it would be nice, of course, to buy things with it--and she supposed
+she would buy things with it, after a while, when she got used to it,
+and was not afraid to spend it.
+
+Miss Flora was, indeed, quite breathless most of the time, these days.
+She tried very hard to give the kind gentlemen who were helping her no
+trouble, and she showed herself eager always to take their advice. But
+she wished they would not ask her opinion; she was always afraid to
+give it, and she didn't have one, anyway; only she did worry, of
+course, and she had to ask them sometimes if they were real sure the
+places they had put her money were perfectly safe, and just couldn't
+blow up. It was so comforting always to see them smile, and hear them
+say: "Perfectly, my dear Miss Flora, perfectly! Give yourself no
+uneasiness." To be sure, one day, the big fat man, not Mr. Chalmers,
+did snap out: "No, madam; only the Lord Almighty can guarantee a
+government bond--the whole country may be blown to atoms by a volcano
+to-morrow morning!"
+
+She was startled, terribly startled; but she saw at once, of course,
+that it must be just his way of joking, for of course there wasn't any
+volcano big enough to blow up the whole United States; and, anyway, she
+did not think it was nice of him, and it was almost like swearing, to
+say "the Lord Almighty" in that tone of voice. She never liked that fat
+man again. After that she always talked to Mr. Chalmers, or to the
+other man with a wart on his nose.
+
+Miss Flora had never had a check-book before, but she tried very hard
+to learn how to use it, and to show herself not too stupid. She was
+glad there were such a lot of checks in the book, but she didn't
+believe she'd ever spend them all--such a lot of money! She had had a
+savings-bank book, to be sure, but she not been able to put anything in
+the bank for a long time, and she had been worrying a good deal lately
+for fear she would have to draw some out, business had been so dull.
+But she would not have to do that now, of course, with all this money
+that had come to her.
+
+They told her that she could have all the money she wanted by just
+filling out one of the little slips in her check-book the way they had
+told her to do it and taking it to Mr. Chalmers's bank--that there were
+a good many thousand dollars there waiting for her to spend, just as
+she liked; and that, when they were gone, Mr. Chalmers would tell her
+how to sell some of her bonds and get more. It seemed very wonderful!
+
+There were other things, too, that they had told her--too many for her
+to remember--something about interest, and things called coupons that
+must be cut off the bonds at certain times. She tried to remember it
+all; but Mr. Chalmers had been very kind and had told her not to fret.
+He would help her when the time came. Meanwhile, he had rented her a
+nice tin box (that pulled out like a drawer) in the safety-deposit
+vault under the bank, where she could keep her bonds and all the other
+papers--such a lot of them!--that Mr. Chalmers told her she must keep
+very carefully.
+
+But it was all so new and complicated, and everybody was always talking
+at once, so!
+
+No wonder, indeed, that Miss Flora was quite breathless with it all.
+
+By the time the Blaisdells found themselves able to pay attention to
+Hillerton, or to anything outside their own astounding personal
+affairs, they became suddenly aware of the attention Hillerton was
+paying to THEM.
+
+The whole town was agog. The grocery store, the residence of Frank
+Blaisdell, and Miss Flora's humble cottage might be found at nearly any
+daylight hour with from one to a dozen curious-eyed gazers on the
+sidewalk before them. The town paper had contained an elaborate account
+of the bequest and the remarkable circumstances attending it; and
+Hillerton became the Mecca of wandering automobiles for miles around.
+Big metropolitan dailies got wind of the affair, recognized the magic
+name of Stanley G. Fulton, and sent reporters post-haste to Hillerton.
+
+Speculation as to whether the multi-millionaire was really dead was
+prevalent everywhere, and a search for some clue to his reported South
+American exploring expedition was undertaken in several quarters.
+Various rumors concerning the expedition appeared immediately, but none
+of them seemed to have any really solid foundation. Interviews with the
+great law firm having the handling of Mr. Fulton's affairs were
+printed, but even here little could be learned save the mere fact of
+the letter of instructions, upon which they had acted according to
+directions, and the other fact that there still remained one more
+packet--understood to be the last will and testament--to be opened in
+two years' time if Mr. Fulton remained unheard from. The lawyers were
+bland and courteous, but they really had nothing to say, they declared,
+beyond the already published facts.
+
+In Hillerton the Blaisdells accepted this notoriety with characteristic
+variation. Miss Flora, after cordially welcoming one "nice young man,"
+and telling him all about how strange and wonderful it was, and how
+frightened she felt, was so shocked and distressed to find all that she
+said (and a great deal that she did not say!) staring at her from the
+first page of a big newspaper, that she forthwith barred her doors, and
+refused to open them till she satisfied herself, by surreptitious peeps
+through the blinds, that it was only a neighbor who was knocking for
+admittance. An offer of marriage from a Western ranchman and another
+from a Vermont farmer (both entire strangers) did not tend to lessen
+her perturbation of mind.
+
+Frank, at the grocery store, rather welcomed questioners--so long as
+there was a hope of turning them into customers; but his wife and
+Mellicent showed almost as much terror of them as did Miss Flora
+herself.
+
+James Blaisdell and Fred stoically endured such as refused to be
+silenced by their brusque non-committalism. Benny, at first welcoming
+everything with the enthusiasm he would accord to a circus, soon
+sniffed his disdain, as at a show that had gone stale.
+
+Of them all, perhaps Mrs. Hattie was the only one that found in it any
+real joy and comfort. Even Bessie, excited and interested as she was,
+failed to respond with quite the enthusiasm that her mother showed.
+Mrs. Hattie saw every reporter, talked freely of "dear Cousin Stanley"
+and his wonderful generosity, and explained that she would go into
+mourning, of course, if she knew he was really dead. She sat for two
+new portraits for newspaper use, besides graciously posing for staff
+photographers whenever requested to do so; and she treasured carefully
+every scrap of the printed interviews or references to the affair that
+she could find. She talked with the townspeople, also, and told Al
+Smith how fine it was that he could have something really worth while
+for his book.
+
+Mr. Smith, these days, was keeping rather closely to his work,
+especially when reporters were in evidence. He had been heard to
+remark, indeed, that he had no use for reporters. Certainly he fought
+shy of those investigating the Fulton-Blaisdell legacy. He read the
+newspaper accounts, though, most attentively, particularly the ones
+from Chicago that Mr. Norton kindly sent him sometimes. It was in one
+of these papers that he found this paragraph:--
+
+There seems to be really nothing more that can be learned about the
+extraordinary Stanley G. Fulton-Blaisdell affair. The bequests have
+been paid, the Blaisdells are reveling in their new wealth, and Mr.
+Fulton is still unheard from. There is nothing now to do but to await
+the opening of the second mysterious packet two years hence. This, it
+is understood, is the final disposition of his estate; and if he is
+really dead, such will doubtless prove to be the case. There are those,
+however, who, remembering the multi-millionaire's well-known
+eccentricities, are suspecting him of living in quiet retirement
+somewhere, laughing in his sleeve at the tempest in the teapot that he
+has created; and that long before the two years are up, he will be back
+on Chicago's streets, debonair and smiling as ever. The fact that so
+little can be found in regard to the South American exploring
+expedition might give color to this suspicion; but where on this
+terrestrial ball could Mr. Stanley G. Fulton find a place to live in
+UNREPORTED retirement?
+
+Mr. Smith did not show this paragraph to the Blaisdells. He destroyed
+the paper containing it, indeed, promptly and effectually--with a
+furtive glance over his shoulder as he did so. It was at about this
+time, too, that Mr. Smith began to complain of his eyes and to wear
+smoked glasses. He said he found the new snow glaring.
+
+"But you look so funny, Mr. Smith," said Benny, the first time he saw
+him. "Why, I didn't hardly know you!"
+
+"Didn't you, Benny?" asked Mr. Smith, with suddenly a beaming
+countenance. "Oh, well, that doesn't matter, does it?" And Mr. Smith
+gave an odd little chuckle as he turned away.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+THE TOYS RATTLE OUT
+
+
+Early in December Mrs. Hattie, after an extended search, found a
+satisfactory home. It was a somewhat pretentious house, not far from
+the Gaylord place. Mrs. Hattie had it repapered and repainted
+throughout and two new bathrooms put in. (She said that everybody who
+was anybody always had lots of bathrooms.) Then she set herself to
+furnishing it. She said that, of course, very little of their old
+furniture would do at all. She was talking to Maggie Duff about it one
+day when Mr. Smith chanced to come in. She was radiant that afternoon
+in a handsome silk dress and a new fur coat.
+
+"You're looking very well--and happy, Mrs. Blaisdell," smiled Mr. Smith
+as he greeted her.
+
+"I am well, and I'm perfectly happy, Mr. Smith," she beamed. "How could
+I help it? You know about the new home, of course. Well, it's all
+ready, and I'm ordering the furnishings. Oh, you don't know what it
+means to me to be able at last to surround myself with all the
+beautiful things I've so longed for all my life!"
+
+"I'm very glad, I'm sure." Mr. Smith said the words as if he meant them.
+
+"Yes, of course; and poor Maggie here, she says she's glad, too,--though
+I don't see how she can be, when she never got a cent, do you, Mr.
+Smith? But, poor Maggie, she's got so used to being left out--"
+
+"Hush, hush!" begged Miss Maggie.
+
+"You'll find money isn't everything in this world, Hattie Blaisdell,"
+growled Mr. Duff, who, to-day, for some unknown reason, had deserted
+the kitchen cookstove for the living-room base-burner. "And when I see
+what a little money does for some folks I'm glad I'm poor. I wouldn't
+be rich if I could. Furthermore, I'll thank you to keep your sympathy
+at home. It ain't needed nor wanted--here."
+
+"Why, Father Duff," bridled Mrs. Hattie indignantly, "you know how poor
+Maggie has had to--"
+
+"Er--but tell us about the new home," interrupted Mr. Smith quickly,
+"and the fine new furnishings."
+
+"Why, there isn't much to tell yet--about the furnishings, I mean. I
+haven't got them yet. But I can tell you what I'm GOING to have." Mrs.
+Hattie settled herself more comfortably, and began to look happy again.
+"As I was saying to Maggie, when you came in, I shall get almost
+everything new--for the rooms that show, I mean,--for, of course, my
+old things won't do at all. And I'm thinking of the pictures. I want
+oil paintings, of course, in gilt frames." She glanced a little
+disdainfully at the oak-framed prints on Miss Maggie's walls.
+
+"Going in for old masters, maybe," suggested Mr. Duff, with a sarcasm
+that fell pointless at Mrs. Hattie's feet.
+
+"Old masters?"
+
+"Yes--oil paintings."
+
+"Certainly not." Her chin came up a little. "I'm going to have anything
+old in my house--where it can be seen--For once I'm going to have NEW
+things--all new things. You have to make a show or you won't be
+recognized by the best people."
+
+"But, Hattie, my dear," began Miss Maggie, flushing a little, and
+carefully avoiding Mr. Smith's eyes, "old masters are--are very
+valuable, and--"
+
+"I don't care if they are," retorted Mrs. Hattie, with decision. "If
+they're old, I don't want them, and that settles it. I'm going to have
+velvet carpets and the handsomest lace curtains that I can find; and
+I'm going to have some of those gold chairs, like the Pennocks have,
+only nicer. Theirs are awfully dull, some of them. And I'm going to
+buy--"
+
+"Humph! Pity you can't buy a little common sense--somewhere!" snarled
+old man Duff, getting stiffly to his feet. "You'll need it, to swing
+all that style."
+
+"Oh, father!" murmured Miss Maggie.
+
+"Oh, I don't mind what Father Duff says," laughed Mrs. Hattie. But
+there was a haughty tilt to her chin and an angry sparkle in her eyes
+as she, too, arose. "I'm just going, anyway, so you don't need to
+disturb yourself, Father Duff."
+
+But Father Duff, with another "Humph!" and a muttered something about
+having all he wanted already of "silly chatter," stamped out into the
+kitchen, with the usual emphasis of his cane at every other step.
+
+It was just as well, perhaps, that he went, for Mrs. Hattie Blaisdell
+had been gone barely five minutes when her sister-in-law, Mrs. Jane,
+came in.
+
+"I've come to see you about a very important matter, Maggie," she
+announced, as she threw off her furs--not new ones--and unbuttoned her
+coat--which also was not new.
+
+"Then certainly I will take myself out of the way," said Mr. Smith,
+with a smile, making a move to go.
+
+"No, please don't." Mrs. Jane held up a detaining hand. "Part of it
+concerns you, and I'm glad you're here, anyway. I should like your
+advice."
+
+"Concerns me?" puzzled the man.
+
+"Yes. I'm afraid I shall have to give up boarding you, and one thing I
+came to-day for was to ask Maggie if she'd take you. I wanted to give
+poor Maggie the first chance at you, of course."
+
+"CHANCE at me!" Mr. Smith laughed,--but unmistakably he blushed. "The
+first--But, my dear woman, it is just possible that Miss Maggie may
+wish to--er--decline this great honor which is being conferred upon
+her, and she may hesitate, for the sake of my feelings, to do it before
+me. NOW I'm very sure I ought to have left at once."
+
+"Nonsense!" (Was Miss Maggie blushing the least bit, too?) "I shall be
+very glad to take Mr. Smith as a boarder if he wants to come--but HE'S
+got something to say about it, remember. But tell me, why are you
+letting him go, Jane?" "Now this surely WILL be embarrassing," laughed
+Mr. Smith again nervously. "Do I eat too much, or am I merely noisy,
+and a nuisance generally?"
+
+But Mrs. Jane did not appear to have heard him. She was looking at Miss
+Maggie, her eyes somber, intent.
+
+"Well, I'll tell you. It's Hattie." "Hattie!" exclaimed two amazed
+voices.
+
+"Yes. She says it's perfectly absurd for me to take boarders, with all
+our money; and she's making a terrible fuss about where we live. She
+says she's ashamed--positively ashamed of us--that we haven't moved
+into a decent place yet."
+
+Miss Maggie's lips puckered a little.
+
+"Do you want to go?"
+
+"Y-yes, only it will cost so much. I've always wanted a house--with a
+yard, I mean; and 'twould be nice for Mellicent, of course."
+
+"Well, why don't you go? You have the money."
+
+"Y-yes, I know I have; but it'll cost so much, Maggie. Don't you see?
+It costs not only the money itself, but all the interest that the money
+could be earning. Why, Maggie, I never saw anything like it." Her face
+grew suddenly alert and happy. "I never knew before how much money,
+just MONEY, could earn, while you didn't have to do a thing but sit
+back and watch it do it. It's the most fascinating thing I ever saw. I
+counted up the other day how much we'd have if we didn't spend a cent
+of it for ten years--the legacy, I mean."
+
+"But, great Scott, madam!" expostulated Mr. Smith. "Aren't you going to
+spend any of that money before ten years' time?"
+
+Mrs. Jane fell back in her chair. The anxious frown came again to her
+face.
+
+"Oh, yes, of course. We have spent a lot of it, already. Frank has
+bought out that horrid grocery across the street, and he's put a lot in
+the bank, and he spends from that every day, I know. And I'm WILLING to
+spend some, of course. But we had to pay so much inheritance tax and
+all that it would be my way not to spend much till the interest had
+sort of made that up, you know; but Frank and Mellicent--they won't
+hear to it a minute. They want to move, too, and they're teasing me all
+the time to get new clothes, both for me and for her. But Hattie's the
+worst. I can't do a thing with Hattie. Now what shall I do?"
+
+"I should move. You say yourself you'd like to," answered Miss Maggie
+promptly.
+
+"What do you say, Mr. Smith?"
+
+Mr. Smith leaped to his feet and thrust his hands into his pockets as
+he took a nervous turn about the room, before he spoke.
+
+"Good Heavens, woman, that money was given you to--that is, it was
+probably given you to use. Now, why don't you use it?"
+
+"But I am using it," argued Mrs. Jane earnestly. "I think I'm making
+the very best possible use of it when I put it where it will earn more.
+Don't you see? Besides, what does the Bible say about that man with one
+talent that didn't make it earn more?"
+
+With a jerk Mr. Smith turned on his heel and renewed his march.
+
+"I think the only thing money is good for is to exchange it for
+something you want," observed Miss Maggie sententiously.
+
+"There, that's it!" triumphed Mr. Smith, wheeling about. "That's
+exactly it!"
+
+Mrs. Jane sighed and shook her head. She gazed at Miss Maggie with
+fondly reproving eyes.
+
+"Yes, we all know your ideas of money, Maggie. You're very sweet and
+dear, and we love you; but you ARE extravagant."
+
+"Extravagant!" demurred Miss Maggie.
+
+"Yes. You use everything you have every day; and you never protect a
+thing. Actually, I don't believe there's a tidy or a linen slip in this
+house." (DID Mr. Smith breathe a fervent "Thank the Lord!" Miss Maggie
+wondered.) "And that brings me right up to something else I was going
+to say. I want you to know that I'm going to help you."
+
+Miss Maggie looked distressed and raised a protesting hand; but Mrs.
+Jane smilingly shook her head and went on.
+
+"Yes, I am. I always said I should, if I had money, and I shall--though
+I must confess that I'd have a good deal more heart to do it if you
+weren't quite so extravagant. I've already given you Mr. Smith to
+board."
+
+"Oh, I say!" spluttered Mr. Smith.
+
+But again she only smilingly shook her head and continued speaking.
+
+"And if we move, I'm going to give you the parlor carpet, and some rugs
+to protect it."
+
+"Thank you; but, really, I don't want the parlor carpet," refused Miss
+Maggie, a tiny smouldering fire in her eyes.
+
+"And I shall give you some money, too," smiled Mrs. Jane, very
+graciously,--"when the interest begins to come in, you know. I shall
+give you some of that. It's too bad you should have nothing while I
+have so much."
+
+"Jane, PLEASE!" The smouldering fire in Miss Maggie's eyes had become a
+flame now.
+
+"Nonsense, Maggie, you mustn't be so proud. It's no shame to be poor.
+Wasn't I poor just the other day? However, since it distresses you so,
+we won't say any more about it now. I'll go back to my own problems.
+Then, you advise me--you both advise me--to move, do you?"
+
+"I do, most certainly," bowed Miss Maggie, still with a trace of
+constraint.
+
+"And you, Mr. Smith?"
+
+Mr. Smith turned and threw up both his hands.
+
+"For Heaven's sake, lady, go home, and spend--some of that money!"
+
+Mrs. Jane laughed a bit ruefully.
+
+"Well, I don't see but what I shall have to, with everybody against me
+like this," she sighed, getting slowly to her feet. "But if you
+knew--if either of you knew--how really valuable money is, and how much
+it would earn for you, if you'd only let it, I don't believe you'd be
+quite so fast to tell me to go and spend it."
+
+"Perhaps not; but then, you see, we don't know," smiled Miss Maggie,
+once again her cheery self.
+
+Mr. Smith said nothing. Mr. Smith had turned his back just then.
+
+When Mrs. Jane was gone, Mr. Smith faced Miss Maggie with a quizzical
+smile.
+
+"Well?" he hazarded.
+
+"You mean--"
+
+"I'm awaiting orders--as your new boarder."
+
+"Oh! They'll not be alarming, I assure you. Do you really want to come?"
+
+"Indeed I do! And I think it's mighty good of you to take me.
+But--SHOULD you, do you think? Haven't you got enough, with your father
+to care for? Won't it be too hard for you?"
+
+She shook her head.
+
+"I think not. Besides, I'm going to have help. Annabelle and Florence
+Martin, a farmer's daughters are very anxious to be in town to attend
+school this winter, and I have said that I would take them. They will
+work for their board."
+
+The man gave a disdainful sniff.
+
+"I can imagine how much work you'll let them do! It strikes me the
+'help' is on the other foot. However, we'll let that pass. I shall be
+glad enough to come, and I'll stay--unless I find you're doing too much
+and going beyond your strength. But, how about--your father?"
+
+"Oh, he won't mind. I'll arrange that he proposes the idea himself.
+Besides,"--she twinkled merrily--"you really get along wonderfully with
+father, you know. And, as for the work--I shall have more time now:
+Hattie will have some one else to care for her headaches, and Jane
+won't put down any more carpets, I fancy, for a while."
+
+"Well, I should hope!" he shrugged. "Honestly, Miss Maggie, one of the
+best things about this Blaisdell money, in my eyes, is that it may give
+you a little rest from being chief cook and bottle washer and head
+nurse combined, on tap for any minute. But, say, that woman WILL spend
+some of that money, won't she?"
+
+Miss Maggie smiled significantly.
+
+"I think she will. I saw Frank last evening--though I didn't think it
+necessary to say so to her. He came to see me. I think you'll find that
+they move very soon, and that the ladies of the family have some new
+clothes."
+
+"Well, I hope so."
+
+"You seem concerned."
+
+"Concerned? Er--ah--well, I am," he asserted stoutly. "Such a windfall
+of wealth ought to bring happiness, I think; and it seemed to, to Mrs.
+Hattie, though, of course, she'll learn better, as time goes on how to
+spend her money. But Mrs. Jane--And, by the way, how is Miss Flora
+bearing up--under the burden?"
+
+Miss Maggie laughed.
+
+"Poor Flora!"
+
+"'Poor Flora'! And do I hear 'Poor Maggie' say 'Poor Flora'?"
+
+"Oh, she won't be 'poor' long," smiled Miss Maggie. "She'll get used to
+it--this stupendous sum of money--one of these days. But just now she's
+nearly frightened to death."
+
+"Frightened!"
+
+"Yes-both because she's got it, and because she's afraid she'll lose
+it. That doesn't sound logical, I know, but Flora isn't being logical
+just now. To begin with, she hasn't the least idea how to spend money.
+Under my careful guidance, however, she has bought her a few new
+dresses--though they're dead black--"
+
+"Black!" interrupted the man.
+
+"Yes, she's put on mourning," smiled Miss Maggie, as he came to a
+dismayed stop. "She would do it. She declared she wouldn't feel half
+decent unless she did, with that poor man dead, and giving her all that
+money."
+
+"But he isn't dead--that is, they aren't sure he's dead," amended Mr.
+Smith hastily.
+
+"But Flora thinks he is. She says he must be, or he would have appeared
+in time to save all that money. She's very much shocked, especially at
+Hattie, that there is so little respect being shown his memory. So she
+is all the more determined to do the best she can on her part."
+
+"But she--she didn't know him, so she can't--er--really MOURN for him,"
+stammered the man. There was a most curious helplessness on Mr. Smith's
+face.
+
+"No, she says she can't really mourn," smiled Miss Maggie again, "and
+that's what worries her the most of anything--because she CAN'T mourn,
+and when he's been so good to her--and he with neither wife nor chick
+nor child TO mourn for him, she says. But she's determined to go
+through the outward form of it, at least. So she's made herself some
+new black dresses, and she's bought a veil. She's taken Mr. Fulton's
+picture (she had one cut from a magazine, I believe), and has had it
+framed and, hung on her wall. On the mantel beneath it she keeps fresh
+flowers always. She says it's the nearest she can come to putting
+flowers on his grave, poor man!"
+
+"Good Heavens!" breathed Mr. Smith, falling limply into a chair.
+
+"And she doesn't go anywhere, except to church, and for necessary
+errands."
+
+"That explains why I haven't seen her. I had wondered where she was."
+
+"Yes. She's very conscientious. But she IS going later to Niagara. I've
+persuaded her to do that. She'll go with a party, of course,--one of
+those 'personally conducted' affairs, you know. Poor dear! she's so
+excited! All her life she's wanted to see Niagara. Now she's going, and
+she can hardly believe it's true. She wants a phonograph, too, but
+she's decided not to get that until after six months' mourning is
+up--it's too frivolous and jolly for a house of mourning."
+
+"Oh, good Heavens!" breathed Mr. Smith again.
+
+"It is funny, isn't it, that she takes it quite so seriously? Bessie
+suggested (I'm afraid Bessie was a little naughty!) that she get the
+phonograph, but not allow it to play anything but dirges and hymn
+tunes."
+
+"But isn't the woman going to take ANY comfort with that money?"
+demanded Mr. Smith.
+
+"Indeed, she is! She's taking comfort now. You have no idea, Mr. Smith,
+what it means to her, to feel that she need never want again, and that
+she can buy whatever she pleases, without thinking of the cost. That's
+why she's frightened--because she IS so happy. She thinks it can't be
+right to be so happy. It's too pleasant--to be right. When she isn't
+being frightened about that, she's being frightened for fear she'll
+lose it, and thus not have it any more. I don't think she quite
+realizes yet what a big sum of money it is, and that she'd have to lose
+a great deal before she lost it all."
+
+"Oh, well, she'll get used to that, in time. They'll all get used to
+it--in time," declared Mr. Smith, his face clearing a little. "Then
+they'll begin to live sanely and sensibly, and spend the money as it
+should be spent. Of course, you couldn't expect them to know what to
+do, at the very first, with a sum like that dropped into their laps.
+What would you do yourself? Yes, what would you do?" repeated Mr.
+Smith, his face suddenly alert and interested again. "What would you do
+if you should fall heir to a hundred thousand dollars--to-morrow?"
+
+"What would I do? What wouldn't I do?" laughed Miss Maggie. Then
+abruptly her face changed. Her eyes became luminous, unfathomable.
+"There is so much that a hundred thousand dollars could do--so much!
+Why, I would--" Her face changed again abruptly. She sniffed as at an
+odor from somewhere. Then lightly she sprang to her feet and crossed to
+the stove. "What would I do with a hundred thousand dollars?" she
+demanded, whisking open a damper in the pipe. "I'd buy a new
+base-burner that didn't leak gas! That's what I'd do with a hundred
+thousand dollars. Are you going to give it to me?"
+
+"Eh? Ah-what?" Mr. Smith was visibly startled.
+
+Miss Maggie laughed merrily.
+
+"Don't worry. I wasn't thinking of charging quite that for your board.
+But you seemed so interested, I didn't know but what you were going to
+hand over the hundred thousand, just to see what I would do with it,"
+she challenged mischievously. "However, I'll stop talking nonsense, and
+come down to business. If you'll walk this way, Mr. New Boarder, I'll
+let you choose which of two rooms you'd like."
+
+And Mr. Smith went. But, as had occurred once or twice before, Mr.
+Smith's face, as he followed her, was a study.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+THE DANCING BEGINS
+
+
+Christmas saw many changes in the Blaisdell families.
+
+The James Blaisdells had moved into the big house near the Gaylord
+place. Mrs. Hattie had installed two maids in the kitchen, bought a
+handsome touring car, and engaged an imposing-looking chauffeur. Fred
+had entered college, and Bessie had been sent to a fashionable school
+on the Hudson. Benny, to his disgust, had also been sent away to an
+expensive school. Christmas, however, found them all at home for the
+holidays, and for the big housewarming that their parents were planning
+to give on Christmas night.
+
+The Frank Blaisdells had also moved. They were occupying a new house
+not too far from the grocery store. They had not bought it yet. Mrs.
+Jane said that she wished to live in it awhile, so as to be sure she
+would really like it. Besides, it would save the interest on the money
+for that much time, anyway. True, she had been a little disturbed when
+her husband reminded her that they would be paying rent meanwhile. But
+she said that didn't matter; she was not going to put all that money
+into a house just yet, anyway,--not till she was sure it was the best
+they could do for the price.
+
+They, too, were planning a housewarming. Theirs was to come the night
+after Christmas. Mrs. Jane told her husband that they should not want
+theirs the same night, of course, as Hattie's, and that if she had hers
+right away the next night, she could eat up any of the cakes or ice
+cream that was left from Hattie's party, and thus save buying so much
+new for herself. But her husband was so indignant over the idea of
+eating "Hattie's leavings" that she had to give up this part of her
+plan, though she still arranged to have her housewarming on the day
+following her sister-in-law's.
+
+Mellicent, like Bessie, was home from school, though not from the same
+school. Mrs. Jane had found another one that was just as good as
+Bessie's, she said, and which did not cost near so much money. Mr.
+Smith was not living with them now, of course. He was boarding at Miss
+Maggie Duff's.
+
+Miss Flora was living in the same little rented cottage she had
+occupied for many years. She said that she should move, of course, when
+she got through her mourning, but, until then she thought it more
+suitable for her to stay where she was. She had what she wanted to eat,
+now, however, and she did not do dressmaking any longer. She still did
+her own housework, in spite of Harriet Blaisdell's insistence that she
+get a maid. She said that there was plenty of time for all those things
+when she had finished her mourning. She went out very little, though
+she did go to the housewarming at her brother James's--"being a
+relative, so," she decided that no criticism could be made.
+
+It seemed as if all Hillerton went to that house-warming. Those who
+were not especially invited to attend went as far as the street or the
+gate, and looked on enviously. Mrs. Hattie had been very generous with
+her invitations, however. She said that she had asked everybody who
+ever pretended to go anywhere. She told Maggie Duff that, of course,
+after this, she should be more exclusive--very exclusive, in fact; but
+that this time Jim wanted to ask everybody, and she didn't mind so
+much--she was really rather glad to have all these people see the
+house, and all--they certainly never would have the chance again.
+
+Mr. Smith attended with Miss Maggie. Mrs. Hattie had very kindly
+included him in the invitation. She had asked Father Duff, too,
+especially, though she said she knew, of course, that he would not
+go--he never went anywhere. Father Duff bristled up at this, and
+declared that he guessed he would go, after all, just to show them that
+he could, if he wanted to. Mrs. Hattie grew actually pale, but Miss
+Maggie exclaimed joyfully that, of course, he would go--he ought to go,
+to show proper respect! Father Duff said no then, very decidedly; that
+nothing could hire him to go, and that he had no respect to show. He
+declared that he had no use for gossip and gabble and unwholesome
+eating; and he said that he should not think Maggie would care to go,
+either,--unless she could be in the kitchen, where it would seem
+natural to her!
+
+Mrs. Hattie, however, smiled kindly, and said, of course, now she could
+afford to hire better help than Maggie (caterers from the city and all
+that), so Maggie would not have to be in the kitchen, and that with
+practice she would soon learn not to mind at all being 'round among
+folks in the parlor.
+
+Father Duff had become so apoplectically angry at this that Mr. Smith,
+who chanced to be present, and who also was very angry, was forced to
+forget his own wrath in his desire to make the situation easier for
+Miss Maggie.
+
+He had not supposed that Miss Maggie would go at all, after that. He
+had even determined not to go himself. But Miss Maggie, after a day's
+thought, had laughed and had said, with her eyes twinkling: "Oh, well,
+it doesn't matter, you know,--it doesn't REALLY matter, does it?" And
+they had gone.
+
+It was a wonderful party. Mr. Smith enjoyed it hugely. He saw almost
+everybody he knew in Hillerton, and many that he did not know. He heard
+the Blaisdells and their new wealth discussed from all viewpoints, and
+he heard some things about the missing millionaire benefactor that were
+particularly interesting--to him. The general opinion seemed to be that
+the man was dead; though a few admitted that there was a possibility,
+of course, that he was merely lost somewhere in darkest South America
+and would eventually get back to civilization, certainly long before
+the time came to open the second letter of instructions. Many professed
+to know the man well, through magazine and newspaper accounts (there
+were times when Mr. Smith adjusted more carefully the smoked glasses
+which he was still wearing); and some had much to say of the
+millionaire's characteristics, habits, and eccentricities; all of which
+Mr. Smith enjoyed greatly.
+
+Then, too, there were the Blaisdells themselves. They were all there,
+even to Miss Flora, who was in dead black; and Mr. Smith talked with
+them all.
+
+Miss Flora told him that she was so happy she could not sleep nights,
+but that she was rather glad she couldn't sleep, after all, for she
+spent the time mourning for poor Mr. Fulton, and thinking how good he
+had been to her. And THAT made it seem as if she was doing SOMETHING
+for him. She said, Yes, oh, yes, she was going to stop black mourning
+in six months, and go into grays and lavenders; and she was glad Mr.
+Smith thought that was long enough, quite long enough for the black,
+but she could not think for a moment of putting on colors now, as he
+suggested. She said, too, that she had decided not to go to Niagara for
+the present. And when he demurred at this, she told him that really she
+would rather not. It would be warmer in the spring, and she would much
+rather wait till she could enjoy every minute without feeling
+that--well, that she was almost dancing over the poor man's grave, as
+it were.
+
+Mr. Smith did not urge her after that. He turned away, indeed, rather
+precipitately--so precipitately that Miss Flora wondered if she could
+have said anything to offend him.
+
+Mr. Smith talked next with Mrs. Jane Blaisdell. Mrs. Jane was looking
+particularly well that evening. Her dress was new, and in good style,
+yet she in some way looked odd to Mr. Smith. In a moment he knew the
+reason: she wore no apron. Mr. Smith had never seen her without an
+apron before. Even on the street she wore a black silk one. He
+complimented her gallantly on her fine appearance. But Mrs. Jane did
+not smile. She frowned.
+
+"Yes, I know. Thank you, of course," she answered worriedly. "But it
+cost an awful lot--this dress did; but Frank and Mellicent would have
+it. That child!--have you seen her to-night?"
+
+"Miss Mellicent? Yes, in the distance. She, too is looking most
+charming, Mrs. Blaisdell."
+
+The woman tapped her foot impatiently.
+
+"Yes, I know she is--and some other folks so, too, I notice. Was she
+with that Pennock boy?"
+
+"Not when I saw her."
+
+"Well, she will be, if she isn't now. He follows her everywhere."
+
+"But I thought--that was broken up." Mr. Smith now was frowning.
+
+"It was. YOU know what that woman said--the insult! But now, since this
+money came--" She let an expressive gesture complete the sentence.
+
+Mr. Smith laughed.
+
+"I wouldn't worry, Mrs. Blaisdell. I don't think he'll make much
+headway--now."
+
+"Indeed, he won't--if I can help myself!" flashed the woman indignantly.
+
+"I reckon he won't stand much show with Miss Mellicent--after what's
+happened."
+
+"I guess he won't," snapped the woman. "He isn't worth half what SHE is
+now. As if I'd let her look at HIM!"
+
+"But I meant--" Mr. Smith stopped abruptly. There was an odd expression
+on his face.
+
+Mrs. Blaisdell filled the pause.
+
+"But, really, Mr. Smith, I don't know what I am going to do--with
+Mellicent," she sighed.
+
+"Do with her?"
+
+"Yes. She's as wild as a hawk and as--as flighty as a humming-bird,
+since this money came. She's so crazy with joy and excited."
+
+"What if she is?" challenged Mr. Smith, looking suddenly very happy
+himself. "Youth is the time for joy and laughter; and I'm sure I'm glad
+she is taking a little pleasure in life."
+
+Mrs. Blaisdell frowned again.
+
+"But, Mr. Smith, you know as well as I do that life isn't all pink
+dresses and sugar-plums. It is a serious business, and I have tried to
+bring her up to understand it. I have taught her to be thrifty and
+economical, and to realize the value of a dollar. But now--she doesn't
+SEE a dollar but what she wants to spend it. What can I do?"
+
+"You aren't sorry--the money came?" Mr. Smith was eyeing her with a
+quizzical smile.
+
+"Oh, no, no, indeed!" Mrs. Blaisdell's answer was promptly emphatic.
+"And I hope I shall be found worthy of the gift, and able to handle it
+wisely."
+
+"Er-ah--you mean--" Mr. Smith was looking slightly taken aback.
+
+"I mean that I regard wealth as one of the greatest of trusts, to be
+wisely administered, Mr. Smith," she amplified a bit importantly.
+
+"Oh-h!" subsided the man.
+
+"That is why it distresses me so to see my daughter so carried away
+with the mere idea of spending. I thought I'd taught her differently,"
+sighed the woman.
+
+"Perhaps you taught her--too well. But I wouldn't worry," smiled Mr.
+Smith, as he turned away.
+
+Deliberately then Mr. Smith went in search of Mellicent. He found her
+in the music-room, which had been cleared for dancing. She was
+surrounded by four young men. One held her fan, one carried her white
+scarf on his arm, a third was handing her a glass of water. The fourth
+was apparently writing his name on her dance card. The one with the
+scarf Mr. Smith recognized as Carl Pennock. The one writing on the
+dance programme he knew was young Hibbard Gaylord.
+
+Mr. Smith did not approach at once. Leaning against a window-casing
+near by, he watched the kaleidoscopic throng, bestowing a not too
+conspicuous attention upon the group about Miss Mellicent Blaisdell.
+
+Mellicent was the picture of radiant loveliness. The rose in her cheeks
+matched the rose of her gown, and her eyes sparkled with happiness. So
+far as Mr. Smith could see, she dispensed her favors with rare
+impartiality; though, as he came toward them finally, he realized at
+once that there was a merry wrangle of some sort afoot. He had not
+quite reached them when, to his surprise, Mellicent turned to him in
+very evident relief.
+
+"There, here's Mr. Smith," she cried gayly. "I'm going to sit it out
+with him. I shan't dance it with either of you."
+
+"Oh, Miss Blaisdell!" protested young Gaylord and Carl Pennock abjectly.
+
+But Mellicent shook her head.
+
+"No. If you WILL both write your names down for the same dance, it is
+nothing more than you ought to expect."
+
+"But divide it, then. Please divide it," they begged. "We'll be
+satisfied."
+
+"_I_ shan't be!" Mellicent shook her head again merrily.
+
+"I shan't be satisfied with anything--but to sit it out with Mr. Smith.
+Thank you, Mr. Smith," she bowed, as she took his promptly offered arm.
+
+And Mr. Smith bore her away followed by the despairing groans of the
+two disappointed youths and the taunting gibes of their companions.
+
+"There! Oh, I'm so glad you came," sighed Mellicent. "You didn't mind?"
+
+"Mind? I'm in the seventh heaven!" avowed Mr. Smith with exaggerated
+gallantry. "And it looked like a real rescue, too."
+
+Mellicent laughed. Her color deepened.
+
+"Those boys--they're so silly!" she pouted.
+
+"Wasn't one of them young Pennock?"
+
+"Yes, the tall, dark one."
+
+"He's come back, I see."
+
+She flashed an understanding look into his eyes.
+
+"Oh, yes, he's come back. I wonder if he thinks I don't know--WHY!"
+
+"And---you?" Mr. Smith was smiling quizzically.
+
+She shrugged her shoulders with a demure dropping of her eyes.
+
+"Oh, I let him come back--to a certain extent. I shouldn't want him to
+think I cared or noticed enough to keep him from coming back--some."
+
+"But there's a line beyond which he may not pass, eh?"
+
+"There certainly is!--but let's not talk of him. Oh, Mr. Smith, I'm so
+happy!" she breathed ecstatically.
+
+"I'm very glad."
+
+In a secluded corner they sat down on a gilt settee.
+
+"And it's all so wonderful, this--all this! Why Mr. Smith, I'm so happy
+I--I want to cry all the time. And that's so silly--to want to cry! But
+I do. So long--all my life--I've had to WAIT for things so. It was
+always by and by, in the future, that I was going to have--anything
+that I wanted. And now to have them like this, all at once, everything
+I want--why, Mr. Smith, it doesn't seem as if it could be true. It just
+can't be true!"
+
+"But it is true, dear child; and I'm so glad--you've got your
+five-pound box of candy all at once at last. And I HOPE you can treat
+your friends to unlimited soda waters."
+
+"Oh, I can! But that isn't all. Listen!" A new eagerness came to her
+eyes. "I'm going to give mother a present--a frivolous, foolish
+present, such as I've always wanted to. I'm going to give her a gold
+breast-pin with an amethyst in it. She's always wanted one. And I'm
+going to take my own money for it, too,--not the new money that father
+gives me, but some money I've been saving up for years--dimes and
+quarters and half-dollars in my baby-bank. Mother always made me save
+'most every cent I got, you see. And I'm going to take it now for this
+pin. She won't mind if I do spend it foolishly now--with all the rest
+we have. And she'll be so pleased with the pin!"
+
+"And she's always wanted one?"
+
+"Yes, always; but she never thought she could afford it. But now--! I'm
+going to open the bank to-morrow and count it; and I'm so excited over
+it!" She laughed shamefacedly. "I don't believe Mr. Fulton himself ever
+took more joy counting his millions than I shall take in counting those
+quarters and half-dollars to-morrow."
+
+"I don't believe he ever did." Mr. Smith spoke with confident emphasis,
+yet in a voice that was not quite steady. "I'm sure he never did."
+
+"What a comfort you are, Mr. Smith," smiled Mellicent, a bit mistily.
+"You always UNDERSTAND so! And we miss you terribly--honestly we
+do!--since you went away. But I'm glad Aunt Maggie's got you. Poor Aunt
+Maggie! That's the only thing that makes me feel bad,--about the money,
+I mean,--and that is that she didn't have some, too. But mother's going
+to give her some. She SAYS she is, and--"
+
+But Mellicent did not finish her sentence. A short, sandy-haired youth
+came up and pointed an accusing finger at her dance card; and Mellicent
+said yes, the next dance was his. But she smiled brightly at Mr. Smith
+as she floated away, and Mr. Smith, well content, turned and walked
+into the adjoining room.
+
+He came face to face then with Mrs. Hattie and her daughter. These two
+ladies, also, were pictures of radiant loveliness--especially were they
+radiant, for every beam of light found an answering flash in the
+shimmering iridescence of their beads and jewels and opalescent sequins.
+
+"Well, Mr. Smith, what do you think of my party?"
+
+As she asked the question Mrs. Hattie tapped his shoulder with her fan.
+
+"I think a great deal--of your party," smiled the man. "And you?" He
+turned to Miss Bessie.
+
+"Oh, it'll do--for Hillerton." Miss Bessie smiled mischievously into
+her mother's eyes, shrugged her shoulders, and passed on into the
+music-room.
+
+"As if it wasn't quite the finest thing Hillerton ever had--except the
+Gaylord parties, of course," bridled Mrs. Hattie, turning to Mr. Smith.
+"That's just daughter's way of teasing me--and, of course, now she IS
+where she sees the real thing in entertaining--she goes home with those
+rich girls in her school, you know. But this is a nice party, isn't it
+Mr. Smith?"
+
+"It certainly is."
+
+"Daughter says we should have wine; that everybody who is anybody has
+wine now--champagne, and cigarettes for the ladies. Think of it--in
+Hillerton! Still, I've heard the Gaylords do. I've never been there
+yet, though, of course, we shall be invited now. I'm crazy to see the
+inside of their house; but I don't believe it's MUCH handsomer than
+this. Do you? But there! You don't know, of course. You've never been
+there, any more than I have, and you're a man of simple tastes, I
+judge, Mr. Smith." She smiled graciously. "Benny says that Aunt
+Maggie's got the nicest house he ever saw, and that Mr. Smith says so,
+too. So, you see, I have grounds for my opinion."
+
+Mr. Smith laughed.
+
+"Well, I'm not sure I ever said just that to Benny, but I'll not
+dispute it. Miss Maggie's house is indeed wonderfully delightful--to
+live in."
+
+"I've no doubt of it," conceded Mrs. Hattie complacently. "Poor Maggie!
+She always did contrive to make the most of everything she had. But
+she's never been ambitious for really nice things, I imagine. At least,
+she always seems contented enough with her shabby chairs and carpets.
+While I--" She paused, looked about her, then drew a blissful sigh. "Oh,
+Mr. Smith, you don't know--you CAN'T know what it is to me to just look
+around and realize that they are all mine--these beautiful things!"
+
+"Then you're very happy, Mrs. Blaisdell?"
+
+"Oh, yes. Why, Mr. Smith, there isn't a piece of furniture in this room
+that didn't cost more than the Pennocks'--I know, because I've been
+there. And my curtains are nicer, too, and my pictures, they're so much
+brighter--some of her oil paintings are terribly dull-looking. And my
+Bessie--did you notice her dress to-night? But, there! You didn't, of
+course. And if you had, you wouldn't have realized how expensive it
+was. What do you know about the cost of women's dresses?" she laughed
+archly. "But I don't mind telling you. It was one hundred and fifty
+dollars, a HUNDRED AND FIFTY DOLLARS, and it came from New York. I
+don't believe that white muslin thing of Gussie Pennock's cost fifty!
+You know Gussie?"
+
+"I've seen her."
+
+"Yes, of course you have--with Fred. He used to go with her a lot. He
+goes with Pearl Gaylord more now. There, you can see them this minute,
+dancing together--the one in the low-cut, blue dress. Pretty, too,
+isn't she? Her father's worth a million, I suppose. I wonder how
+'twould feel to be worth--a million." She spoke musingly, her eyes
+following the low-cut blue dress. "But, then, maybe I shall know, some
+time,--from Cousin Stanley, I mean," she explained smilingly, in answer
+to the question she thought she saw behind Mr. Smith's smoked glasses.
+"Oh, of course, there's nothing sure about it. But he gave us SOME, and
+if he's dead, of course, that other letter'll be opened in two years;
+and I don't see why he wouldn't give us the rest, as long as he'd shown
+he remembered he'd got us. Do you?"
+
+"Well--er--as to that--" Mr. Smith hesitated. He had grown strangely
+red.
+
+"Well, there aren't any other relations so near, anyway, so I can't
+help thinking about it, and wondering," she interposed. "And 'twould be
+MILLIONS, not just one million. He's worth ten or twenty, they say.
+But, then, we shall know in time."
+
+"Oh, yes, you'll know--in time," agreed Mr. Smith with a smile, turning
+away as another guest came up to his hostess.
+
+Mr. Smith's smile had been rather forced, and his face was still
+somewhat red as he picked his way through the crowded rooms to the
+place where he could see Frank Blaisdell standing alone, surveying the
+scene, his hands in his pockets.
+
+"Well, Mr. Smith, this is some show, ain't it?' greeted the grocer, as
+Mr. Smith approached.
+
+"It certainly is."
+
+"Gee! I should say so--though I can't say I'm stuck on the brand,
+myself. But, as for this money business, do you know? I'm as bad as
+Flo. I can't sense it yet--that it's true. Gosh! Look at Hattie, now.
+Ain't she swingin' the style to-night?"
+
+"She certainly is looking handsome and very happy."
+
+"Well, she ought to. I believe in lookin' happy. I believe in takin'
+some comfort as you go along--not that I've taken much, in times past.
+But I'm goin' to now."
+
+"Good! I'm glad to hear it."
+
+"Well, I AM. Why, man, I'm just like a potato-top grown in a cellar,
+and I'm comin' out and get some sunshine. And Mellicent is, too. Poor
+child! SHE'S been a potato-top in a cellar all right. But now--Have you
+seen her to-night?"
+
+"I have--and a very charming sight she was," smiled Mr. Smith.
+
+"Ain't she, now?" The father beamed proudly. "Well, she's goin' to be
+that right along now. She's GOIN' where she wants to go, and DO what
+she wants to do; and she's goin' to have all the fancy fluma-diddles to
+wear she wants."
+
+"Good! I'm glad to hear that, too," laughed Mr. Smith.
+
+"Well, she is. This savin' an' savin' is all very well, of course, when
+you have to. But I've saved all my life and, by jingo, I'm goin' to
+spend now! You see if I don't."
+
+"I hope you will."
+
+"Thank you. I'm glad to have one on my side, anyhow. I only wish--You
+couldn't talk my wife 'round to your way of thinkin', could you?" he
+shrugged, with a whimsical smile. "My wife's eaten sour cream to save
+the sweet all her life, an' she hain't learned yet that if she'd eat
+the sweet to begin with she wouldn't have no sour cream--'twouldn't
+have time to get sour. An' there's apples, too. She eats the specked
+ones always; so she don't never eat anything but the worst there is.
+An' she says they're the meanest apples she ever saw. Now I tell her if
+she'll only pick out the best there is every time, as I do she'll not
+only enjoy every apple she eats, but she'll think they're the nicest
+apples that ever grew. Funny, ain't it? Here I am havin' to urge my
+wife to spend money, while my sister-in-law here--Talk about ducks
+takin' to the water! That ain't no name for the way she sails into
+Jim's little pile."
+
+Mr. Smith laughed.
+
+"By the way, where is Mr. Jim?" he asked.
+
+The other shook his head.
+
+"Hain't seen him--but I can guess where he is, pretty well. You go down
+that hall and turn to your left. In a little room at the end you'll
+find him. That's his den. He told Hattie 'twas the only room in the
+house he'd ask for, but he wanted to fix it up himself. Hattie, she
+wanted to buy all sorts of truck and fix it up with cushions and
+curtains and Japanese gimcracks like she see a den in a book, and make
+a showplace of it. But Jim held out and had his way. There ain't
+nothin' in it but books and chairs and a couch and a big table; and
+they're all old--except the books--so Hattie don't show it much, when
+she's showin' off the house. You'll find him there all right. You see
+if you don't. Jim always would rather read than eat, and he hates
+shindigs of this sort a little worse 'n I do." "All right. I'll look
+him up," nodded Mr. Smith, as he turned away.
+
+Deliberately, but with apparent carelessness, strolled Mr. Smith
+through the big drawing-rooms, and down the hall. Then to the left--the
+directions were not hard to follow, and the door of the room at the end
+was halfway open, giving a glimpse of James Blaisdell and Benny before
+the big fireplace.
+
+With a gentle tap and a cheerful "Do you allow intruders?" Mr. Smith
+pushed open the door.
+
+James Blaisdell sprang to his feet.
+
+"Er--I--oh, Mr. Smith, come in, come right in!" The frown on his face
+gave way to a smile. "I thought--Well, never mind what I thought. Sit
+down, won't you?"
+
+"Thank you, if you don't mind."
+
+Mr. Smith dropped into a chair and looked about him.
+
+"Ain't it great?" beamed Benny. "It's 'most as nice as Aunt Maggie's,
+ain't it? And I can eat all the cookies here I want to, and come in
+even if my shoes are muddy, and bring the boys in, too."
+
+"It certainly is--great," agreed Mr. Smith, his admiring eyes sweeping
+the room again.
+
+To Mr. Smith it was like coming into another world. The deep,
+comfortable chairs, the shaded lights, the leaping fire on the hearth,
+the book-lined walls--even the rhythmic voices of the distant violins
+seemed to sing of peace and quietness and rest.
+
+"Dad's been showin' me the books he used ter like when he was a little
+boy like me," announced Benny. "Hain't he got a lot of 'em?--books, I
+mean."
+
+"He certainly has."
+
+Mr. James Blaisdell stirred a little in his chair.
+
+"I suppose I have--crowded them a little," he admitted. "But, you see,
+there were so many I'd always wanted, and when the chance came--well, I
+just bought them; that's all."
+
+"And you have the time now to read them."
+
+"I have, thank--Well, I suppose I should say thanks to Mr. Stanley G.
+Fulton," he laughed, with some embarrassment. "I wish Mr. Fulton could
+know--how much I do thank him," he finished soberly, his eyes caressing
+the rows of volumes on the shelves. "You see, when you've wanted
+something all your life--" He stopped with an expressive gesture.
+
+"You don't care much for--that, then, I take it," inferred Mr. Smith,
+with a wave of his hand toward the distant violins.
+
+"Dad says there's only one thing worse than a party, and that's two
+parties," piped up Benny from his seat on the rug.
+
+Mr. Smith laughed heartily, but the other looked still more discomfited.
+
+"I'm afraid Benny is--is telling tales out of school," he murmured.
+
+"Well, 'tis out of school, ain't it?" maintained Benny. "Say, Mr.
+Smith, did you have ter go ter a private school when you were a little
+boy? Ma says everybody does who is anybody. But if it's Cousin
+Stanley's money that's made us somebody, I wished he'd kept it at
+home--'fore I had ter go ter that old school."
+
+"Oh, come, come, my boy," remonstrated the father, drawing his son into
+the circle of his arm. "That's neither kind nor grateful; besides, you
+don't know what you're talking about. Come, suppose we show Mr. Smith
+some of the new books."
+
+From case to case, then, they went, the host eagerly displaying and
+explaining, the guest almost as eagerly watching and listening. And in
+the kindling eye and reverent fingers of the man handling the volumes,
+Mr. Smith caught some inkling of what those books meant to Jim
+Blaisdell.
+
+"You must be fond of--books, Mr. Blaisdell," he said somewhat
+awkwardly, after a time.
+
+"Ma says dad'd rather read than eat," giggled Benny; "but pa says
+readin' IS eatin'. But I'd rather have a cookie, wouldn't you, Mr.
+Smith?"
+
+"You wait till you find what there IS in these books, my son," smiled
+his father. "You'll love them as well as I do, some day. And your
+brother--" He paused, a swift shadow on his face. He turned to Mr.
+Smith. "My boy, Fred, loves books, too. He helped me a lot in my
+buying. He was in here--a little while ago. But he couldn't stay, of
+course. He said he had to go and dance with the girls--his mother
+expected it."
+
+"Ho! MOTHER! Just as if he didn't want ter go himself!" grinned Benny
+derisively. "You couldn't HIRE him ter stay away--'specially if Pearl
+Gaylord's 'round."
+
+"Oh, well, he's young, and young feet always dance When Pan pipes,"
+explained the father, with a smile that was a bit forced. "But Pan
+doesn't always pipe, and he's ambitious--Fred is." The man turned
+eagerly to Mr. Smith again. "He's going to be a lawyer--you see, he's
+got a chance now. He's a fine student. He led his class in high school,
+and he'll make good in college, I'm sure. He can have the best there is
+now, too, without killing himself with work to get it. He's got a fine
+mind, and--" The man stopped abruptly, with a shamed laugh.
+"But--enough of this. You'll forgive 'the fond father,' I know. I
+always forget myself when I'm talking of that boy--or, rather perhaps
+it's that I'm REMEMBERING myself. You see, I want him to do all that I
+wanted to do--and couldn't. And--"
+
+"Jim, JIM!" It was Mrs. Hattie in the doorway. "There, I might have
+known where I'd find you. Come, the guests are going, and are looking
+for you to say good-night. Jim, you'll have to come! Why, what'll
+people say? They'll think we don't know anything--how to behave, and
+all that. Mr. Smith, you'll excuse him, I know."
+
+"Most certainly," declared Mr. Smith. "I must be going myself, for that
+matter," he finished, as he followed his hostess through the doorway.
+
+Five minutes later he had found Miss Maggie, and was making his adieus.
+
+Miss Maggie, on the way home, was strangely silent.
+
+"Well, that was some party," began Mr. Smith after waiting for her to
+speak.
+
+"It was, indeed."
+
+"Quite a house!"
+
+"Yes."
+
+[Illustration with caption: "JIM, YOU'LL HAVE TO COME!"]
+
+"How pretty Miss Mellicent looked!"
+
+"Very pretty."
+
+"I'm glad at last to see that poor child enjoying herself."
+
+"Yes."
+
+Mr. Smith frowned and stole a sidewise glance at his companion. Was it
+possible? Could Miss Maggie be showing at last a tinge of envy and
+jealousy? It was so unlike her! And yet--
+
+"Even Miss Flora seemed to be having a good time, in spite of that
+funereal black," he hazarded again.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And I'm sure Mrs. James Blaisdell and Miss Bessie were very radiant
+and shining."
+
+"Oh, yes, they--shone."
+
+Mr. Smith bit his lip, and stole another sidewise glance.
+
+"Er--how did you enjoy it? Did you have a good time?"
+
+"Oh, yes, very."
+
+There was a brief silence. Mr. Smith drew a long breath and began again.
+
+"I had no idea Mr. James Blaisdell was so fond of--er--books. I had
+quite a chat with him in his den."
+
+No answer.
+
+"He says Fred--"
+
+"Did you see that Gaylord girl?" Miss Maggie was galvanized into sudden
+life. "He's perfectly bewitched with her. And she--that ridiculous
+dress--and for a young girl! Oh, I wish Hattie would let those people
+alone!"
+
+"Oh, well, he'll be off to college next week," soothed Mr. Smith.
+
+"Yes, but whom with? Her brother!--and he's worse than she is, if
+anything. Why, he was drunk to-night, actually drunk, when he came! I
+don't want Fred with him. I don't want Fred with any of them."
+
+"No, I don't like their looks myself very well, but--I fancy young
+Blaisdell has a pretty level head on him. His father says--"
+
+"His father worships him," interrupted Miss Maggie. "He worships all
+those children. But into Fred--into Fred he's pouring his whole lost
+youth. You don't know. You don't understand, of course, Mr. Smith. You
+haven't known him all the way, as I have." Miss Maggie's voice shook
+with suppressed feeling. "Jim was always the dreamer. He fairly lived
+in his books. They were food and drink to him. He planned for college,
+of course. From boyhood he was going to write--great plays, great
+poems, great novels. He was always scribbling--something. I think he
+even tried to sell his things, in his 'teens; but of course nothing
+came of that--but rejection slips.
+
+"At nineteen he entered college. He was going to work his way. Of
+course, we couldn't send him. But he was too frail. He couldn't stand
+the double task, and he broke down completely. We sent him into the
+country to recuperate, and there he met Hattie Snow, fell head over
+heels in love with her blue eyes and golden hair, and married her on
+the spot. Of course, there was nothing to do then but to go to work,
+and Mr. Hammond took him into his real estate and insurance office.
+He's been there ever since, plodding plodding, plodding."
+
+"By George!" murmured Mr. Smith sympathetically.
+
+"You can imagine there wasn't much time left for books. I think, when
+he first went there, he thought he was still going to write the great
+poem, the great play the great novel, that was to bring him fame and
+money. But he soon learned better. Hattie had little patience with his
+scribbling, and had less with the constant necessity of scrimping and
+economizing. She was always ambitious to get ahead and be somebody,
+and, of course, as the babies came and the expenses increased, the
+demand for more money became more and more insistent. But Jim, poor
+Jim! He never was a money-maker. He worked, and worked hard, and then
+he got a job for evenings and worked harder. But I don't believe he
+ever quite caught up. That's why I was so glad when this money
+came--for Jim. And now, don't you see? he's thrown his whole lost youth
+into Fred. And Fred--"
+
+"Fred is going to make good. You see if he doesn't!"
+
+"I hope he will. But--I wish those Gaylords had been at the bottom of
+the Red Sea before they ever came to Hillerton," she fumed with sudden
+vehemence as she entered her own gate.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+FROM ME TO YOU WITH LOVE
+
+
+It was certainly a gay one--that holiday week. Beginning with the James
+Blaisdells' housewarming it was one continuous round of dances,
+dinners, sleigh-rides and skating parties for Hillerton's young people
+particularly for the Blaisdells, the Pennocks, and the Gaylords.
+
+Mr. Smith, at Miss Maggie's, saw comparatively little of it all, though
+he had almost daily reports from Benny, Mellicent, or Miss Flora, who
+came often to Miss Maggie's for a little chat. It was from Miss Flora
+that he learned the outcome of Mellicent's present to her mother. The
+week was past, and Miss Flora had come down to Miss Maggie's for a
+little visit.
+
+Mr. Smith still worked at the table in the corner of the living-room,
+though the Duff-Blaisdell records were all long ago copied. He was at
+work now sorting and tabulating other Blaisdell records. Mr. Smith
+seemed to find no end to the work that had to be done on his Blaisdell
+book.
+
+As Miss Flora entered the room she greeted Mr. Smith cordially, and
+dropped into a chair.
+
+"Well, they've gone at last," she panted, handing her furs to Miss
+Maggie; "so I thought I'd come down and talk things over. No, don't go,
+Mr. Smith," she begged, as he made a move toward departure. "I hain't
+come; to say nothin' private; besides, you're one of the family,
+anyhow. Keep right on with your work; please."
+
+Thus entreated, Mr. Smith went back to his table, and Miss Flora
+settled herself more comfortably in Miss Maggie's easiest chair.
+
+"So they're all gone," said Miss Maggie cheerily.
+
+"Yes; an' it's time they did, to my way of thinkin'. Mercy me, what a
+week it has been! They hain't been still a minute, not one of 'em,
+except for a few hours' sleep--toward mornin'."
+
+"But what a good time they've had!" exulted Miss Maggie.
+
+"Yes. And didn't it do your soul good to see Mellicent? But Jane--Jane
+nearly had a fit. She told Mellicent that all this gayety was nothing
+but froth and flimsiness and vexation of spirit. That she knew it
+because she'd been all through it when she was young, and she knew the
+vanity of it. And Mellicent--what do you suppose that child said?"
+
+"I can't imagine," smiled Miss Maggie.
+
+"She said SHE wanted to see the vanity of it, too. Pretty cute of her,
+too, wasn't it? Still it's just as well she's gone back to school, I
+think myself. She's been repressed and held back so long, that when she
+did let loose, it was just like cutting the puckering string of a
+bunched-up ruffle--she flew in all directions, and there was no holding
+her back anywhere; and I suppose she has been a bit foolish and
+extravagant in the things she's asked for. Poor dear, though, she did
+get one setback."
+
+"What do you mean?" "Did she tell you about the present for her mother?"
+
+"That she was going to get it--yes."
+
+Across the room Mr. Smith looked up suddenly.
+
+"Well, she got it." Miss Flora's thin lips snapped grimly over the
+terse words. "But she had to take it back."
+
+"Take it back!" cried Miss Maggie.
+
+"Yes. And 'twas a beauty--one of them light purple stones with two
+pearls. Mellicent showed it to me--on the way home from the store, you
+know. And she was so pleased over it! 'Oh, I don't mind the saving all
+those years now,' she cried, 'when I see what a beautiful thing they've
+let me get for mother' And she went off so happy she just couldn't keep
+her feet from dancing."
+
+'"I can imagine it," nodded Miss Maggie.
+
+"Well, in an hour she was back. But what a difference! All the light
+and happiness and springiness were gone. She was almost crying. She
+still carried the little box in her hand. 'I'm takin' it back,' she
+choked. 'Mother doesn't like it.' 'Don't like that beautiful pin!' says
+I. 'What does she want?'
+
+"'Oh, yes, she liked the pin,' said Mellicent, all teary; 'she thinks
+it's beautiful. But she doesn't want anything. She says she never heard
+of such foolish goings-on--paying all that money for a silly, useless
+pin. I--I told her 'twas a PRESENT from me, but she made me take it
+back. I'm on my way now back to the store. I'm to get the money, if I
+can. If I can't, I'm to get a credit slip. Mother says we can take it
+up in forks and spoons and things we need. I--I told her 'twas a
+present, but--' She couldn't say another word, poor child. She just
+turned and almost ran from the room. That was last night. She went away
+this morning, I suppose. I didn't see her again, so I don't know how
+she did come out with the store-man."
+
+"Too bad--too bad!" sympathized Miss Maggie. (Over at the table Mr.
+Smith had fallen to writing furiously, with vicious little jabs of his
+pencil.) "But Jane never did believe in present-giving. They never gave
+presents to each other even at Christmas. She always called it a
+foolish, wasteful practice, and Mellicent was always SO unhappy
+Christmas morning!"
+
+"I know it. And that's just what the trouble is. Don't you see? Jane
+never let 'em take even comfort, and now that they CAN take some
+comfort, Jane's got so out of the habit, she don't know how to begin."
+
+"Careful, careful, Flora!" laughed Miss Maggie. "I don't think YOU can
+say much on that score."
+
+"Why, Maggie Duff, I'M taking comfort," bridled Miss Flora. "Didn't I
+have chicken last week and turkey three weeks ago? And do I ever skimp
+the butter or hunt for cake-rules with one egg now? And ain't I going
+to Niagara and have a phonograph and move into a fine place just as
+soon as my mourning is up? You wait and see!"
+
+"All right, I'll wait," laughed Miss Maggie. Then, a bit anxiously, she
+asked: "Did Fred go to-day?"
+
+"Yes, looking fine as a fiddle, too. I was sweeping off the steps when
+he went by the house. He stopped and spoke. Said he was going in now
+for real work--that he'd played long enough. He said he wouldn't be
+good for a row of pins if he had many such weeks as this had been."
+
+"I'm glad he realized it," observed Miss Maggie grimly. "I suppose the
+Gaylord young people went, too."
+
+"Hibbard did, but Pearl doesn't go till next week. She isn't in the
+same school with Bess, you know. It's even grander than Bess's they
+say. Hattie wants to get Bess into it next year. Oh, I forgot; we've
+got to call her 'Elizabeth' now. Did you know that?"
+
+Miss Maggie shook her head.
+
+"Well, we have. Hattie says nicknames are all out now, and that
+'Elizabeth' is very stylish and good form and the only proper thing to
+call her. She says we must call her 'Harriet,' too. I forgot that."
+
+"And Benny 'Benjamin'?" smiled Miss Maggie.
+
+"Yes. And Jim 'James.' But I'm afraid I shall forget--sometimes."
+
+"I'm afraid--a good many of us will," laughed Miss Maggie.
+
+"It all came from them Gaylords, I believe," sniffed Flora. "I don't
+think much of 'em; but Hattie seems to. I notice she don't put nothin'
+discouragin' in the way of young Gaylord and Bess. But he pays 'most as
+much attention to Mellicent, so far as I can see, whenever Carl Pennock
+will give him a chance. Did you ever see the beat of that boy? It's the
+money, of course. I hope Mellicent'll give him a good lesson, before
+she gets through with it. He deserves it," she ejaculated, as she
+picked up her fur neck-piece, and fastened it with a jerk.
+
+In the doorway she paused and glanced cautiously toward Mr. Smith. Mr.
+Smith, perceiving the glance, tried very hard to absorb himself in the
+rows of names dates before him; but he could not help hearing Miss
+Flora's next words.
+
+"Maggie, hain't you changed your mind a mite yet? WON'T you let me give
+you some of my money? I'd so LOVE to, dear!"
+
+But Miss Maggie, with a violent shake of her head, almost pushed Miss
+Flora into the hall and shut the door firmly.
+
+Mr. Smith, left alone at his table, wrote again furiously, and with
+vicious little jabs of his pencil.
+
+.       .         .          .           .          .          .
+
+One by one the winter days passed. At the Duffs' Mr. Smith was finding
+a most congenial home. He liked Miss Maggie better than ever, on closer
+acquaintance. The Martin girls fitted pleasantly into the household,
+and plainly did much to help the mistress of the house. Father Duff was
+still as irritable as ever, but he was not so much in evidence, for his
+increasing lameness was confining him almost entirely to his own room.
+This meant added care for Miss Maggie, but, with the help of the
+Martins, she still had some rest and leisure, some time to devote to
+the walks and talks with Mr. Smith. Mr. Smith said it was absolutely
+imperative, for the sake of her health, that she should have some
+recreation, and that it was an act of charity, anyway, that she should
+lighten his loneliness by letting him walk and talk with her.
+
+Mr. Smith could not help wondering a good deal these days about Miss
+Maggie's financial resources. He knew from various indications that
+they must be slender. Yet he never heard her plead poverty or preach
+economy. In spite of the absence of protecting rugs and tidies,
+however, and in spite of the fact that she plainly conducted her life
+and household along the lines of the greatest possible comfort, he saw
+many evidences that she counted the pennies--and that she made every
+penny count.
+
+He knew, for a fact, that she had refused to accept any of the
+Blaisdells' legacy. Jane, to be sure, had not offered any money yet
+(though she had offered the parlor carpet, which had been promptly
+refused), but Frank and James and Flora had offered money, and had
+urged her to take it. Miss Maggie, however would have none of it.
+
+Mr. Smith suspected that Miss Maggie was proud, and that she regarded
+such a gift as savoring too much of charity. Mr. Smith wished HE could
+say something to Miss Maggie. Mr. Smith was, indeed, not a little
+disturbed over the matter. He did try once to say something; but Miss
+Maggie tossed it off with a merry: "Take their money? Never! I should
+feel as if I were eating up some of Jane's interest, or one of Hattie's
+gold chairs!" After that she would not let him get near the subject.
+There seemed then really nothing that he could do. It was about this
+time, however, that Mr. Smith began to demand certain extra
+luxuries--honey, olives, sardines, candied fruits, and imported
+jellies. They were always luxuries that must be bought, not prepared in
+the home; and he promptly increased the price of his board--but to a
+sum far beyond the extra cost of the delicacies he ordered. When Miss
+Maggie remonstrated at the size of the increase, he pooh-poohed her
+objections, and declared that even that did not pay for having such a
+nuisance of a boarder around, with all his fussy notions. He insisted,
+moreover, that the family should all partake freely of the various
+delicacies, declaring that it seemed to take away the sting of his
+fussiness if they ate as he ate, and so did not make him appear
+singular in his tastes. Of the Blaisdells Mr. Smith saw a good deal
+that winter. They often came to Miss Maggie's, and occasionally he
+called at their homes. Mr. Smith was on excellent terms with them all.
+They seemed to regard him, indeed, as quite one of the family, and they
+asked his advice, and discussed their affairs before him with as much
+freedom as if he were, in truth, a member of the family.
+
+He knew that Mrs. Hattie Blaisdell was having a very gay winter, and
+that she had been invited twice to the Gaylords'. He knew that James
+Blaisdell was happy in long evenings with his books before the fire.
+From Fred's mother he learned that Fred had made the most exclusive
+club in college, and from Fred's father he learned that the boy was
+already leading his class in his studies. He heard of Bessie's visits
+to the homes of wealthy New Yorkers, and of the trials Benny's teachers
+were having with Benny.
+
+He knew something of Miss Flora's placid life in her "house of
+mourning" (as Bessie had dubbed the little cottage), and he heard of
+the "perfectly lovely times" Mellicent was having at her finishing
+school. He dropped in occasionally to talk over the price of beans and
+potatoes with Mr. Frank Blaisdell in his bustling grocery store, and he
+often saw Mrs. Jane at Miss Maggie's. It was at Miss Maggie's, indeed,
+one day, that he heard Mrs. Jane say, as she sank wearily into a
+chair:--
+
+"Well, I declare! Sometimes I think I'll never give anybody a thing
+again!"
+
+Mr. Smith, at his table, was conscious of a sudden lively interest. So
+often, in his earlier acquaintance with Mrs. Jane, while he boarded
+there, had he heard her say to mission-workers, church-solicitors, and
+doorway beggars, alike, something similar to this; "No, I can give you
+nothing. I have nothing to give. I'd love to, if I could--really I
+would. It makes me quite unhappy to hear of all this need and
+suffering. I'd so love to do something! And if I were rich I would; but
+as it is, I can only give you my sympathy and my prayers."
+
+Mr. Smith was thinking of this now. He had wondered several times,
+since the money came, as to Mrs. Jane's giving. Hence his interest now
+in what she was about to say.
+
+"Why, Jane, what's the matter?" Miss Maggie was querying.
+
+"Everything's the matter," snapped Jane. "And positively a more
+ungrateful set of people all around I never saw. To begin with, take
+the church. You know I've never been able to do anything. We couldn't
+afford it. And now I was so happy that I COULD do something, and I told
+them so; and they seemed real pleased at first. I gave two dollars
+apiece to the Ladies' Aid, the Home Missionary Society, and the Foreign
+Missionary Society--and, do you know? they hardly even thanked me! They
+acted for all the world as if they expected more--the grasping things!
+And, listen! On the way home, just as I passed the Gale girls' I heard
+Sue say: 'What's two dollars to her? She'll never miss it.' They meant
+me, of course. So you see it wasn't appreciated. Now, was it?"
+
+"Perhaps not."
+
+"What's the good of giving, if you aren't going to get any credit, or
+thanks, just because you're rich, I should like to know? And they
+aren't the only ones. Nothing has been appreciated," went on Mrs. Jane
+discontentedly. "Look at Cousin Mary Davis--YOU know how poor they've
+always been, and how hard it's been for them to get along. Her
+Carrie--Mellicent's age, you know--has had to go to work in Hooper's
+store. Well, I sent Mellicent's old white lace party dress to Mary.
+'Twas some soiled, of course, and a little torn; but I thought she
+could clean it and make it over beautifully for Carrie. But, what do
+you think?--back it came the next day with a note from Mary saying very
+crisply that Carrie had no place to wear white lace dresses, and they
+had no time to make it over if she did. No place to wear it, indeed!
+Didn't I invite her to my housewarming? And didn't Hattie, too? But how
+are you going to help a person like that?"
+
+"But, Jane, there must be ways--some ways." Miss Maggie's forehead was
+wrinkled into a troubled frown. "They need help, I know. Mr. Davis has
+been sick a long time, you remember."
+
+"Yes, I know he has; and that's all the more reason, to my way of
+thinking, why they should be grateful for anything--ANYTHING! The
+trouble is, she wants to be helped in ways of her own choosing. They
+wanted Frank to take Sam, the boy,--he's eighteen now--into the store,
+and they wanted me to get embroidery for Nellie to do at home--she's
+lame, you know, but she does do beautiful work. But I couldn't do
+either. Frank hates relatives in the store; he says they cause all
+sorts of trouble with the other help; and I certainly wasn't going to
+ask him to take any relatives of MINE. As for Nellie--I DID ask Hattie
+if she couldn't give her some napkins to do, or something, and she gave
+me a dozen for her--she said Nellie'd probably do them as cheap as
+anybody, and maybe cheaper. But she told me not to go to the Gaylords
+or the Pennocks, or any of that crowd, for she wouldn't have them know
+for the world that we had a relative right here in town that had to
+take in sewing. I told her they weren't her relations nor the
+Blaisdells'; they were mine, and they were just as good as her folks
+any day, and that it was no disgrace to be poor. But, dear me! You know
+Hattie. What could I do? Besides, she got mad then, and took back the
+dozen napkins she'd given me. So I didn't have anything for poor
+Nellie. Wasn't it a shame?"
+
+"I think it was." Miss Maggie's lips shut in a thin straight line.
+
+"Well, what could I do?" bridled Jane defiantly. "Besides, if I'd taken
+them to her, they wouldn't have appreciated it, I know. They never
+appreciate anything. Why, last November, when the money came, I sent
+them nearly all of Mellicent's and my old summer things--and if little
+Tottie didn't go and say afterwards that her mamma did wish Cousin Jane
+wouldn't send muslins in December when they hadn't room enough to store
+a safety pin. Oh, of course, Mary didn't say that to ME, but she must
+have said it somewhere, else Tottie wouldn't have got hold of it.
+'Children and fools,' you know," she finished meaningly, as she rose to
+go.
+
+Mr. Smith noticed that Miss Maggie seemed troubled that evening, and he
+knew that she started off early the next morning and was gone nearly
+all day, coming home only for a hurried luncheon. It being Saturday,
+the Martin girls were both there to care for Father Duff and the house.
+Not until some days later did Mr. Smith suspect that he had learned the
+reason for all this. Then a thin-faced young girl with tired eyes came
+to tea one evening and was introduced to him as Miss Carrie Davis.
+Later, when Miss Maggie had gone upstairs to put Father Duff to bed,
+Mr. Smith heard Carrie Davis telling Annabelle Martin all about how
+kind Miss Maggie had been to Nellie, finding her all that embroidery to
+do for that rich Mrs. Gaylord, and how wonderful it was that she had
+been able to get such a splendid job for Sam right in Hooper's store
+where she was.
+
+Mr. Smith thought he understood then Miss Maggie's long absence on
+Saturday.
+
+Mr. Smith was often running across little kindnesses that Miss Maggie
+had done. He began to think that Miss Maggie must be a very charitable
+person--until he ran across several cases that she had not helped. Then
+he did not know exactly what to think.
+
+His first experience of this kind was when he met an unmistakably
+"down-and-out" on the street one day, begging clothing, food, anything,
+and telling a sorry tale of his unjust discharge from a local factory.
+Mr. Smith gave the man a dollar, and sent him to Miss Maggie. He
+happened to know that Father Duff had discarded an old suit that
+morning--and Father Duff and the beggar might have been taken for twins
+as to size. On the way home a little later he met the beggar returning,
+just as forlorn, and even more hungry-looking.
+
+"Well, my good fellow, couldn't she fix you up?" questioned Mr. Smith
+in some surprise.
+
+"Fix me up!" glowered the man disdainfully. "Not much she did! She
+didn't fix me up ter nothin'--but chin music!"
+
+And Mr. Smith had thought Miss Maggie was so charitable!
+
+A few days later he heard an eager-eyed young woman begging Miss Maggie
+for a contribution to the Pension Fund Fair in behalf of the underpaid
+shopgirls in Daly's. Daly's was a Hillerton department Store, notorious
+for its unfair treatment of its employees.
+
+Miss Maggie seemed interested, and asked many questions. The eager-eyed
+young woman became even more eager-eyed, and told Miss Maggie all about
+the long hours, the nerve-wearing labor, the low wages--wages upon
+which it was impossible for any girl to live decently--wages whose
+meagerness sent many a girl to her ruin.
+
+Miss Maggie listened attentively, and said, "Yes, yes, I see," several
+times. But in the end the eager-eyed young woman went away empty-handed
+and sad-eyed. And Mr. Smith frowned again.
+
+He had thought Miss Maggie was so kind-hearted! She gave to some
+fairs--why not to this one? As soon as possible Mr. Smith hunted up the
+eager-eyed young woman and gave her ten dollars. He would have given
+her more, but he had learned from unpleasant experience that large
+gifts from unpretentious Mr. John Smith brought comments and curiosity
+not always agreeable.
+
+It was not until many weeks later that Mr. Smith chanced to hear of the
+complete change of policy of Daly's department store. Hours were
+shortened, labor lightened, and wages raised. Incidentally he learned
+that it had all started from a crusade of women's clubs and church
+committees who had "got after old Daly" and threatened all sorts of
+publicity and unpleasantness if the wrongs were not righted at once. He
+learned also that the leader in the forefront of this movement had
+been--Maggie Duff.
+
+As it chanced, it was on that same day that a strange man accosted him
+on the street.
+
+"Say, she was all right, she was, old man. I been hopin' I'd see ye
+some day ter tell ye."
+
+"To tell me?" echoed Mr. Smith stupidly.
+
+The man grinned.
+
+"Ye don't know me, do ye? Well, I do look diff'rent, I'll own. Ye give
+me a dollar once, an' sent me to a lady down the street thar. Now do ye
+remember?"
+
+"Oh! OH! Are YOU that man?"
+
+"Sure I am! Well, she was all right. 'Member? I thought 'twas only
+chin-music she was givin' me. But let me tell ye. She hunted up the
+wife an' kids, an' what's more, she went an' faced my boss, an' she got
+me my job back, too. What do ye think of that, now?"
+
+"Why, I'm--I'm glad, of course!" Mr. Smith spoke as one in deep thought.
+
+And all the way home Mr. Smith walked--as one in deep thought.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+IN SEARCH OF REST
+
+
+June brought all the young people home again. It brought, also, a great
+deal of talk concerning plans for vacation. Bessie--Elizabeth--said
+they must all go away.
+
+From James Blaisdell this brought a sudden and vigorous remonstrance.
+
+"Nonsense, you've just got home!" he exclaimed. "Hillerton'll be a
+vacation to you all right. Besides, I want my family together again. I
+haven't seen a thing of my children for six months."
+
+Elizabeth gave a silvery laugh. (Elizabeth had learned to give very
+silvery laughs.) She shrugged her shoulders daintily and looked at her
+rings.
+
+"Hillerton? Ho! You wouldn't really doom us to Hillerton all summer,
+daddy."
+
+"What's the matter with Hillerton?"
+
+"What isn't the matter with Hillerton?" laughed the daughter again.
+
+"But I thought we--we would have lovely auto trips," stammered her
+mother apologetically. "Take them from here, you know, and stay
+overnight at hotels around. I've always wanted to do that; and we can
+now, dear."
+
+"Auto trips! Pooh!" shrugged Elizabeth. "Why, mumsey, we're going to
+the shore for July, and to the mountains for August. You and daddy and
+I. And Fred's going, too, only he'll be at the Gaylord camp in the
+Adirondacks, part of the time."
+
+"Is that true, Fred?" James Blaisdell's eyes, fixed on his son, were
+half wistful, half accusing.
+
+Fred stirred restlessly.
+
+"Well, I sort of had to, governor," he apologized. "Honest, I did.
+There are some things a man has to do! Gaylord asked me, and--Hang it
+all, I don't see why you have to look at me as if I were committing a
+crime, dad!"
+
+"You aren't, dear, you aren't," fluttered Fred's mother hurriedly; "and
+I'm sure it's lovely you've got the chance to go to the Gaylords' camp.
+And it's right, quite right, that we should travel this summer, as
+Bessie--er--Elizabeth suggests. I never thought; but, of course, you
+young people don't want to be hived up in Hillerton all summer!"
+
+"Bet your life we don't, mater," shrugged Fred, carefully avoiding his
+father's eyes, "after all that grind."
+
+"GRIND, Fred?"
+
+But Fred had turned away, and did not, apparently, hear his father's
+grieved question.
+
+Mr. Smith learned all about the vacation plans a day or two later from
+Benny.
+
+"Yep, we're all goin' away for all summer," he repeated, after he had
+told the destination of most of the family. "I don't think ma wants to,
+much, but she's goin' on account of Bess. Besides, she says everybody
+who is anybody always goes away on vacations, of course. So we've got
+to. They're goin' to the beach first, and I'm goin' to a boys' camp up
+in Vermont--Mellicent, she's goin' to a girls' camp. Did you know that?"
+
+Mr. Smith shook his head.
+
+"Well, she is," nodded Benny. "She tried to get Bess to go--Gussie
+Pennock's goin'. But Bess!--my you should see her nose go up in the
+air! She said she wa'n't goin' where she had to wear great coarse shoes
+an' horrid middy-blouses all day, an' build fires an' walk miles an'
+eat bugs an' grasshoppers."
+
+"Is Miss Mellicent going to do all that?" smiled Mr. Smith.
+
+"Bess says she is--I mean, ELIZABETH. Did you know? We have to call her
+that now, when we don't forget it. I forget it, mostly. Have you seen
+her since she came back?"
+
+"No."
+
+"She's swingin' an awful lot of style--Bess is. She makes dad dress up
+in his swallow-tail every night for dinner. An' she makes him and Fred
+an' me stand up the minute she comes into the room, no matter if
+there's forty other chairs in sight; an' we have to STAY standin' till
+she sits down--an' sometimes she stands up a-purpose, just to keep US
+standing. I know she does. She says a gentleman never sits when a lady
+is standin' up in his presence. An' she's lecturin' us all the time on
+the way to eat an' talk an' act. Why, we can't even walk natural any
+longer. An' she says the way Katy serves our meals is a disgrace to any
+civilized family."
+
+"How does Katy like that?"
+
+"Like it! She got mad an' gave notice on the spot. An' that made ma
+'most have hysterics--she did have one of her headaches--'cause good
+hired girls are awful scarce, she says. But Bess says, Pooh! we'll get
+some from the city next time that know their business, an' we're goin'
+away all summer, anyway, an' won't ma please call them 'maids,' as she
+ought to, an' not that plebeian 'hired girl.' Bess loves that word.
+Everything's 'plebeian' with Bess now. Oh we're havin' great times at
+our house since Bess--ELIZABETH--came!" grinned Benny, tossing his cap
+in the air, and dancing down the walk much as he had danced the first
+night Mr. Smith saw him a year before.
+
+The James Blaisdells were hardly off to shore and camp when Miss Flora
+started on her travels. Mr. Smith learned all about her plans, too, for
+she came down one day to talk them over with Miss Maggie.
+
+Miss Flora was looking very well in a soft gray and white summer silk.
+Her forehead had lost its lines of care, and her eyes were no longer
+peering for wrinkles. Miss Flora was actually almost pretty.
+
+"How nice you look!" exclaimed Miss Maggie.
+
+"Do I?" panted Miss Flora, as she fluttered up the steps and sank into
+one of the porch chairs.
+
+"Indeed, you do!" exclaimed Mr. Smith admiringly. Mr. Smith was putting
+up a trellis for Miss Maggie's new rosebush. He was working faithfully,
+but not with the skill of accustomedness.
+
+"I'm so glad you like it!" Miss Flora settled back into her chair and
+smoothed out the ruffles across her lap. "It isn't too gay, is it? You
+know the six months are more than up now."
+
+"Not a bit!" exclaimed Mr. Smith.
+
+"No, indeed!" cried Miss Maggie.
+
+"I hoped it wasn't," sighed Miss Flora happily. "Well, I'm all packed
+but my dresses."
+
+"Why, I thought you weren't going till Monday," said Miss Maggie.
+
+"Oh, I'm not."
+
+"But--it's only Friday now!"
+
+Miss Flora laughed shamefacedly.
+
+"Yes, I know. I suppose I am a little ahead of time. But you see, I
+ain't used to packing--not a big trunk, so--and I was so afraid I
+wouldn't get it done in time. I was going to put my dresses in; but
+Mis' Moore said they'd wrinkle awfully, if I did, and, of course, they
+would, when you come to think of it. So I shan't put those in till
+Sunday night. I'm so glad Mis' Moore's going. It'll be so nice to have
+somebody along that I know."
+
+"Yes, indeed," smiled Miss Maggie.
+
+"And she knows everything--all about tickets and checking the baggage,
+and all that. You know we're only going to be personally conducted to
+Niagara. After that we're going to New York and stay two weeks at some
+nice hotel. I want to see Grant's Tomb and the Aquarium, and Mis' Moore
+wants to go to Coney Island. She says she's always wanted to go to
+Coney Island just as I have to Niagara."
+
+"I'm glad you can take her," said Miss Maggie heartily.
+
+"Yes, and she's so pleased. You know, even if she has such a nice
+family, and all, she hasn't much money, and she's been awful nice to me
+lately. I used to think she didn't like me, too. But I must have been
+mistaken, of course. And 'twas so with Mis' Benson and Mis' Pennock,
+too. But now they've invited me there and have come to see me, and are
+SO interested in my trip and all. Why, I never knew I had so many
+friends, Maggie. Truly I didn't!"
+
+Miss Maggie said nothing, but, there was an odd expression on her face.
+Mr. Smith pounded a small nail home with an extra blow of his hammer.
+
+"And they're all so kind and interested about the money, too," went on
+Miss Flora, gently rocking to and fro. "Bert Benson sells stocks and
+invests money for folks, you know, and Mis' Benson said he'd got some
+splendid-payin' ones, and he'd let me have some, and--"
+
+"Flo, you DIDN'T take any of that Benson gold-mine stock!" interrupted
+Miss Maggie sharply.
+
+Mr. Smith's hammer stopped, suspended in mid-air.
+
+"No; oh, no! I asked Mr. Chalmers and he said better not. So I didn't."
+Miss Maggie relaxed in her chair, and Mr. Smith's hammer fell with a
+gentle tap on the nail-head. "But I felt real bad about it--when Mis'
+Benson had been so kind as to offer it, you know. It looked sort of--of
+ungrateful, so."
+
+"Ungrateful!" Miss Maggie's voice vibrated with indignant scorn.
+"Flora, you won't--you WON'T invest your money without asking Mr.
+Chalmers's advice first, will you?"
+
+"But I tell you I didn't," retorted Miss Flora, with unusual sharpness,
+for her. "But it was good stock, and it pays splendidly. Jane took
+some. She took a lot."
+
+"Jane!--but I thought Frank wouldn't let her."
+
+"Oh, Frank said all right, if she wanted to, she might. I suspect he
+got tired of her teasing, and it did pay splendidly. Why, 'twill pay
+twenty-five per cent, probably, this year, Mis' Benson says. So Frank
+give in. You see, he felt he'd got to pacify Jane some way, I s'pose,
+she's so cut up about his selling out."
+
+"Selling out!" exclaimed Miss Maggie.
+
+"Oh, didn't you know that? Well, then I HAVE got some news!" Miss Flora
+gave the satisfied little wriggle with which a born news-lover always
+prefaces her choicest bit of information. "Frank has sold his grocery
+stores--both of 'em."
+
+"Why, I can't believe it!" Miss Maggie fell back with a puzzled frown.
+
+"SOLD them! Why, I should as soon think of his--his selling himself,"
+cried Mr. Smith. "I thought they were inseparable."
+
+"Well, they ain't--because he's separated 'em." Miss Flora was rocking
+a little faster now.
+
+"But why?" demanded Miss Maggie.
+
+"He says he wants a rest. That he's worked hard all his life, and it's
+time he took some comfort. He says he doesn't take a minute of comfort
+now 'cause Jane's hounding him all the time to get more money, to get
+more money. She's crazy to see the interest mount up, you know--Jane
+is. But he says he don't want any more money. He wants to SPEND money
+for a while. And he's going to spend it. He's going to retire from
+business and enjoy himself."
+
+"Well," ejaculated Mr. Smith, "this is a piece of news, indeed!"
+
+"I should say it was," cried Miss Maggie, still almost incredulous.
+"How does Jane take it?"
+
+"Oh, she's turribly fussed up over it, as you'd know she would be. Such
+a good chance wasted, she thinks, when he might be making all that
+money earn more. You know Jane wants to turn everything into money now.
+Honestly, Maggie, I don't believe Jane can look at the moon nowadays
+without wishing it was really gold, and she had it to put out to
+interest!"
+
+"Oh, Flora!" remonstrated Miss Maggie faintly.
+
+"Well, it's so," maintained Miss Flora, "So 't ain't any wonder, of
+course, that she's upset over this. That's why Frank give in to her, I
+think, and let her buy that Benson stock. Besides, he's feeling
+especially flush, because he's got the cash the stores brought, too. So
+he told her to go ahead."
+
+"I'm sorry about that stock," frowned Miss Maggie.
+
+"Oh, it's perfectly safe. Mis' Benson said 'twas," comforted Miss
+Flora. "You needn't worry about that. And 'twill pay splendid." "When
+did this happen--the sale of the store, I mean?" asked Mr. Smith. Mr.
+Smith was not even pretending to work now.
+
+"Yesterday--the finish of it. I'm waiting to see Hattie. She'll be
+tickled to death. She's ALWAYS hated it that Frank had a grocery store,
+you know; and since the money's come, and she's been going with the
+Gaylords and the Pennocks, and all that crowd, she's felt worse than
+ever. She was saying to me only last week how ashamed she was to think
+that her friends might see her own brother-in-law any day wearing
+horrid white coat, and selling molasses over the counter. My, but
+Hattie'll be tickled all right--or 'Harriet,' I suppose I should say,
+but I never can remember it.
+
+"But what is Frank going to--to do with himself?" demanded Miss Maggie.
+"Why, Flora, he'll be lost without that grocery store!"
+
+"Oh, he's going to travel, first. He says he always wanted to, and he's
+got a chance now, and he's going to. They're going to the Yellowstone
+Park and the Garden of the Gods and to California. And that's another
+thing that worries Jane--spending all that money for them just to ride
+in the cars."
+
+"Is she going, too?" queried Mr. Smith.
+
+"Oh, yes, she's going, too. She says she's got to go to keep Frank from
+spending every cent he's got," laughed Miss Flora. "I was over there
+last night, and they told me all about it."
+
+"When do they go?"
+
+"Just as soon as they can get ready. Frank's got to help Donovan, the
+man that's bought the store, a week till he gets the run of things, he
+says. Then he's going. You wait till you see him." Miss Flora got to
+her feet, and smoothed out the folds of her skirt. "He's as tickled as
+a boy with a new jack-knife. And I'm glad. Frank has been a turrible
+hard worker all his life. I'm glad he's going to take some comfort,
+same as I am."
+
+When Miss Flora had gone, Miss Maggie turned to Mr. Smith with eyes
+that still carried dazed unbelief.
+
+"DID Flora say that Frank Blaisdell had sold his grocery stores?"
+
+"She certainly did! You seem surprised."
+
+"I'm more than surprised. I'm dumfounded."
+
+"Why? You don't think, like Mrs. Jane, that he ought not to enjoy his
+money, certainly?"
+
+"Oh, no. He's got money enough to retire, if he wants to, and he's
+certainly worked hard enough to earn a rest."
+
+"Then what is it?"
+
+Miss Maggie laughed a little.
+
+"I'm not sure I can explain. But, to me, it's--just this: while he's
+got plenty to retire UPON, he hasn't got anything to--to retire TO."
+
+"And, pray, what do you mean by that?"
+
+"Why, Mr. Smith, I've known that man from the time he was trading
+jack-knives and marbles and selling paper boxes for five pins. I
+remember the whipping he got, too, for filching sugar and coffee and
+beans from the pantry and opening a grocery store in our barn. From
+that time to this, that boy has always been trading SOMETHING. He's
+been absolutely uninterested in anything else. I don't believe he's
+read a book or a magazine since his school days, unless it had
+something to do with business or groceries. He hasn't a sign of a
+fad--music, photography, collecting things--nothing. And he hates
+society. Jane has to fairly drag him out anywhere. Now, what I want to
+know is, what is the man going to do?"
+
+"Oh, he'll find something," laughed Mr. Smith. "He's going to travel,
+first, anyhow."
+
+"Yes, he's going to travel, first. And then--we'll see," smiled Miss
+Maggie enigmatically, as Mr. Smith picked up his hammer again.
+
+By the middle of July the Blaisdells were all gone from Hillerton and there
+remained only their letters for Miss Maggie--and for Mr. Smith. Miss
+Maggie was very generous with her letters. Perceiving Mr. Smith's
+genuine interest, she read him extracts from almost every one that
+came. And the letters were always interesting--and usually
+characteristic.
+
+Benny wrote of swimming and tennis matches, and of "hikes" and the
+"bully eats." Hattie wrote of balls and gowns and the attention "dear
+Elizabeth" was receiving from some really very nice families who were
+said to be fabulously rich. Neither James nor Bessie wrote at all.
+Fred, too, remained unheard from.
+
+Mellicent wrote frequently--gay, breezy letters full to the brim of the
+joy of living. She wrote of tennis, swimming, camp-fire stories, and
+mountain trails: they were like Benny's letters in petticoats, Miss
+Maggie said.
+
+Long and frequent epistles came from Miss Flora. Miss Flora was having
+a beautiful time. Niagara was perfectly lovely--only what a terrible
+noise it made! She was glad she did not have to stay and hear it
+always. She liked New York, only that was noisy, too, though Mrs. Moore
+did not seem to mind it. Mrs. Moore liked Coney Island, too, but Miss
+Flora much preferred Grant's Tomb, she said. It was so much more quiet
+and ladylike. She thought some things at Coney Island were really not
+nice at all, and she was surprised that Mrs. Moore should enjoy them so
+much.
+
+Between the lines it could be seen that in spite of all the good times,
+Miss Flora was becoming just the least bit homesick. She wrote Miss
+Maggie that it did seem queer to go everywhere, and not see a soul to
+bow to. It gave her such a lonesome feeling--such a lot of faces, and
+not one familiar one! She had tried to make the acquaintance of several
+people--real nice people; she knew they were by the way they looked.
+But they wouldn't say hardly anything to her, nor answer her questions;
+and they always got up and moved away very soon.
+
+To be sure, there was one nice young man. He was lovely to them, Miss
+Flora said. He spoke to them first, too. It was when they were down to
+Coney Island. He helped them through the crowds, and told them about
+lots of nice things they didn't want to miss seeing. He walked with
+them, too, quite awhile, showing them the sights. He was very kind--he
+seemed so especially kind, after all those other cold-hearted people,
+who didn't care! That was the day she and Mrs. Moore both lost their
+pocketbooks, and had such an awful time getting back to New York. It
+was right after they had said good-bye to the nice young gentleman that
+they discovered that they had lost them. They were so sorry that they
+hadn't found it out before, Miss Flora said, for he would have helped
+them, she was sure. But though they looked everywhere for him, they
+could not find him at all, and they had to appeal to strangers, who
+took them right up to a policeman the first thing, which was very
+embarrassing, Miss Flora said. Why, she and Mrs. Moore felt as if they
+had been arrested, almost! Miss Maggie pursed her lips a little, when
+she read this letter to Mr. Smith, but she made no comment.
+
+From Jane, also, came several letters, and from Frank Blaisdell one
+short scrawl.
+
+Frank said he was having a bully time, but that he'd seen some of the
+most shiftless-looking grocery stores that he ever set eyes on. He
+asked if Maggie knew how trade was at his old store, and if Donovan was
+keeping it up to the mark. He said that Jane was well, only she was
+getting pretty tired because she WOULD try to see everything at once,
+for fear she'd lose something, and not get her money's worth, for all
+the world just as she used to eat things to save them.
+
+Jane wrote that she was having a very nice time, of course,--she
+couldn't help it, with all those lovely things to see; but she said she
+never dreamed that just potatoes, meat, and vegetables could cost so
+much anywhere as they did in hotels, and as for the prices those
+dining-cars charged--it was robbery--sheer robbery! And why an
+able-bodied man should be given ten cents every time he handed you your
+own hat, she couldn't understand.
+
+At Hillerton, Mr. Smith passed a very quiet summer, but a very
+contented one. He kept enough work ahead to amuse him, but never enough
+to drive him. He took frequent day-trips to the surrounding towns, and
+when possible he persuaded Miss Maggie to go with him. Miss Maggie was
+wonderfully good company. As the summer advanced, however, he did not
+see so much of her as he wanted to, for Father Duff's increasing
+infirmities made more and more demands on her time.
+
+The Martin girls were still there. Annabelle was learning the
+milliner's trade, and Florence had taken a clerkship for afternoons
+during the summer. They still helped about the work, and relieved Miss
+Maggie whenever possible. They were sensible, jolly girls, and Mr.
+Smith liked them very much.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+THE FLY IN THE OINTMENT
+
+
+In August Father Duff died. Miss Flora came home at once. James
+Blaisdell was already in town. Hattie was at the mountains. She wrote
+that she could not think of coming down for the funeral, but she
+ordered an expensive wreath. Frank and Jane were in the Far West, and
+could not possibly have arrived in time, anyway. None of the young
+people came.
+
+Mr. Smith helped in every way that he could help, and Miss Maggie told
+him that he was a great comfort, and that she did not know what she
+would have done without him. Miss Flora and Mr. James Blaisdell helped,
+too, in every way possible, and at last the first hard sad days were
+over, and the household had settled back into something like normal
+conditions again.
+
+Miss Maggie had more time now, and she went often to drive or for motor
+rides with Mr. Smith. Together they explored cemeteries for miles
+around; and although Miss Maggie worried sometimes because they found
+so little Blaisdell data, Mr. Smith did not seem to mind it at all.
+
+In September Miss Flora moved into an attractive house on the West
+Side, bought some new furniture, and installed a maid in the
+kitchen--all under Miss Maggie's kindly supervision. In September, too,
+Frank and Jane Blaisdell came home, and the young people began to
+prepare for the coming school year.
+
+Mr. Smith met Mrs. Hattie one day, coming out of Miss Maggie's gate.
+She smiled and greeted him cordially, but she looked so palpably upset
+over something that he exclaimed to Miss Maggie, as soon he entered the
+house: "What was it? IS anything the matter with Mrs. James Blaisdell?"
+
+Miss Maggie smiled--but she frowned, too.
+
+"No, oh, no--except that Hattie has discovered that a hundred thousand
+dollars isn't a million."
+
+"What do you mean by that?"
+
+"Oh, where she's been this summer she's measured up, of course, with
+people a great deal richer than she. And she doesn't like it. Here in
+Hillerton her hundred--and two-hundred-dollar dresses looked very grand
+to her, but she's discovered that there are women who pay five hundred
+and a thousand, and even more. She feels very cheap and
+poverty-stricken now, therefore, in her two-hundred-dollar gowns. Poor
+Hattie! If she only would stop trying to live like somebody else!"
+
+"But I thought--I thought this money was making them happy," stammered
+Mr. Smith.
+
+"It was--until she realized that somebody else had more," sighed Miss
+Maggie, with a shake of her head.
+
+"Oh, well, she'll get over that."
+
+"Perhaps."
+
+"At any rate, it's brought her husband some comfort."
+
+"Y-yes, it has; but--"
+
+"What do you mean by that?" he demanded, when she did not finish her
+sentence.
+
+"I was wondering--if it would bring him any more."
+
+"They haven't lost it?"
+
+"Oh, no, but they've spent a lot--and Hattie is beginning again her old
+talk that she MUST have more money in order to live 'even decent.' It
+sounds very familiar to me, and to Jim, I suspect, poor fellow. I saw
+him the other night, and from what he said, and what she says, I can
+see pretty well how things are going. She's trying to get some of her
+rich friends to give Jim a better position, where he'll earn more. She
+doesn't understand, either, why Jim can't go into the stock market and
+make millions, as some men do. I'm afraid she isn't always--patient.
+She says there are Fred and Elizabeth and Benjamin to educate, and that
+she's just got to have more money to tide them over till the rest of
+the legacy comes."
+
+"The rest of the legacy!" exploded Mr. Smith. "Good Heavens, does that
+woman think that--" Mr. Smith stopped with the air of one pulling
+himself back from an abyss.
+
+Miss Maggie laughed.
+
+"I don't wonder you exclaim. It is funny--the way she takes that for
+granted, isn't it? Still, there are grounds for it, of course."
+
+"Oh, are there? Do YOU think--she'll get more, then?" demanded Mr.
+Smith, almost savagely.
+
+Miss Maggie laughed again.
+
+"I don't know what to think. To my mind the whole thing was rather
+extraordinary, anyway, that he should have given them anything--utter
+strangers as they were. Still, as Hattie says, as long as he HAS
+recognized their existence, why, he may again of course. Still, on the
+other hand, he may have very reasonably argued that, having willed them
+a hundred thousand apiece, that was quite enough, and he'd give the
+rest somewhere else."
+
+"Humph! Maybe," grunted Mr. Smith.
+
+"And he may come back alive from South America"
+
+"He may."
+
+"But Hattie isn't counting on either of these contingencies, and she is
+counting on the money," sighed Miss Maggie, sobering again. "And
+Jim,--poor Jim!--I'm afraid he's going to find it just as hard to keep
+caught up now--as he used to."
+
+"Humph!" Mr. Smith frowned. He did not speak again. He stood looking
+out of the window, apparently in deep thought.
+
+Miss Maggie, with another sigh, turned and went out into the kitchen.
+
+The next day, on the street, Mr. Smith met Mellicent Blaisdell. She was
+with a tall, manly-looking, square-jawed young fellow whom Mr. Smith
+had never seen before. Mellicent smiled and blushed adorably. Then, to
+his surprise, she stopped him with a gesture.
+
+"Mr. Smith, I know it's on the street, but I--I want Mr. Gray to meet
+you, and I want you to meet Mr. Gray. Mr. Smith is--is a very good
+friend of mine, Donald."
+
+Mr. Smith greeted Donald Gray with a warm handshake and a keen glance
+into his face. The blush, the hesitation, the shy happiness in
+Mellicent's eyes had been unmistakable. Mr. Smith felt suddenly that
+Donald Gray was a man he very much wanted to know--a good deal about.
+He chatted affably for a minute. Then he went home and straight to Miss
+Maggie.
+
+"Who's Donald Gray, please?" he demanded.
+
+Miss Maggie laughed and threw up her hands.
+
+"Oh, these children!"
+
+"But who is he?"
+
+"Well, to begin with, he's devoted to Mellicent."
+
+"You don't have to tell me that. I've seen him--and Mellicent."
+
+"Oh!" Miss Maggie smiled appreciatively.
+
+"What I want to know is, who is he?"
+
+"He's a young man whom Mellicent met this summer. He plays the violin,
+and Mellicent played his accompaniments in a church entertainment.
+That's where she met him first. He's the son of a minister near their
+camp, where the girls went to church. He's a fine fellow, I guess. He's
+hard hit--that's sure. He came to Hillerton at once, and has gone to
+work in Hammond's real estate office. So you see he's in earnest."
+
+"I should say he was! I liked his appearance very much."
+
+"Yes, I did--but her mother doesn't."
+
+"What do you mean? She--objects?"
+
+"Decidedly! She says he's worse than Carl Pennock--that he hasn't got
+any money, not ANY money."
+
+"Money!" ejaculated Mr. Smith, in genuine amazement. "You don't mean
+that she's really letting money stand in the way if Mellicent cares for
+him? Why, it was only a year ago that she herself was bitterly
+censuring Mrs. Pennock for doing exactly the same thing in the case of
+young Pennock and Mellicent."
+
+"I know," nodded Miss Maggie. "But--she seems to have forgotten that."
+
+"Shoe's on the other foot this time."
+
+"It seems to be."
+
+"Hm-m!" muttered Mr. Smith.
+
+"I don't think Jane has done much yet, by way of opposition. You see
+they've only reached home, and she's just found out about it. But she
+told me she shouldn't let it go on, not for a moment. She has other
+plans for Mellicent."
+
+"Shall I be--meddling in what isn't my business, if I ask what they
+are?" queried Mr. Smith diffidently. "You know I am very much
+interested in--Miss Mellicent."
+
+"Not a bit. I'm glad to have you. Perhaps you can suggest--a way out
+for us," sighed Miss Maggie. "The case is just this: Jane wants
+Mellicent to marry Hibbard Gaylord."
+
+"Shucks! I've seen young Gray only once, but I'd give more for his
+little finger than I would for a cartload of Gaylords!" flung out Mr.
+Smith.
+
+"So would I," approved Miss Maggie. "But Jane--well, Jane feels
+otherwise. To begin with, she's very much flattered at Gaylord's
+attentions to Mellicent--the more so because he's left Bessie--I beg
+her pardon, 'Elizabeth'--for her."
+
+"Then Miss Elizabeth is in it, too?"
+
+"Very much in it. That's one of the reasons why Hattie is so anxious
+for more money. She wants clothes and jewels for Bessie so she can keep
+pace with the Gaylords. You see there's a wheel within a wheel here."
+
+"I should say there was!"
+
+"As near as I can judge, young Gaylord is Bessie's devoted slave--until
+Mellicent arrives; then he has eyes only for HER, which piques Bessie
+and her mother not a little. They were together more or less all summer
+and I think Hattie thought the match was as good as made. Now, once in
+Hillerton, back he flies to Mellicent."
+
+"And--Mellicent?"
+
+Miss Maggie's eyes became gravely troubled.
+
+"I don't understand Mellicent. I think--no, I KNOW she cares for young
+Gray; but--well, I might as well admit it, she is ready any time to
+flirt outrageously with Hibbard Gaylord, or--or with anybody else, for
+that matter. I saw her flirting with you at the party last Christmas!"
+Miss Maggie's face showed a sudden pink blush.
+
+Mr. Smith gave a hearty laugh.
+
+"Don't you worry, Miss Maggie. If she'll flirt with young Gaylord AND
+OTHERS, it's all right. There's safety in numbers, you know."
+
+"But I don't like to have her flirt at all, Mr. Smith."
+
+"It isn't flirting. It's just her bottled-up childhood and youth
+bubbling over. She can't help bubbling, she's been repressed so long.
+She'll come out all right, and she won't come out hand in hand with
+Hibbard Gaylord. You see if she does."
+
+Miss Maggie shook her head and sighed.
+
+"You don't know Jane. Jane will never give up. She'll be quiet, but
+she'll be firm. With one hand she'll keep Gray away, and with the other
+she'll push Gaylord forward. Even Mellicent herself won't know how it's
+done. But it'll be done, and I tremble for the consequences."
+
+"Hm-m!" Mr. Smith's eyes had lost their twinkle now. To himself he
+muttered: "I wonder if maybe--I hadn't better take a hand in this thing
+myself."
+
+"You said--I didn't understand what you said," murmured Miss Maggie
+doubtfully.
+
+"Nothing--nothing, Miss Maggie," replied the man. Then, with
+business-like alertness, he lifted his chin. "How long do you say this
+has been going on?"
+
+"Why, especially since they all came home two weeks ago. Jane knew
+nothing of Donald Gray till then."
+
+"Where does Carl Pennock come in?"
+
+Miss Maggie gave a gesture of despair.
+
+"Oh, he comes in anywhere that he can find a chance; though, to do her
+justice, Mellicent doesn't give him--many chances."
+
+"What does her father say to all this? How does he like young Gray?"
+
+Miss Maggie gave another gesture of despair.
+
+"He says nothing--or, rather, he laughs, and says: 'Oh, well, it will
+come out all right in time. Young folks will be young folks!'"
+
+"But does he like Gray? He knows him, of course."
+
+"Oh, yes, he likes him. He's taken him to ride in his car once, to my
+knowledge."
+
+"His car! Then Mr. Frank Blaisdell has--a car?"
+
+"Oh, yes, he's just been learning to run it. Jane says he's crazy over
+it, and that he's teasing her to go all the time. She says he wants to
+be on the move somewhere every minute. He's taken up golf, too. Did you
+know that?"
+
+"Well, no, I--didn't."
+
+"Oh yes, he's joined the Hillerton Country Club, and he goes up to the
+links every morning for practice."
+
+"I can't imagine it--Frank Blaisdell spending his mornings playing
+golf!"
+
+"You forget," smiled Miss Maggie. "Frank Blaisdell is a retired
+business man. He has begun to take some pleasure in life now."
+
+"Humph!" muttered Mr. Smith, as he turned to go into his own room.
+
+Mr. Smith called on the Frank Blaisdells that evening. Mr. Blaisdell
+took him out to the garage (very lately a barn), and showed him the
+shining new car. He also showed him his lavish supply of golf clubs,
+and told him what a "bully time" he was having these days. He told him,
+too, all about his Western trip, and said there was nothing like travel
+to broaden a man's outlook. He said a great deal about how glad he was
+to get out of the old grind behind the counter--but in the next breath
+he asked Mr. Smith if he had ever seen a store run down as his had done
+since he left it. Donovan didn't know any more than a cat how such a
+store should be run, he said.
+
+When they came back from the garage they found callers in the
+living-room. Carl Pennock and Hibbard Gaylord were chatting with
+Mellicent. Almost at once the doorbell rang, too, and Donald Gray came
+in with his violin and a roll of music. Mellicent's mother came in
+also. She greeted all the young men pleasantly, and asked Carl Pennock
+to tell Mr. Smith all about his fishing trip. Then she sat down by
+young Gray and asked him many questions about his music. She was SO
+interested in violins, she said.
+
+Gray waxed eloquent, and seemed wonderfully pleased--for about five
+minutes; then Mr. Smith saw that his glance was shifting more and more
+frequently and more and more unhappily to Mellicent and Hibbard
+Gaylord, talking tennis across the room.
+
+Mr. Smith apparently lost interest in young Pennock's fish story then.
+At all events, another minute found him eagerly echoing Mrs.
+Blaisdell's interest in violins--but with this difference: violins in
+the abstract with her became A violin in the concrete with him; and he
+must hear it at once.
+
+Mrs. Jane herself could not have told exactly how it was done, but she
+knew that two minutes later young Gray and Mellicent were at the piano,
+he, shining-eyed and happy, drawing a tentative bow across the strings:
+she, no less shining-eyed and happy, giving him "A" on the piano.
+
+Mr. Smith enjoyed the music very much--so much that he begged for
+another selection and yet another. Mr. Smith did not appear to realize
+that Messrs. Pennock and Gaylord were passing through sham interest and
+frank boredom to disgusted silence. Equally oblivious was he of Mrs.
+Jane's efforts to substitute some other form of entertainment for the
+violin-playing. He shook hands very heartily, however, with Pennock and
+Gaylord when they took their somewhat haughty departure, a little
+later, and, strange to say, his interest in the music seemed to go with
+their going; for at once then he turned to Mr. and Mrs. Frank Blaisdell
+with a very animated account of some Blaisdell data he had found only
+the week before.
+
+He did not appear to notice that the music of the piano had become
+nothing but soft fitful snatches with a great deal of low talk and
+laughter between. He seemed interested only that Mr. Blaisdell, and
+especially Mrs. Blaisdell, should know the intimate history of one
+Ephraim Blaisdell, born in 1720, and his ten children and forty-nine
+grandchildren. He talked of various investments then, and of the
+weather. He talked of the Blaisdells' trip, and of the cost of railroad
+fares and hotel life. He talked--indeed, Mrs. Jane told her husband
+after he left that Mr. Smith had talked of everything under the sun,
+and that she nearly had a fit because she could not get one minute to
+herself to break in upon Mellicent and that horrid Gray fellow at the
+piano. She had not supposed Mr. Smith could talk like that. She had
+never remembered he was such a talker!
+
+The young people had a tennis match on the school tennis court the next
+day. Mr. Smith told Miss Maggie that he thought he would drop around
+there. He said he liked very much to watch tennis games.
+
+Miss Maggie said yes, that she liked to watch tennis games, too. If
+this was just a wee bit of a hint, it quite failed of its purpose, for
+Mr. Smith did not offer to take her with him. He changed the subject,
+indeed, so abruptly, that Miss Maggie bit her lip and flushed a little,
+throwing a swift glance into his apparently serene countenance.
+
+Miss Maggie herself, in the afternoon, with an errand for an excuse,
+walked slowly by the tennis court. She saw Mr. Smith at once--but he
+did not seem at all interested in the playing. He had his back to the
+court, in fact. He was talking very animatedly with Mellicent
+Blaisdell. He was still talking with her--though on the opposite side
+of the court--when Miss Maggie went by again on her way home.
+
+Miss Maggie frowned and said something just under her breath about
+"that child--flirting as usual!" Then she went on, walking very fast,
+and without another glance toward the tennis ground. But a little
+farther on Miss Maggie's step lagged perceptibly, and her head lost its
+proud poise. Miss Maggie, for a reason she could not have explained
+herself, was feeling suddenly old, and weary, and very much alone.
+
+To the image in the mirror as she took off her hat a few minutes later
+in her own hall, she said scornfully:
+
+"Well, why shouldn't you feel old? You are old. YOU ARE OLD!" Miss
+Maggie had a habit of talking to herself in the mirror--but never
+before had she said anything like this to herself.
+
+An hour later Mr. Smith came home to supper.
+
+"Well, how did the game go?" queried Miss Maggie, without looking up
+from the stocking she was mending.
+
+"Game? Go? Oh! Why, I don't remember who did win finally," he answered.
+Nor did it apparently occur to him that for one who was so greatly
+interested in tennis, he was curiously uninformed.
+
+It did occur to Miss Maggie, however.
+
+The next day Mr. Smith left the house soon after breakfast, and,
+contrary to his usual custom, did not mention where he was going. Miss
+Maggie was surprised and displeased. More especially was she displeased
+because she WAS displeased. As if it mattered to her where he went, she
+told herself scornfully.
+
+The next day and the next it was much the same. On the third day she
+saw Jane.
+
+"Where's Mr. Smith?" demanded Jane, without preamble, glancing at the
+vacant chair by the table in the corner.
+
+Miss Maggie, to her disgust, could feel the color burning in her
+cheeks; but she managed to smile as if amused.
+
+"I don't know, I'm sure. I'm not Mr. Smith's keeper, Jane."
+
+"Well, if you were I should ask you to keep him away from Mellicent,"
+retorted Mrs. Jane tartly.
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"I mean he's been hanging around Mellicent almost every day for a week."
+
+Miss Maggie flushed painfully.
+
+"Nonsense, Jane! He's more than twice her age. Mr. Smith is fifty if
+he's a day."
+
+"I'm not saying he isn't," sniffed Jane, her nose uptilted. "But I do
+say, 'No fool like an old fool'!"
+
+"Nonsense!" scorned Miss Maggie again. "Mr. Smith has always been fond
+of Mellicent, and--and interested in her. But I don't believe he cares
+for her--that way."
+
+"Then why does he come to see her and take her auto-riding, and hang
+around her every minute he gets a chance?" snapped Jane. "I know how he
+acts at the house, and I hear he scarcely left her side at the tennis
+match the other day."
+
+"Yes, I--" Miss Maggie did not finish her sentence. A slow change came
+to her countenance. The flush receded, leaving her face a bit white.
+
+"I wonder if the man really thinks he stands any chance," spluttered
+Jane, ignoring Miss Maggie's unfinished sentence. "Why, he's worse than
+that Donald Gray. He not only hasn't got the money, but he's old, as
+well."
+
+"Yes, we're all--getting old, Jane." Miss Maggie tossed the words off
+lightly, and smiled as she uttered them. But after Mrs. Jane had gone,
+she went to the little mirror above the mantel and gazed at herself
+long and fixedly.
+
+"Well, what if he does? It's nothing to you, Maggie Duff!" she muttered
+under her breath. Then resolutely she turned away, picked up her work,
+and fell to sewing very fast.
+
+Two days later Mellicent went back to school. Bessie went, too. Fred
+and Benny had already gone. To Miss Maggie things seemed to settle back
+into their old ways again then. With Mr. Smith she took drives and
+motor-rides, enjoying the crisp October air and the dancing sunlight on
+the reds and browns and yellows of the autumnal foliage. True, she used
+to wonder sometimes if the end always justified the means--it seemed an
+expensive business to hire an automobile to take them fifty miles and
+back, and all to verify a single date. And she could not help noticing
+that Mr. Smith appeared to have many dates that needed verifying--dates
+that were located in very diverse parts of the surrounding country.
+Miss Maggie also could not help noticing that Mr. Smith was getting
+very little new material for his Blaisdell book these days, though he
+still worked industriously over the old, retabulating, and recopying.
+She knew this, because she helped him do it--though she was careful to
+let him know that she recognized the names and dates as old
+acquaintances.
+
+To tell the truth, Miss Maggie did not like to admit, even to herself,
+that Mr. Smith must be nearing the end of his task. She did not like to
+think of the house--after Mr. Smith should have gone. She told herself
+that he was just the sort of homey boarder that she liked, and she
+wished she might keep him indefinitely.
+
+She thought so all the more when the long evenings of November brought
+a new pleasure; Mr. Smith fell into the way of bringing home books to
+read aloud; and she enjoyed that very much. They had long talks, too,
+over the books they read. In one there was an old man who fell in love
+with a young girl, and married her. Miss Maggie, as certain parts of
+this story were read, held her breath, and stole furtive glances into
+Mr. Smith's face. When it was finished she contrived to question with
+careful casualness, as to his opinion of such a marriage.
+
+Mr. Smith's answer was prompt and unequivocal. He said he did not
+believe that such a marriage should take place, nor did he believe that
+in real life, it would result in happiness. Marriage should be between
+persons of similar age, tastes, and habits, he said very decidedly. And
+Miss Maggie blushed and said yes, yes, indeed! And that night, when
+Miss Maggie gazed at herself in the glass, she looked so happy--that
+she appeared to be almost as young as Mellicent herself!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+AN AMBASSADOR OF CUPID'S
+
+
+Christmas again brought all the young people home for the holidays. It
+brought, also, a Christmas party at James Blaisdell's home. It was a
+very different party, however, from the housewarming of a year before.
+
+To begin with, the attendance was much smaller; Mrs. Hattie had been
+very exclusive in her invitations this time. She had not invited
+"everybody who ever went anywhere." There were champagne, and
+cigarettes for the ladies, too.
+
+As before, Mr. Smith and Miss Maggie went together. Miss Maggie, who
+had not attended any social gathering since Father Duff died, yielded
+to Mr. Smith's urgings and said that she would go to this. But Miss
+Maggie wished afterward that she had not gone--there were so many, many
+features about that party that Miss Maggie did not like.
+
+She did not like the champagne nor the cigarettes. She did not like
+Bessie's showy, low-cut dress, nor her supercilious airs. She did not
+like the look in Fred's eyes, nor the way he drank the champagne. She
+did not like Jane's maneuvers to bring Mellicent and Hibbard Gaylord
+into each other's company--nor the way Mr. Smith maneuvered to get
+Mellicent for himself.
+
+Of all these, except the very last, Miss Maggie talked with Mr. Smith
+on the way home--yet it was the very last that was uppermost in her
+mind, except perhaps, Fred. She did speak of Fred; but because that,
+too, was so much to her, she waited until the last before she spoke of
+it.
+
+"You saw Fred, of course," she began then.
+
+"Yes." Short as the word was, it carried a volume of meaning to Miss
+Maggie's fearful ears. She turned to him quickly.
+
+"Mr. Smith, it--it isn't true, is it?"
+
+"I'm afraid it is."
+
+"You saw him--drinking, then?"
+
+"Yes. I saw some, and I heard--more. It's just as I feared. He's got in
+with Gaylord and the rest of his set at college, and they're a bad
+lot--drinking, gambling--no good."
+
+"But Fred wouldn't--gamble, Mr. Smith! Oh, Fred wouldn't do that. And
+he's so ambitious to get ahead! Surely he'd know he couldn't get
+anywhere in his studies, if--if he drank and gambled!"
+
+"It would seem so."
+
+"Did you see his father? I saw him only a minute at the first, and he
+didn't look well a bit, to me."
+
+"Yes, I saw him. I found him in his den just as I did last year. He
+didn't look well to me, either."
+
+"Did he say anything about--Fred?"
+
+"Not a word--and that's what worries me the most. Last year he talked a
+lot about him, and was so proud and happy in his coming success. This
+time he never mentioned him; but he looked--bad."
+
+"What did he talk about?"
+
+"Oh, books, business:--nothing in particular. And he wasn't interested
+in what he did say. He was very different from last year."
+
+"Yes, I know. He is different," sighed Maggie. "He's talked with me
+quite a lot about--about the way they're living. He doesn't like--so
+much fuss and show and society."
+
+Mr. Smith frowned.
+
+"But I thought--Mrs. Hattie would get over all that by this time, after
+the newness of the money was worn off."
+
+"I hoped she would. But--she doesn't. It's worse, if anything," sighed
+Miss Maggie, as they ascended the steps at her own door.
+
+Mr. Smith frowned again.
+
+"And Miss Bessie--" he began disapprovingly, then stopped. "Now, Miss
+Mellicent--" he resumed, in a very different voice.
+
+But Miss Maggie was not apparently listening. With a rather loud
+rattling of the doorknob she was pushing open the door.
+
+"Why, how hot it is! Did I leave that damper open?" she cried, hurrying
+into the living-room.
+
+And Mr. Smith, hurrying after, evidently forgot to finish his sentence.
+
+Miss Maggie did not attend any more of the merrymakings of that holiday
+week. But Mr. Smith did. It seemed to Miss Maggie, indeed, that Mr.
+Smith was away nearly every minute of that long week--and it WAS a long
+week to Miss Maggie. Even the Martin girls were away many of the
+evenings. Miss Maggie told herself that that was why the house seemed
+so lonesome.
+
+But though Miss Maggie did not participate in the gay doings, she heard
+of them. She heard of them on all sides, except from Mr. Smith--and on
+all sides she heard of the devotion of Mr. Smith to Miss Mellicent. She
+concluded that this was the reason why Mr. Smith himself was so silent.
+
+Miss Maggie was shocked and distressed. She was also very much puzzled.
+She had supposed that Mr. Smith understood that Mellicent and young
+Gray cared for each other, and she had thought that Mr. Smith even
+approved of the affair between them. Now to push himself on the scene
+in this absurd fashion and try "to cut everybody out," as it was
+vulgarly termed--she never would have believed it of Mr. Smith in the
+world. And she was disappointed, too. She liked Mr. Smith very much.
+She had considered him to be a man of good sense and good judgment. And
+had he not himself said, not so long ago, that he believed lovers
+should be of the same age, tastes, and habits? And yet, here now he
+was--
+
+And there could be no mistake about it. Everybody was saying the same
+thing. The Martin girls brought it home as current gossip. Jane was
+highly exercised over it, and even Harriet had exclaimed over the
+"shameful flirtation Mellicent was carrying on with that man old enough
+to be her father!" No, there was no mistake. Besides, did she not see
+with her own eyes that Mr. Smith was gone every day and evening, and
+that, when he was at home at meal-time, he was silent and preoccupied,
+and not like himself at all?
+
+And it was such a pity--she had thought so much of Mr. Smith! It really
+made her feel quite ill.
+
+And Miss Maggie looked ill on the last evening of that holiday week
+when, at nine o'clock, Mr. Smith found her sitting idle-handed before
+the stove in the living-room.
+
+"Why, Miss Maggie, what's the matter with you?" cried the man, in very
+evident concern. "You don't look like yourself to-night!"
+
+Miss Maggie pulled herself up hastily.
+
+"Nonsense! I--I'm perfectly well. I'm just--tired, I guess. You're home
+early, Mr. Smith." In spite of herself Miss Maggie's voice carried a
+tinge of something not quite pleasant.
+
+Mr. Smith, however, did not appear to notice it.
+
+"Yes, I'm home early for once, thank Heaven!" he half groaned, as he
+dropped himself into a chair.
+
+"It has been a strenuous week for you, hasn't it?" Again the tinge of
+something not quite pleasant in Miss Maggie's voice.
+
+"Yes, but it's been worth it."
+
+"Of course!"
+
+Mr. Smith turned deliberately and looked at Miss Maggie. There was a
+vague questioning in his eyes. Obtaining, apparently, however, no
+satisfactory answer from Miss Maggie's placid countenance, he turned
+away and began speaking again.
+
+"Well, anyway, I've accomplished what I set out to do."
+
+"You-you've ALREADY accomplished it?" faltered Miss Maggie. She was
+gazing at him now with startled, half-frightened eyes.
+
+"Yes. Why, Miss Maggie, what's the matter? What makes you look so--so
+queer?"
+
+"Queer? Nonsense! Why, nothing--nothing at all," laughed Miss Maggie
+nervously, but very gayly. "I may have been a little--surprised, for a
+moment; but I'm very glad--very."
+
+"Glad?"
+
+"Why, yes, for--for you. Isn't one always glad when--when a love affair
+is--is all settled?"
+
+"Oh, then you suspected it." Mr. Smith smiled pleasantly, but without
+embarrassment. "It doesn't matter, of course, only--well, I had hoped
+it wasn't too conspicuous."
+
+"Oh, but you couldn't expect to hide a thing like that, Mr. Smith,"
+retorted Miss Maggie, with what was very evidently intended for an arch
+smile. "I heard it everywhere--everywhere."
+
+"The mischief you did!" frowned Mr. Smith, looking slightly annoyed.
+"Well, I suppose I couldn't expect to keep a thing like that entirely
+in the dark. Still, I don't believe the parties themselves--quite
+understood. Of course, Pennock and Gaylord knew that they were kept
+effectually away, but I don't believe they realized just how
+systematically it was done. Of course, Gray understood from the first."
+
+"Poor Mr. Gray! I--I can't help being sorry for him."
+
+"SORRY for him!"
+
+"Certainly; and I should think YOU might give him a little sympathy,"
+rejoined Miss Maggie spiritedly. "You KNOW how much he cared for
+Mellicent."
+
+Mr. Smith sat suddenly erect in his chair.
+
+"Cared for her! Sympathy! Why, what in the world are you talking about?
+Wasn't I doing the best I could for them all the time? Of COURSE, it
+kept HIM away from her, too, just as it did Pennock and Gaylord; but HE
+understood. Besides, he HAD her part of the time. I let him in whenever
+it was possible."
+
+"Let him in!" Miss Maggie was sitting erect now. "Whatever in the world
+are YOU talking about? Do you mean to say you were doing this FOR Mr.
+Gray, all the time?"
+
+"Why, of course! Whom else should I do it for? You didn't suppose it
+was for Pennock or Gaylord, did you? Nor for--" He stopped short and
+stared at Miss Maggie in growing amazement and dismay. "You didn't--you
+DIDN'T think--I was doing that--for MYSELF?"
+
+"Well, of course, I--I--" Miss Maggie was laughing and blushing
+painfully, but there was a new light in her eyes. "Well, anyway,
+everybody said you were!" she defended herself stoutly.
+
+"Oh, good Heavens!" Mr. Smith leaped to his feet and thrust his hands
+into his pockets, as he took a nervous turn about the room. "For
+myself, indeed! as if, in my position, I'd--How perfectly absurd!" He
+wheeled and faced her irritably. "And you believed that? Why, I'm not a
+marrying man. I don't like--I never saw the woman yet that I--" With
+his eyes on Miss Maggie's flushed, half-averted face, he stopped again
+abruptly. "Well, I'll be--" Even under his breath he did not finish his
+sentence; but, with a new, quite different expression on his face, he
+resumed his nervous pacing of the room, throwing now and then a quick
+glance at Miss Maggie's still averted face.
+
+"It WAS absurd, of course, wasn't it?" Miss Maggie stirred and spoke
+lightly, with the obvious intention of putting matters back into usual
+conditions again. "But, come, tell me, just what did you do, and how?
+I'm so interested--indeed, I am!"
+
+"Eh? What?" Mr. Smith spoke as if he was thinking of something else
+entirely. "Oh--THAT." Mr. Smith sat down, but he did not go on speaking
+at once. His eyes frowningly regarded the stove.
+
+"You said--you kept Pennock and Gaylord away," Miss Maggie hopefully
+reminded him.
+
+"Er--yes. Oh, I--it was really very simple--I just monopolized
+Mellicent myself, when I couldn't let Donald have her. That's all. I
+saw very soon that she couldn't cope with her mother alone. And
+Gaylord--well, I've no use for that young gentleman."
+
+"But you like--Donald?"
+
+"Very much. I've been looking him up for some time. He's all right."
+
+"I'm glad."
+
+"Yes." Mr. Smith spoke abstractedly, without enthusiasm. Plainly Mr.
+Smith was still thinking of something else.
+
+Miss Maggie asked other questions--Miss Maggie was manifestly
+interested--and Mr. Smith answered them, but still without enthusiasm.
+Very soon he said good-night and went to his own room.
+
+For some days after this, Mr. Smith did not appear at all like himself.
+He seemed abstracted and puzzled. Miss Maggie, who still felt
+self-conscious and embarrassed over her misconception of his attentions
+to Mellicent, was more talkative than usual in her nervous attempt to
+appear perfectly natural. The fact that she often found his eyes fixed
+thoughtfully upon her, and felt them following her as she moved about
+the room, did not tend to make her more at ease. At such times she
+talked faster than ever--usually, if possible, about some member of the
+Blaisdell family: Miss Maggie had learned that Mr. Smith was always
+interested in any bit of news about the Blaisdells.
+
+It was on such an occasion that she told him about Miss Flora and the
+new house.
+
+"I don't know, really, what I am going to do with her," she said. "I
+wonder if perhaps you could help me."
+
+"Help you?--about Miss Flora?"
+
+"Yes. Can you think of any way to make her contented?"
+
+"CONTENTED! Why, I thought--Don't tell me SHE isn't happy!" There was a
+curious note of almost despair in Mr. Smith's voice. "Hasn't she a new
+house, and everything nice to go with it?"
+
+Miss Maggie laughed. Then she sighed.
+
+"Oh, yes--and that's what's the trouble. They're TOO nice. She feels
+smothered and oppressed--as if she were visiting somewhere, and not at
+home. She's actually afraid of her maid. You see, Miss Flora has always
+lived very simply. She isn't used to maids--and the maid knows it,
+which, if you ever employed maids, you would know is a terrible state
+of affairs."
+
+"Oh, but she--she'll get used to that, in time." "Perhaps," conceded
+Miss Maggie, "but I doubt it. Some women would, but not Miss Flora. She
+is too inherently simple in her tastes. 'Why, it's as bad as always
+living in a hotel!' she wailed to me last night. 'You know on my trip I
+was so afraid always I'd do something that wasn't quite right, before
+those awful waiters in the dining-rooms, and I was anticipating so much
+getting home where I could act natural--and here I've got one in my own
+house!'"
+
+Mr. Smith frowned, but he laughed, too.
+
+"Poor Miss Flora! But why doesn't she dismiss the lady?"
+
+"She doesn't dare to. Besides, there's Hattie. She says Hattie is
+always telling her what is due her position, and that she must do this
+and do that. She's being invited out, too, to the Pennocks' and the
+Bensons'; and they're worse than the maid, she declares. She says she
+loves to 'run in' and see people, and she loves to go to places and
+spend the day with her sewing; but that these things where you go and
+stand up and eat off a jiggly plate, and see everybody, and not really
+see ANYBODY, are a nuisance and an abomination."
+
+"Well, she's about right there," chuckled Mr. Smith.
+
+"Yes, I think she is," smiled Miss Maggie; "but that isn't telling me
+how to make her contented."
+
+"Contented! Great Scott!" snapped Mr. Smith, with an irritability that
+was as sudden as it was apparently causeless. "I didn't suppose you had
+to tell any woman on this earth how to be contented--with a hundred
+thousand dollars!"
+
+"It would seem so, wouldn't it?"
+
+Something in Miss Maggie's voice sent Mr. Smith's eyes to her face in a
+keen glance of interrogation.
+
+"You mean--you'd like the chance to prove it? That you wish YOU had
+that hundred thousand?"
+
+"Oh, I didn't say--that," twinkled Miss Maggie mischievously, turning
+away.
+
+It was that same afternoon that Mr. Smith met Mrs. Jane Blaisdell on
+the street.
+
+"You're just the man I want to see," she accosted him eagerly.
+
+"Then I'll turn and walk along with you, if I may," smiled Mr. Smith.
+"What can I do for you?"
+
+"Well, I don't know as you can do anything," she sighed; "but
+somebody's got to do something. Could you--DO you suppose you could
+interest my husband in this Blaisdell business of yours?"
+
+Mr. Smith gave a start, looking curiously disconcerted.
+
+"B-Blaisdell business?" he stammered. "Why, I--I thought he
+was--er--interested in motoring and golf."
+
+"Oh, he was, for a time; but it's too cold for those now, and he got
+sick of them, anyway, before it did come cold, just as he does of
+everything. Well, yesterday he asked a question--something about Father
+Blaisdell's mother; and that gave me the idea. DO you suppose you could
+get him interested in this ancestor business? Oh, I wish you could!
+It's so nice and quiet, and it CAN'T cost much--not like golf clubs and
+caddies and gasoline, anyway. Do you think you could?"
+
+"Why, I--I don't know, Mrs. Blaisdell," murmured Mr. Smith, still a
+little worriedly. "I--I could show him what I have found, of course."
+
+"Well, I wish you would, then. Anyway, SOMETHING'S got to be done," she
+sighed. "He's nervous as a witch. He can't keep still a minute. And he
+isn't a bit well, either. He ate such a lot of rich food and all sorts
+of stuff on our trip that he got his stomach all out of order; and now
+he can't eat anything, hardly."
+
+"Humph! Well, if his stomach's knocked out I pity him," nodded Mr.
+Smith. "I've been there."
+
+"Oh, have you? Oh, yes, I remember. You did say so when you first came,
+didn't you? But, Mr. Smith PLEASE, if you know any of those health
+fads, don't tell them to my husband. Don't, I beg of you! He's tried
+dozens of them until I'm nearly wild, and I've lost two hired girls
+already. One day it'll be no water, and the next it'll be all he can
+drink; and one week he won't eat anything but vegetables, and the next
+he won't touch a thing but meat and--is it fruit that goes with meat or
+cereals? Well, never mind. Whatever it is, he's done it. And lately
+he's taken to inspecting every bit of meat and groceries that comes
+into the house. Why, he spends half his time in the kitchen, nosing
+'round the cupboards and refrigerator; and, of course, NO girl will
+stand that! That's why I'm hoping, oh, I AM hoping that you can do
+SOMETHING with him on that ancestor business. There, here is the
+Bensons', where I've got to stop--and thank you ever so much, Mr.
+Smith, if you will."
+
+"All right, I'll try," promised Mr. Smith dubiously, as he lifted his
+hat. But he frowned, and he was still frowning when he met Miss Maggie
+at the Duff supper-table half an hour later.
+
+"Well, I've found another one who wants me to tell how to be contented,
+though afflicted with a hundred thousand dollars," he greeted her
+gloweringly.
+
+"Is that so?" smiled Miss Maggie.
+
+"Yes.--CAN'T a hundred thousand dollars bring any one satisfaction?"
+
+Miss Maggie laughed, then into her eyes came the mischievous twinkle
+that Mr. Smith had learned to watch for.
+
+"Don't blame the poor money," she said then demurely. "Blame--the way
+it is spent!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+JUST A MATTER OF BEGGING
+
+
+True to his promise, Mr. Smith "tried" Mr. Frank Blaisdell on "the
+ancestor business" very soon. Laboriously he got out his tabulated
+dates and names and carefully he traced for him several lines of
+descent from remote ancestors. Painstakingly he pointed out a "Submit,"
+who had no history but the bare fact of her marriage to one Thomas
+Blaisdell, and a "Thankful Marsh," who had eluded his every attempt to
+supply her with parents. He let it be understood how important these
+missing links were, and he tried to inspire his possible pupil with a
+frenzied desire to go out and dig them up. He showed some of the
+interesting letters he had received from various Blaisdells far and
+near, and he spread before him the genealogical page of his latest
+"Transcript," and explained how one might there stumble upon the very
+missing link he was looking for.
+
+But Mr. Frank Blaisdell was openly bored. He said he didn't care how
+many children his great-grandfather had, nor what they died of; and as
+for Mrs. Submit and Miss Thankful, the ladies might bury themselves in
+the "Transcript," or hide behind that wall of dates and names till
+doomsday, for all he cared. HE shouldn't disturb 'em. He never did like
+figures, he said, except figures that represented something worth
+while, like a day's sales or a year's profits.
+
+And speaking of grocery stores, had Mr. Smith ever seen a store run
+down as his old one had since he sold out? For that matter, something
+must have got into all the grocery stores; for a poorer lot of goods
+than those delivered every day at his home he never saw. It was a
+disgrace to the trade.
+
+He said a good deal more about his grocery store--but nothing whatever
+more about his Blaisdell ancestors; so Mr. Smith felt justified in
+considering his efforts to interest Mr. Frank Blaisdell in the ancestor
+business a failure. Certainly he never tried it again.
+
+It was in February that a certain metropolitan reporter, short for
+feature articles, ran up to Hillerton and contributed to his paper, the
+following Sunday, a write-up on "The Blaisdells One Year After,"
+enlarging on the fine new homes, the motor cars, and the luxurious
+living of the three families. And it was three days after this article
+was printed that Miss Flora appeared at Miss Maggie's, breathless with
+excitement.
+
+"Just see what I've got in the mail this morning!" she cried to Miss
+Maggie, and to Mr. Smith, who had opened the door for her.
+
+With trembling fingers she took from her bag a letter, and a small
+picture evidently cut from a newspaper.
+
+"There, see," she panted, holding them out. "It's a man in Boston, and
+these are his children. There are seven of them. He wrote me a
+beautiful letter. He said he knew I must have a real kind heart, and
+he's in terrible trouble. He said he saw in the paper about the
+wonderful legacy I'd had, and he told his wife he was going to write to
+me, to see if I wouldn't help them--if only a little, it would aid them
+that much."
+
+"He wants money, then?" Miss Maggie had taken the letter and the
+picture rather gingerly in her hands. Mr. Smith had gone over to the
+stove suddenly--to turn a damper, apparently, though a close observer
+might have noticed that he turned it back to its former position almost
+at once.
+
+"Yes," palpitated Miss Flora. "He's sick, and he lost his position, and
+his wife's sick, and two of the children, and one of 'em's lame, and
+another's blind. Oh, it was such a pitiful story, Maggie! Why, some
+days they haven't had enough to eat--and just look at me, with all my
+chickens and turkeys and more pudding every day than I can stuff down!"
+
+"Did he give you any references?"
+
+"References! What do you mean? He didn't ask me to HIRE him for
+anything."
+
+"No, no, dear, but I mean--did he give you any references, to show that
+he was--was worthy and all right," explained Miss Maggie patiently.
+
+"Of course he didn't! Why, he didn't need to. He told me himself how
+things were with him," rebuked Miss Flora indignantly. "It's all in the
+letter there. Read for yourself."
+
+"But he really ought to have given you SOME reference, dear, if he
+asked you for money."
+
+"Well, I don't want any reference. I believe him. I'd be ashamed to
+doubt a man like that! And YOU would, after you read that letter, and
+look into those blessed children's faces. Besides, he never thought of
+such a thing--I know he didn't. Why, he says right in the letter there
+that he never asked for help before, and he was so ashamed that he had
+to now."
+
+[Illustration with caption: "AND LOOK INTO THOSE BLESSED CHILDREN'S
+FACES"]
+
+Mr. Smith made a sudden odd little noise in his throat. Perhaps he got
+choked. At all events, he was seized with a fit of coughing just then.
+
+Miss Maggie turned over the letter in her hand.
+
+"Where does he tell you to send the money?"
+
+"It's right there--Box four hundred and something; and I got a money
+order, just as he said."
+
+"You GOT one! Do you mean that you've already sent this money?" cried
+Miss Maggie.
+
+"Why, yes, of course. I stopped at the office on the way down here."
+
+"And you sent--a money order?"
+
+"Yes. He said he would rather have that than a check."
+
+"I don't doubt it! You don't seem to have--delayed any."
+
+"Of course I didn't delay! Why, Maggie, he said he HAD to have it at
+once. He was going to be turned out--TURNED OUT into the streets! Think
+of those seven little children in the streets! Wait, indeed! Why,
+Maggie, what can you be thinking of?"
+
+"I'm thinking you've been the easy victim of a professional beggar,
+Flora," retorted Miss Maggie, with some spirit, handing back the letter
+and the picture.
+
+"Why, Maggie, I never knew you to be so--so unkind," charged Miss
+Flora, her eyes tearful. "He can't be a professional beggar. He SAID he
+wasn't--that he never begged before in his life."
+
+Miss Maggie, with a despairing gesture, averted her face.
+
+Miss Flora turned to Mr. Smith.
+
+"Mr. Smith, you--YOU don't think so, do you?" she pleaded.
+
+Mr. Smith grew very red--perhaps because he had to stop to cough again.
+
+"Well, Miss Flora, I--I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I shall have to agree
+with Miss Maggie here, to some extent."
+
+"But you didn't read the letter. You don't know how beautifully he
+talked."
+
+"You told me; and you say yourself that he gave you only a post-office
+box for an address. So you see you couldn't look him up very well."
+
+"I don't need to!" Miss Flora threw back her head a little haughtily.
+"And I'm glad I don't doubt my fellow men and women as you and Maggie
+Duff do! If either of you KNEW what you're talking about, I wouldn't
+say anything. But you don't. You CAN'T KNOW anything about this man,
+and you didn't ever get letters like this, either of you, of course.
+But, anyhow, I don't care if he ain't worthy. I wouldn't let those
+children suffer; and I--I'm glad I sent it. I never in my life was so
+happy as I was on the way here from the post-office this morning."
+
+Without waiting for a reply, she turned away majestically; but at the
+door she paused and looked back at Miss Maggie.
+
+"And let me tell you that, however good or bad this particular man may
+be, it's given me an idea, anyway," she choked. The haughtiness was all
+gone now "I know now why it hasn't seemed right to be so happy. It's
+because there are so many other folks in the world that AREN'T happy.
+Why, my chicken and turkey would choke me now if I didn't give some of
+it to--to all these others. And I'm going to--I'M GOING TO!" she
+reiterated, as she fled from the room.
+
+As the door shut crisply, Miss Maggie turned and looked at Mr. Smith.
+But Mr. Smith had crossed again to the stove and was fussing with the
+damper. Miss Maggie, after a moment's hesitation, turned and went out
+into the kitchen, without speaking.
+
+Mr. Smith and Miss Maggie saw very little of Miss Flora after this for
+some time. But they heard a good deal about her. They heard of her
+generous gifts to families all over town.
+
+A turkey was sent to every house on Mill Street, without exception, and
+so much candy given to the children that half of them were made ill,
+much to the distress of Miss Flora, who, it was said, promptly sent a
+physician to undo her work. The Dow family, hard-working and thrifty,
+and the Nolans, notorious for their laziness and shiftlessness, each
+received a hundred dollars outright. The Whalens, always with both
+hands metaphorically outstretched for alms, were loud in their praises
+of Miss Flora's great kindness of heart; but the Davises (Mrs. Jane
+Blaisdell's impecunious relatives) had very visible difficulty in
+making Miss Flora understand that gifts bestowed as she bestowed them
+were more welcome unmade.
+
+Every day, from one quarter or another, came stories like these to the
+ears of Miss Maggie and Mr. Smith. But Miss Flora was seen very seldom.
+Then one day, about a month later, she appeared as before at the Duff
+cottage, breathless and agitated; only this time, plainly, she had been
+crying.
+
+"Why, Flora, what in the world is the matter?" cried Miss Maggie, as
+she hurried her visitor into a comfortable chair and began to unfasten
+her wraps.
+
+"I'll tell you in a minute. I came on purpose to tell you. But I want
+Mr. Smith, too. Oh, he ain't here, is he?" she lamented, with a
+disappointed glance toward the vacant chair by the table in the corner.
+"I thought maybe he could help me, some way. I won't go to Frank, or
+Jim. They've--they've said so many things. Oh, I did so hope Mr. Smith
+was here!"
+
+"He is here, dear. He's in his room. He just came in. I'll call him,"
+comforted Miss Maggie, taking off Miss Flora's veil and hat and
+smoothing back her hair. "But you don't want him to find you crying
+like this, Flora. What is it, dear?"
+
+"Yes, yes, I know, but I'm not crying--I mean, I won't any more. And
+I'll tell you just as soon as you get Mr. Smith. It's only that I've
+been--so silly, I suppose. Please get Mr. Smith."
+
+"All right, dear."
+
+Miss Maggie, still with the disturbed frown between her eyebrows,
+summoned Mr. Smith. Then together they sat down to hear Miss Flora's
+story.
+
+"It all started, of course, from--from that day I brought the letter
+here--from that man in Boston with seven children, you know."
+
+"Yes, I remember," encouraged Miss Maggie.
+
+"Well, I--I did quite a lot of things after that. I was so glad and
+happy to discover I could do things for folks. It seemed to--to take
+away the wickedness of my having so much, you know; and so I gave food
+and money, oh, lots of places here in town--everywhere, 'most, that I
+could find that anybody needed it."
+
+"Yes, I know. We heard of the many kind things you did, dear." Miss
+Maggie had the air of one trying to soothe a grieved child.
+
+"But they didn't turn out to be kind--all of 'em," quavered Miss Flora.
+"Some of 'em went wrong. I don't know why. I TRIED to do 'em all right!"
+
+"Of course you did!"
+
+"I know; but 'tain't those I came to talk about. It's the others--the
+letters."
+
+"Letters?"
+
+"Yes. I got 'em--lots of 'em--after the first one--the one you saw.
+First I got one, then another and another, till lately I've been
+getting 'em every day, 'most, and some days two or three at a time."
+
+"And they all wanted--money, I suppose," observed Mr. Smith, "for their
+sick wives and children, I suppose."
+
+"Oh, not for children always--though it was them a good deal. But it
+was for different things--and such a lot of them! I never knew there
+could be so many kinds of such things. And I was real pleased, at
+first,--that I could help, you know, in so many places."
+
+"Then you always sent it--the money?" asked Mr. Smith.
+
+"Oh, yes. Why, I just had to, the way they wrote; I wanted to, too.
+They wrote lovely letters, and real interesting ones, too. One man
+wanted a warm coat for his little girl, and he told me all about what
+hard times they'd had. Another wanted a brace for his poor little
+crippled boy, and HE told me things. Why, I never s'posed folks could
+have such awful things, and live! One woman just wanted to borrow
+twenty dollars while she was so sick. She didn't ask me to give it to
+her. She wasn't a beggar. Don't you suppose I'd send her that money? Of
+course I would! And there was a poor blind man--he wanted money to buy
+a Bible in raised letters; and of COURSE I wouldn't refuse that! Some
+didn't beg; they just wanted to sell things. I bought a diamond ring to
+help put a boy through school, and a ruby pin of a man who needed the
+money for bread for his children. And there was--oh, there was lots of
+'em--too many to tell."
+
+"And all from Boston, I presume," murmured Mr. Smith.
+
+"Oh, no,--why, yes, they were, too, most of 'em, when you come to think
+of it. But how did you know?"
+
+"Oh, I--guessed it. But go on. You haven't finished."
+
+"No, I haven't finished," moaned Miss Flora, almost crying again. "And
+now comes the worst of it. As I said, at first I liked it--all these
+letters--and I was so glad to help. But they're coming so fast now I
+don't know what to do with 'em. And I never saw such a lot of things as
+they want--pensions and mortgages, and pianos, and educations, and
+wedding dresses, and clothes to be buried in, and--and there were so
+many, and--and so queer, some of 'em, that I began to be afraid maybe
+they weren't quite honest, all of 'em, and of course I CAN'T send to
+such a lot as there are now, anyway, and I was getting so worried.
+Besides, I got another one of those awful proposals from those dreadful
+men that want to marry me. As if I didn't know THAT was for my money!
+Then to-day, this morning, I--I got the worst of all." From her bag she
+took an envelope and drew out a small picture of several children, cut
+apparently from a newspaper. "Look at that. Did you ever see that
+before?" she demanded.
+
+Miss Maggie scrutinized the picture.
+
+"Why, no,--yes, it's the one you brought us a month ago, isn't it?"
+
+Miss Flora's eyes flashed angrily.
+
+"Indeed, it ain't! The one I showed you before is in my bureau drawer
+at home. But I got it out this morning, when this one came, and
+compared them; and they're just exactly alike--EXACTLY!"
+
+"Oh, he wrote again, then,--wants more money, I suppose," frowned Miss
+Maggie.
+
+"No, he didn't. It ain't the same man. This man's name is Haley, and
+that one was Fay. But Mr. Haley says this is a picture of his children,
+and he says that the little girl in the corner is Katy, and she's deaf
+and dumb; but Mr. Fay said her name was Rosie, and that she was LAME.
+And all the others--their names ain't the same, either, and there ain't
+any of 'em blind. And, of course, I know now that--that one of those
+men is lying to me. Why, they cut them out of the same newspaper;
+they've got the same reading on the back! And I--I don't know what to
+believe now. And there are all those letters at home that I haven't
+answered yet; and they keep coming--why, I just dread to see the
+postman turn down our street. And one man--he wrote twice. I didn't
+like his first letter and didn't answer it; and now he says if I don't
+send him the money he'll tell everybody everywhere what a stingy
+t-tight-wad I am. And another man said he'd come and TAKE it if I
+didn't send it; and you KNOW how afraid of burglars I am! Oh what shall
+I do, what shall I do?" she begged piteously.
+
+Mr. Smith said a sharp word behind his teeth.
+
+"Do?" he cried then wrathfully. "First, don't you worry another bit,
+Miss Flora. Second, just hand those letters over to me--every one of
+them. I'll attend to 'em!"
+
+"To YOU?" gasped Miss Flora. "But--how can you?"
+
+"Oh, I'll be your secretary. Most rich people have to have secretaries,
+you know."
+
+"But how'll you know how to answer MY letters?" demanded Miss Flora
+dubiously. "Have you ever been--a secretary?"
+
+"N-no, not exactly a secretary. But--I've had some experience with
+similar letters," observed Mr. Smith dryly.
+
+Miss Flora drew a long sigh.
+
+"Oh, dear! I wish you could. Do you think you can? I hoped maybe you
+could help me some way, but I never thought of that--your answering
+'em, I mean. I supposed everybody had to answer their own letters.
+How'll you know what I want to say?"
+
+Mr. Smith laughed a little.
+
+"I shan't be answering what YOU want to say--but what _I_ want to say.
+In this case, Miss Flora, I exceed the prerogatives of the ordinary
+secretary just a bit, you see. But you can count on one thing--I shan't
+be spending any money for you."
+
+"You won't send them anything, then?"
+
+"Not a red cent."
+
+Miss Flora looked distressed.
+
+"But, Mr. Smith, I want to send some of 'em something! I want to be
+kind and charitable."
+
+"Of course you do, dear," spoke up Miss Maggie. "But you aren't being
+either kind or charitable to foster rascally fakes like that," pointing
+to the picture in Miss Flora's lap.
+
+"Are they ALL fakes, then?"
+
+"I'd stake my life on most of 'em," declared Mr. Smith. "They have all
+the earmarks of fakes, all right."
+
+Miss Flora stirred restlessly.
+
+"But I was having a beautiful time giving until these horrid letters
+began to come."
+
+"Flora, do you give because YOU like the sensation of giving, and of
+receiving thanks, or because you really want to help somebody?" asked
+Miss Maggie, a bit wearily.
+
+"Why, Maggie Duff, I want to help people, of course," almost wept Miss
+Flora.
+
+"Well, then, suppose you try and give so it will help them, then," said
+Miss Maggie. "One of the most risky things in the world, to my way of
+thinking, is a present of--cash. Don't you think so, Mr. Smith?"
+
+"Er--ah--w-what? Y-yes, of course," stammered Mr. Smith, growing
+suddenly, for some unapparent reason, very much confused. "Yes--yes, I
+do." As Mr. Smith finished speaking, he threw an oddly nervous glance
+into Miss Maggie's face.
+
+But Miss Maggie had turned back to Miss Flora.
+
+"There, dear," she admonished her, "now, you do just as Mr. Smith says.
+Just hand over your letters to him for a while, and forget all about
+them. He'll tell you how he answers them, of course. But you won't have
+to worry about them any more. Besides they'll soon stop coming,--won't
+they, Mr. Smith?"
+
+"I think they will. They'll dwindle to a few scattering ones,
+anyway,--after I've handled them for a while."
+
+"Well, I should like that," sighed Miss Flora. "But--can't I give
+anything anywhere?" she besought plaintively.
+
+"Of course you can!" cried Miss Maggie. "But I would investigate a
+little, first, dear. Wouldn't you, Mr. Smith? Don't you believe in
+investigation?"
+
+Once again, before he answered, Mr. Smith threw a swiftly questioning
+glance into Miss Maggie's face.
+
+"Yes, oh, yes; I believe in--investigation," he said then. "And now,
+Miss Flora," he added briskly, as Miss Flora reached for her wraps,
+"with your kind permission I'll walk home with you and have a look
+at--my new job of secretarying."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+STILL OTHER FLIES
+
+
+It was when his duties of secretaryship to Miss Flora had dwindled to
+almost infinitesimal proportions that Mr. Smith wished suddenly that he
+were serving Miss Maggie in that capacity, so concerned was he over a
+letter that had come to Miss Maggie in that morning's mail.
+
+He himself had taken it from the letter-carrier's hand and had placed
+it on Miss Maggie's little desk. Casually, as he did so, he had noticed
+that it bore a name he recognized as that of a Boston law firm; but he
+had given it no further thought until later, when, as he sat at his
+work in the living-room, he had heard Miss Maggie give a low cry and
+had looked up to find her staring at the letter in her hand, her face
+going from red to white and back to red again.
+
+"Why, Miss Maggie, what is it?" he cried, springing to his feet.
+
+As she turned toward him he saw that her eyes were full of tears.
+
+"Why, it--it's a letter telling me---" She stopped abruptly, her eyes
+on his face.
+
+"Yes, yes, tell me," he begged. "Why, you are--CRYING, dear!" Mr.
+Smith, plainly quite unaware of the caressing word he had used, came
+nearer, his face aglow with sympathy, his eyes very tender.
+
+The red surged once more over Miss Maggie's face. She drew back a
+little, though manifestly with embarrassment, not displeasure.
+
+"It's--nothing, really it's nothing," she stammered. "It's just a
+letter that--that surprised me."
+
+"But it made you cry!"
+
+"Oh, well, I--I cry easily sometimes." With hands that shook visibly,
+she folded the letter and tucked it into its envelope. Then with a
+carelessness that was a little too elaborate, she tossed it into her
+open desk. Very plainly, whatever she had meant to do in the first
+place, she did not now intend to disclose to Mr. Smith the contents of
+that letter.
+
+"Miss Maggie, please tell me--was it bad news?"
+
+"Bad? Why, of course not!" She laughed gayly.
+
+Mr. Smith thought he detected a break very like a sob in the laugh.
+
+"But maybe I could--help you," he pleaded.
+
+She shook her head.
+
+"You couldn't--indeed, you couldn't!"
+
+"Miss Maggie, was it--money matters?"
+
+He had his answer in the telltale color that flamed instantly into her
+face--but her lips said:--
+
+"It was--nothing--I mean, it was nothing that need concern you." She
+hurried away then to the kitchen, and Mr. Smith was left alone to fume
+up and down the room and frown savagely at the offending envelope
+tiptilted against the ink bottle in Miss Maggie's desk, just as Miss
+Maggie's carefully careless hand had thrown it.
+
+Miss Maggie had several more letters from the Boston law firm, and Mr.
+Smith knew it--though he never heard Miss Maggie cry out at any of the
+other ones. That they affected her deeply, however, he was certain. Her
+very evident efforts to lead him to think that they were of no
+consequence would convince him of their real importance to her if
+nothing else had done so. He watched her, therefore, covertly,
+fearfully, longing to help her, but not daring to offer his services.
+
+That the affair had something to do with money matters he was sure.
+That she would not deny this naturally strengthened him in this belief.
+He came in time, therefore, to formulate his own opinion: she had lost
+money--perhaps a good deal (for her), and she was too proud to let him
+or any one else know it.
+
+He watched then all the more carefully to see if he could detect any
+NEW economies or new deprivations in her daily living. Then, because he
+could not discover any such, he worried all the more: if she HAD lost
+that money, she ought to economize, certainly. Could she be so foolish
+as to carry her desire for secrecy to so absurd a length as to live
+just exactly as before when she really could not afford it?
+
+It was at about this time that Mr. Smith requested to have hot water
+brought to his room morning and night, for which service he insisted,
+in spite of Miss Maggie's remonstrances, on paying three dollars a week
+extra.
+
+There came a strange man to call one day. He was a member of the Boston
+law firm. Mr. Smith found out that much, but no more. Miss Maggie was
+almost hysterical after his visit. She talked very fast and laughed a
+good deal at supper that night; yet her eyes were full of tears nearly
+all the time, as Mr. Smith did not fail to perceive.
+
+"And I suppose she thinks she's hiding it from me--that her heart is
+breaking!" muttered Mr. Smith savagely to himself, as he watched Miss
+Maggie's nervous efforts to avoid meeting his eyes. "I vow I'll have it
+out of her. I'll have it out--to-morrow!"
+
+Mr. Smith did not "have it out" with Miss Maggie the following day,
+however. Something entirely outside of himself sent his thoughts into a
+new channel.
+
+He was alone in the Duff living-room, and was idling over his work, at
+his table in the corner, when Mrs. Hattie Blaisdell opened the door and
+hurried in, wringing her hands. Her face was red and swollen from tears.
+
+"Where's Maggie? I want Maggie! Isn't Maggie here?" she implored.
+
+Mr. Smith sprang to his feet and hastened toward her.
+
+"Why, Mrs. Blaisdell, what is it? No, she isn't here. I'm so sorry!
+Can't I do--anything?"
+
+"Oh, I don't know--I don't know," moaned the woman, flinging herself
+into a chair. "There can't anybody do anything, I s'pose; but I've GOT
+to have somebody. I can't stay there in that house--I can't--I can't--I
+CAN'T!"
+
+"No, no, of course not. And you shan't," soothed the man. "And she'll
+be here soon, I'm sure--Miss Maggie will. But just let me help you off
+with your things," he urged, somewhat awkwardly trying to unfasten her
+heavy wraps. "You'll be so warm here."
+
+"Yes, I know, I know." Impatiently she jerked off the rich fur coat and
+tossed it into his arms; then she dropped into the chair again and fell
+to wringing her hands. "Oh, what shall I do, what shall I do?"
+
+"But what is it?" stammered Mr. Smith helplessly. "Can't I
+do--something? Can't I send for--for your husband?"
+
+At the mention of her husband, Mrs. Blaisdell fell to weeping afresh.
+
+"No, no! He's gone--to Fred, you know."
+
+"To--Fred?"
+
+"Yes, yes, that's what's the matter. Oh, Fred, Fred, my boy!"
+
+"Fred! Oh, Mrs. Blaisdell, I'm so sorry! But what--IS it?"
+
+The woman dropped her hands from her face and looked up wildly, half
+defiantly.
+
+"Mr. Smith, YOU know Fred. You liked him, didn't you? He isn't bad and
+wicked, is he? And they can't shut him up if--if we pay it back--all of
+it that he took? They won't take my boy--to PRISON?"
+
+"To PRISON--FRED!"
+
+At the look of horror on Mr. Smith's face, she began to wring her hands
+again.
+
+"You don't know, of course. I'll have to tell you--I'll have to," she
+moaned.
+
+"But, my dear woman,--not unless you want to."
+
+"I do want to--I do want to! I've GOT to talk--to somebody. It's this
+way." With a visible effort she calmed herself a little and forced
+herself to talk more coherently. "We got a letter from Fred. It came
+this morning. He wanted, some money--quick. He wanted seven hundred
+dollars and forty-two cents. He said he'd got to have it--if he didn't,
+he'd go and KILL himself. He said he'd spent all of his allowance,
+every cent, and that's what made him take it--this other money, in the
+first place."
+
+"You mean--money that didn't belong to him?" Mr. Smith's voice was a
+little stern.
+
+"Yes; but you mustn't blame him, you mustn't blame him, Mr. Smith. He
+said he owed it. It was a--a debt of honor. Those were his very words."
+
+"Oh! A debt of honor, was it?" Mr. Smith's lips came together grimly.
+
+"Yes; and--Oh, Maggie, Maggie, what shall I do? What shall I do?" she
+broke off wildly, leaping to her feet as Miss Maggie pushed open the
+door and hurried in.
+
+"Yes, I know. Don't worry. We'll find something to do." Miss Maggie,
+white-faced, but with a cheery smile, was throwing off her heavy coat
+and her hat. A moment later she came over and took Mrs. Hattie's
+trembling hands in both her own. "Now, first, tell me all about it,
+dear."
+
+"You KNOW, then?"
+
+"Only a little," answered Miss Maggie, gently pushing the other back
+into her chair. "I met Frank. Jim telephoned him something, just before
+he left. But I want the whole story. Now, what is it?"
+
+"I was just telling Mr. Smith." She began to wring her hands again, but
+Miss Maggie caught and held them firmly. "You see, Fred, he was
+treasurer of some club, or society, or something; and--and he--he
+needed some money to--to pay a man, and he took that--the money that
+belonged to the club, you know, and he thought he could pay it back,
+little by little. But something happened--I don't know what--a new
+treasurer, or something: anyhow, it was going to be found out--that
+he'd taken it. It was going to be found out to-morrow, and so he wrote
+the letter to his father. And Jim's gone. But he looked so--oh, I never
+saw him look so white and terrible. And I'm so afraid--of what he'll
+do--to Fred. My boy--my boy!"
+
+"Is Jim going to give him the money?" asked Miss Maggie.
+
+"Yes, oh, yes. Jim drew it out of the bank. Fred said he must have
+cash. And he's going to give it to him. Oh, they can't shut him
+up--they CAN'T send him to prison NOW, can they?"
+
+"Hush, dear! No, they won't send him to prison. If Jim has gone with
+the money, Fred will pay it back and nobody will know it. But, Hattie,
+Fred DID it, just the same."
+
+"I--I know it."
+
+"And, Hattie, don't you see? Something will have to be done. Don't you
+see where all this is leading? Fred has been gambling, hasn't he?"
+
+"I--I'm afraid so."
+
+"And you know he drinks."
+
+"Y-yes. But he isn't going to, any more. He said he wasn't. He wrote a
+beautiful letter. He said if his father would help him out of this
+scrape, he'd never get into another one, and he'd SHOW him how much he
+appreciated it."
+
+"Good! I'm glad to hear that," cried Miss Maggie. "He'll come out all
+right, yet."
+
+"Of course he will!" Mr. Smith, over at the window, blew his nose
+vigorously. Mr. Smith had not sat down since Miss Maggie's entrance. He
+had crossed to the window, and had stood looking out--at nothing--all
+through Mrs. Hattie's story.
+
+"You do think he will, don't you?" choked Mrs. Hattie, turning from one
+to the other piteously. "He said he was ashamed of himself; that this
+thing had been an awful lesson to him, and he promised--oh, he promised
+lots of things, if Jim would only go up and help him out of this. He'd
+never, never have to again. But he will, I know he will, if that
+Gaylord fellow stays there. The whole thing was his fault--I know it
+was. I hate him! I hate the whole family!"
+
+"Why, Hattie, I thought you liked them!"
+
+"I don't. They're mean, stuck-up things, and they snub me awfully.
+Don't you suppose I know when I'm being snubbed? And that Gaylord
+girl--she's just as bad, and she's making my Bessie just like her. I
+got Bess into the same school with her, you know, and I was so proud
+and happy. But I'm not--any longer. Why, my Bess, my own daughter,
+actually looks down on us. She's ashamed of her own father and
+mother--and she shows it. And it's that Gaylord girl that's done it,
+too, I believe. I thought I--I was training my daughter to be a lady--a
+real lady; but I never meant to train her to look down on--on her own
+mother!"
+
+"I'm afraid Bessie--needs something of a lesson," commented Miss Maggie
+tersely. "But Bessie will be older, one of these days, Hattie, and then
+she'll--know more."
+
+"But that's what I've been trying to teach her--'more,' something more
+all the time, Maggie," sighed Mrs. Hattie, wiping her eyes. "And I've
+tried to remember and call her Elizabeth, too.--but I can't. But,
+somehow, to-day, nothing seems of any use, any way. And even if she
+learns more and more, I don't see as it's going to do any good. I
+haven't got ANY friends now. I'm not fine enough yet, it seems, for
+Mrs. Gaylord and all that crowd. They don't want me among them, and
+they show it. And all my old friends are so envious and jealous since
+the money came that THEY don't want me, and THEY show it; so I don't
+feel comfortable anywhere."
+
+"Never mind, dear, just stop trying to live as you think other folks
+want you to live, and live as YOU want to, for a while."
+
+Mrs. Hattie smiled faintly, wiped her eyes again, and got to her feet.
+
+"You talk just like Jim. He's always saying that."
+
+"Well, just try it," smiled Miss Maggie, helping her visitor into the
+luxurious fur coat. "You've no idea how much more comfort you'll take."
+
+"Would I?" Mrs. Hattie's eyes were wistful, but almost instantly they
+showed an alert gleam of anger.
+
+"Well, anyhow, I'm not going to try to do what those Gaylords do any
+longer. And--and you're SURE Fred won't have to go to prison?"
+
+"I'm very sure," nodded Miss Maggie.
+
+"All right, then. I can go home now with some comfort. You always make
+me feel better, Maggie, and you, too, Mr. Smith. I'm much obliged to
+you. Good-bye."
+
+"Good-bye," said Mr. Smith.
+
+"Good-bye," said Miss Maggie. "Now, go home and go to bed, and don't
+worry any more or you'll have one of your headaches."
+
+As the door closed behind her visitor, Miss Maggie turned and sank into
+a chair. She looked worn and white, and utterly weary.
+
+"I hope she won't meet Frank or Jane anywhere." She sighed profoundly.
+
+"Why? What do you mean? Do you think they'd blame her--about this
+unfortunate affair of Fred's?"
+
+Miss Maggie sighed again.
+
+"I wasn't thinking of that. I was thinking of another matter. I just
+came from Frank's, and--"
+
+"Yes?" Something in her face sent a questioning frown to Mr. Smith's
+own countenance.
+
+"Do you remember hearing Flora say that Jane had bought a lot of the
+Benson gold-mine stock?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Well, Benson has failed; and they've just found out that that
+gold-mine stock is worth--about two cents on a dollar."
+
+"Two cents! And how much--"
+
+"About forty thousand dollars," said Miss Maggie wearily.
+
+Mr. Smith sat down.
+
+"Well, I'll be--"
+
+He did not finish his sentence.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+FRANKENSTEIN: BEING A LETTER FROM JOHN SMITH TO EDWARD D. NORTON,
+ATTORNEY AT LAW
+
+
+DEAR NED:--Wasn't there a story written once about a fellow who created
+some sort of a machine man without any soul that raised the very
+dickens and all for him? Frank--Frankenstein?--I guess that was it.
+Well, I've created a Frankenstein creature--and I'm dead up against it
+to know what to do with him.
+
+Ned, what in Heaven's name am I going to do with Mr. John Smith? Mr.
+John Smith, let me tell you, is a very healthy, persistent, insistent,
+important person, with many kind friends, a definite position in the
+world, and no small degree of influence. Worse yet (now prepare for a
+stunning blow, Ned!), Mr. Smith has been so inconsiderate as to fall in
+love. Yes, he has. And he has fallen in love as absolutely and as
+idiotically as if he were twenty-one instead of fifty-two. Now, will
+you kindly tell me how Mr. John Smith is going to fade away into
+nothingness? And, even if he finds the way to do that, shall he, before
+fading, pop the question for Mr. Stanley G. Fulton, or shall he trust
+to Mr. Stanley G. Fulton's being able to win for himself the love Mr.
+John Smith fondly hopes is his?
+
+Seriously, joking aside, I'm afraid I've made a mess of things, not
+only for myself, but for everybody else.
+
+First, my own future. I'll spare you rhapsodies, Ned. They say, anyway,
+that there's no fool like an old fool. But I will admit that that
+future looks very dark to me if I am not to have the companionship of
+the little woman, Maggie Duff. Oh, yes, it's "Poor Maggie." You've
+probably guessed as much. As for Miss Maggie herself, perhaps it's
+conceited, but I believe she's not entirely indifferent to Mr. John
+Smith. How she'll like Mr. Stanley G. Fulton I have my doubts; but,
+alas! I have no doubts whatever as to what her opinion will be of Mr.
+Stanley G. Fulton's masquerading as Mr. John Smith! And I don't envy
+Mr. Stanley G. Fulton the job he's got on his hands to put himself
+right with her, either. But there's one thing he can be sure of, at
+least; if she does care for Mr. John Smith, it wasn't Mr. Stanley G.
+Fulton's money that was the bait.
+
+Poor Maggie! (There! you see already I have adopted the Hillerton
+vernacular.) But I fear Miss Maggie is indeed "poor" now. She has had
+several letters that I don't like the looks of, and a call from a
+villainous-looking man from Boston--one of your craft, I believe
+(begging your pardon). I think she's lost some money, and I don't
+believe she had any extra to lose. She's as proud as Lucifer, however,
+and she's determined no one shall find out she's lost any money, so her
+laugh is gayer than ever. But I know, just the same. I can hear
+something in her voice that isn't laughter.
+
+Jove! Ned, what a mess I HAVE made of it! I feel more than ever now
+like the boy with his ear to the keyhole. These people are my
+friends--or, rather, they are Mr. John Smith's friends. As for being
+mine--who am I, Smith, or Fulton? Will they be Fulton's friends, after
+they find he is John Smith? Will they be Smith's friends, even, after
+they find he is Fulton? Pleasant position I am in! What?
+
+Oh, yes, I can hear you say that it serves me right, and that you
+warned me, and that I was deaf to all remonstrances. It does. You did.
+I was. Now, we'll waste no more time on that. I've admitted all you
+could say. I've acknowledged my error, and my transgression is ever
+before me. I built the box, I walked into it, and I deliberately shut
+the cover down. But now I want to get out. I've got to get out--some
+way. I can't spend the rest of my natural existence as John Smith,
+hunting Blaisdell data--though sometimes I think I'd be willing to, if
+it's the only way to stay with Miss Maggie. I tell you, that little
+woman can make a home out of--
+
+But I couldn't stay with Miss Maggie. John Smith wouldn't have money
+enough to pay his board, to say nothing of inviting Miss Maggie to
+board with him, would he? The opening of Mr. Stanley G. Fulton's last
+will and testament on the first day of next November will effectually
+cut off Mr. John Smith's source of income. There is no provision in the
+will for Mr. John Smith. Smith would have to go to work. I don't think
+he'd like that. By the way, I wonder: do you suppose John Smith could
+earn--his salt, if he was hard put to it? Very plainly, then, something
+has got to be done about getting John Smith to fade away, and Stanley
+G. Fulton to appear before next November.
+
+And I had thought it would be so easy! Early this summer John Smith was
+to pack up his Blaisdell data, bid a pleasant adieu to Hillerton, and
+betake himself to South America. In due course, after a short trip to
+some obscure Inca city, or down some little-known river, Mr. Stanley G.
+Fulton would arrive at some South American hotel from the interior, and
+would take immediate passage for the States, reaching Chicago long
+before November first.
+
+There would be a slight flurry, of course, and a few annoying
+interviews and write-ups; but Mr. Stanley G. Fulton always was known to
+keep his affairs to himself pretty well, and the matter would soon be
+put down as merely another of the multi-millionaire's eccentricities.
+The whole thing would then be all over, and well over. But--nowhere had
+there been taken into consideration the possibilities of--a Maggie
+Duff. And now, to me, that same Maggie Duff is the only thing worth
+considering--anywhere. So there you are!
+
+And even after all this, I haven't accomplished what I set out to
+do--that is, find the future possessor of the Fulton millions (unless
+Miss Maggie--bless her!--says "yes." And even then, some one will have
+to have them after us). I have found out one thing, though. As
+conditions are now, I should not want either Frank, or James, or Flora
+to have them--not unless the millions could bring them more happiness
+than these hundred thousand apiece have brought.
+
+Honest, Ned, that miserable money has made more--But, never mind. It's
+too long a story to write. I'll tell you when I see you--if I ever do
+see you. There's still the possibility, you know, that Mr. Stanley G.
+Fulton is lost in darkest South America, and of course John Smith CAN
+go to work!
+
+I believe I won't sign any name--I haven't got any name--that I feel
+really belongs to me now. Still I might--yes, I will sign it
+
+                                        "FRANKENSTEIN."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+SYMPATHIES MISPLACED
+
+
+The first time Mr. Smith saw Frank Blaisdell, after Miss Maggie's news
+of the forty-thousand-dollar loss, he tried, somewhat awkwardly, to
+express his interest and sympathy. But Frank Blaisdell cut him short.
+
+"That's all right, and I thank you," he cried heartily. "And I know
+most folks would think losing forty thousand dollars was about as bad
+as it could be. Jane, now, is all worked up over it; can't sleep
+nights, and has gone back to turning down the gas and eating sour cream
+so's to save and help make it up. But me--I call it the best thing that
+ever happened."
+
+"Well, really," laughed Mr. Smith; "I'm sure that's a very delightful
+way to look at it--if you can."
+
+"Well, I can; and I'll tell you why. It's put me back where I
+belong--behind the counter of a grocery store. I've bought out the old
+stand. Oh, I had enough left for that, and more! Closed the deal last
+night. Gorry, but I was glad to feel the old floor under my feet again!"
+
+"But I thought you--you were tired of work, and--wanted to enjoy
+yourself," stammered Mr. Smith.
+
+Frank Blaisdell laughed.
+
+"Tired of work--wanted to enjoy myself, indeed! Yes, I know I did say
+something like that. But, let me tell you this, Mr. Smith. Talk about
+work!--I never worked so hard in my life as I have the last ten months
+trying to enjoy myself. How these folks can stand gadding 'round the
+country week in and week out, feeding their stomachs on a French
+dictionary instead of good United States meat and potatoes and squash,
+and spending their days traipsing off to see things they ain't a mite
+interested in, and their nights trying to get rested so they can go and
+see some more the next day, I don't understand."
+
+Mr. Smith chuckled.
+
+"I'm afraid these touring agencies wouldn't like to have you write
+their ads for them, Mr. Blaisdell!"
+
+"Well, they hadn't better ask me to," smiled the other grimly. "But
+that ain't all. Since I come back I've been working even harder trying
+to enjoy myself here at home--knockin' silly little balls over a
+ten-acre lot in a game a healthy ten-year-old boy would scorn to play."
+
+"But how about your new car? Didn't you enjoy riding in that?" bantered
+Mr. Smith.
+
+"Oh, yes, I enjoyed the riding well enough; but I didn't enjoy hunting
+for punctures, putting on new tires, or burrowing into the inside of
+the critter to find out why she didn't go! And that's what I was doing
+most of the time. I never did like machinery. It ain't in my line."
+
+He paused a moment, then went on a little wistfully:--
+
+"I suspect, Mr. Smith, there ain't anything in my line but groceries.
+It's all I know. It's all I ever have known. If--if I had my life to
+live over again, I'd do different, maybe. I'd see if I couldn't find
+out what there was in a picture to make folks stand and stare at it an
+hour at a time when you could see the whole thing in a minute--and it
+wa'n't worth lookin' at, anyway, even for a minute. And music, too.
+Now, I like a good tune what is a tune; but them caterwaulings and
+dirges that that chap Gray plays on that fiddle of his--gorry, Mr.
+Smith, I'd rather hear the old barn door at home squeak any day. But if
+I was younger I'd try to learn to like 'em. I would! Look at Flora,
+now. She can set by the hour in front of that phonygraph of hers, and
+not know it!"
+
+"Yes, I know," smiled Mr. Smith.
+
+"And there's books, too," resumed the other, still wistfully. "I'd read
+books--if I could stay awake long enough to do it--and I'd find out
+what there was in 'em to make a good sensible man like Jim Blaisdell
+daft over 'em--and Maggie Duff, too. Why, that little woman used to go
+hungry sometimes, when she was a girl, so she could buy a book she
+wanted. I know she did. Why, I'd 'a' given anything this last year if I
+could 'a' got interested--really interested, readin'. I could 'a'
+killed an awful lot of time that way. But I couldn't do it. I bought a
+lot of 'em, too, an' tried it; but I expect I didn't begin young
+enough. I tell ye, Mr. Smith, I've about come to the conclusion that
+there ain't a thing in the world so hard to kill as time. I've tried
+it, and I know. Why, I got so I couldn't even kill it EATIN'--though I
+'most killed myself TRYIN' to! An' let me tell ye another thing. A full
+stomach ain't in it with bein' hungry an' knowing a good dinner's
+coming. Why, there was whole weeks at a time back there that I didn't
+know the meaning of the word 'hungry.' You'd oughter seen the jolt I
+give one o' them waiter-chaps one day when he comes up with his paper
+and his pencil and asks me what I wanted. 'Want?' says I. 'There ain't
+but one thing on this earth I want, and you can't give it to me. I want
+to WANT something. I'm tired of bein' so blamed satisfied all the
+time!'"
+
+"And what did--Alphonso say to that?" chuckled Mr. Smith appreciatively.
+
+"Alphonso? Oh, the waiter-fellow, you mean? Oh, he just stared a
+minute, then mumbled his usual 'Yes, sir, very good, sir,' and shoved
+that confounded printed card of his a little nearer to my nose. But,
+there! I guess you've heard enough of this, Mr. Smith. It's only that I
+was trying to tell you why I'm actually glad we lost that money. It's
+give me back my man's job again."
+
+"Good! All right, then. I won't waste any more sympathy on you,"
+laughed Mr. Smith.
+
+"Well, you needn't. And there's another thing. I hope it'll give me
+back a little of my old faith in my fellow-man."
+
+"What do you mean by that?"
+
+"Just this. I won't suspect every man, woman, and child that says a
+civil word to me now of having designs on my pocketbook. Why, Mr.
+Smith, you wouldn't believe it, if I told you, the things that's been
+done and said to get a little money out of me. Of course, the open
+gold-brick schemes I knew enough to dodge, 'most of 'em (unless you
+count in that darn Benson mining stock), and I spotted the blackmailers
+all right, most generally. But I WAS flabbergasted when a WOMAN tackled
+the job and began to make love to me--actually make love to me!--one
+day when Jane's back was turned. Gorry! DO I look such a fool as that,
+Mr. Smith? Well, anyhow, there won't be any more of that kind, nor
+anybody after my money now, I guess," he finished with a sage wag of
+his head as he turned away.
+
+To Miss Maggie that evening Mr. Smith said, after recounting the
+earlier portion of the conversation: "So you see you were right, after
+all. I shall have to own it up. Mr. Frank Blaisdell had plenty to
+retire upon, but nothing to retire to. But I'm glad--if he's happy now."
+
+"And he isn't the only one that that forty-thousand-dollar loss has
+done a good turn to," nodded Miss Maggie. "Mellicent has just been
+here. You know she's home from school. It's the Easter vacation,
+anyway, but she isn't going back. It's too expensive."
+
+Miss Maggie spoke with studied casualness, but there was an added color
+in her cheeks--Miss Maggie always flushed a little when she mentioned
+Mellicent's name to Mr. Smith, in spite of her indignant efforts not to
+do so.
+
+"Oh, is that true?"
+
+"Yes. Well, the Pennocks had a dance last night, and Mellicent went.
+She said she had to laugh to see Mrs. Pennock's efforts to keep Carl
+away from her--the loss of the money is known everywhere now, and has
+been greatly exaggerated, I've heard. She said that even Hibbard
+Gaylord had the air of one trying to let her down easy. Mellicent was
+immensely amused."
+
+"Where was Donald Gray?"
+
+"Oh, he wasn't there. He doesn't move in the Pennock crowd much. But
+Mellicent sees him, and--and everything's all right there, now. That's
+why Mellicent is so happy."
+
+"You mean--Has her mother given in?"
+
+"Yes. You see, Jane was at the dance, too, and she saw Carl, and she
+saw Hibbard Gaylord. And she was furious. She told Mellicent this
+morning that she had her opinion of fellows who would show so plainly
+as Carl Pennock and Hibbard Gaylord did that it was the money they were
+after."
+
+"I'm afraid--Mrs. Jane has changed her shoes again," murmured Mr.
+Smith, his eyes merry.
+
+"Has changed--oh!" Miss Maggie's puzzled frown gave way to a laugh.
+"Well, yes, perhaps the shoe is on the other foot again. But, anyway,
+she doesn't love Carl or Hibbard any more, and she does love Donald
+Gray. He HASN'T let the loss of the money make any difference to him,
+you see. He's been even more devoted, if anything. She told Mellicent
+this morning that he was a very estimable young man, and she liked him
+very much. Perhaps you see now why Mellicent is--happy."
+
+"Good! I'm glad to know it," cried Mr. Smith heartily. "I'm glad--" His
+face changed suddenly. His eyes grew somber. "I'm glad the LOSS of the
+money brought them some happiness--if the possession of it didn't," he
+finished moodily, turning to go to his own room. At the hall door he
+paused and looked back at Miss Maggie, standing by the table, gazing
+after him with troubled eyes. "Did Mellicent say--whether Fred was
+there?" he asked.
+
+"Yes. She said he wasn't there. He didn't come home for this vacation
+at all. She said she didn't know why. I suspect Mellicent doesn't know
+anything about that wretched affair of his."
+
+"We'll hope not. So the young gentleman didn't show up at all?"
+
+"No, nor Bessie. She went home with a Long Island girl. Hattie didn't
+go to the Pennocks' either. Hattie has--has been very different since
+this affair of Fred's. I think it frightened her terribly--it was so
+near a tragedy; the boy threatened to kill himself, you know, if his
+father didn't help him out."
+
+"But his father DID help him out!" flared the man irritably.
+
+"Yes, I know he did; and I'm afraid he found things in a pretty bad
+mess--when he got there," sighed Miss Maggie. "It was a bad mess all
+around."
+
+"You are exactly right!" ejaculated Mr. Smith with sudden and peculiar
+emphasis. "It is, indeed, a bad mess all around," he growled as he
+disappeared through the door.
+
+Behind him, Miss Maggie still stood motionless, looking after him with
+troubled eyes.
+
+As the spring days grew warmer, Miss Maggie had occasion many times to
+look after Mr. Smith with troubled eyes. She could not understand him
+at all. One day he would be the old delightful companion, genial,
+cheery, generously donating a box of chocolates to the center-table
+bonbon dish or a dozen hothouse roses to the mantel vase. The next, he
+would be nervous, abstracted, almost irritable. Yet she could see no
+possible reason for the change.
+
+Sometimes she wondered fearfully if Mellicent could have anything to do
+with it. Was it possible that he had cared for Mellicent, and to see
+her now so happy with Donald Gray was more than he could bear? It did
+not seem credible. There was his own statement that he had devoted
+himself to her solely and only to help keep the undesirable lovers away
+and give Donald Gray a chance.
+
+Besides, had he not said that he was not a marrying man, anyway? To be
+sure, that seemed a pity--a man so kind and thoughtful and so
+delightfully companionable! But then, it was nothing to her, of
+course--only she did hope he was not feeling unhappy over Mellicent!
+
+Miss Maggie wished, too, that Mr. Smith would not bring flowers and
+candy so often. It worried her. She felt as if he were spending too
+much money--and she had got the impression in some way that he did not
+have any too much money to spend. And there were the expensive motor
+trips, too--she feared Mr. Smith WAS extravagant. Yet she could not
+tell him so, of course. He never seemed to realize the value of a
+dollar, anyway, and he very obviously did not know how to get the most
+out of it. Look at his foolish generosity in regard to the board he
+paid her!
+
+Miss Maggie wondered sometimes if it might not be worry over money
+matters that was making him so nervous and irritable on occasions now.
+Plainly he was very near the end of his work there in Hillerton. He was
+not getting so many letters on Blaisdell matters from away, either. For
+a month now he had done nothing but a useless repetition of old work;
+and of late, a good deal of the time, he was not even making that
+pretense of being busy. For days at a time he would not touch his
+records. That could mean but one thing, of course; his work was done.
+Yet he seemed to be making no move toward departure. Not that she
+wanted him to go. She should miss him very much when he went, of
+course. But she did not like to feel that he was staying simply because
+he had nowhere to go and nothing to do. Miss Maggie did not believe in
+able-bodied men who had nowhere to go and nothing to do--and she wanted
+very much to believe in Mr. Smith.
+
+She had been under the impression that he was getting the Blaisdell
+material together for a book, and that he was intending to publish it
+himself. He had been very happy and interested. Now he was unhappy and
+uninterested. His book must be ready, but he was making no move to
+publish it. To Miss Maggie this could mean but one thing: some
+financial reverses had made it impossible for him to carry out his
+plans, and had left him stranded with no definite aim for the future.
+
+She was so sorry!--but there seemed to be nothing that she could do.
+She HAD tried to help by insisting that he pay less for his board; but
+he had not only scouted that idea, but had brought her more chocolates
+and flowers than ever--for all the world as if he had divined her
+suspicions and wished to disprove them.
+
+That Mr. Smith was trying to keep something from her, Miss Maggie was
+sure. She was the more sure, perhaps, because she herself had something
+that she was trying to keep from Mr. Smith--and she thought she
+recognized the symptoms.
+
+Meanwhile April budded into May, and May blossomed into June; and June
+brought all the Blaisdells together again in Hillerton.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+WITH EVERY JIM A JAMES
+
+
+Two days after Fred Blaisdell had returned from college, his mother
+came to see Miss Maggie. Mr. Smith was rearranging the books on Miss
+Maggie's shelves and trying to make room for the new ones he had
+brought her through the winter. When Mrs. Hattie came in, red-eyed and
+flushed-faced, he ceased his work at once and would have left the room,
+but she stopped him with a gesture.
+
+"No, don't go. You know all about it, anyway,--and I'd just as soon you
+knew the rest. So you can keep right to work. I just came down to talk
+things over with Maggie. I--I'm sure I don't know w-what I'm going to
+do--when I can't."
+
+"But you always can, dear," soothed Miss Maggie cheerily, handing her
+visitor a fan and taking a chair near her.
+
+Mr. Smith, after a moment's hesitation, turned quietly back to his
+bookshelves.
+
+"But I can't," choked Mrs. Hattie. "I--I'm going away."
+
+"Away? Where? What do you mean?" cried Miss Maggie. "Not to--live!"
+
+"Yes. That's what I came to tell you."
+
+"Why, Hattie Blaisdell, where are you going?"
+
+"To Plainville--next month."
+
+"Plainville? Oh, well, cheer up! That's only forty miles from here. I
+guess we can still see each other. Now, tell me, what does all this
+mean?"
+
+"Well, of course, it began with Fred--his trouble, you know."
+
+"But I thought Jim fixed that all up, dear."
+
+"Oh, he did. He paid the money, and nobody there at college knew a
+thing about it. But there were--other things. Fred told us some of them
+night before last. He says he's ashamed of himself, but that he
+believes there's enough left in him to make a man of him yet. But he
+says he can't do it--there."
+
+"You mean--he doesn't want to go back to college?" Miss Maggie's voice
+showed her disappointment.
+
+"Oh, he wants to go to college--but not there."
+
+"Oh," nodded Miss Maggie. "I see."
+
+"He says he's had too much money to spend--and that 't wouldn't be easy
+not to spend it--if he was back there, in the old crowd. So he wants to
+go somewhere else."
+
+"Well, that's all right, isn't it?"
+
+"Y-yes, oh, yes. Jim says it is. He's awfully happy over it, and--and I
+guess I am."
+
+"Of course you are! But now, what is this about Plainville?" "Oh, that
+grew out of it--all this. Mr. Hammond is going to open a new office in
+Plainville and he's offered Jim--James--no, JIM--I'm not going to call
+him 'James' any more!--the chance to manage it."
+
+"Well, that's fine, I'm sure."
+
+"Yes, of course that part is fine--splendid. He'll get a bigger salary,
+and all that, and--and I guess I'm glad to go, anyway--I don't like
+Hillerton any more. I haven't got any friends here, Maggie. Of course,
+I wouldn't have anything to do with the Gaylords now, after what's
+happened,--that boy getting my boy to drink and gamble, and--and
+everything. And yet--YOU know how I've strained every nerve for years,
+and worked and worked to get where my children could--COULD be with
+them!"
+
+"It didn't pay, did it, Hattie?"
+
+"I guess it didn't! They're perfectly horrid--every one of them, and I
+hate them!"
+
+"Oh, Hattie, Hattie!"
+
+"Well, I do. Look at what they've done to Fred, and Bessie, too! I
+shan't let HER be with them any more, either. There aren't any folks
+here we can be with now. That's why I don't mind going away. All our
+friends that we used to know don't like us any more, they're so jealous
+on account of the money. Oh, yes, I know you think I'm to blame for
+that," she went on aggrievedly. "I can see you do, by your face. Jim
+says so, too. And maybe I am. But it was just so I could get ahead. I
+did so want to BE somebody!"
+
+"I know, Hattie." Miss Maggie looked as if she would like to say
+something more--but she did not say it.
+
+Over at the bookcase Mr. Smith was abstractedly opening and shutting
+the book in his hand. His gaze was out the window near him. He had not
+touched the books on the shelves for some time.
+
+"And look at how I've tried and see what it has come to--Bessie so
+high-headed and airy she makes fun of us, and Fred a gambler and a
+drunkard, and 'most a thief. And it's all that horrid hundred thousand
+dollars!"
+
+The book in Mr. Smith's hand slipped to the floor with a bang; but no
+one was noticing Mr. Smith.
+
+"Oh, Hattie, don't blame the hundred thousand dollars," cried Miss
+Maggie.
+
+"Jim says it was, and Fred does, too. They talked awfully. Fred said it
+was all just the same kind of a way that I'd tried to make folks call
+Jim 'James.' He said I'd been trying to make every single 'Jim' we had
+into a 'James,' until I'd taken away all the fun of living. And I
+suppose maybe he's right, too." Mrs. Hattie sighed profoundly. "Well,
+anyhow, I'm not going to do it any more. There isn't any fun in it,
+anyway. It doesn't make any difference how hard I tried to get ahead, I
+always found somebody else a little 'aheader' as Benny calls it. So
+what's the use?"
+
+"There isn't any use--in that kind of trying, Hattie."
+
+"No, I suppose there isn't. Jim said I was like the little boy that
+they asked what would make him the happiest of anything in the world,
+and he answered, 'Everything that I haven't got.' And I suppose I have
+been something like that. But I don't see as I'm any worse than other
+folks. Everybody goes for money; but I'm sure I don't see why--if it
+doesn't make them any happier than it has me! Well, I must be going."
+Mrs. Hattie rose wearily. "We shall begin to pack the first of the
+month. It looks like a mountain to me, but Jim and Fred say they'll
+help, and--"
+
+Mr. Smith did not hear any more, for Miss Maggie and her guest had
+reached the hall and had closed the door behind them. But when Miss
+Maggie returned, Mr. Smith was pacing up and down the room nervously.
+
+"Well," he demanded with visible irritation, as soon as she appeared,
+"will you kindly tell me if there is anything--desirable--that that
+confounded money has done?"
+
+Miss Maggie looked up in surprise.
+
+"You mean--Jim Blaisdell's money?" she asked.
+
+"I mean all the money--I mean the three hundred thousand dollars that
+those three people received. Has it ever brought any good or
+happiness--anywhere?"
+
+"Oh, yes, I know," smiled Miss Maggie, a little sadly. "But--" Her
+countenance changed abruptly. A passionate earnestness came to her
+eyes. "Don't blame the money--blame the SPENDING of it! The money isn't
+to blame. The dollar that will buy tickets to the movies will just as
+quickly buy a good book; and if you're hungry, it's up to you whether
+you put your money into chocolate eclairs or roast beef. Is the MONEY
+to blame that goes for a whiskey bill or a gambling debt instead of for
+shoes and stockings for the family?"
+
+"Why, n-no." Mr. Smith had apparently lost his own irritation in his
+amazement at hers. "Why, Miss Maggie, you--you seem worked up over this
+matter."
+
+"I am worked up. I'm always worked up--over money. It's been money,
+money, money, ever since I could remember! We're all after it, and we
+all want it, and we strain every nerve to get it. We think it's going
+to bring us happiness. But it won't--unless we do our part. And there
+are some things that even money can't buy. Besides, it isn't the money
+that does the things, anyway,--it's the man behind the money. What do
+you think money is good for, Mr. Smith?"
+
+Mr. Smith, now thoroughly dazed, actually blinked his eyes at the
+question, and at the vehemence with which it was hurled into his face.
+
+"Why, Miss Maggie, it--it--I--I--"
+
+"It isn't good for anything unless we can exchange it for something we
+want, is it?"
+
+"Why, I--I suppose we can GIVE it--"
+
+"But even then we're exchanging it for something we want, aren't we? We
+want to make the other fellow happy, don't we?"
+
+"Well, yes, we do." Mr. Smith spoke with sudden fervor. "But it doesn't
+always work that way. Look at the case right here. Now, very likely
+this--er--Mr. Fulton thought those three hundred thousand dollars were
+going to make these people happy. Personification of happiness--that
+woman was, a few minutes ago, wasn't she?" Mr. Smith had regained his
+air of aggrieved irritation.
+
+"No, she wasn't. But that wasn't the money's fault. It was her own. She
+didn't know how to spend it. And that's just what I mean when I say
+we've got to do our part--money won't buy happiness, unless we exchange
+it for the things that will bring happiness. If we don't know how to
+get any happiness out of five dollars, we won't know how to get it out
+of five hundred, or five thousand, or five hundred thousand, Mr. Smith.
+I don't mean that we'll get the same amount out of five dollars, of
+course,--though I've seen even that happen sometimes!--but I mean that
+we've got to know how to spend five dollars--and to make the most of
+it."
+
+"I reckon--you're right, Miss Maggie."
+
+"I know I'm right, and 't isn't the money's fault when things go wrong.
+Money's all right. I love money. Oh, yes, I know--we're taught that the
+love of money is the root of all evil. But I don't think it should be
+so--necessarily. I think money's one of the most wonderful things in
+the world. It's more than a trust and a gift--it's an opportunity, and
+a test. It brings out what's strongest in us, every time. And it does
+that whether it's five dollars or five hundred thousand dollars. If--if
+we love chocolate eclairs and the movies better than roast beef and
+good books, we're going to buy them, whether they're chocolate eclairs
+and movies on five dollars, or or--champagne suppers and Paris gowns on
+five hundred thousand dollars!"
+
+"Well, by--by Jove!" ejaculated Mr. Smith, rather feebly.
+
+Miss Maggie gave a shamefaced laugh and sank back in her chair.
+
+"You don't know what to think of me, of course; and no wonder," she
+sighed. "But I've felt so bad over this--this money business right here
+under my eyes. I love them all, every one of them. And YOU know how
+it's been, Mr. Smith. Hasn't it worked out to prove just what I say?
+Take Hattie this afternoon. She said that Fred declared she'd been
+trying to make every one of her 'Jims' a 'James,' ever since the money
+came. But he forgot that she did that very same thing before it came.
+All her life she's been trying to make five dollars look like ten; so
+when she got the hundred thousand, it wasn't six months before she was
+trying to make that look like two hundred thousand."
+
+"I reckon you're right."
+
+"Jane is just the opposite. Jane used to buy ingrain carpets and cheap
+chairs and cover them with mats and tidies to save them."
+
+"You're right she did!"
+
+Miss Maggie laughed appreciatively.
+
+"They got on your nerves, too, didn't they? Such layers upon layers of
+covers for everything! It brought me to such a pass that I went to the
+other extreme. I wouldn't protect ANYTHING--which was very
+reprehensible, of course. Well, now she has pretty dishes and solid
+silver--but she hides them in bags and boxes, and never uses them
+except for company. She doesn't take any more comfort with them than
+she did with the ingrain carpets and cheap chairs. Of course, that's a
+little thing. I only mentioned it to illustrate my meaning. Jane
+doesn't know how to play. She never did. When you can't spend five
+cents out of a hundred dollars for pleasure without wincing, you
+needn't expect you're going to spend five dollars out of a hundred
+thousand without feeling the pinch," laughed Miss Maggie.
+
+"And Miss Flora? You haven't mentioned her," observed Mr. Smith, a
+little grimly.
+
+Miss Maggie smiled; then she sighed.
+
+"Poor Flora--and when she tried so hard to quiet her conscience because
+she had so much money! But YOU know how that was. YOU helped her out of
+that scrape. And she's so grateful! She told me yesterday that she
+hardly ever gets a begging letter now."
+
+"No; and those she does get she investigates," asserted Mr. Smith. "So
+the fakes don't bother her much these days. And she's doing a lot of
+good, too, in a small way."
+
+"She is, and she's happy now," declared Miss Maggie, "except that she
+still worries a little because she is so happy. She's dismissed the
+maid and does her own work--I'm afraid Miss Flora never was cut out for
+a fine-lady life of leisure, and she loves to putter in the kitchen.
+She says it's such a relief, too, not to keep dressed up in company
+manners all the time, and not to have that horrid girl spying 'round
+all day to see if she behaves proper. But Flora's a dear."
+
+"She is! and I reckon it worked the best with her of any of them."
+
+"WORKED?" hesitated Miss Maggie.
+
+"Er--that is, I mean, perhaps she's made the best use of the hundred
+thousand," stammered Mr. Smith. "She's been--er--the happiest."
+
+"Why, y-yes, perhaps she has, when you come to look at it that way."
+
+"But you wouldn't--er--advise this Mr. Fulton to leave her--his twenty
+millions?"
+
+"Mercy!" laughed Miss Maggie, throwing up both hands. "She'd faint dead
+away at the mere thought of it."
+
+"Humph! Yes, I suppose so." Mr. Smith turned on his heel and resumed
+his restless pacing up and down the room. From time to time he glanced
+furtively at Miss Maggie. Miss Maggie, her hands idly resting in her
+lap, palms upward, was gazing fixedly at nothing.
+
+"Of just what--are you thinking?" he demanded at last, coming to a
+pause at her side.
+
+"I was thinking--of Mr. Stanley G. Fulton," she answered, not looking
+up.
+
+"Oh, you were!" There was an odd something in Mr. Smith's voice.
+
+"Yes. I was wondering--about those twenty millions."
+
+"Oh, you were!" The odd something had increased, but Miss Maggie's eyes
+were still dreamily fixed on space.
+
+"Yes. I was wondering what he had done with them."
+
+"Had done with them!"
+
+"Yes, in the letter, I mean." She looked up now in faint surprise.
+"Don't you remember? There was a letter--a second letter to be opened
+in two years' time. They said that that was to dispose of the remainder
+of the property--his last will and testament."
+
+"Oh, yes, I remember," assented Mr. Smith, turning on his heel again.
+"Then you think--Mr. Fulton is--dead?" Mr. Smith was very carefully not
+meeting Miss Maggie's eyes.
+
+"Why, yes, I suppose so." Miss Maggie turned back to her meditative
+gazing at nothing. "The two years are nearly up, you know,--I was
+talking with Jane the other day--just next November."
+
+"Yes, I know." The words were very near a groan, but at once Mr. Smith
+hurriedly repeated, "I know--I know!" very lightly, indeed, with an
+apprehensive glance at Miss Maggie.
+
+"So it seems to me if he were alive that he'd be back by this time. And
+so I was wondering--about those millions," she went on musingly. "What
+do YOU suppose he has done with them?" she asked, with sudden
+animation, turning full upon him.
+
+"Why, I--I--How should I know?" stuttered Mr. Smith, a swift crimson
+dyeing his face.
+
+Miss Maggie laughed merrily.
+
+"You wouldn't, of course--but that needn't make you look as if I'd
+intimated that YOU had them! I was only asking for your opinion, Mr.
+Smith," she twinkled, with mischievous eyes.
+
+"Of course!" Mr. Smith laughed now, a little precipitately. "But,
+indeed, Miss Maggie, you turned so suddenly and the question was so
+unexpected that I felt like the small boy who, being always blamed for
+everything at home that went wrong, answered tremblingly, when the
+teacher sharply demanded, 'Who made the world?' 'Please, ma'am, I did;
+but I'll never do it again!'"
+
+"And now," said Mr. Smith, when Miss Maggie had done laughing at his
+little story, "suppose I turn the tables on you? What do YOU think Mr.
+Fulton has done--with that money?"
+
+"I don't know what to think." Miss Maggie shifted her position, her
+face growing intently interested again. "I've been trying to remember
+what I know of the man."
+
+"What you--KNOW of him!" cried Mr. Smith, with startled eyes.
+
+"Yes, from the newspaper and magazine accounts of him. Of course, there
+was quite a lot about him at the time the money came; and Flora let me
+read some things she'd saved, in years gone. Flora was always
+interested in him, you know."
+
+"Well, what did you find?"
+
+"Why, not much, really, about the man. Besides, very likely what I did
+find wasn't true. Oh, he was eccentric. Everything mentioned that. But
+I was trying to find out how he'd spent his money himself. I thought
+that might give me a clue--about the will, I mean."
+
+"Oh, I see."
+
+"Yes; but I didn't find much. In spite of his reported eccentricities,
+he seems to me to have done nothing very extraordinary."
+
+"Oh, indeed!" murmured Mr. Smith.
+
+"He doesn't seem to have been very bad."
+
+"No?" Mr. Smith's eyebrows went up.
+
+"Nor very good either, for that matter."
+
+"Sort of a--nonentity, perhaps." Mr. Smith's lips snapped tight shut.
+
+Miss Maggie laughed softly.
+
+"Perhaps--though I suppose he couldn't really be that--not very
+well--with twenty millions, could he? But I mean, he wasn't very bad,
+nor very good. He didn't seem to be dissipated, or mixed up in any
+scandal, or to be recklessly extravagant, like so many rich men. On the
+other hand, I couldn't find that he'd done any particular good in the
+world. Some charities were mentioned, but they were perfunctory,
+apparently, and I don't believe, from the accounts, that he ever really
+INTERESTED himself in any one--that he ever really cared for--any one."
+
+"Oh, you don't!" If Miss Maggie had looked up, she would have met a
+most disconcerting expression in the eyes bent upon her. But Miss
+Maggie did not look up.
+
+"No," she proceeded calmly. "Why, he didn't even have a wife and
+children to stir him from his selfishness. He had a secretary, of
+course, and he probably never saw half his begging letters. I can
+imagine his tossing them aside with a languid 'Fix them up,
+James,--give the creatures what they want, only don't bother me.'"
+
+"He NEVER did!" stormed Mr. Smith; then, hastily: "I'm sure he never
+did. You wrong him. I'm sure you wrong him."
+
+"Maybe I do," sighed Miss Maggie. "But when I think of what he might
+do--Twenty millions! I can't grasp it. Can you? But he didn't
+do--anything--worth while with them, so far as I can see, when he was
+living, so that's why I can't imagine what his will may be. Probably
+the same old perfunctory charities, however, with the Chicago law firm
+instead of 'James' as disburser--unless, of course, Hattie's
+expectations are fulfilled, and he divides them among the Blaisdells
+here."
+
+"You think--there's something worth while he MIGHT have done with those
+millions, then?" pleaded Mr. Smith, a sudden peculiar wistfulness in
+his eyes.
+
+"Something he MIGHT have done with them!" exclaimed Miss Maggie. "Why,
+it seems to me there's no end to what he might have done--with twenty
+millions."
+
+"What would YOU do?"
+
+"I?--do with twenty millions?" she breathed.
+
+"Yes, you." Mr. Smith came nearer, his face working with emotion. "Miss
+Maggie, if a man with twenty millions--that is, could you love a man
+with twenty millions, if--if Mr. Fulton should ask you--if _I_ were Mr.
+Fulton--if--" His countenance changed suddenly. He drew himself up with
+a cry of dismay. "Oh, no--no--I've spoiled it all now. That isn't what
+I meant to say first. I was going to find out--I mean, I was going to
+tell--Oh, good Heavens, what a--That confounded money--again!"
+
+Miss Maggie sprang to her feet.
+
+"Why, Mr. Smith, w-what--" Only the crisp shutting of the door answered
+her. With a beseeching look and a despairing gesture Mr. Smith had gone.
+
+Once again Miss Maggie stood looking after Mr. Smith with dismayed
+eyes. Then, turning to sit down, she came face to face with her own
+image in the mirror.
+
+"Well, now you've done it, Maggie Duff," she whispered wrathfully to
+the reflection in the glass. "And you've broken his heart! He was--was
+going to say something--I know he was. And you? You've talked money,
+money, MONEY to him for an hour. You said you LOVED money; and you told
+what you'd do--if you had twenty millions of dollars. And you know--you
+KNOW he's as poor as Job's turkey, and that just now he's more than
+ever plagued over--money! And yet you--Twenty millions of dollars! As
+if that counted against--"
+
+With a little sobbing cry Miss Maggie covered her face with her hands
+and sat down, helplessly, angrily.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+REFLECTIONS--MIRRORED AND OTHERWISE
+
+
+Miss Maggie was still sitting in the big chair with her face in her
+hands when the door opened and Mr. Smith came in. He was very white.
+
+Miss Maggie, dropping her hands and starting up at his entrance, caught
+a glimpse of his face in the mirror in front of her. With a furtive,
+angry dab of her fingers at her wet eyes, she fell to rearranging the
+vases and photographs on the mantel.
+
+"Oh, back again, Mr. Smith?" she greeted him, with studied unconcern.
+
+Mr. Smith shut the door and advanced determinedly.
+
+"Miss Maggie, I've got to face this thing out, of course. Even if I
+had--made a botch of things at the very start, it didn't help any
+to--to run away, as I did. And I was a coward to do it. It was only
+because I--I--But never mind that. I'm coming now straight to the
+point. Miss Maggie, will you--marry me?"
+
+The photograph in Miss Maggie's hand fell face down on the shelf. Miss
+Maggie's fingers caught the edge of the mantel in a convulsive grip. A
+swift glance in the mirror before her disclosed Mr. Smith's face just
+over her shoulder, earnest, pleading, and still very white. She dropped
+her gaze, and turned half away. She did not want to meet Mr. Smith's
+eyes just then. She tried to speak, but only a half-choking little
+breath came.
+
+Then Mr. Smith spoke again.
+
+"Miss Maggie, please don't say no--yet. Let me--explain--about how I
+came here, and all that. But first, before I do that, let me tell you
+how--how I love you--how I have loved you all these long months. I
+THINK I loved you from the first time I saw you. Whatever comes, I want
+you to know that. And if you could care for me a little--just a little,
+I'm sure I could make it more--in time, so you would marry me. And we
+would be so happy! Don't you believe I'd try to make you happy--dear?"
+
+"Yes, oh, yes," murmured Miss Maggie, still with her head turned away.
+
+"Good! Then all you've got to say is that you'll let me try. And we
+will be happy, dear! Why, until I came here to this little house, I
+didn't know what living, real living, was. And I HAVE been, just as
+you said, a selfish old thing."
+
+Miss Maggie, with a start of surprise, faced the image in the mirror;
+but Mr. Smith was looking at her, not at her reflection, so she did not
+meet his ayes.
+
+"Why, I never--" she stammered.
+
+"Yes, you did, a minute ago. Don't you remember? Oh, of course you
+didn't realize--everything, and perhaps you wouldn't have said it if
+you'd known. But you said it--and you meant it, and I'm glad you said
+it. And, dear little woman, don't you see? That's only another reason
+why you should say yes. You can show me how not to be selfish."
+
+"But, Mr. Smith, I--I-" stammered Miss Maggie, still with puzzled eyes.
+
+"Yes, you can. You can show me how to make life really worth while, for
+me, and for--for lots of others And NOW I have some one to care for.
+And, oh, little woman, I--I care so much, it can't be that you--you
+don't care--any!"
+
+Miss Maggie caught her breath and turned away again.
+
+"Don't you care--a little?"
+
+The red crept up Miss Maggie's neck to her forehead but still she was
+silent.
+
+"If I could only see your eyes," pleaded the man. Then, suddenly, he
+saw Miss Maggie's face in the mirror. The next moment Miss Maggie
+herself turned a little, and in the mirror their eyes met--and in the
+mirror Mr. Smith found his answer. "You DO care--a LITTLE!" he
+breathed, as he took her in his arms.
+
+"But I don't!" Miss Maggie shook her head vigorously against his
+coat-collar.
+
+"What?" Mr. Smith's clasp loosened a little.
+
+"I care--a GREAT DEAL," whispered Miss Maggie to the coat-collar, with
+shameless emphasis.
+
+"You--darling!" triumphed the man, bestowing a rapturous kiss on the
+tip of a small pink ear--the nearest point to Miss Maggie's lips that
+was available, until, with tender determination, he turned her face to
+his.
+
+A moment later, blushing rosily, Miss Maggie drew herself away.
+
+"There, we've been quite silly enough--old folks like us."
+
+"We're not silly. Love is never silly--not real love like ours. Besides,
+we're only as old as we feel. Do you feel old? I don't. I've
+lost--YEARS since this morning. And you know I'm just beginning to
+live--really live, anyway! I feel--twenty-one."
+
+"I'm afraid you act it," said Miss Maggie, with mock severity.
+
+"YOU would--if you'd been through what _I_ have," retorted Mr. Smith,
+drawing a long breath. "And when I think what a botch I made of it, to
+begin with--You see, I didn't mean to start off with that, first thing;
+and I was so afraid that--that even if you did care for John Smith, you
+wouldn't for me--just at first. But you do, dear!" At arms' length he
+held her off, his hands on her shoulders. His happy eyes searching her
+face saw the dawn of the dazed, question.
+
+"Wouldn't care for YOU if I did for John Smith! Why, you ARE John
+Smith. What do you mean?" she demanded, her eyes slowly sweeping him
+from head to foot and back again. "What DO you mean?"
+
+"MISS MAGGIE!" Instinctively his tongue went back to the old manner of
+address, but his hands still held her shoulders. "You don't mean--you
+can't mean that--that you didn't understand--that you DON'T understand
+that I am--Oh, good Heavens! Well, I have made a mess of it this time,"
+he groaned. Releasing his hold on her shoulders, he turned and began to
+tramp up and down the room. "Nice little John-Alden-Miles-Standish
+affair this is now, upon my word! Miss Maggie, have I got to--to
+propose to you all over again for--for another man, now?"
+
+"For--ANOTHER MAN! I--I don't think I understand you." Miss Maggie had
+grown a little white.
+
+"Then you don't know--you didn't understand a few minutes ago, when
+I--I spoke first, when I asked you about--about those twenty millions--"
+
+She lifted her hand quickly, pleadingly.
+
+"Mr. Smith, please, don't let's bring money into it at all. I don't
+care--I don't care a bit if you haven't got any money."
+
+Mr. Smith's jaw dropped.
+
+"If I HAVEN'T got any money!" he ejaculated stupidly.
+
+"No! Oh, yes, I know, I said I loved money." The rich red came back to
+her face in a flood. "But I didn't mean--And it's just as much of a
+test and an opportunity when you DON'T have money--more so, if
+anything. I didn't mean it--that way. I never thought of--of how you
+might take it--as if I WANTED it. I don't. Indeed, I don't! Oh, can't
+you--understand?"
+
+"Understand! Good Heavens!" Mr. Smith threw up both his hands. "And I
+thought I'd given myself away! Miss Maggie." He came to her and stood
+close, but he did not offer to touch her. "I thought, after I'd said
+what I did about--about those twenty millions that you understood--that
+you knew I was--Stanley Fulton himself."
+
+"That you were--who?" Miss Maggie stood motionless, her eyes looking
+straight into his, amazed incredulous.
+
+"Stanley Fulton. I am Stanley Fulton. My God! Maggie, don't look at me
+like that. I thought--I told you. Indeed, I did!"
+
+She was backing away now, slowly, step by step. Anger, almost loathing,
+had taken the place of the amazement and incredulity in her eyes.
+
+"And YOU are Mr. Fulton?"
+
+"Yes, yes! But--" "And you've been here all these months--yes,
+years--under a false name, pretending to be what you weren't--talking
+to us, eating at our tables, winning our confidence, letting us talk to
+you about yourself, even pretending that--Oh, how could you?" Her voice
+broke.
+
+"Maggie, dearest," he begged, springing toward her, "if you'll only let
+me--"
+
+But she stopped him peremptorily, drawing herself to her full height.
+
+"I am NOT your dearest," she flamed angrily. "I did not give my
+love--to YOU."
+
+"Maggie!" he implored.
+
+But she drew back still farther.
+
+"No! I gave it to John Smith--gentleman, I supposed. A man--poor, yes,
+I believed him poor; but a man who at least had a right to his NAME! I
+didn't give it to Mr. Stanley G. Fulton, spy, trickster, who makes life
+itself a masquerade for SPORT! I do not know Mr. Stanley G. Fulton,
+and--I do not wish to." The words ended in a sound very like a sob; but
+Miss Maggie, with her head still high, turned her back and walked to
+the window.
+
+The man, apparently stunned for a moment, stood watching her, his eyes
+grieved, dismayed, hopeless. Then, white-faced, he turned and walked
+toward the door. With his hand almost on the knob he slowly wheeled
+about and faced the woman again. He hesitated visibly, then in a dull,
+lifeless voice he began to speak.
+
+"Miss Maggie, before John Smith steps entirely out of your life, he
+would like to say just this, please, not on justification, but on
+explanation of----of Stanley G. Fulton. Fulton did not intend to be a
+spy, or a trickster, or to make life a masquerade for--sport. He was a
+lonely old man--he felt old. He had no wife or child. True, he had no
+one to care for, but--he had no one to care for HIM, either. Remember
+that, please. He did have a great deal of money--more than he knew what
+to do with. Oh, he tried--various ways of spending it. Never mind what
+they were. They are not worth speaking of here. They resulted, chiefly,
+in showing him that he wasn't--as wise as he might be in that line,
+perhaps."
+
+The man paused and wet his lips. At the window Miss Maggie still stood,
+with her back turned as before.
+
+"The time came, finally," resumed the man, "when Fulton began to wonder
+what would become of his millions when he was done with them. He had a
+feeling that he would like to will a good share of them to some of his
+own kin; but he had no nearer relatives than some cousins back East,
+in--Hillerton."
+
+Miss Maggie at the window drew in her breath, and held it suspended,
+letting it out slowly.
+
+"He didn't know anything about these cousins," went on the man dully,
+wearily, "and he got to wondering what they would do with the money. I
+think he felt, as you said to-day that you feel, that one must know how
+to spend five dollars if one would get the best out of five thousand.
+So Fulton felt that, before he gave a man fifteen or twenty millions,
+he would like to know--what he would probably do with them. He had seen
+so many cases where sudden great wealth had brought--great sorrow.
+
+"And so then he fixed up a little scheme; he would give each one of
+these three cousins of his a hundred thousand dollars apiece, and then,
+unknown to them, he would get acquainted with them, and see which of
+them would be likely to make the best use of those twenty millions. It
+was a silly scheme, of course,--a silly, absurd foolishness from
+beginning to end. It--"
+
+He did not finish his sentence. There was a rush of swift feet, a swish
+of skirts, then full upon him there fell a whirlwind of sobs, clinging
+arms, and incoherent ejaculations.
+
+"It wasn't silly--it wasn't silly. It was perfectly splendid! I see it
+all now. I see it all! I understand. Oh, I think it was--WONDERFUL! And
+I--I'm so ASHAMED!"
+
+Later--very much later, when something like lucid coherence had become
+an attribute of their conversation, as they sat together upon the old
+sofa, the man drew a long breath and said:--
+
+"Then I'm quite forgiven?"
+
+"There is nothing to forgive."
+
+"And you consider yourself engaged to BOTH John Smith and Stanley G.
+Fulton?"
+
+"It sounds pretty bad, but--yes," blushed Miss Maggie.
+
+"And you must love Stanley G. Fulton just exactly as well--no, a little
+better, than you did John Smith."
+
+"I'll--try to--if he's as lovable." Miss Maggie's head was at a saucy
+tilt.
+
+"He'll try to be; but--it won't be all play, you know, for you. You've
+got to tell him what to do with those twenty millions. By the way, what
+WILL you do with them?" he demanded interestedly.
+
+Miss Maggie looked up, plainly startled.
+
+"Why, yes, that's so. You--you--if you're Mr. Fulton, you HAVE got--And
+I forgot all about--those twenty millions. And they're YOURS, Mr.
+Smith!"
+
+"No, they're not Mr. Smith's," objected the man. "They belong to
+Fulton, if you please. Furthermore, CAN'T you call me anything but that
+abominable 'Mr. Smith'? My name is Stanley. You might--er--abbreviate
+it to--er--' Stan,' now."
+
+"Perhaps so--but I shan't," laughed Miss Maggie,--"not yet. You may be
+thankful I have wits enough left to call you anything--after becoming
+engaged to two men all at once."
+
+"And with having the responsibility of spending twenty millions, too."
+
+"Oh, yes, the money!" Her eyes began to shine. She drew another long
+breath. "Oh, we can do so much with that money! Why, only think what is
+needed right HERE--better milk for the babies, and a community house,
+and the streets cleaner, and a new carpet for the church, and a new
+hospital with--"
+
+"But, see here, aren't you going to spend some of that money on
+yourself?" he demanded. "Isn't there something YOU want?"
+
+She gave him a merry glance.
+
+"Myself? Dear me, I guess I am! I'm going to Egypt, and China, and
+Japan--with you, of course; and books--oh, you never saw such a lot of
+books as I shall buy. And--oh, I'll spend heaps on just my selfish
+self--you see if I don't! But, first,--oh, there are so many things
+that I've so wanted to do, and it's just come over me this minute that
+NOW I can do them! And you KNOW how Hillerton needs a new hospital."
+Her eyes grew luminous and earnest again. "And I want to build a store
+and run it so the girls can LIVE, and a factory, too, and decent homes
+for the workmen, and a big market, where they can get their food at
+cost; and there's the playground for the children, and--"
+
+But Mr. Smith was laughing, and lifting both hands in mock despair.
+
+"Look here," he challenged, "I THOUGHT you were marrying ME, but--ARE
+you marrying me or that confounded money?"
+
+Miss Maggie laughed merrily.
+
+"Yes, I know; but you see--" She stopped short. An odd expression came
+to her eyes.
+
+Suddenly she laughed again, and threw into his eyes a look so merry, so
+whimsical, so altogether challenging, that he demanded:--
+
+"Well, what is it now?"
+
+"Oh, it's so good, I have--half a mind to tell you."
+
+"Of course you'll tell me. Where are you going?" he asked
+discontentedly.
+
+Miss Maggie had left the sofa, and was standing, as if half-poised for
+flight, midway to the door.
+
+"I think--yes, I will tell you," she nodded, her cheeks very pink; "but
+I wanted to be--over here to tell it."
+
+"'Way over there?"
+
+"Yes, 'way over here. Do you remember those letters I got awhile ago,
+and the call from the Boston; lawyer, that I--I wouldn't tell you
+about?"
+
+"I should say I did!"
+
+"Well; you know you--you thought they--they had something to do
+with--my money; that I--I'd lost some."
+
+"I did, dear."
+
+"Well, they--they did have something to do--with money."
+
+"I knew they did!" triumphed the man. "Oh, why wouldn't you tell me
+then--and let me help you some way?"
+
+She shook her head nervously and backed nearer the door. He had half
+started from his seat.
+
+"No, stay there. If you don't--I won't tell you."
+
+He fell back, but with obvious reluctance.
+
+"Well, as I said, it did have something to do--with my money; but just
+now, when you asked me if I--I was marrying you or your money--"
+
+"But I was in fun--you know I was in fun!" defended the man hotly.
+
+"Oh, yes, I knew that," nodded Miss Maggie. "But it--it made me laugh
+and remember--the letters. You see, they weren't as you thought. They
+didn't tell me of--of money lost. They told me of money--gained."
+
+"Gained?"
+
+"Yes. That father's Cousin George in Alaska had died and left me--fifty
+thousand dollars."
+
+"But, my dear woman, why in Heaven's name wouldn't you tell me that?"
+
+"Because." Miss Maggie took a step nearer the door. "You see, I thought
+you were poor--very poor, and I--I wouldn't even own up to it myself,
+but I knew, in my heart, that I was afraid, if you heard I had this
+money, you wouldn't--you wouldn't--ask me to--to--"
+
+She was blushing so adorably now that the man understood and leaped to
+his feet.
+
+"Maggie, you--darling!"
+
+But the door had shut--Miss Maggie had fled.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+THAT MISERABLE MONEY
+
+
+In the evening, after the Martin girls had gone to their rooms, Miss
+Maggie and Mr. Smith faced the thing squarely.
+
+"Of course," he began with a sigh, "I'm really not out of the woods at
+all. Blissfully happy as I am, I'm really deeper in the woods than
+ever, for now I've got you there with me, to look out for. However
+successfully John Smith might dematerialize into nothingness--Maggie
+Duff can't."
+
+"No, I know she can't," admitted Miss Maggie soberly.
+
+"Yet if she marries John Smith she'll have to--and if she doesn't marry
+him, how's Stanley G. Fulton going to do his courting? He can't come
+here."
+
+"But he must!" Miss Maggie looked up with startled eyes. "Why, Mr.
+Smith, you'll HAVE to tell them--who you are. You'll have to tell them
+right away."
+
+The man made a playfully wry face.
+
+"I shall be glad," he observed, "when I shan't have to be held off at
+the end of a 'Mr.'! However, we'll let that pass--until we settle the
+other matter. Have you given any thought as to HOW I'm going to tell
+Cousin Frank and Cousin James and Cousin Flora that I am Stanley G.
+Fulton?"
+
+"No--except that you must do it," she answered decidedly. "I don't
+think you ought to deceive them another minute--not another minute."
+
+"Hm-m." Mr. Smith's eyes grew reflective. "And had you thought--as to
+what would happen when I did tell them?"
+
+"Why, n-no, not particularly, except that--that they naturally wouldn't
+like it, at first, and that you'd have to explain--just as you did to
+me--why you did it."
+
+"And do you think they'll like it any better--when I do explain? Think!"
+
+Miss Maggie meditated; then, a little tremulously she drew in her
+breath. She lifted startled eyes to his face.
+
+"Why, you'd have to tell them that--that you did it for a test,
+wouldn't you?"
+
+"If I told the truth--yes."
+
+"And they'd know--they couldn't help knowing--that they had failed to
+meet it adequately."
+
+"Yes. And would that help matters any--make things any happier, all
+around?"
+
+"No--oh, no," she frowned despairingly.
+
+"Would it do anybody any REAL good, now? Think of that."
+
+"N-no," she admitted reluctantly, "except that--that you'd be doing
+right."
+
+"But WOULD I be doing right? And another thing--aside from the
+mortification, dismay, and anger of my good cousins, have you thought
+what I'd be bringing on you?"
+
+"ME!"
+
+"Yes. In less than half a dozen hours after the Blaisdells knew that
+Mr. John Smith was Stanley G. Fulton, Hillerton would know it. And in
+less than half a dozen more hours, Boston, New York, Chicago,--to say
+nothing of a dozen lesser cities,--would know it--if there didn't
+happen to be anything bigger on foot. Headlines an inch high would
+proclaim the discovery of the missing Stanley G. Fulton, and the fine
+print below would tell everything that happened, and a great deal that
+didn't happen, in the carrying-out of the eccentric multi-millionaire's
+extraordinary scheme of testing his relatives with a hundred thousand
+dollars apiece to find a suitable heir. Your picture would adorn the
+front page of the yellowest of yellow journals, and--"
+
+"MY picture! Oh, no, no!" gasped Miss Maggie.
+
+"Oh, yes, yes," smiled the man imperturbably. "You'll be in it, too.
+Aren't you the affianced bride of Mr. Stanley G. Fulton? I can see them
+now: 'In Search of an Heir and Finds a Wife.'--'Charming Miss Maggie
+Duff Falls in Love with Plain John Smith,' and--"
+
+"Oh, no, no," moaned Miss Maggie, shrinking back as if already the
+lurid headlines were staring her in the face.
+
+Mr. Smith laughed.
+
+"Oh, well, it might not be so bad as that, of course. But you never can
+tell. Undoubtedly there are elements for a pretty good story in the
+case, and some man, with nothing more important to write up, is bound
+to make the most of it somewhere. Then other papers will copy. There's
+sure to be unpleasant publicity, my dear, if the truth once leaks out."
+
+"But what--what HAD you planned to do?" she faltered, shuddering again.
+
+"Well, I HAD planned something like this: pretty quick, now, Mr. Smith
+was to announce the completion of his Blaisdell data, and, with
+properly grateful farewells, take his departure from Hillerton. He
+would go to South America. There he would go inland on some sort of a
+simple expedition with a few native guides and carriers, but no other
+companion. Somewhere in the wilderness he would shed his beard and his
+name, and would emerge in his proper person of Stanley G. Fulton and
+promptly take passage for the States. Of course, upon the arrival in
+Chicago of Mr. Stanley G. Fulton, there would be a slight flurry at his
+appearance, and a few references to the hundred-thousand-dollar gifts
+to the Eastern relatives, and sundry speculations as to the why and how
+of the exploring trip. There would be various rumors and alleged
+interviews; but Mr. Stanley G. Fulton never was noted for his
+communicativeness, and, after a very short time, the whole thing would
+be dismissed as probably another of the gentleman's well-known
+eccentricities. And there it would end."
+
+"Oh, I see," murmured Miss Maggie, in very evident relief. "That would
+be better--in some ways; only it does seem terrible not to--to tell
+them who you are."
+
+"But we have just proved that to do that wouldn't bring happiness
+anywhere, and would bring misery everywhere, haven't we?"
+
+"Y-yes."
+
+"Then why do it?--particularly as by not doing it I am not defrauding
+anybody in the least. No; that part isn't worrying me a bit now--but
+there is one point that does worry me very much."
+
+"What do you mean? What is it?"
+
+"Yourself. My scheme gets Stanley G. Fulton back to life and Chicago
+very nicely; but it doesn't get Maggie Duff there worth a cent! Maggie
+Duff can't marry Mr. John Smith in Hillerton and arrive in Chicago as
+the wife of Stanley G. Fulton, can she?"
+
+"N-no, but he--he can come back and get her--if he wants her." Miss
+Maggie blushed.
+
+"If he wants her, indeed!" (Miss Maggie blushed all the more at the
+method and the fervor of Mr. Smith's answer to this.) "Come back as Mr.
+Stanley G. Fulton, you mean?" went on Mr. Smith, smiling at Miss
+Maggie's hurried efforts to smooth her ruffled hair. "Too risky, my
+dear! He'd look altogether too much like--like Mr. John Smith."
+
+"But your beard will be gone--I wonder how I shall like you without a
+beard." She eyed him critically.
+
+Mr. Smith laughed and threw up his hands with a doleful shrug.
+
+"That's what comes of courting as one man and marrying as another," he
+groaned. Then, sternly: "I'll warn you right now, Maggie Duff, that
+Stanley G. Fulton is going to be awfully jealous of John Smith if you
+don't look out."
+
+"He should have thought of that before," retorted Miss Maggie, her eyes
+mischievous. "But, tell me, wouldn't you EVER dare to come--in your
+proper person?"
+
+"Never!--or, at least, not for some time. The beard would be gone, to
+be sure; but there'd be all the rest to tattle--eyes, voice, size,
+manner, walk--everything; and smoked glasses couldn't cover all that,
+you know. Besides, glasses would be taboo, anyway. They'd only result
+in making me look more like John Smith than ever. John Smith, you
+remember, wore smoked glasses for some time to hide Mr. Stanley G.
+Fulton from the ubiquitous reporter. No, Mr. Stanley G. Fulton can't
+come to Hillerton. So, as Mahomet can't go to the mountain, the
+mountain must come to Mahomet."
+
+"Meaning--?" Miss Maggie's eyes were growing dangerously mutinous.
+
+"That you will have to come to Chicago--yes."
+
+"And court you? No, sir--thank you!"
+
+Mr. Smith chuckled softly.
+
+"I love you with your head tilted that way." (Miss Maggie promptly
+tilted it the other.) "Or that, either, for that matter," continued Mr.
+Smith genially. "However, speaking of courting--Mr. Fulton will do
+that, all right, and endeavor to leave nothing lacking, either as to
+quantity or quality. Think, now. Don't you know any one in Chicago?
+Haven't you got some friend that you can visit?"
+
+"No!" Miss Maggie's answer was prompt and emphatic--too prompt and too
+emphatic for unquestioning acceptance.
+
+"Oh, yes, you have," asserted the man cheerfully. "I don't know her
+name--but she's there. She's Waving a red flag from your face this
+minute! Now, listen. Well, turn your head away, if you like--if you can
+listen better that way," he went on tranquilly paying no attention to
+her little gasp. "Well, all you have to do is to write the lady you're
+coming, and go. Never mind who she is--Mr. Stanley G. Fulton will find
+a way to meet her. Trust him for that! Then he'll call and meet
+you--and be so pleased to see you! The rest will be easy. There'll be a
+regular whirlwind courtship then--calls, dinners, theaters, candy,
+books, flowers! Then Mr. Stanley G. Fulton will propose marriage.
+You'll be immensely surprised, of course, but you'll accept. Then we'll
+get married," he finished with a deep sigh of satisfaction.
+
+"MR. SMITH!" ejaculated Miss Maggie faintly.
+
+"Say, CAN'T you call me anything--" he began wrathfully, but
+interrupted himself. "However, it's better that you don't, after all.
+Because I've got to be 'Mr. Smith' as long as I stay here. But you wait
+till you meet Mr. Stanley G. Fulton in Chicago! Now, what's her name,
+and where does she live?"
+
+Miss Maggie laughed in spite of herself, as she said severely: "Her
+name, indeed! I'm afraid Mr. Stanley G. Fulton is so in the habit of
+having his own way that he forgets he is still Mr. John Smith. However,
+there IS an old schoolmate," she acknowledged demurely.
+
+"Of course there is! Now, write her at once, and tell her you're
+coming."
+
+"But she--she may not be there."
+
+"Then get her there. She's GOT to be there. And, listen. I think you'd
+better plan to go pretty soon after I go to South America. Then you can
+be there when Mr. Stanley G. Fulton arrives in Chicago and can write
+the news back here to Hillerton. Oh, they'll get it in the papers, in
+time, of course; but I think it had better come from you first. You
+see--the reappearance on this earth of Mr. Stanley G. Fulton is going
+to be of--of some moment to them, you know. There is Mrs. Hattie, for
+instance, who is counting on the rest of the money next November."
+
+"Yes, I know, it will mean a good deal to them, of course. Still, I
+don't believe Hattie is really expecting the money. At any rate, she
+hasn't said anything about it very lately--perhaps because she's been
+too busy bemoaning the pass the present money has brought them to."
+
+"Yes, I know," frowned Mr. Smith, with a gloomy sigh. "That miserable
+money!"
+
+"No, no--I didn't mean to bring that up," apologized Miss Maggie
+quickly, with an apprehensive glance into his face. "And it wasn't
+miserable money a bit! Besides, Hattie has--has learned her lesson, I'm
+sure, and she'll do altogether differently in the new home. But, Mr.
+Smith, am I never to--to come back here? Can't we come back--ever?"
+
+"Indeed we can--some time, by and by, when all this has blown over, and
+they've forgotten how Mr. Smith looks. We can come back then.
+Meanwhile, you can come alone--a VERY little. I shan't let you leave me
+very much. But I understand; you'll have to come to see your friends.
+Besides, there are all those playgrounds for the babies and cleaner
+milk for the streets, and--"
+
+"Cleaner milk for the streets, indeed!"
+
+"Eh? What? Oh, yes, it WAS the milk for the babies, wasn't it?" he
+teased. "Well, however that may be you'll have to come back to
+superintend all those things you've been wanting to do so long.
+But"--his face grew a little wistful--"you don't want to spend too much
+time here. You know--Chicago has a few babies that need cleaner milk."
+
+"Yes, I know, I know!" Her face grew softly luminous as it had grown
+earlier in the afternoon.
+
+"So you can bestow some of your charity there; and--"
+
+"It isn't charity," she interrupted with suddenly flashing eyes. "Oh,
+how I hate that word--the way it's used, I mean. Of course, the real
+charity means love. Love, indeed! I suppose it was LOVE that made John
+Daly give one hundred dollars to the Pension Fund Fair--after he'd
+jewed it out of those poor girls behind his counters! And Mrs. Morse
+went around everywhere telling how kind dear Mr. Daly was to give so
+much to charity! CHARITY! Nobody wants charity--except a few lazy
+rascals like those beggars of Flora's! But we all want our RIGHTS. And
+if half the world gave the other half its rights there wouldn't BE any
+charity, I believe."
+
+"Dear, dear! What have we here? A rabid little Socialist?" Mr. Smith
+held up both hands in mock terror. "I shall be petitioning her for my
+bread and butter, yet!"
+
+"Nonsense! But, honestly, Mr. Smith, when I think of all that
+money"--her eyes began to shine again--"and of what we can do with it,
+I--I just can't believe it's so!"
+
+"But you aren't expecting that twenty millions are going to right all
+the wrongs in the world, are you?" Mr. Smith's eyes were quizzical.
+
+"No, oh, no; but we can help SOME that we know about. But it isn't that
+I just want to GIVE, you know. We must get behind things--to the
+causes. We must--"
+
+"We must make the Mr. Dalys pay more to their girls before they pay
+anything to pension funds, eh?" laughed Mr. Smith, as Miss Maggie came
+to a breathless pause.
+
+"Exactly!" nodded Miss Maggie earnestly. "Oh, can't you SEE what we can
+do--with that twenty million dollars?"
+
+Mr. Smith, his gaze on Miss Maggie's flushed cheeks and shining eyes,
+smiled tenderly. Then with mock severity he frowned.
+
+"I see--that I'm being married for my money--after all!" he scolded.
+
+"Pooh!" sniffed Miss Maggie, so altogether bewitchingly that Mr. Smith
+gave her a rapturous kiss.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+EXIT MR. JOHN SMITH
+
+
+Early in July Mr. Smith took his departure from Hillerton. He made a
+farewell call upon each of the Blaisdell families, and thanked them
+heartily for all their kindness in assisting him with his Blaisdell
+book.
+
+The Blaisdells, one and all, said they were very sorry to have him go.
+Miss Flora frankly wiped her eyes, and told Mr. Smith she could never,
+never thank him enough for what he had done for her. Mellicent, too,
+with shy eyes averted, told him she should never forget what he had
+done for her--and for Donald.
+
+James and Flora and Frank--and even Jane!--said that they would like to
+have one of the Blaisdell books, when they were published, to hand down
+in the family. Flora took out her purse and said that she would pay for
+hers now; but Mr. Smith hastily, and with some evident embarrassment,
+refused the money, saying that he could not tell yet what the price of
+the book would be.
+
+All the Blaisdells, except Frank, Fred, and Bessie, went to the station
+to see Mr. Smith off. They said they wanted to. They told him he was
+just like one of the family, anyway, and they declared they hoped he
+would come back soon. Frank telephoned him that he would have gone,
+too, if he had not had so much to do at the store.
+
+Mr. Smith seemed pleased at all this attention--he seemed, indeed,
+quite touched; but he seemed also embarrassed--in fact, he seemed often
+embarrassed during those last few days at Hillerton.
+
+Miss Maggie Duff did not go to the station to see Mr. Smith off. Miss
+Flora, on her way home, stopped at the Duff cottage and reproached Miss
+Maggie for the delinquency.
+
+"Nonsense! Why should I go?" laughed Miss Maggie.
+
+"Why SHOULDN'T you?" retorted Miss Flora. "All the rest of us did,
+'most."
+
+"Well, that's all right. You're Blaisdells--but I'm not, you know."
+
+"You're just as good as one, Maggie Duff! Besides, hasn't that man
+boarded here for over a year, and paid you good money, too?"
+
+"Why, y-yes, of course."
+
+"Well, then, I don't think it would have hurt you any to show him this
+last little attention. He'll think you don't like him, or--or are mad
+about something, when all the rest of us went."
+
+"Nonsense, Flora!"
+
+"Well, then, if--Why, Maggie Duff, you're BLUSHING!" she broke off,
+peering into Miss Maggie's face in a way that did not tend to lessen
+the unmistakable color that was creeping to her forehead. "You ARE
+blushing! I declare, if you were twenty years younger, and I didn't
+know better, I should say that--" She stopped abruptly, then plunged
+on, her countenance suddenly alight with a new idea. "NOW I know why
+you didn't go to the station, Maggie Duff! That man proposed to you,
+and you refused him!" she triumphed.
+
+"Flora!" gasped Miss Maggie, her face scarlet.
+
+"He did, I know he did! Hattie always said it would be a match--from
+the very first, when he came here to your house."
+
+"FLORA!" gasped Miss Maggie again, looking about her very much as if
+she were meditating flight.
+
+"Well, she did--but I didn't believe it. Now I know. You refused
+him--now, didn't you?"
+
+"Certainly not!" Miss Maggie caught her breath a little convulsively.
+
+"Honest?"
+
+"Flora! Stop this silly talk right now. I have answered you once. I
+shan't again."
+
+"Hm-m." Miss Flora fell back in her chair. "Well, I suppose you didn't,
+then, if you say so. And I don't need to ask if you accepted him. You
+didn't, of course, or you'd have been there to see him off. And he
+wouldn't have gone then, anyway, probably. So he didn't ask you, I
+suppose. Well, I never did believe, like Hattie did, that--"
+
+"Flora," interrupted Miss Maggie desperately, "WILL you stop talking in
+that absurd way? Listen, I did not care to go to the station to-day. I
+am very busy. I am going away next week. I am going--to Chicago."
+
+"To CHICAGO--you!" Miss Flora came erect in her chair.
+
+"Yes, for a visit. I'm going to see my old classmate, Nellie
+Maynard--Mrs. Tyndall."
+
+"Maggie!"
+
+"What's the matter?"
+
+"Why, n-nothing. It's lovely, of course, only--only I--I'm so
+surprised! You never go anywhere."
+
+"All the more reason why I should, then. It's time I did," smiled Miss
+Maggie. Miss Maggie was looking more at ease now.
+
+"When are you going?"
+
+"Next Wednesday. I heard from Nellie last night. She is expecting me
+then."
+
+"How perfectly splendid! I'm so glad! And I do hope you can DO it, and
+that it won't peter out at the last minute, same's most of your good
+times do. Poor Maggie! And you've had such a hard life--and your
+boarder leaving, too! That'll make a lot of difference in your
+pocketbook, won't it? But, Maggie, you'll have to have some new
+clothes."
+
+"Of course. I've been shopping this afternoon. I've got to have--oh,
+lots of things."
+
+"Of course you have. And, Maggie,"--Miss Flora's face grew
+eager,--"please, PLEASE, won't you let me help you a little--about
+those clothes? And get some nice ones--some real nice ones, for once.
+You KNOW how I'd love to! Please, Maggie, there's a good girl!"
+
+"Thank you, no, dear," refused Miss Maggie, shaking her head with a
+smile. "But I appreciate your kindness just the same--indeed, I do!"
+
+"If you wouldn't be so horrid proud," pouted Miss Flora.
+
+But Miss Maggie stopped her with a gesture.
+
+"No, no,--listen! I--I have something to tell you. I was going to tell
+you soon, anyway, and I'll tell it now. I HAVE money, dear,--lots of it
+now."
+
+"You HAVE money!"
+
+"Yes. Father's Cousin George died two months ago."
+
+"The rich one, in Alaska?"
+
+"Yes; and to father's daughter he left--fifty thousand dollars."
+
+"MAG-gie!"
+
+"And I never even SAW him! But he loved father, you know, years ago,
+and father loved him."
+
+"But had you ever heard from him--late years?"
+
+"Not much. Father was very angry because he went to Alaska in the first
+place, you know, and they haven't ever written very often."
+
+"Fifty thousand! And you've got it now?"
+
+"Not yet--all of it. They sent me a thousand--just for pin money, they
+said. The lawyer's written several times, and he's been here once. I
+believe it's all to come next month."
+
+"Oh, I'm so glad, Maggie," breathed Flora. "I'm so glad! I don't know
+of anybody I'd rather see take a little comfort in life than you!"
+
+At the door, fifteen minutes later, Miss Flora said again how glad she
+was; but she added wistfully:--
+
+"I'm sure I don't know, though, what I'm going to do all summer without
+you. Just think how lonesome we'll be--you gone to Chicago, Hattie and
+Jim and all their family moved to Plainville, and even Mr. Smith gone,
+too! And I think we're going to miss Mr. Smith a whole lot, too. He was
+a real nice man. Don't you think so, Maggie?"
+
+"Indeed, I do think he was a very nice man!" declared Miss Maggie.
+"Now, Flora, I shall want you to go shopping with me lots. Can you?"
+
+And Miss Flora, eagerly entering into Miss Maggie's discussion of
+frills and flounces, failed to notice that Miss Maggie had dropped the
+subject of Mr. Smith somewhat hastily.
+
+Hillerton had much to talk about during those summer days. Mr. Smith's
+going had created a mild discussion--the "ancestor feller" was well
+known and well liked in the town. But even his departure did not arouse
+the interest that was bestowed upon the removal of the James Blaisdells
+to Plainville; and this, in turn, did not cause so great an excitement
+as did the news that Miss Maggie Duff had inherited fifty thousand
+dollars and had gone to Chicago to spend it. And the fact that nearly
+all who heard this promptly declared that they hoped she WOULD spend a
+good share of it--in Chicago, or elsewhere--on herself, showed pretty
+well just where Miss Maggie Duff stood in the hearts of Hillerton.
+
+ .         .           .              .             .       .
+
+It was early in September that Miss Flora had the letter from Miss
+Maggie. Not but that she had received letters from Miss Maggie before,
+but that the contents of this one made it at once, to all the
+Blaisdells, "the letter."
+
+Miss Flora began to read it, gave a little cry, and sprang to her feet.
+Standing, her breath suspended, she finished it. Five minutes later,
+gloves half on and hat askew, she was hurrying across the common to her
+brother Frank's home.
+
+"Jane, Jane," she panted, as soon as she found her sister-in-law. "I've
+had a letter from Maggie. Mr. Stanley G. Fulton has come back. HE'S
+COME BACK!"
+
+"Come back! Alive, you mean? Oh, my goodness gracious! What'll Hattie
+do? She's just been living on having that money. And us, with all we've
+lost, too! But, then, maybe we wouldn't have got it, anyway. My stars!
+And Maggie wrote you? Where's the letter?"
+
+"There! And I never thought to bring it," ejaculated Miss Flora
+vexedly. "But, never mind! I can tell you all she said. She didn't
+write much. She said it would be in all the Eastern papers right away,
+of course, but she wanted to tell us first, so we wouldn't be so
+surprised. He's just come. Walked into his lawyer's office without a
+telegram, or anything. Said he didn't want any fuss made. Mr. Tyndall
+brought home the news that night in an 'Extra'; but that's all it
+told--just that Mr. Stanley G. Fulton, the multi-millionaire who
+disappeared nearly two years ago on an exploring trip to South America,
+had come back alive and well. Then it told all about the two letters he
+left, and the money he left to us, and all that, Maggie said; and it
+talked a lot about how lucky it was that he got back just in time
+before the other letter had to be opened next November. But it didn't
+say any more about his trip, or anything. The morning papers will have
+more, Maggie said, probably."
+
+"Yes, of course, of course," nodded Jane, rolling the corner of her
+upper apron nervously. (Since the forty-thousand-dollar loss Jane had
+gone back to her old habit of wearing two aprons.) "Where DO you
+suppose he's been all this time? Was he lost or just exploring?"
+
+"Maggie said it wasn't known--that the paper didn't say. It was an
+'Extra' anyway, and it just got in the bare news of his return. But
+we'll know, of course. The papers here will tell us. Besides, Maggie'll
+write again about it, I'm sure. Poor Maggie! I'm so glad she's having
+such a good time!"
+
+"Yes, of course, of course," nodded Jane again nervously. "Say, Flora,
+I wonder--do you suppose WE'LL ever hear from him? He left us all that
+money--he knows that, of course. He can't ask for it back--the lawyer
+said he couldn't do that! Don't you remember? But, I wonder--do you
+suppose we ought to write him and--and thank him?"
+
+"Oh, mercy!" exclaimed Miss Flora, aghast. "Mercy me, Jane! I'd be
+scared to death to do such a thing as that. Oh, you don't think we've
+got to do THAT?" Miss Flora had grown actually pale.
+
+Jane frowned.
+
+"I don't know. We'd want to do what was right and proper, of course.
+But I don't see--" She paused helplessly.
+
+Miss Flora gave a sudden hysterical little laugh.
+
+"Well, I don't see how we're going to find out what's proper, in this
+case," she giggled. "We can't write to a magazine, same as I did when I
+wanted to know how to answer invitations and fix my knives and forks on
+the table. We CAN'T write to them, 'cause nothing like this ever
+happened before, and they wouldn't know what to say. How'd we look
+writing, 'Please, dear Editor, when a man wills you a hundred thousand
+dollars and then comes to life again, is it proper or not proper to
+write and thank him?' They'd think we was crazy, and they'd have reason
+to! For my part, I--"
+
+The telephone bell rang sharply, and Jane rose to answer it. She was
+gone some time. When she came back she was even more excited.
+
+"It was Frank. He's heard it. It was in the papers to-night."
+
+"Did it tell anything more?"
+
+"Not much, I guess. Still, there was some. He's going to bring it home.
+It's 'most supper-time. Why don't you wait?" she questioned, as Miss
+Flora got hastily to her feet.
+
+Miss Flora shook her head.
+
+"I can't. I left everything just as it was and ran, when I got the
+letter. I'll get a paper myself on the way home. I'm going to call up
+Hattie, too, on the long distance. My, it's 'most as exciting as it was
+when it first came,--the money, I mean,--isn't it?" panted Miss Flora
+as she hurried away.
+
+The Blaisdells bought many papers during the next few days. But even by
+the time that the Stanley G. Fulton sensation had dwindled to a short
+paragraph in an obscure corner of a middle page, they (and the public
+in general) were really little the wiser, except for these bare facts:--
+
+Stanley G. Fulton had arrived at a South American hotel, from the
+interior, had registered as S. Fulton, frankly to avoid publicity, and
+had taken immediate passage to New York. Arriving at New York, still to
+avoid publicity, he had not telegraphed his attorneys, but had taken
+the sleeper for Chicago, and had fortunately not met any one who
+recognized him until his arrival in that city. He had brought home
+several fine specimens of Incan textiles and potteries: and he declared
+that he had had a very enjoyable and profitable trip. Beyond that he
+would say nothing. He did not care to talk of his experiences, he said.
+
+For a time, of course, his return was made much of. Fake interviews and
+rumors of threatened death and disaster in impenetrable jungles made
+frequent appearance; but in an incredibly short time the flame of
+interest died from want of fuel to feed upon; and, as Mr. Stanley G.
+Fulton himself had once predicted, the matter was soon dismissed as
+merely another of the multi-millionaire's well-known eccentricities.
+
+All of this the Blaisdells heard from Miss Maggie in addition to seeing
+it in the newspapers. But very soon, from Miss Maggie, they began to
+learn more. Before a fortnight had passed, Miss Flora received another
+letter from Chicago that sent her flying as before to her sister-in-law.
+
+"Jane, Jane, Maggie's MET HIM!" she cried, breathlessly bursting into
+the kitchen where Jane was paring the apples that she would not trust
+to the maid's more wasteful knife.
+
+"Met him! Met who?"
+
+"Mr. Fulton. She's TALKED with him! She wrote me all about it."
+
+"OUR Mr. Fulton?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"FLORA!" With a hasty twirl of a now reckless knife, Jane finished the
+last apple, set the pan on the table before the maid, and hurried her
+visitor into the living-room. "Now, tell me quick--what did she say? Is
+he nice? Did she like him? Did he know she belonged to us?"
+
+"Yes--yes--everything," nodded Miss Flora, sinking into a chair. "She
+liked him real well, she said and he knows all about that she belongs
+to us. She said he was real interested in us. Oh, I hope she didn't
+tell him about--Fred!"
+
+"And that awful gold-mine stock," moaned Jane. "But she wouldn't--I
+know she wouldn't!"
+
+"Of course she wouldn't," cried Miss Flora. "'Tisn't like Maggie one
+bit! She'd only tell the nice things, I'm sure. And, of course, she'd
+tell him how pleased we were with the money!"
+
+"Yes, of course, of course. And to think she's met him--really met
+him!" breathed Jane. "Mellicent!" She turned an excited face to her
+daughter, who had just entered the room. "What do you think? Aunt
+Flora's just had a letter from Aunt Maggie, and she's met Mr.
+Fulton--actually TALKED with him!"
+
+"Really? Oh, how perfectly splendid! Is he nice? Did she like him?"
+
+Miss Flora laughed.
+
+"That's just what your mother asked. Yes, he's real nice, your Aunt
+Maggie says, and she likes him very much."
+
+"But how'd she do it? How'd she happen to meet him?" demanded Jane.
+
+"Well, it seems he knew Mr. Tyndall, and Mr. Tyndall brought him home
+one night and introduced him to his wife and Maggie; and since then
+he's been very nice to them. He's taken them out in his automobile, and
+taken them to the theater twice."
+
+"That's because she belongs to us, of course," nodded Jane wisely.
+
+"Yes, I suppose so," agreed Flora. "And I think it's very kind of him."
+
+"Pooh!" sniffed Mellicent airily. "_I_ think he does it because he
+WANTS to. You never did appreciate Aunt Maggie. I'll warrant she's
+nicer and sweeter and--and, yes, PRETTIER than lots of those old
+Chicago women. Aunt Maggie looked positively HANDSOME that day she left
+here last July. She looked so--so absolutely happy! Probably he LIKES
+to take her to places. Anyhow, I'm glad she's having one good time
+before she dies."
+
+"Yes, so am I, my dear. We all are," sighed Miss Flora. "Poor Maggie!"
+
+"I only wish he'd marry her and--and give her a good time all her
+life," avowed Mellicent, lifting her chin.
+
+"Marry her!" exclaimed two scornful voices.
+
+"Well, why not? She's good enough for him," bridled Mellicent. "Aunt
+Maggie's good enough for anybody!"
+
+"Of course she is, child!" laughed Miss Flora. "Maggie's a saint--if
+ever there was one."
+
+"Yes, but I shouldn't call her a MARRYING saint," smiled Jane.
+
+"Well, I don't know about that," frowned Miss Flora thoughtfully.
+"Hattie always declared there'd be a match between her and Mr. Smith,
+you know."
+
+"Yes. But there wasn't one, was there?" twitted Jane. "Well, then, I
+shall stick to my original statement that Maggie Duff is a saint, all
+right, but not a marrying one--unless some one marries her now for her
+money, of course."
+
+"As if Aunt Maggie'd stand for that!" scoffed Mellicent. "Besides, she
+wouldn't have to! Aunt Maggie's good enough to be married for herself."
+
+"There, there, child, just because you are a love-sick little piece of
+romance just now, you needn't think everybody else is," her mother
+reproved her a little sharply.
+
+But Mellicent only laughed merrily as she disappeared into her own room.
+
+"Speaking of Mr. Smith, I wonder where he is, and if he'll ever come
+back here," mused Miss Flora, aloud. "I wish he would. He was a very
+nice man, and I liked him."
+
+"Goodness, Flora, YOU aren't, getting romantic, too, are you?" teased
+her sister-in-law.
+
+"Nonsense, Jane!" ejaculated Miss Flora sharply, buttoning up her coat.
+"I'm no more romantic than--than poor Maggie herself is!"
+
+Two weeks later, to a day, came Miss Maggie's letter announcing her
+engagement to Mr. Stanley G. Fulton, and saying that she was to be
+married in Chicago before Christmas.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+REENTER MR. STANLEY G. FULTON
+
+
+In the library of Mrs. Thomas Tyndall's Chicago home Mr. Stanley G.
+Fulton was impatiently awaiting the appearance of Miss Maggie Duff. In
+a minute she came in, looking charmingly youthful in her new,
+well-fitting frock.
+
+The man, quickly on his feet at her entrance, gave her a lover's ardent
+kiss; but almost instantly he held her off at arms' length.
+
+"Why, dearest, what's the matter?" he demanded.
+
+"W-what do you mean?"
+
+"You look as if--if something had happened--not exactly a bad
+something, but--What is it?"
+
+Miss Maggie laughed softly.
+
+"That's one of the very nicest things about you, Mr.
+Stanley-G.-Fulton-John-Smith," she sighed, nestling comfortably into
+the curve of his arm, as they sat down on the divan;--"that you NOTICE
+things so. And it seems so good to me to have somebody--NOTICE."
+
+"Poor lonely little woman! And to think of all these years I've wasted!"
+
+"Oh, but I shan't be lonely any more now. And, listen--I'll tell you
+what made me look so funny. I've had a letter from Flora. You know I
+wrote them--about my coming marriage."
+
+"Yes, yes," eagerly. "Well, what did they say?"
+
+Miss Maggie laughed again.
+
+"I believe--I'll let you read the letter for yourself, Stanley. It
+tells some things, toward the end that I think you'll like to know,"
+she said, a little hesitatingly, as she held out the letter she had
+brought into the room with her.
+
+"Good! I'd like to read it," cried Fulton, whisking the closely written
+sheets from the envelope.
+
+MY DEAR MAGGIE (Flora had written): Well, mercy me, you have given us a
+surprise this time, and no mistake! Yet we're all real glad, Maggie,
+and we hope you'll be awfully happy. You deserve it, all right. Poor
+Maggie! You've had such an awfully hard time all your life!
+
+Well, when your letter came, we were just going out to Jim's for an
+old-fashioned Thanksgiving dinner, so I took it along with me and read
+it to them all. I kept it till we were all together, too, though I most
+bursted with the news all the way out.
+
+Well, you ought to have heard their tongues wag! They were all struck
+dumb first, for a minute, all except Mellicent. She spoke up the very
+first thing, and clapped her hands.
+
+"There." she cried. "What did I tell you? I knew Aunt Maggie was good
+enough for anybody!"
+
+To explain that I'll have to go back a little. We were talking one day
+about you--Jane and Mellicent and me--and we said you were a saint,
+only not a marrying saint. But Mellicent thought you were, and it seems
+she was right. Oh, of course, we'd all thought once Mr. Smith might
+take a fancy to you, but we never dreamed of such a thing as this--Mr.
+Stanley G. Fulton! Sakes alive--I can hardly sense it yet!
+
+Jane, for a minute, forgot how rich he was, and spoke right up real
+quick--"It's for her money, of course. I KNEW some one would marry her
+for that fifty thousand dollars!" But she laughed then, right off, with
+the rest of us, at the idea of a man worth twenty millions marrying
+ANYBODY for fifty thousand dollars.
+
+Benny says there ain't any man alive good enough for his Aunt Maggie,
+so if Mr. Fulton gets to being too highheaded sometimes, you can tell
+him what Benny says.
+
+But we're all real pleased, honestly, Maggie, and of course we're
+terribly excited. We're so sorry you're going to be married out there
+in Chicago. Why can't you make him come to Hillerton? Jane says she'd
+be glad to make a real nice wedding for you--and when Jane says a thing
+like that, you can know how much she's really saying, for Jane's
+feeling awfully poor these days, since they lost all that money, you
+know.
+
+And we'd all like to see Mr. Fulton, too--"Cousin Stanley," as Hattie
+always calls him. Please give him our congratulations--but there, that
+sounds funny, doesn't it? (But the etiquette editors in the magazines
+say we must always give best wishes to the bride and congratulations to
+the groom.) Only it seems funny here, to congratulate that rich Mr.
+Fulton on marrying you. Oh, dear! I didn't mean it that way, Maggie. I
+declare, if that sentence wasn't 'way in the middle of this third page,
+and so awfully hard for me to write, anyway, I'd tear up this sheet and
+begin another. But, after all, you'll understand, I'm sure. You KNOW we
+all think the world of you, Maggie, and that I didn't mean anything
+against YOU. It's just that--that Mr. Fulton is--is such a big man, and
+all--But you know what I meant.
+
+Well, anyway, if you can't come here to be married, we hope you'll
+bring him here soon so we can see him, and see you, too. We miss you
+awfully, Maggie,--truly we do, especially since Jim's folks went, and
+with Mr. Smith gone, too, Jane and I are real lonesome.
+
+Jim and Hattie like real well where they are. They've got a real pretty
+home, and they're the biggest folks in town, so Hattie doesn't have to
+worry for fear she won't live quite so fine as her neighbors--though
+really I think Hattie's got over that now a good deal. That awful thing
+of Fred's sobered her a lot, and taught her who her real friends were,
+and that money ain't everything.
+
+Fred is doing splendidly now, just as steady as a clock. It does my
+soul good to see him and his father together. They are just like chums.
+And Bessie--she isn't near so disagreeable and airy as she was. Hattie
+took her out of that school and put her into another where she's
+getting some real learning and less society and frills and dancing. Jim
+is doing well, and I think Hattie's real happy. Oh, of course, when we
+first heard that Mr. Fulton had got back, I think she was kind of
+disappointed. You know she always did insist we were going to have the
+rest of that money if he didn't show up. But she told me just
+Thanksgiving Day that she didn't know but 't was just as well, after
+all, that they didn't have the money, for maybe Fred'd go wrong again,
+or it would strike Benny this time. Anyhow, however much money she had,
+she said, she'd never let her children spend so much again, and she'd
+found out money didn't bring happiness, always, anyway.
+
+Mellicent and Donald are going to be married next summer. Donald don't
+get a very big salary yet, but Mellicent says she won't mind a bit
+going back to economizing again, now that for once she's had all the
+chocolates and pink dresses she wanted. What a funny girl she is--but
+she's a dear girl, just the same, and she's settled down real sensible
+now. She and Donald are as happy as can be, and even Jane likes Donald
+real well now.
+
+Jane's gone back to her tidies and aprons and skimping on everything.
+She says she's got to, to make up that forty thousand dollars. But she
+enjoys it, I believe. Honestly, she acts 'most as happy trying to save
+five cents as Frank does earning it in his old place behind the
+counter. And that's saying a whole lot, as you know. Jane knows very
+well she doesn't have to pinch that way. They've got lots of the money
+left, and Frank's business is better than ever. But she just likes to.
+
+You complain because I don't tell you anything about myself in my
+letters, but there isn't anything to tell. I am well and happy, and
+I've just thought up the nicest thing to do. Mary Hicks came home from
+Boston sick last September, and she's been here at my house ever since.
+Her own home ain't no place for a sick person, you know, with all those
+children, and they're awfully poor, too. So I took her here with me.
+She's a real nice girl. She works in a department store and was all
+played out, but she's picked up wonderfully here and is going back next
+week.
+
+Well, she was telling me about a girl that works with her at the same
+counter, and saying how she wished she had a place like this to go to
+for a rest and change, so I'm going to do it--give them one, I mean,
+she and the other girls. Mary says there are a dozen girls that she
+knows right there that are half-sick, but would get well in a minute if
+they only had a few weeks of rest and quiet and good food. So I'm going
+to take them, two at a time, so they'll be company for each other. Mary
+is going to fix it up for me down there, and pick out the girls, and
+she says she knows the man who owns the store will be glad to let them
+off, for they are all good help, and he's been afraid he'd lose them.
+He'd offered them a month off, besides their vacation, but they
+couldn't take it, because they didn't have any place to go or money to
+pay. Of course, that part will be all right now. And I'm so glad and
+excited I don't know what to do. Oh, I do hope you'll tell Mr. Fulton
+some time how happy he's made me, and how perfectly splendid that
+money's been for me.
+
+Well, Maggie, this is a long letter, and I must close. Tell me all
+about the new clothes you are getting, and I hope you will get a lot.
+Lovingly yours,
+
+FLORA.
+
+P.S. Does Mr. Fulton look like his pictures? You know I've got one. F.
+
+P.S. again. Maggie Duff, for pity's sake, never, never tell that man
+that I ever went into mourning for him and put flowers before his
+picture. I'd be mortified to death!
+
+"Bless her heart!" With a smile Mr. Fulton folded the letter and handed
+it back to Miss Maggie.
+
+"I didn't feel that I was betraying confidences--under the
+circumstances," murmured Miss Maggie.
+
+"Hardly!"
+
+"And there was a good deal in the letter that I DID want you to see,"
+added Miss Maggie.
+
+"Hm-m; the congratulations, for one thing, of course," twinkled the
+man. "Poor Maggie!"
+
+"I wanted you to see how really, in the end, that money was not doing
+so much harm, after all," asserted Miss Maggie, with some dignity,
+shaking her head at him reprovingly. "I thought you'd be GLAD, sir!"
+
+"I am glad. I'm so glad that, when I come to make my will now, I
+shouldn't wonder if I remembered them all again--a little--that is, if
+I have anything left to will," he teased shamelessly. "Oh, by the way,
+that makes me think. I've just been putting up a monument to John
+Smith."
+
+"Stanley!" Miss Maggie's voice carried genuine shocked distress.
+
+"But, my dear Maggie, something was due the man," maintained Fulton,
+reaching for a small flat parcel near him and placing it in Miss
+Maggie's hands.
+
+"But--oh, Stanley, how could you?" she shivered, her eyes on the words
+the millionaire had penciled on the brown paper covering of the parcel.
+
+     Sacred to the memory of John Smith.
+
+"Open it," directed the man.
+
+With obvious reluctance Miss Maggie loosened the paper covers and
+peered within. The next moment she gave a glad cry.
+
+In her hands lay a handsome brown leather volume with gold letters,
+reading:--
+
+     The Blaisdell Family
+           By
+        John Smith
+
+"And you--did that?" she asked, her eyes luminous.
+
+"Yes. I shall send a copy each to Frank and Jim and Miss Flora, of
+course. That's the monument. I thought it due--Mr. John Smith. Poor
+man, it's the least I can do for him--and the most--unless--" He
+hesitated with an unmistakable look of embarrassment.
+
+"Yes," prompted Miss Maggie eagerly. "Yes!"
+
+"Well, unless--I let you take me to Hillerton one of these days and see
+if--if Stanley G. Fulton, with your gracious help, can make peace for
+John Smith with those--er--cousins of mine. You see, I still feel
+confoundedly like that small boy at the keyhole, and I'd like--to open
+that door! Could we do it, do you think?"
+
+"Do it? Of course we could! And, oh, Stanley, it's the one thing needed
+to make me perfectly happy," she sighed blissfully.
+
+
+
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Oh, Money! Money!, by Eleanor Hodgman Porter
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Oh, Money! Money!, by Eleanor Hodgman Porter
+(#7 in our series by Eleanor Hodgman Porter)
+
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+**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971**
+
+*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!*****
+
+
+Title: Oh, Money! Money!
+
+Author: Eleanor Hodgman Porter
+
+Release Date: June, 2004  [EBook #5962]
+[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule]
+[This file was first posted on October 1, 2002]
+
+Edition: 10
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, OH, MONEY! MONEY! ***
+
+
+
+
+Charles Franks, Charles Aldarondo, and the Online Distributed Proofreading
+Team.
+
+
+
+[Illustration by Helen Mason Grose with caption: "I was thinking--of
+Mr. Stanley G. Fulton"]
+
+
+OH, MONEY! MONEY!
+
+A NOVEL
+
+BY
+
+ELEANOR H. PORTER
+
+Author of
+
+The Road to Understanding,
+Just David, Etc.
+
+WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY
+HELEN MASON GROSE
+
+
+
+
+
+To
+
+My Friend
+
+EVA BAKER
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+I.     EXIT MR. STANLEY G. FULTON
+
+II.    ENTER MR. JOHN SMITH
+
+III.   THE SMALL BOY AT THE KEYHOLE
+
+IV.    IN SEARCH OF SOME DATES
+
+V.     IN MISS FLORA'S ALBUM
+
+VI.    POOR MAGGIE
+
+VII.   POOR MAGGIE AND SOME OTHERS
+
+VIII.  A SANTA CLAUS HELD UP
+
+IX.    "DEAR COUSIN STANLEY"
+
+X.     WHAT DOES IT MATTER?
+
+XI.    SANTA CLAUS ARRIVES
+
+XII.   THE TOYS RATTLE OUT
+
+XIII.  THE DANCING BEGINS
+
+XIV.   FROM ME TO YOU WITH LOVE
+
+XV.    IN SEARCH OF REST
+
+XVI.   THE FLY IN THE OINTMENT
+
+XVII.  AN AMBASSADOR OF CUPID'S
+
+XVIII. JUST A MATTER OF BEGGING
+
+XIX.   STILL OTHER FLIES
+
+XX.    FRANKENSTEIN: BEING A LETTEB FKOM JOHN SMITH TO EDWARD D.
+       NORTON, ATTORNEY AT LAW
+
+XXI.   SYMPATHIES MISPLACED
+
+XXII.  WITH EVERY JIM A JAMES
+
+XXIII. REFLECTIONS--MIRRORED AND OTHERWISE
+
+XXIV.  THAT MISERABLE MONEY
+
+XXV.   EXIT MR. JOHN SMITH
+
+XXVI.  REENTER MR. STANLEY G. FULTON
+
+
+
+
+ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+"I WAS THINKING--OF MR. STANLEY G. FULTON" Frontispiece
+
+"I CAN'T HELP IT, AUNT MAGGIE. I'VE JUST GOT TO BE AWAY!"
+
+"JIM, YOU'LL HAVE TO COME!"
+
+"AND LOOK INTO THOSE BLESSED CHILDREN'S FACES"
+
+From drawings by Mrs. Howard B. Grose, Jr.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+EXIT MR. STANLEY G. FULTON
+
+
+There was a thoughtful frown on the face of the man who was the
+possessor of twenty million dollars. He was a tall, spare man, with a
+fringe of reddish-brown hair encircling a bald spot. His blue eyes,
+fixed just now in a steady gaze upon a row of ponderous law books
+across the room, were friendly and benevolent in direct contradiction
+to the bulldog, never-let-go fighting qualities of the square jaw
+below the firm, rather thin lips.
+
+The lawyer, a youthfully alert man of sixty years, trimly gray as to
+garb, hair, and mustache, sat idly watching him, yet with eyes that
+looked so intently that they seemed to listen.
+
+For fully five minutes the two men had been pulling at their cigars in
+silence when the millionaire spoke.
+
+"Ned, what am I going to do with my money?"
+
+Into the lawyer's listening eyes flashed, for a moment, the keenly
+scrutinizing glance usually reserved for the witness on the other
+side. Then quietly came the answer.
+
+"Spend it yourself, I hope--for some years to come, Stanley."
+
+Mr. Stanley G. Fulton was guilty of a shrug and an uplifted eyebrow.
+
+"Thanks. Very pretty, and I appreciate it, of course. But I can't wear
+but one suit of clothes at a time, nor eat but one dinner--which, by
+the way, just now consists of somebody's health biscuit and hot water.
+Twenty millions don't really what you might call melt away at that
+rate."
+
+The lawyer frowned.
+
+"Shucks, Fulton!" he expostulated, with an irritable twist of his
+hand. "I thought better of you than that. This poor rich man's 'one-
+suit, one-dinner, one-bed-at-a-time' hard-luck story doesn't suit your
+style. Better cut it out!"
+
+"All right. Cut it is." The man smiled good-humoredly. "But you see I
+was nettled. You didn't get me at all. I asked you what was to become
+of my money after I'd done spending it myself--the little that is
+left, of course."
+
+Once more from the lawyer's eyes flashed that keenly scrutinizing
+glance.
+
+"What was it, Fulton? A midnight rabbit, or a wedge of mince pie NOT
+like mother used to make? Why, man alive, you're barely over fifty,
+yet. Cheer up! It's only a little matter of indigestion. There are a
+lot of good days and good dinners coming to you, yet."
+
+The millionaire made a wry face.
+
+"Very likely--if I survive the biscuits. But, seriously, Ned, I'm in
+earnest. No, I don't think I'm going to die--yet awhile. But I ran
+across young Bixby last night--got him home, in fact. Delivered him to
+his white-faced little wife. Talk about your maudlin idiots!"
+
+"Yes, I know. Too bad, too bad!"
+
+"Hm-m; well, that's what one million did--inherited. It set me to
+thinking--of mine, when I get through with them."
+
+"I see." The lawyer's lips came together a little grimly. "You've not
+made your will, I believe."
+
+"No. Dreaded it, somehow. Funny how a man'll fight shy of a little
+thing like that, isn't it? And when we're so mighty particular where
+it goes while we're living!"
+
+"Yes, I know; you're not the only one. You have relatives--somewhere,
+I surmise."
+
+"Nothing nearer than cousins, third or fourth, back East. They'd get
+it, I suppose--without a will."
+
+"Why don't you marry?"
+
+The millionaire repeated the wry face of a moment before.
+
+"I'm not a marrying man. I never did care much for women; and--I'm not
+fool enough to think that a woman would be apt to fall in love with my
+bald head. Nor am I obliging enough to care to hand the millions over
+to the woman that falls in love with THEM, taking me along as the
+necessary sack that holds the gold. If it comes to that, I'd rather
+risk the cousins. They, at least, are of my own blood, and they didn't
+angle to get the money."
+
+"You know them?"
+
+"Never saw 'em."
+
+"Why not pick out a bunch of colleges and endow them?"
+
+The millionaire shook his head.
+
+"Doesn't appeal to me, somehow. Oh, of course it ought to, but--it
+just doesn't. That's all. Maybe if I was a college man myself; but--
+well, I had to dig for what education I got."
+
+"Very well--charities, then. There are numberless organizations that--
+"He stopped abruptly at the other's uplifted hand.
+
+"Organizations! Good Heavens, I should think there were! I tried 'em
+once. I got that philanthropic bee in my bonnet, and I gave thousands,
+tens of thousands to 'em. Then I got to wondering where the money
+went."
+
+Unexpectedly the lawyer chuckled.
+
+"You never did like to invest without investigating, Fulton," he
+observed.
+
+With only a shrug for an answer the other plunged on.
+
+"Now, understand. I'm not saying that organized charity isn't all
+right, and doesn't do good, of course. Neither am I prepared to
+propose anything to take its place. And maybe the two or three I dealt
+with were particularly addicted to the sort of thing I objected to.
+But, honestly, Ned, if you'd lost heart and friends and money, and
+were just ready to chuck the whole shooting-match, how would you like
+to become a 'Case,' say, number twenty-three thousand seven hundred
+and forty-one, ticketed and docketed, and duly apportioned off to a
+six-by-nine rule of 'do this' and 'do that,' while a dozen spectacled
+eyes watched you being cleaned up and regulated and wound up with a
+key made of just so much and no more pats and preachments carefully
+weighed and labeled? How WOULD you like it?"
+
+The lawyer laughed.
+
+"I know; but, my dear fellow, what would you have? Surely, UNorganized
+charity and promiscuous giving is worse--"
+
+"Oh, yes, I've tried that way, too," shrugged the other. "There was a
+time when every Tom, Dick, and Harry, with a run-down shoe and a
+ragged coat, could count on me for a ten-spot by just holding out his
+hand, no questions asked. Then a serious-eyed little woman sternly
+told me one day that the indiscriminate charity of a millionaire was
+not only a curse to any community, but a corruption to the whole
+state. I believe she kindly included the nation, as well, bless her!
+And I thought I was doing good!" "What a blow--to you!" There was a
+whimsical smile in the lawyer's eyes.
+
+"It was." The millionaire was not smiling. "But she was right. It set
+me to thinking, and I began to follow up those ten-spots--the ones
+that I could trace. Jove! what a mess I'd made of it! Oh, some of them
+were all right, of course, and I made THOSE fifties on the spot. But
+the others--! I tell you, Ned, money that isn't earned is the most
+risky thing in the world. If I'd left half those wretches alone,
+they'd have braced up and helped themselves and made men of
+themselves, maybe. As it was--Well, you never can tell as to the
+results of a so-called 'good' action. From my experience I should say
+they are every whit as dangerous as the bad ones."
+
+The lawyer laughed outright.
+
+"But, my dear fellow, that's just where the organized charity comes
+in. Don't you see?"
+
+"Oh, yes, I know--Case number twenty-three thousand seven hundred and
+forty-one! And that's all right, of course. Relief of some sort is
+absolutely necessary. But I'd like to see a little warm sympathy
+injected into it, some way. Give the machine a heart, say, as well as
+hands and a head."
+
+"Then why don't you try it yourself?"
+
+"Not I!" His gesture of dissent was emphatic. "I have tried it, in a
+way, and failed. That's why I'd like some one else to tackle the job.
+And that brings me right back to my original question. I'm wondering
+what my money will do, when I'm done with it. I'd like to have one of
+my own kin have it--if I was sure of him. Money is a queer
+proposition, Ned, and it's capable of--'most anything."
+
+"It is. You're right."
+
+"What I can do with it, and what some one else can do with it, are two
+quite different matters. I don't consider my efforts to circulate it
+wisely, or even harmlessly, exactly what you'd call a howling success.
+Whatever I've done, I've always been criticized for not doing
+something else. If I gave a costly entertainment, I was accused of
+showy ostentation. If I didn't give it, I was accused of not putting
+money into honest circulation. If I donated to a church, it was called
+conscience money; and if I didn't donate to it, they said I was mean
+and miserly. So much for what I've done. I was just wondering--what
+the other fellow'd do with it."
+
+"Why worry? 'T won't be your fault."
+
+"But it will--if I give it to him. Great Scott, Ned! what money does
+for folks, sometimes--folks that aren't used to it! Look at Bixby; and
+look at that poor little Marston girl, throwing herself away on that
+worthless scamp of a Gowing who's only after her money, as everybody
+(but herself) knows! And if it doesn't make knaves and martyrs of
+them, ten to one it does make fools of 'em. They're worse than a kid
+with a dollar on circus day; and they use just about as much sense
+spending their pile, too. You should have heard dad tell about his
+pals in the eighties that struck it rich in the gold mines. One bought
+up every grocery store in town and instituted a huge free grab-bag for
+the populace; and another dropped his hundred thousand in the dice box
+before it was a week old. I wonder what those cousins of mine back
+East are like!"
+
+"If you're fearful, better take Case number twenty-three thousand
+seven hundred and forty-one," smiled the lawyer.
+
+"Hm-m; I suppose so," ejaculated the other grimly, getting to his
+feet. "Well, I must be off. It's biscuit time, I see."
+
+A moment later the door of the lawyer's sumptuously appointed office
+closed behind him. Not twenty-four hours afterward, however, it opened
+to admit him again. He was alert, eager-eyed, and smiling. He looked
+ten years younger. Even the office boy who ushered him in cocked a
+curious eye at him.
+
+The man at the great flat-topped desk gave a surprised ejaculation.
+
+"Hullo, Fulton! Those biscuits must be agreeing with you," he laughed.
+"Mind telling me their name?"
+
+"Ned, I've got a scheme. I think I can carry it out." Mr. Stanley G.
+Fulton strode across the room and dropped himself into the waiting
+chair. "Remember those cousins back East? Well, I'm going to find out
+which of 'em I want for my heir."
+
+"Another case of investigating before investing, eh?"
+
+"Exactly."
+
+"Well, that's like you. What is it, a little detective work? Going to
+get acquainted with them, I suppose, and see how they treat you. Then
+you can size them up as to hearts and habits, and drop the golden plum
+into the lap of the worthy man, eh?"
+
+"Yes, and no. But not the way you say. I'm going to give 'em say fifty
+or a hundred thousand apiece, and--"
+
+"GIVE it to them--NOW?"
+
+"Sure! How'm I going to know how they'll spend money till they have it
+to spend?"
+
+"I know; but--"
+
+"Oh, I've planned all that. Don't worry. Of course you'll have to fix
+it up for me. I shall leave instructions with you, and when the time
+comes all you have to do is to carry them out."
+
+The lawyer came erect in his chair.
+
+"LEAVE instructions! But you, yourself--?"
+
+"Oh, I'm going to be there, in Hillerton."
+
+"There? Hillerton?"
+
+"Yes, where the cousins live, you know. Of course I want to see how it
+works."
+
+"Humph! I suppose you think you'll find out--with you watching their
+every move!" The lawyer had settled back in his chair, an ironical
+smile on his lips.
+
+"Oh, they won't know me, of course, except as John Smith."
+
+"John Smith!" The lawyer was sitting erect again.
+
+"Yes. I'm going to take that name--for a time."
+
+"Nonsense, Fulton! Have you lost your senses?"
+
+"No." The millionaire still smiled imperturbably. "Really, my dear
+Ned, I'm disappointed in you. You don't seem to realize the
+possibilities of this thing."
+
+"Oh, yes, I do--perhaps better than you, old man," retorted the other
+with an expressive glance.
+
+"Oh, come, Ned, listen! I've got three cousins in Hillerton. I never
+saw them, and they never saw me. I'm going to give them a tidy little
+sum of money apiece, and then have the fun of watching them spend it.
+Any harm in that, especially as it's no one's business what I do with
+my money?"
+
+"N--no, I suppose not--if you can carry such a wild scheme through."
+
+"I can, I think. I'm going to be John Smith."
+
+"Nice distinctive name!"
+
+"I chose a colorless one on purpose. I'm going to be a colorless
+person, you see."
+
+"Oh! And--er--do you think Mr. Stanley G. Fulton, multi-millionaire,
+with his pictured face in half the papers and magazines from the
+Atlantic to the Pacific, CAN hide that face behind a colorless John
+Smith?"
+
+"Maybe not. But he can hide it behind a nice little close-cropped
+beard." The millionaire stroked his smooth chin reflectively.
+
+"Humph! How large is Hillerton?"
+
+"Eight or ten thousand. Nice little New England town, I'm told."
+
+"Hm-m. And your--er--business in Hillerton, that will enable you to be
+the observing fly on your cousins' walls?"
+
+"Yes, I've thought that all out, too; and that's another brilliant
+stroke. I'm going to be a genealogist. I'm going to be at work tracing
+the Blaisdell family--their name is Blaisdell. I'm writing a book
+which necessitates the collection of an endless amount of data. Now
+how about that fly's chances of observation. Eh?"
+
+"Mighty poor, if he's swatted--and that's what he will be! New England
+housewives are death on flies, I understand."
+
+"Well, I'll risk this one."
+
+"You poor fellow!" There were exasperation and amusement in the
+lawyer's eyes, but there was only mock sympathy in his voice. "And to
+think I've known you all these years, and never, suspected it,
+Fulton!"
+
+The man who owned twenty millions still smiled imperturbably.
+
+"Oh, yes, I know what you mean, but I'm not crazy. And really I'm
+interested in genealogy, too, and I've been thinking for some time I'd
+go digging about the roots of my ancestral tree. I have dug a little,
+in years gone. My mother was a Blaisdell, you know. Her grandfather
+was brother to some ancestor of these Hillerton Blaisdells; and I
+really am interested in collecting Blaisdell data. So that's all
+straight. I shall be telling no fibs. And think of the opportunity it
+gives me! Besides, I shall try to board with one of them. I've decided
+that."
+
+"Upon my word, a pretty little scheme!"
+
+"Yes, I knew you'd appreciate it, the more you thought about it." Mr.
+Stanley G. Fulton's blue eyes twinkled a little.
+
+With a disdainful gesture the lawyer brushed this aside.
+
+"Do you mind telling me how you happened to think of it, yourself?"
+
+"Not a bit. 'Twas a little booklet got out by a Trust Company."
+
+"It sounds like it!"
+
+"Oh, they didn't suggest exactly this, I'll admit; but they did
+suggest that, if you were fearful as to the way your heirs would
+handle their inheritance, you could create a trust fund for their
+benefit while you were living, and then watch the way the
+beneficiaries spent the income, as well as the way the trust fund
+itself was managed. In this way you could observe the effects of your
+gifts, and at the same time be able to change them if you didn't like
+results. That gave me an idea. I've just developed it. That's all. I'm
+going to make my cousins a little rich, and see which, if any of them,
+can stand being very rich."
+
+"But the money, man! How are you going to drop a hundred thousand
+dollars into three men's laps, and expect to get away without an
+investigation as to the why and wherefore of such a singular
+proceeding?"
+
+"That's where your part comes in," smiled the millionaire blandly.
+"Besides, to be accurate, one of the laps is--er--a petticoat one."
+
+"Oh, indeed! So much the worse, maybe. But--And so this is where I
+come in, is it? Well, and suppose I refuse to come in?"
+
+"Regretfully I shall have to employ another attorney."
+
+"Humph! Well?"
+
+"But you won't refuse." The blue eyes opposite were still twinkling.
+"In the first place, you're my good friend--my best friend. You
+wouldn't be seen letting me start off on a wild-goose chase like this
+without your guiding hand at the helm to see that I didn't come a
+cropper."
+
+"Aren't you getting your metaphors a trifle mixed?" This time the
+lawyer's eyes were twinkling.
+
+"Eh? What? Well, maybe. But I reckon you get my meaning. Besides, what
+I want you to do is a mere routine of regular business, with you."
+
+"It sounds like it. Routine, indeed!"
+
+"But it is--your part. Listen. I'm off for South America, say, on an
+exploring tour. In your charge I leave certain papers with
+instructions that on the first day of the sixth month of my absence (I
+being unheard from), you are to open a certain envelope and act
+according to instructions within. Simplest thing in the world, man.
+Now isn't it?"
+
+"Oh, very simple--as you put it."
+
+"Well, meanwhile I'll start for South America--alone, of course; and,
+so far as you're concerned, that ends it. If on the way, somewhere, I
+determine suddenly on a change of destination, that is none of your
+affair. If, say in a month or two, a quiet, inoffensive gentleman by
+the name of Smith arrives in Hillerton on the legitimate and perfectly
+respectable business of looking up a family pedigree, that also is
+none of your concern." With a sudden laugh the lawyer fell back in his
+chair.
+
+"By Jove, Fulton, if I don't believe you'll pull this absurd thing
+off!"
+
+"There! Now you're talking like a sensible man, and we can get
+somewhere. Of course I'll pull it off! Now here's my plan. In order
+best to judge how my esteemed relatives conduct themselves under the
+sudden accession of wealth, I must see them first without it, of
+course. Hence, I plan to be in Hillerton some months before your
+letter and the money arrive. I intend, indeed, to be on the
+friendliest terms with every Blaisdell in Hillerton before that times
+comes."
+
+"But can you? Will they accept you without references or
+introduction?"
+
+"Oh, I shall have the best of references and introductions. Bob
+Chalmers is the president of a bank there. Remember Bob? Well, I shall
+take John Smith in and introduce him to Bob some day. After that,
+Bob'll introduce John Smith? See? All I need is a letter as to my
+integrity and respectability, I reckon, so my kinsmen won't suspect me
+of designs on their spoons when I ask to board with them. You see, I'm
+a quiet, retiring gentleman, and I don't like noisy hotels."
+
+With an explosive chuckle the lawyer clapped his knee. "Fulton, this
+is absolutely the richest thing I ever heard of! I'd give a farm to be
+a fly on YOUR wall and see you do it. I'm blest if I don't think I'll
+go to Hillerton myself--to see Bob. By George, I will go and see Bob!"
+
+"Of course," agreed the other serenely. "Why not? Besides, it will be
+the most natural thing in the world--business, you know. In fact, I
+should think you really ought to go, in connection with the bequests."
+
+"Why, to be sure." The lawyer frowned thoughtfully. "How much are you
+going to give them?"
+
+"Oh, a hundred thousand apiece, I reckon."
+
+"That ought to do--for pin money."
+
+"Oh, well, I want them to have enough, you know, for it to be a real
+test of what they would do with wealth. And it must be cash--no
+securities. I want them to do their own investing."
+
+"But how are you going to fix it? What excuse are you going to give
+for dropping a hundred thousand into their laps like that? You can't
+tell your real purpose, naturally! You'd defeat your own ends."
+
+"That part we'll have to fix up in the letter of instructions. I think
+we can. I've got a scheme."
+
+"I'll warrant you have! I'll believe anything of you now. But what are
+you going to do afterward--when you've found out what you want to
+know, I mean? Won't it be something of a shock, when John Smith turns
+into Mr. Stanley G. Fulton? Have you thought of that?"
+
+"Y-yes, I've thought of that, and I will confess my ideas are a little
+hazy, in spots. But I'm not worrying. Time enough to think of that
+part. Roughly, my plan is this now. There'll be two letters of
+instructions: one to open in six months, the other to be opened in,
+say, a couple of years, or so. (I want to give myself plenty of time
+for my observations, you see.) The second letter will really give you
+final instructions as to the settling of my estate--my will. I'll have
+to make some sort of one, I suppose."
+
+"But, good Heavens, Stanley, you--you--" the lawyer came to a helpless
+pause. His eyes were startled.
+
+"Oh, that's just for emergency, of course, in case anything--er--
+happened. What I really intend is that long before the second letter
+of instructions is due to be opened, Mr. Stanley G. Fulton will come
+back from his South American explorations. He'll then be in a position
+to settle his affairs to suit himself, and--er--make a new will.
+Understand?"
+
+"Oh, I see. But--there's John Smith? How about Smith?"
+
+The millionaire smiled musingly, and stroked his chin again.
+
+"Smith? Oh! Well, Smith will have finished collecting Blaisdell data,
+of course, and will be off to parts unknown. We don't have to trouble
+ourselves with Smith any longer."
+
+"Fulton, you're a wizard," laughed the lawyer. "But now about the
+cousins. Who are they? You know their names, of course."
+
+"Oh, yes. You see I've done a little digging already--some years ago--
+looking up the Blaisdell family. (By the way, that'll come in fine
+now, won't it?) And an occasional letter from Bob has kept me posted
+as to deaths and births in the Hillerton Blaisdells. I always meant to
+hunt them up some time, they being my nearest kith and kin. Well, with
+what I already had, and with what Bob has written me, I know these
+facts."
+
+He paused, pulled a small notebook from his pocket, and consulted it.
+
+"There are two sons and a daughter, children of Rufus Blaisdell. Rufus
+died years ago, and his widow married a man by the name of Duff. But
+she's dead now. The elder son is Frank Blaisdell. He keeps a grocery
+store. The other is James Blaisdell. He works in a real estate office.
+The daughter, Flora, never married. She's about forty-two or three, I
+believe, and does dressmaking. James Blaisdell has a son, Fred,
+seventeen, and two younger children. Frank Blaisdell has one daughter,
+Mellicent. That's the extent of my knowledge, at present. But it's
+enough for our purpose."
+
+"Oh, anything's enough--for your purpose! What are you going to do
+first?"
+
+"I've done it. You'll soon be reading in your morning paper that Mr.
+Stanley G. Fulton, the somewhat eccentric multi-millionaire, is about
+to start for South America, and that it is hinted he is planning to
+finance a gigantic exploring expedition. The accounts of what he's
+going to explore will vary all the way from Inca antiquities to the
+source of the Amazon. I've done a lot of talking to-day, and a good
+deal of cautioning as to secrecy, etc. It ought to bear fruit by to-
+morrow, or the day after, at the latest. I'm going to start next week,
+and I'm really going EXPLORING, too--though not exactly as they think.
+I came in to-day to make a business appointment for to-morrow, please.
+A man starting on such a hazardous journey must be prepared, you
+understand. I want to leave my affairs in such shape that you will
+know exactly what to do--in emergency. I may come to-morrow?"
+
+The lawyer hesitated, his face an odd mixture of determination and
+irresolution.
+
+"Oh, hang it all--yes. Of course you may come. To-morrow at ten--if
+they don't shut you up before."
+
+With a boyish laugh Mr. Stanley G. Fulton leaped to his feet.
+
+"Thanks. To-morrow at ten, then." At the door he turned back jauntily.
+"And, say, Ned, what'll you bet I don't grow fat and young over this
+thing? What'll you bet I don't get so I can eat real meat and 'taters
+again?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+ENTER MR. JOHN SMITH
+
+
+It was on the first warm evening in early June that Miss Flora
+Blaisdell crossed the common and turned down the street that led to
+her brother James's home.
+
+The common marked the center of Hillerton. Its spacious green lawns
+and elm-shaded walks were the pride of the town. There was a trellised
+band-stand for summer concerts, and a tiny pond that accommodated a
+few boats in summer and a limited number of skaters in winter.
+Perhaps, most important of all, the common divided the plebeian East
+Side from the more pretentious West. James Blaisdell lived on the West
+Side. His wife said that everybody did who WAS anybody. They had
+lately moved there, and were, indeed, barely settled.
+
+Miss Blaisdell did dressmaking. Her home was a shabby little rented
+cottage on the East Side. She was a thin-faced little woman with an
+anxious frown and near-sighted, peering eyes that seemed always to be
+looking for wrinkles. She peered now at the houses as she passed
+slowly down the street. She had been only twice to her brother's new
+home, and she was not sure that she would recognize it, in spite of
+the fact that the street was still alight with the last rays of the
+setting sun. Suddenly across her worried face flashed a relieved
+smile.
+
+"Well, if you ain't all here out on the piazza!" she exclaimed,
+turning, in at the walk leading up to one of the ornate little houses.
+"My, ain't this grand!"
+
+"Oh, yes, it's grand, all right," nodded the tired-looking man in the
+big chair, removing his feet from the railing. He was in his shirt-
+sleeves, and was smoking a pipe. The droop of his thin mustache
+matched the droop of his thin shoulders--and both indefinably but
+unmistakably spelled disillusion and discouragement. "It's grand, but
+I think it's too grand--for us. However, daughter says the best is
+none too good--in Hillerton. Eh, Bess?"
+
+Bessie, the pretty, sixteen-year-old daughter of the family, only
+shrugged her shoulders a little petulantly. It was Harriet, the wife,
+who spoke--a large, florid woman with a short upper lip, and a
+bewilderment of bepuffed light hair. She was already on her feet,
+pushing a chair toward her sister-in-law.
+
+"Of course it isn't too grand, Jim, and you know it. There aren't any
+really nice houses in Hillerton except the Pennocks' and the old
+Gaylord place. There, sit here, Flora. You look tired."
+
+"Thanks. I be--turrible tired. Warm, too, ain't it?" The little
+dressmaker began to fan herself with the hat she had taken off. "My,
+'tis fur over here, ain't it? Not much like 'twas when you lived right
+'round the corner from me! And I had to put on a hat and gloves, too.
+Someway, I thought I ought to--over here."
+
+Condescendingly the bepuffed head threw an approving nod in her
+direction.
+
+"Quite right, Flora. The East Side is different from the West Side,
+and no mistake. And what will do there won't do here at all, of
+course."
+
+"How about father's shirt-sleeves?" It was a scornful gibe from Bessie
+in the hammock. "I don't notice any of the rest of the men around here
+sitting out like that."
+
+"Bessie!" chided her mother wearily. "You know very well I'm not to
+blame for what your father wears. I've tried hard enough, I'm sure!"
+
+"Well, well, Hattie," sighed the man, with a gesture of abandonment.
+"I supposed I still had the rights of a freeborn American citizen in
+my own home; but it seems I haven't." Resignedly he got to his feet
+and went into the house. When he returned a moment later he was
+wearing his coat.
+
+Benny, perched precariously on the veranda railing, gave a sudden
+indignant snort. Benny was eight, the youngest of the family.
+
+"Well, I don't think I like it here, anyhow," he chafed. "I'd rather
+go back an' live where we did. A feller can have some fun there. It
+hasn't been anything but 'Here, Benny, you mustn't do that over here,
+you mustn't do that over here!' ever since we came. I'm going home an'
+live with Aunt Flora. Say, can't I, Aunt Flo?"
+
+"Bless the child! Of course you can," beamed his aunt. "But you won't
+want to, I'm sure. Why, Benny, I think it's perfectly lovely here."
+
+"Pa don't."
+
+"Indeed I do, Benny," corrected his father hastily. "It's very nice
+indeed here, of course. But I don't think we can afford it. We had to
+squeeze every penny before, and how we're going to meet this rent I
+don't know." He drew a profound sigh.
+
+"You'll earn it, just being here--more business," asserted his wife
+firmly. "Anyhow, we've just got to be here, Jim! We owe it to
+ourselves and our family. Look at Fred to-night!"
+
+"Oh, yes, where is Fred?" queried Miss Flora.
+
+"He's over to Gussie Pennock's, playing tennis," interposed Bessie,
+with a pout. "The mean old thing wouldn't ask me!"
+
+"But you ain't old enough, my dear," soothed her aunt. "Wait; your
+turn will come by and by."
+
+"Yes, that's exactly it," triumphed the mother. "Her turn WILL come--
+if we live here. Do you suppose Fred would have got an invitation to
+Gussie Pennock's if we'd still been living on the East Side? Not much
+he would! Why, Mr. Pennock's worth fifty thousand, if he's worth a
+dollar! They are some of our very first people."
+
+"But, Hattie, money isn't everything, dear," remonstrated her husband
+gently. "We had friends, and good friends, before."
+
+"Yes; but you wait and see what kind of friends we have now!"
+
+"But we can't keep up with such people, dear, on our income; and--"
+
+"Ma, here's a man. I guess he wants--somebody." It was a husky whisper
+from Benny.
+
+James Blaisdell stopped abruptly. Bessie Blaisdell and the little
+dressmaker cocked their heads interestedly. Mrs. Blaisdell rose to her
+feet and advanced toward the steps to meet the man coming up the walk.
+
+He was a tall, rather slender man, with a close-cropped, sandy beard,
+and an air of diffidence and apology. As he took off his hat and came
+nearer, it was seen that his eyes were blue and friendly, and that his
+hair was reddish-brown, and rather scanty on top of his head.
+
+"I am looking for Mr. Blaisdell--Mr. James Blaisdell," he murmured
+hesitatingly.
+
+Something in the stranger's deferential manner sent a warm glow of
+importance to the woman's heart. Mrs. Blaisdell was suddenly reminded
+that she was Mrs. James D. Blaisdell of the West Side.
+
+"I am Mrs. Blaisdell," she replied a bit pompously. "What can we do
+for you, my good man?" She swelled again, half unconsciously. She had
+never called a person "my good man" before. She rather liked the
+experience.
+
+The man on the steps coughed slightly behind his hand--a sudden
+spasmodic little cough. Then very gravely he reached into his pocket
+and produced a letter.
+
+"From Mr. Robert Chalmers--a note to your husband," he bowed,
+presenting the letter.
+
+A look of gratified surprise came into the woman's face.
+
+"Mr. Robert Chalmers, of the First National? Jim!" She turned to her
+husband joyously. "Here's a note from Mr. Chalmers. Quick--read it!"
+
+Her husband, already on his feet, whisked the sheet of paper from the
+unsealed envelope, and adjusted his glasses. A moment later he held
+out a cordial hand to the stranger.
+
+"Ah, Mr. Smith, I'm glad to see you. I'm glad to see any friend of Bob
+Chalmers'. Come up and sit down. My wife and children, and my sister,
+Miss Blaisdell. Mr. Smith, ladies--Mr. John Smith." (Glancing at the
+open note in his hand.) "He is sent to us by Mr. Chalmers, of the
+First National."
+
+"Yes, thank you. Mr. Chalmers was so kind." Still with that deference
+so delightfully heart-warming, the newcomer bowed low to the ladies,
+and made his way to the offered chair. "I will explain at once my
+business," he said then. "I am a genealogist."
+
+"What's that?" It was an eager question from Benny on the veranda
+railing. "Pa isn't anything, but ma's a Congregationalist."
+
+"Hush, child!" protested a duet of feminine voices softly; but the
+stranger, apparently ignoring the interruption, continued speaking.
+
+"I am gathering material for a book on the Blaisdell family."
+
+"The Blaisdell family!" repeated Mr. James Blaisdell, with cordial
+interest.
+
+"Yes," bowed the other. "It is my purpose to remain some time in your
+town. I am told there are valuable records here, and an old burying-
+ground of particular interest in this connection. The neighboring
+towns, too, have much Blaisdell data, I understand. As I said, I am
+intending to make this place my headquarters, and I am looking for an
+attractive boarding-place. Mr. Chalmers was good enough to refer me to
+you."
+
+"To us--for a BOARDING-place!" There was an unmistakable frown on Mrs.
+James D. Blaisdell's countenance as she said the words. "Well, I'm
+sure I don't see why he should. WE don't keep boarders!"
+
+"But, Hattie, we could," interposed her husband eagerly. "There's that
+big front room that we don't need a bit. And it would help a lot if--"
+At the wrathful warning in his wife's eyes he fell back silenced.
+
+"I said that we didn't keep boarders," reiterated the lady distinctly.
+"Furthermore, we do need the room ourselves."
+
+"Yes, yes, of course; I understand," broke in Mr. Smith, as if in
+hasty conciliation. "I think Mr. Chalmers meant that perhaps one of
+you"--he glanced uncertainly at the anxious-eyed little woman at his
+left--"might--er--accommodate me. Perhaps you, now--" He turned his
+eyes full upon Miss Flora Blaisdell, and waited.
+
+The little dressmaker blushed painfully.
+
+"Me? Oh, mercy, no! Why, I live all alone--that is, I mean, I
+couldn't, you know," she stammered confusedly. "I dressmake, and I
+don't get any sort of meals--not fit for a man, I mean. Just women's
+things--tea, toast, and riz biscuit. I'm so fond of riz biscuit! But,
+of course, you--" She came to an expressive pause.
+
+"Oh, I could stand the biscuit, so long as they're not health
+biscuit," laughed Mr. Smith genially. "You see, I've been living on
+those and hot water quite long enough as it is."
+
+"Oh, ain't your health good, sir?" The little dressmaker's face wore
+the deepest concern.
+
+"Well, it's better than it was, thank you. I think I can promise to be
+a good boarder, all right."
+
+"Why don't you go to a hotel?" Mrs. James D. Blaisdell still spoke
+with a slightly injured air.
+
+Mr. Smith lifted a deprecatory hand.
+
+"Oh, indeed, that would not do at all--for my purpose," he murmured.
+"I wish to be very quiet. I fear I should find it quite disturbing--
+the noise and confusion of a public place like that. Besides, for my
+work, it seemed eminently fitting, as well as remarkably convenient,
+if I could make my home with one of the Blaisdell family."
+
+With a sudden exclamation the little dressmaker sat erect.
+
+"Say, Harriet, how funny we never thought! He's just the one for poor
+Maggie! Why not send him there?"
+
+"Poor Maggie?" It was the mild voice of Mr. Smith.
+
+"Our sister--yes. She lives--"
+
+"Your SISTER!" Into Mr. Smith's face had come a look of startled
+surprise--a look almost of terror. "But there weren't but three--that
+is, I thought--I understood from Mr. Chalmers that there were but
+three Blaisdells, two brothers, and one sister--you, yourself."
+
+"Oh, poor Maggie ain't a Blaisdell," explained the little dressmaker,
+with a smile. "She's just Maggie Duff, father Duff's daughter by his
+first wife, you know. He married our mother years ago, when we
+children were little, so we were brought up with Maggie, and always
+called her sister; though, of course, she really ain't any relation to
+us at all."
+
+"Oh, I see. Yes, to be sure. Of course!" Mr. Smith seemed oddly
+thoughtful. He appeared to be settling something in his mind. "She
+isn't a Blaisdell, then."
+
+"No, but she's so near like one, and she's a splendid cook, and---"
+
+"Well, I shan't send him to Maggie," cut in Mrs. James D. Blaisdell
+with emphasis. "Poor Maggie's got quite enough on her hands, as it is,
+with that father of hers. Besides, she isn't a Blaisdell at all."
+
+"And she couldn't come and cook and take care of us near so much,
+either, could she," plunged in Benny, "if she took this man ter feed?"
+
+"That will do, Benny," admonished his mother, with nettled dignity.
+"You forget that children should be seen and not heard."
+
+"Yes'm. But, please, can't I be heard just a minute for this? Why
+don't ye send the man ter Uncle Frank an' Aunt Jane? Maybe they'd take
+him."
+
+"The very thing!" cried Miss Flora Blaisdell. "I wouldn't wonder a
+mite if they did."
+
+"Yes, I was thinking of them," nodded her sister-in-law. "And they're
+always glad of a little help,--especially Jane."
+
+"Anybody should be," observed Mr. James Blaisdell quietly.
+
+Only the heightened color in his wife's cheeks showed that she had
+heard--and understood.
+
+"Here, Benny," she directed, "go and show the gentleman where Uncle
+Frank lives."
+
+"All right!" With a spring the boy leaped to the lawn and pranced to
+the sidewalk, dancing there on his toes. "I'll show ye, Mr. Smith."
+
+The gentleman addressed rose to his feet.
+
+"I thank you, Mr. Blaisdell," he said, "and you, ladies. I shall hope
+to see you again soon. I am sure you can help me, if you will, in my
+work. I shall want to ask--some questions."
+
+"Certainly, sir, certainly! We shall be glad to see you," promised his
+host. "Come any time, and ask all the questions you want to."
+
+"And we shall be so interested," fluttered Miss Flora. "I've always
+wanted to know about father's folks. And are you a Blaisdell, too?"
+
+There was the briefest of pauses. Mr. Smith coughed again twice behind
+his hand.
+
+"Er--ah--oh, yes, I may say that I am. Through my mother I am
+descended from the original immigrant, Ebenezer Blaisdell."
+
+"Immigrant!" exclaimed Miss Flora.
+
+"An IMMIGRANT!" Mrs. James Blaisdell spoke the word as if her tongue
+were a pair of tongs that had picked up a noxious viper.
+
+"Yes, but not exactly as we commonly regard the term nowadays," smiled
+Mr. Smith. "Mr. Ebenezer Blaisdell was a man of means and distinction.
+He was the founder of the family in this country. He came over in
+1647."
+
+"My, how interesting!" murmured the little dressmaker, as the visitor
+descended the steps.
+
+"Good-night--good-night! And thank you again," bowed Mr. John Smith to
+the assembled group on the veranda. "And now, young man, I'm at your
+service," he smiled, as he joined Benny, still prancing on the
+sidewalk.
+
+"Now he's what I call a real nice pleasant-spoken gentleman," avowed
+Miss Flora, when she thought speech was safe. "I do hope Jane'll take
+him."
+
+"Oh, yes, he's well enough," condescended Mrs. Hattie Blaisdell, with
+a yawn.
+
+"Hattie, why wouldn't you take him in?" reproached her husband. "Just
+think how the pay would help! And it wouldn't be a bit of work,
+hardly, for you. Certainly it would be a lot easier than the way we
+are doing."
+
+The woman frowned impatiently.
+
+"Jim, don't, please! Do you suppose I got over here on the West Side
+to open a boarding-house? I guess not--yet!"
+
+"But what shall we do?"
+
+"Oh, we'll get along somehow. Don't worry!"
+
+"Perhaps if you'd worry a little more, I wouldn't worry so much,"
+sighed the man deeply.
+
+"Well, mercy me, I must be going," interposed the little dressmaker,
+springing to her feet with a nervous glance at her brother and his
+wife. "I'm forgetting it ain't so near as it used to be. Good-night!"
+
+"Good-night, good-night! Come again," called the three on the veranda.
+Then the door closed behind them, as they entered the house.
+
+Meanwhile, walking across the common, Benny was entertaining Mr.
+Smith.
+
+"Yep, they'll take ye, I bet ye--Aunt Jane an' Uncle Frank will!"
+
+"Well, that's good, I'm sure."
+
+"Yep. An' it'll be easy, too. Why, Aunt Jane'll just tumble over
+herself ter get ye, if ye just mention first what yer'll PAY. She'll
+begin ter reckon up right away then what she'll save. An' in a minute
+she'll say, 'Yes, I'll take ye.'"
+
+"Indeed!"
+
+The uncertainty in Mr. Smith's voice was palpable even to eight-year-
+old Benny.
+
+"Oh, you don't need ter worry," he hastened to explain. "She won't
+starve ye; only she won't let ye waste anythin'. You'll have ter eat
+all the crusts to yer pie, and finish 'taters before you can get any
+puddin', an' all that, ye know. Ye see, she's great on savin'--Aunt
+Jane is. She says waste is a sinful extravagance before the Lord."
+
+"Indeed!" Mr. Smith laughed outright this time. "But are you sure, my
+boy, that you ought to talk--just like this, about your aunt?"
+
+Benny's eyes widened.
+
+"Why, that's all right, Mr. Smith. Ev'rybody in town knows Aunt Jane.
+Why, Ma says folks say she'd save ter-day for ter-morrer, if she
+could. But she couldn't do that, could she? So that's just silly talk.
+But you wait till you see Aunt Jane."
+
+"All right. I'll wait, Benny."
+
+"Well, ye won't have ter wait long, Mr. Smith, 'cause here's her
+house. She lives over the groc'ry store, ter save rent, ye know. It's
+Uncle Frank's store. An' here we are," he finished, banging open a
+door and leading the way up a flight of ill-lighted stairs.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+THE SMALL BOY AT THE KEYHOLE
+
+
+At the top of the stairs Benny tried to open the door, but as it did
+not give at his pressure, he knocked lustily, and called "Aunt Jane,
+Aunt Jane!"
+
+"Isn't this the bell?" hazarded Mr. Smith, his finger almost on a
+small push-button near him.
+
+"Yep, but it don't go now. Uncle Frank wanted it fixed, but Aunt Jane
+said no; knockin' was just as good, an' 'twas lots cheaper, 'cause
+'twould save mendin', and didn't use any 'lectricity. But Uncle Frank
+says---"
+
+The door opened abruptly, and Benny interrupted himself to give eager
+greeting.
+
+"Hullo, Aunt Jane! I've brought you somebody. He's Mr. Smith. An'
+you'll be glad. You see if yer ain't!"
+
+In the dim hallway Mr. Smith saw a tall, angular woman with graying
+dark hair and high cheek bones. Her eyes were keen and just now
+somewhat sternly inquiring, as they were bent upon himself.
+
+Perceiving that Benny considered his mission as master of ceremonies
+at an end, Mr. Smith hastened to explain.
+
+"I came from your husband's brother, madam. He--er--sent me. He
+thought perhaps you had a room that I could have."
+
+"A room?" Her eyes grew still more coldly disapproving.
+
+"Yes, and board. He thought--that is, THEY thought that perhaps--you
+would be so kind."
+
+"Oh, a boarder! You mean for pay, of course?"
+
+"Most certainly!"
+
+"Oh!" She softened visibly, and stepped back. "Well, I don't know. I
+never have--but that isn't saying I couldn't, of course. Come in. We
+can talk it over. THAT doesn't cost anything. Come in; this way,
+please." As she finished speaking she stepped to the low-burning gas
+jet and turned it carefully to give a little more light down the
+narrow hallway.
+
+"Thank you," murmured Mr. Smith, stepping across the threshold.
+
+Benny had already reached the door at the end of the hall. The woman
+began to tug at her apron strings.
+
+"I hope you'll excuse my gingham apron, Mr.--er--Smith. Wasn't that
+the name?"
+
+"Yes." The man bowed with a smile.
+
+"I thought that was what Benny said. Well, as I was saying, I hope
+you'll excuse this apron." Her fingers were fumbling with the knot at
+the back. "I take it off, mostly, when the bell rings, evenings or
+afternoons; but I heard Benny, and I didn't suppose 't was anybody but
+him. There, that's better!" With a jerk she switched off the dark blue
+apron, hung it over her arm, and smoothed down the spotless white
+apron which had been beneath the blue. The next instant she hurried
+after Benny with a warning cry. "Careful, child, careful! Oh, Benny,
+you're always in such a hurry!"
+
+Benny, with a cheery "Come on!" had already banged open the door
+before him, and was reaching for the gas burner.
+
+A moment later the feeble spark above had become a flaring sputter of
+flame.
+
+"There, child, what did I tell you?" With a frown Mrs. Blaisdell
+reduced the flaring light to a moderate flame, and motioned Mr. Smith
+to a chair. Before she seated herself, however, she went back into the
+hall to lower the gas there.
+
+During her momentary absence the man, Smith, looked about him, and as
+he looked he pulled at his collar. He felt suddenly a choking,
+suffocating sensation. He still had the curious feeling of trying to
+catch his breath when the woman came back and took the chair facing
+him. In a moment he knew why he felt so suffocated--it was because
+that nowhere could he see an object that was not wholly or partially
+covered with some other object, or that was not serving as a cover
+itself.
+
+The floor bore innumerable small rugs, one before each chair, each
+door, and the fireplace. The chairs themselves, and the sofa, were
+covered with gray linen slips, which, in turn, were protected by
+numerous squares of lace and worsted of generous size. The green silk
+spread on the piano was nearly hidden beneath a linen cover, and the
+table showed a succession of layers of silk, worsted, and linen,
+topped by crocheted mats, on which rested several books with paper-
+enveloped covers. The chandelier, mirror, and picture frames gleamed
+dully from behind the mesh of pink mosquito netting. Even through the
+doorway into the hall might be seen the long, red-bordered white linen
+path that carried protection to the carpet beneath.
+
+"I don't like gas myself." (With a start the man pulled himself
+together to listen to what the woman was saying.) "I think it's a
+foolish extravagance, when kerosene is so good and so cheap; but my
+husband will have it, and Mellicent, too, in spite of anything I say--
+Mellicent's my daughter. I tell 'em if we were rich, it would be
+different, of course. But this is neither here nor there, nor what you
+came to talk about! Now just what is it that you want, sir?"
+
+"I want to board here, if I may."
+
+"How long?"
+
+"A year--two years, perhaps, if we are mutually satisfied."
+
+"What do you do for a living?"
+
+Smith coughed suddenly. Before he could catch his breath to answer
+Benny had jumped into the breach.
+
+"He sounds something like a Congregationalist, only he ain't that,
+Aunt Jane, and he ain't after money for missionaries, either."
+
+Jane Blaisdell smiled at Benny indulgently. Then she sighed and shook
+her head.
+
+"You know, Benny, very well, that nothing would suit Aunt Jane better
+than to give money to all the missionaries in the world, if she only
+had it to give!" She sighed again as she turned to Mr. Smith. "You're
+working for some church, then, I take it."
+
+Mr. Smith gave a quick gesture of dissent.
+
+"I am a genealogist, madam, in a small way. I am collecting data for a
+book on the Blaisdell family."
+
+"Oh!" Mrs. Blaisdell frowned slightly. The look of cold disapproval
+came back to her eyes. "But who pays you? WE couldn't take the book,
+I'm sure. We couldn't afford it."
+
+"That would not be necessary, madam, I assure you," murmured Mr. Smith
+gravely.
+
+"But how do you get money to live on? I mean, how am I to know that
+I'll get my pay?" she persisted. "Excuse me, but that kind of business
+doesn't sound very good-paying; and, you see, I don't know you. And in
+these days--" An expressive pause finished her sentence.
+
+Mr. Smith smiled.
+
+"Quite right, madam. You are wise to be cautious. I had a letter of
+introduction to your brother from Mr. Robert Chalmers. I think he will
+vouch for me. Will that do?"
+
+"Oh, that's all right, then. But that isn't saying how MUCH you'll
+pay. Now, I think--"
+
+There came a sharp knock at the outer door. The eager Benny jumped to
+his feet, but his aunt shook her head and went to the door herself.
+There was a murmur of voices, then a young man entered the hall and
+sat down in the chair near the hatrack. When Mrs. Blaisdell returned
+her eyes were very bright. Her cheeks showed two little red spots. She
+carried herself with manifest importance.
+
+"If you'll just excuse me a minute," she apologized to Mr. Smith, as
+she swept by him and opened a door across the room, nearly closing it
+behind her.
+
+Distinctly then, from beyond the imperfectly closed door, came to the
+ears of Benny and Mr. Smith these words, in Mrs. Blaisdell's most
+excited accents:--"Mellicent, it's Carl Pennock. He wants you to go
+auto-riding with him down to the Lake with Katie Moore and that
+crowd."
+
+"Mother!" breathed an ecstatic voice.
+
+What followed Mr. Smith did not hear, for a nearer, yet more excited,
+voice demanded attention.
+
+"Gee! Carl Pennock!" whispered Benny hoarsely. "Whew! Won't my sister
+Bess be mad? She thinks Carl Pennock's the cutest thing going. All the
+girls do!"
+
+With a warning "Sh-h!" and an expressive glance toward the hall, Mr.
+Smith tried to stop further revelations; but Benny was not to be
+silenced.
+
+"They're rich--awful rich--the Pennocks are," he confided still more
+huskily. "An' there's a girl--Gussie. She's gone on Fred. He's my
+brother, ye know. He's seventeen; an' Bess is mad 'cause she isn't
+seventeen, too, so she can go an' play tennis same as Fred does.
+She'll be madder 'n ever now, if Mell goes auto-riding with Carl, an'-
+-"
+
+"Sh-h!" So imperative were Mr. Smith's voice and gesture this time
+that Benny fell back subdued.
+
+At once then became distinctly audible again the voices from the other
+room. Mr. Smith, forced to hear in spite of himself, had the air of
+one who finds he has abandoned the frying pan for the fire.
+
+"No, dear, it's quite out of the question," came from beyond the door,
+in Mrs. Blaisdell's voice. "I can't let you wear your pink. You will
+wear the blue or stay at home. Just as you choose."
+
+"But, mother, dear, it's all out of date," wailed a young girl's
+voice.
+
+"I can't help that. It's perfectly whole and neat, and you must save
+the pink for best."
+
+"But I'm always saving things for best, mother, and I never wear my
+best. I never wear a thing when it's in style! By the time you let me
+wear the pink I shan't want to wear it. Sleeves'll be small then--you
+see if they aren't--I shall be wearing big ones. I want to wear big
+ones now, when other girls do. Please, mother!"
+
+"Mellicent, why will you tease me like this, when you know it will do
+no good?--when you know I can't let you do it? Don't you think I want
+you to be as well-dressed as anybody, if we could afford it? Come, I'm
+waiting. You must wear the blue or stay at home. What shall I tell
+him?"
+
+There was a pause, then there came an inarticulate word and a choking
+half-sob. The next moment the door opened and Mrs. Blaisdell appeared.
+The pink spots in her cheeks had deepened. She shut the door firmly,
+then hurried through the room to the hall beyond. Another minute and
+she was back in her chair.
+
+"There," she smiled pleasantly. "I'm ready now to talk business, Mr.
+Smith."
+
+And she talked business. She stated plainly what she expected to do
+for her boarder, and what she expected her boarder would do for her.
+She enlarged upon the advantages and minimized the discomforts, with
+the aid of a word now and then from the eager and interested Benny.
+
+Mr. Smith, on his part, had little to say. That that little was most
+satisfactory, however, was very evident; for Mrs. Blaisdell was soon
+quite glowing with pride and pleasure, Mr. Smith was not glowing. He
+was plainly ill at ease, and, at times, slightly abstracted. His eyes
+frequently sought the door which Mrs. Blaisdell had closed so firmly a
+short time before. They were still turned in that direction when
+suddenly the door opened and a young girl appeared.
+
+She was a slim little girl with long-lashed, starlike eyes and a wild-
+rose flush in her cheeks. Beneath her trim hat her light brown hair
+waved softly over her ears, glinting into gold where the light struck
+it. She looked excited and pleased, yet not quite happy. She wore a
+blue dress, plainly made.
+
+"Don't stay late. Be in before ten, dear," cautioned Mrs. Blaisdell.
+"And Mellicent, just a minute, dear. This is Mr. Smith. You might as
+well meet him now. He's coming here to live--to board, you know. My
+daughter, Mr. Smith."
+
+Mr. Smith, already on his feet, bowed and murmured a conventional
+something. From the starlike eyes he received a fleeting glance that
+made him suddenly conscious of his fifty years and the bald spot on
+the top of his head. Then the girl was gone, and her mother was
+speaking again.
+
+"She's going auto-riding--Mellicent is--with a young man, Carl
+Pennock--one of the nicest in town. There are four others in the
+party. They're going down to the Lake for cake and ice cream, and
+they're all nice young people, else I shouldn't let her go, of course.
+She's eighteen, for all she's so small. She favors my mother in looks,
+but she's got the Blaisdell nose, though. Oh, and 'twas the Blaisdells
+you said you were writing a book about, wasn't it? You don't mean OUR
+Blaisdells, right here in Hillerton?"
+
+"I mean all Blaisdells, wherever I find them," smiled Mr. Smith.
+
+"Dear me! What, US? You mean WE'll be in the book?" Now that the
+matter of board had been satisfactorily settled, Mrs. Blaisdell
+apparently dared to show some interest in the book.
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"You don't say! My, how pleased Hattie'll be--my sister-in-law, Jim's
+wife. She just loves to see her name in print--parties, and club
+banquets, and where she pours, you know. But maybe you don't take
+women, too."
+
+"Oh, yes, if they are Blaisdells, or have married Blaisdells."
+
+"Oh! That's where we'd come in, then, isn't it? Mellicent and I? And
+Frank, my husband, he'll like it, too,--if you tell about the grocery
+store. And of course you would, if you told about him. You'd have to--
+'cause that's all there is to tell. He thinks that's about all there
+is in the world, anyway,--that grocery store. And 'tis a good store,
+if I do say it. And there's his sister, Flora; and Maggie--But, there!
+Poor Maggie! She won't be in it, will she, after all? She isn't a
+Blaisdell, and she didn't marry one. Now that's too bad!"
+
+"Ho! She won't mind." Benny spoke with conviction. "She'll just laugh
+and say it doesn't matter; and then Grandpa Duff'll ask for his drops
+or his glasses, or something, and she'll forget all about it. She
+won't care."
+
+"Yes, I know; but--Poor Maggie! Always just her luck." Mrs. Blaisdell
+sighed and looked thoughtful. "But Maggie KNOWS a lot about the
+Blaisdells," she added, brightening; "so she could tell you lots of
+things--about when they were little, and all that."
+
+"Yes. But--that isn't--er--" Mr. Smith hesitated doubtfully, and Mrs.
+Blaisdell jumped into the pause.
+
+"And, really, for that matter, she knows about us NOW, too, better
+than 'most anybody else. Hattie's always sending for her, and Flora,
+too, if they're sick, or anything. Poor Maggie! Sometimes I think they
+actually impose upon her. And she's such a good soul, too! I declare,
+I never see her but I wish I could do something for her. But, of
+course, with my means--But, there! Here I am, running on as usual.
+Frank says I never do know when to stop, when I get started on
+something; and of course you didn't come here to talk about poor
+Maggie. Now I'll go back to business. When is it you want to start in-
+-to board, I mean?"
+
+"To-morrow, if I may." With some alacrity Mr. Smith got to his feet.
+"And now we must be going--Benny and I. I'm at the Holland House. With
+your permission, then, Mrs. Blaisdell, I'll send up my trunks to-
+morrow morning. And now good-night--and thank you."
+
+"Why--but, Mr. Smith!" The woman, too, came to her feet, but her face
+was surprised. "Why, you haven't even seen your room yet! How do you
+know you'll like it?"
+
+"Eh? What? Oh!" Mr. Smith laughed. There was a quizzical lift to his
+eyebrows. "So I haven't, have I? And people usually do, don't they?
+Well--er--perhaps I will just take a look at--the room, though I'm not
+worrying any, I assure you. I've no doubt it will be quite right,
+quite right," he finished, as he followed Mrs. Blaisdell to a door
+halfway down the narrow hall.
+
+Five minutes later, once more on the street, he was walking home with
+Benny. It was Benny who broke the long silence that had immediately
+fallen between them.
+
+"Say, Mr. Smith, I'll bet ye YOU'll never be rich!"
+
+Mr. Smith turned with a visible start.
+
+"Eh? What? I'll never be--What do you mean, boy?"
+
+Benny giggled cheerfully.
+
+"'Cause you paid Aunt Jane what she asked the very first time. Why,
+Aunt Jane never expects ter get what she asks, pa says. She sells him
+groceries in the store, sometimes, when Uncle Frank's away, ye know.
+Pa says what she asks first is for practice--just ter get her hand in;
+an' she expects ter get beat down. But you paid it, right off the bat.
+Didn't ye see how tickled Aunt Jane was, after she'd got over bein'
+surprised?"
+
+"Why--er--really, Benny," murmured Mr. Smith.
+
+But Benny had yet more to say.
+
+"Oh, yes, sir, you could have saved a lot every week, if ye hadn't bit
+so quick. An' that's why I say you won't ever get rich. Savin' 's what
+does it, ye know--gets folks rich. Aunt Jane says so. She says a penny
+saved 's good as two earned, an' better than four spent."
+
+"Well, really, indeed!" Mr. Smith laughed lightly. "That does look as
+if there wasn't much chance for me, doesn't it?"
+
+"Yes, sir." Benny spoke soberly, and with evident sympathy. He spoke
+again, after a moment, but Mr. Smith did not seem to hear at once. Mr.
+Smith was, indeed, not a little abstracted all the way to Benny's
+home, though his good-night was very cheerful at parting. Benny would
+have been surprised, indeed, had he known that Mr. Smith was thinking,
+not about his foolishly extravagant agreement for board, but about a
+pair of starry eyes with wistful lights in them, and a blue dress,
+plainly made.
+
+In the hotel that night, Mr. John Smith wrote the following letter to
+Edward D. Norton, Esq., Chicago:
+
+MY DEAR NED,--Well, I'm here. I've been here exactly six hours, and
+already I'm in possession of not a little Blaisdell data for my--er--
+book. I've seen Mr. and Mrs. James, their daughter, Bessie, and their
+son, Benny. Benny, by the way, is a gushing geyser of current
+Blaisdell data which, I foresee, I shall find interesting, but
+embarrassing, perhaps, at times. I've also seen Miss Flora, and Mrs.
+Jane Blaisdell and her daughter, Mellicent.
+
+There's a "Poor Maggie" whom I haven't seen. But she isn't a
+Blaisdell. She's a Duff, daughter of the man who married Rufus
+Blaisdell's widow, some thirty years or more ago. As I said, I haven't
+seen her yet, but she, too, according to Mrs. Frank Blaisdell, must be
+a gushing geyser of Blaisdell data, so I probably soon shall see her.
+Why she's "poor" I don't know.
+
+As for the Blaisdell data already in my possession--I've no comment to
+make. Really, Ned, to tell the truth, I'm not sure I'm going to relish
+this job, after all. In spite of a perfectly clear conscience, and the
+virtuous realization that I'm here to bring nothing worse than a
+hundred thousand dollars apiece with the possible addition of a few
+millions on their devoted heads--in spite of all this, I yet have an
+uncomfortable feeling that I'm a small boy listening at the keyhole.
+
+However, I'm committed to the thing now, so I'll stuff it out, I
+suppose,--though I'm not sure, after all, that I wouldn't chuck the
+whole thing if it wasn't that I wanted to see how Mellicent will enjoy
+her pink dresses. How many pink dresses will a hundred thousand
+dollars buy, anyway,--I mean PRETTY pink dresses, all fixed up with
+frills and furbelows?
+
+As ever yours,
+
+STAN--er--JOHN SMITH.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+IN SEARCH OF SOME DATES
+
+
+Very promptly the next morning Mr. John Smith and his two trunks
+appeared at the door of his new boarding-place. Mrs. Jane Blaisdell
+welcomed him cordially. She wore a high-necked, long-sleeved gingham
+apron this time, which she neither removed nor apologized for--unless
+her cheerful "You see, mornings you'll find me in working trim, Mr.
+Smith," might be taken as an apology.
+
+Mellicent, her slender young self enveloped in a similar apron, was
+dusting his room as he entered it. She nodded absently, with a casual
+"Good-morning, Mr. Smith," as she continued at her work. Even the
+placing of the two big trunks, which the shuffling men brought in, won
+from her only a listless glance or two. Then, without speaking again,
+she left the room, as her mother entered it.
+
+"There!" Mrs. Blaisdell looked about her complacently. "With this
+couch-bed with its red cover and cushions, and all the dressing things
+moved to the little room in there, it looks like a real sitting-room
+in here, doesn't it?"
+
+"It certainly does, Mrs. Blaisdell."
+
+'And you had 'em take the trunks in there, too. That's good," she
+nodded, crossing to the door of the small dressing-room beyond. "I
+thought you would. Well, I hope you'll be real happy with us, Mr.
+Smith, and I guess you will. And you needn't be a mite afraid of
+hurting anything. I've covered everything with mats and tidies and
+spreads."
+
+"Yes, I see." A keen listener would have noticed an odd something in
+Mr. Smith's voice; but Mrs. Blaisdell apparently noticed nothing.
+
+"Yes, I always do--to save wearing and soiling, you know. Of course,
+if we had money to buy new all the time, it would be different. But we
+haven't. And that's what I tell Mellicent when she complains of so
+many things to dust and brush. Now make yourself right at home, Mr.
+Smith. Dinner's at twelve o'clock, and supper is at six--except in the
+winter. We have it earlier then, so's we can go to bed earlier. Saves
+gas, you know. But it's at six now. I do like the long days, don't
+you? Well, I'll be off now, and let you unpack. As I said before, make
+yourself perfectly at home, perfectly at home."
+
+Left alone, Mr. Smith drew a long breath and looked about him. It was
+a pleasant room, in spite of its cluttered appearance. There was an
+old-fashioned desk for his papers, and the chairs looked roomy and
+comfortable. The little dressing-room carried many conveniences, and
+the windows of both rooms looked out upon the green of the common.
+
+"Oh, well, I don't know. This might be lots worse--in spite of the
+tidies!" chuckled Mr. John Smith, as he singled out the keys of his
+trunks.
+
+At the noon dinner-table Mr. Smith met Mr. Frank Blaisdell. He was a
+portly man with rather thick gray hair and "mutton-chop" gray
+whiskers. He ate very fast, and a great deal, yet he still found time
+to talk interestedly with his new boarder.
+
+He was plainly a man of decided opinions--opinions which he did not
+hesitate to express, and which he emphasized with resounding thumps of
+his fists on the table. The first time he did this, Mr. Smith, taken
+utterly by surprise, was guilty of a visible start. After that he
+learned to accept them with the serenity evinced by the rest of the
+family.
+
+When the dinner was over, Mr. Smith knew (if he could remember them)
+the current market prices of beans, corn, potatoes, sugar, and flour;
+and he knew (again if he could remember) why some of these commodities
+were higher, and some lower, than they had been the week before. In a
+way, Mr. John Smith was interested. That stocks and bonds fluctuated,
+he was well aware. That "wheat" could be cornered, he realized. But of
+the ups and downs of corn and beans as seen by the retail grocer he
+knew very little. That is, he had known very little until after that
+dinner with Mr. Frank Blaisdell.
+
+It was that afternoon that Mr. Smith began systematically to gather
+material for his Blaisdell book. He would first visit by turns all the
+Hillerton Blaisdells, he decided; then, when he had exhausted their
+resources, he would, of course, turn to the town records and
+cemeteries of Hillerton and the neighboring villages.
+
+Armed with a pencil and a very businesslike looking notebook,
+therefore, he started at two o'clock for the home of James Blaisdell.
+Remembering Mr. Blaisdell's kind permission to come and ask all the
+questions he liked, he deemed it fitting to begin there.
+
+He had no trouble in finding the house, but there was no one in sight
+this time, as he ascended the steps. The house, indeed, seemed
+strangely quiet. He was just about to ring the bell when around the
+corner of the veranda came a hurried step and a warning voice.
+
+"Oh, please, don't ring the bell! What is it? Isn't it something that
+I can do for you?"
+
+Mr. Smith turned sharply. He thought at first, from the trim, slender
+figure, and the waving hair above the gracefully poised head, that he
+was confronting a young woman. Then he saw the silver threads at the
+temples, and the fine lines about the eyes.
+
+"I am looking for Mrs. Blaisdell--Mrs. James Blaisdell," he answered,
+lifting his hat.
+
+"Oh, you're Mr. Smith. Aren't you Mr. Smith?" She smiled brightly,
+then went on before he could reply. "You see, Benny told me. He
+described you perfectly."
+
+The man's eyebrows went up.
+
+"Oh, did he? The young rascal! I fancy I should be edified to hear it-
+-that description."
+
+The other laughed. Then, a bit roguishly, she demanded:--"Should you
+like to hear it--really?"
+
+"I certainly should. I've already collected a few samples of Benny's
+descriptive powers."
+
+"Then you shall have this one. Sit down, Mr. Smith." She motioned him
+to a chair, and dropped easily into one herself. "Benny said you were
+tall and not fat; that you had a wreath of light hair 'round a bald
+spot, and whiskers that were clipped as even as Mr. Pennock's hedge;
+and that your lips, without speaking, said, 'Run away, little boy,'
+but that your eyes said, 'Come here.' Now I think Benny did pretty
+well." "So I judge, since you recognized me without any difficulty,"
+rejoined Mr. Smith, a bit dryly. "But--YOU--? You see you have the
+advantage of me. Benny hasn't described you to me." He paused
+significantly.
+
+"Oh, I'm just here to help out. Mrs. Blaisdell is ill upstairs--one of
+her headaches. That is why I asked you not to ring. She gets so
+nervous when the bell rings. She thinks it's callers, and that she
+won't be ready to receive them; and she hurries up and begins to
+dress. So I asked you not to ring."
+
+"But she isn't seriously ill?"
+
+"Oh, no, just a headache. She has them often. You wanted to see her?"
+
+"Yes. But it's not important at all. Another time, just as well. Some
+questions--that is all."
+
+"Oh, for the book, of course. Oh, yes, I have heard about that, too."
+She smiled again brightly. "But can't you wait? Mr. Blaisdell will
+soon be here. He's coming early so I can go home. I HAVE to go home."
+
+"And you are--"
+
+"Miss Duff. My name is Duff."
+
+"You don't mean--'Poor Maggie'!" (Not until the words were out did Mr.
+Smith realize quite how they would sound.) "Er--ah--that is--" He
+stumbled miserably, and she came to his rescue.
+
+"Oh, yes, I'm--'Poor Maggie.'" There was an odd something in her
+expressive face that Mr. Smith could not fathom. He was groping for
+something--anything to say, when suddenly there was a sound behind
+them, and the little woman at his side sprang to her feet.
+
+"Oh, Hattie, you came down!" she exclaimed as Mrs. James Blaisdell
+opened the screen door and stepped out on to the veranda. "Here's Mrs.
+Blaisdell now, Mr. Smith."
+
+"Oh, it's only Mr. Smith!" With a look very like annoyance Mrs.
+Blaisdell advanced and held out her hand. She looked pale, and her
+hair hung a bit untidily about one ear below a somewhat twisted
+pyramid of puffs. Her dress, though manifestly an expensive one,
+showed haste in its fastenings. "Yes, I heard voices, and I thought
+some one had come--a caller. So I came down."
+
+"I'm glad--if you're better," smiled Miss Maggie. "Then I'll go, if
+you don't mind. Mr. Smith has come to ask you some questions, Hattie.
+Good-bye!" With another cheery smile and a nod to Mr. Smith, she
+disappeared into the house. A minute later Mr. Smith saw her hurrying
+down a side path to the street.
+
+"You called to ask some questions?" Mrs. Blaisdell sank languidly into
+a chair.
+
+"About the Blaisdell family--yes. But perhaps another day, when you
+are feeling better, Mrs. Blaisdell."
+
+"Oh, no." She smiled a little more cordially. "I can answer to-day as
+well as any time--though I'm not sure I can tell you very much, ever.
+I think it's fine you are making the book, though. Some way it gives a
+family such a standing, to be written up like that. Don't you think
+so? And the Blaisdells are really a very nice family--one of the
+oldest in Hillerton, though, of course, they haven't much money."
+
+"I ought to find a good deal of material here, then, if they have
+lived here so long."
+
+"Yes, I suppose so. Now, what can I tell you? Of course I can tell you
+about my own family. My husband is in the real estate business. You
+knew that, didn't you? Perhaps you see 'The Real Estate Journal.' His
+picture was in it a year ago last June. There was a write-up on
+Hillerton. I was in it, too, though there wasn't much about me. But
+I've got other clippings with more, if you'd like to see them--where
+I've poured, and been hostess, and all that, you know."
+
+Mr. Smith took out his notebook and pencil.
+
+"Let me see, Mrs. Blaisdell, your husband's father's name was Rufus, I
+believe. What was his mother's maiden name, please?"
+
+"His mother's maiden name? Oh, 'Elizabeth.' Our little girl is named
+for her--Bessie, you know--you saw her last night. Jim wanted to, so I
+let him. It's a pretty name--Elizabeth--still, it sounds a little old-
+fashioned now, don't you think? Of course we are anxious to have
+everything just right for our daughter. A young lady soon coming out,
+so,--you can't be too particular. That's one reason why I wanted to
+get over here--on the West Side, I mean. Everybody who is anybody
+lives on the West Side in Hillerton. You'll soon find that out."
+
+"No doubt, no doubt! And your mother Blaisdell's surname?" Mr. Smith's
+pencil was poised over the open notebook.
+
+"Surname? Mother Blaisdell's? Oh, before she was married. I see. But,
+dear me, I don't know. I suppose Jim will, or Flora, or maybe Frank--
+though I don't believe HE will, unless her folks kept groceries. Did
+you ever see anybody that didn't know anything but groceries like
+Frank Blaisdell?" The lady sighed and shrugged her somewhat heavy
+shoulders with an expressive glance.
+
+Mr. Smith smiled understandingly.
+
+"Oh, well, it's good--to be interested in one's business, you know."
+
+"But such a business!" murmured the lady, with another shrug.
+
+"Then you can't tell me Mrs. Rufus Blaisdell's surname?"
+
+"No. But Jim--Oh, I'll tell you who will know," she broke off
+interestedly; "and that's Maggie Duff. You saw her here a few minutes
+ago, you know. Father Duff's got all of Mother Blaisdell's papers and
+diaries. Oh, Maggie can tell you a lot of things. Poor Maggie! Benny
+says if we want ANYTHING we ask Aunt Maggie, and I don't know but he's
+right. And here I am, sending you to her, so soon!"
+
+"Very well, then," smiled Mr. Smith. "I don't see but what I shall
+have to interview Miss Maggie, and Miss Flora. Is there nothing more,
+then, that you can tell me?"
+
+"Well, there's Fred, my son. You haven't seen him yet. We're very
+proud of Fred. He's at the head of his class, and he's going to
+college and be a lawyer. And that's another reason why I wanted to
+come over to this side--on Fred's account. I want him to meet the
+right sort of people. You know it helps so much! We think we're going
+to have Fred a big man some day."
+
+"And he was born, when?" Mr. Smith's pencil still poised above an
+almost entirely blank page.
+
+"He's seventeen. He'll be eighteen the tenth of next month."
+
+"And Miss Bessie, and Benny?"
+
+"Oh, she's sixteen. She'll be seventeen next winter. She wants to come
+out then, but I think I shall wait--a little, she's so very young;
+though Gussie Pennock's out, and she's only seventeen, and the
+Pennocks are some of our very best people. They're the richest folks
+in town, you know."
+
+"And Benny was born--when?"
+
+"He's eight--or rather nine, next Tuesday. Dear me, Mr. Smith, don't
+you want ANYTHING but dates? They're tiresome things, I think,--make
+one feel so old, you know, and it shows up how many years you've been
+married. Don't you think so? But maybe you're a bachelor."
+
+"Yes, I'm a bachelor."
+
+"Are you, indeed? Well, you miss a lot, of course,--home and wife and
+children. Still, you gain some things. You aren't tied down, and you
+don't have so much to worry about. Is your mother living, or your
+father?"
+
+"No. I have no--near relatives." Mr. Smith stirred a little uneasily,
+and adjusted his book. "Perhaps, now, Mrs. Blaisdell, you can give me
+your own maiden name."
+
+"Oh, yes, I can give you that!" She laughed and bridled self-
+consciously. "But you needn't ask when I was born, for I shan't tell
+you, if you do. My name was Hattie Snow."
+
+"'Harriet,' I presume." Mr. Smith's pencil was busily at work.
+
+"Yes--Harriet Snow. And the Snows were just as good as the Blaisdells,
+if I do say it. There were a lot that wanted me--oh, I was pretty
+THEN, Mr. Smith." She laughed, and bridled again self-consciously.
+"But I took Jim. He was handsome then, very--big dark eyes and dark
+hair, and so dreamy and poetical-looking; and there wasn't a girl that
+hadn't set her cap for him. And he's been a good husband to me. To be
+sure, he isn't quite so ambitious as he might be, perhaps. _I_ always
+did believe in being somebody, and getting somewhere. Don't you? But
+Jim--he's always for hanging back and saying how much it'll cost. Ten
+to one he doesn't end up by saying we can't afford it. He's like
+Jane,--Frank's wife, where you board, you know,--only Jane's worse
+than Jim ever thought of being. She won't spend even what she's got.
+If she's got ten dollars, she won't spend but five cents, if she can
+help it. Now, I believe in taking some comfort as you go along. But
+Jane--greatest saver I ever did see. Better look out, Mr. Smith, that
+she doesn't try to save feeding you at all!" she finished merrily.
+
+"I'm not worrying!" Mr. Smith smiled cheerily, snapped his book shut
+and got to his feet.
+
+"Oh, won't you wait for Mr. Blaisdell? He can tell you more, I'm
+sure."
+
+"Not to-day, thank you. At his office, some time, I'll see Mr.
+Blaisdell," murmured Mr. Smith, with an odd haste. "But I thank you
+very much, Mrs. Blaisdell," he bowed in farewell.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+IN MISS FLORA'S ALBUM
+
+
+It was the next afternoon that Mr. Smith inquired his way to the home
+of Miss Flora Blaisdell. He found it to be a shabby little cottage on
+a side street. Miss Flora herself answered his knock, peering at him
+anxiously with her near-sighted eyes.
+
+Mr. Smith lifted his hat.
+
+"Good-afternoon, Miss Blaisdell," he began with a deferential bow. "I
+am wondering if you could tell me something of your father's family."
+Miss Flora, plainly pleased, but flustered, stepped back for him to
+enter.
+
+"Oh, Mr. Smith, come in, come in! I'm sure I'm glad to tell you
+anything I know," she beamed, ushering him into the unmistakably
+little-used "front room." "But you really ought to go to Maggie. I can
+tell you some things, but Maggie's got the Bible. Mother had it, you
+know, and it's all among her things. And of course we had to let it
+stay, as long as Father Duff lives. He doesn't want anything touched.
+Poor Maggie--she tried to get 'em for us; but, mercy! she never tried
+but once. But I've got some things. I've got pictures of a lot of
+them, and most of them I know quite a lot about."
+
+As she spoke she nicked up from the table a big red plush photograph
+album. Seating herself at his side she opened it, and began to tell
+him of the pictures, one by one.
+
+She did, indeed, know "quite a lot" of most of them. Tintypes,
+portraying stiffly held hands and staring eyes, ghostly reproductions
+of daguerreotypes of stern-lipped men and women, in old-time stock and
+kerchief; photographs of stilted family groups after the "he-is-mine-
+and-I-am-his" variety; snap-shots of adorable babies with blurred
+thumbs and noses--never had Mr. John Smith seen their like before.
+
+Politely he listened. Busily, from time to time, he jotted down a name
+or date. Then, suddenly, as she turned a page, he gave an involuntary
+start. He was looking at a pictured face, evidently cut from a
+magazine.
+
+"Why, what--who--" he stammered.
+
+"That? Oh, that's Mr. Fulton, the millionaire, you know." Miss Flora's
+hands fluttered over the page a little importantly, adjusting a corner
+of the print. "You must have seen his picture. It's been everywhere.
+He's our cousin, too."
+
+"Oh, is he?"
+
+"Yes, 'way back somewhere. I can't tell you just how, only I know he
+is. His mother was a Blaisdell. That's why I've always been so
+interested in him, and read everything I could--in the papers and
+magazines, you know."
+
+"Oh, I see." Mr. John Smith's voice had become a little uncertain.
+
+Yes. He ain't very handsome, is he?" Miss Flora's eyes were musingly
+fixed on the picture before her--which was well, perhaps: Mr. John
+Smith's face was a study just then.
+
+"Er--n-no, he isn't."
+
+"But he's turribly rich, I s'pose. I wonder how it feels to have so
+much money."
+
+There being no reply to this, Miss Flora went on after a moment.
+
+"It must be awful nice--to buy what you want, I mean, without fretting
+about how much it costs. I never did. But I'd like to."
+
+"What would you do--if you could--if you had the money, I mean?"
+queried Mr. Smith, almost eagerly.
+
+Miss Flora laughed.
+
+"Well, there's three things I know I'd do. They're silly, of course,
+but they're what I WANT. It's a phonygraph, and to see Niagara Falls,
+and to go into Noell's restaurant and order what I want without even
+looking at the prices after 'em. Now you're laughing at me!"
+
+"Laughing? Not a bit of it!" There was a curious elation in Mr.
+Smith's voice. "What's more, I hope you'll get them--some time."
+
+Miss Flora sighed. Her face looked suddenly pinched and old.
+
+"I shan't. I couldn't, you know. Why, if I had the money, I shouldn't
+spend it--not for them things. I'd be needing shoes or a new dress.
+And I COULDN'T be so rich I wouldn't notice what the prices was--of
+what I ate. But, then, I don't believe anybody's that, not even him."
+She pointed to the picture still open before them.
+
+"No?" Mr. Smith, his eyes bent upon the picture, was looking
+thoughtful. He had the air of a man to whom has come a brand-new,
+somewhat disconcerting idea.
+
+Miss Flora, glancing from the man to the picture, and back again, gave
+a sudden exclamation.
+
+"There, now I know who it is that you remind me of, Mr. Smith. It's
+him--Mr. Fulton, there."
+
+"Eh? What?" Mr. Smith looked not a little startled.
+
+"Something about the eyes and nose." Miss Flora was still interestedly
+comparing the man and the picture, "But, then, that ain't so strange.
+You're a Blaisdell yourself. Didn't you say you was a Blaisdell?"
+
+"Er--y-yes, oh, yes. I'm a Blaisdell," nodded Mr. Smith hastily. "Very
+likely I've got the--er--Blaisdell nose. Eh?" Then he turned a leaf of
+the album abruptly, decidedly. "And who may this be?" he demanded,
+pointing to the tintype of a bright-faced young girl.
+
+"That? Oh, that's my cousin Grace when she was sixteen. She died; but
+she was a wonderful girl. I'll tell you about her."
+
+"Yes, do," urged Mr. Smith; and even the closest observer, watching
+his face, could not have said that he was not absorbedly interested in
+Miss Flora's story of "my cousin Grace."
+
+It was not until the last leaf of the album was reached that they came
+upon the picture of a small girl, with big, hungry eyes looking out
+from beneath long lashes.
+
+"That's Mellicent--where you're boarding, you know--when she was
+little." Miss Flora frowned disapprovingly. "But it's horrid, poor
+child!"
+
+"But she looks so--so sad," murmured Mr. Smith.
+
+"Yes, I know. She always did." Miss Flora sighed and frowned again.
+She hesitated, then burst out, as if irresistibly impelled from
+within. "It's only just another case of never having what you want
+WHEN you want it, Mr. Smith. And it ain't 'cause they're poor, either.
+They AIN'T poor--not like me, I mean. Frank's always done well, and
+he's been a good provider; but it's my sister-in-law--her way, I mean.
+Not that I'm saying anything against Jane. I ain't. She's a good
+woman, and she's very kind to me. She's always saying what she'd do
+for me if she only had the money. She's a good housekeeper, too, and
+her house is as neat as wax. But it's just that she never thinks she
+can USE anything she's got till it's so out of date she don't want it.
+I dressmake for her, you see, so I know--about her sleeves and skirts,
+you know. And if she ever does wear a decent thing she's so afraid it
+will rain she never takes any comfort in it!"
+
+"Well, that is--unfortunate."
+
+"Yes, ain't it? And she's brought up that poor child the same way.
+Why, from babyhood, Mellicent never had her rattles till she wanted
+blocks, nor her blocks till she wanted dolls, nor her dolls till she
+was big enough for beaus! And that's what made the poor child always
+look so wall-eyed and hungry. She was hungry--even if she did get
+enough to eat."
+
+"Mrs. Blaisdell probably believed in--er--economy," hazarded Mr.
+Smith.
+
+"Economy! My stars, I should think she did! But, there, I ought not to
+have said anything, of course. It's a good trait. I only wish some
+other folks I could mention had more of it. There's Jim's wife, for
+instance. Now, if she's got ten cents, she'll spend fifteen--and five
+more to show HOW she spent it. She and Jane ought to be shaken up in a
+bag together. Why, Mr. Smith, Jane doesn't let herself enjoy anything.
+She's always keeping it for a better time. Though sometimes I think
+she DOES enjoy just seeing how far she can make a dollar go. But
+Mellicent don't, nor Frank; and it's hard on them."
+
+"I should say it might be." Mr. Smith was looking at the wistful eyes
+under the long lashes.
+
+"'T is; and 't ain't right, I believe. There IS such a thing as being
+too economical. I tell Jane she'll be like a story I read once about a
+man who pinched and saved all his life, not even buying peanuts,
+though he just doted on 'em. And when he did get rich, so he could buy
+the peanuts, he bought a big bag the first thing. But he didn't eat
+'em. He hadn't got any teeth left to chew 'em with."
+
+"Well, that was a catastrophe!" laughed Mr. Smith, as he pocketed his
+notebook and rose to his feet. "And now I thank you very much, Miss
+Blaisdell, for the help you've been to me."
+
+"Oh, you're quite welcome, indeed you are, Mr. Smith," beamed Miss
+Blaisdell. "It's done me good, just to talk to you about all these
+folks and pictures. I we enjoyed it. I do get lonesome sometimes, all
+alone, so! and I ain't so busy as I wish I was, always. But I'm afraid
+I haven't helped you much--just this."
+
+"Oh, yes, you have--perhaps more than think," smiled the man, with an
+odd look in his eyes.
+
+"Have I? Well, I'm glad, I'm sure. And don't forget to go to Maggie's,
+now. She'll have a lot to tell you. Poor Maggie! And she'll be so glad
+to show you!"
+
+"All right, thank you; I'll surely interview--Miss Maggie," smiled the
+man in good-bye.
+
+He had almost said "poor" Maggie himself, though why she should be
+POOR Maggie had come to be an all-absorbing question with him. He had
+been tempted once to ask Miss Flora, but something had held him back.
+That evening at the supper table, however, in talking with Mrs. Jane
+Blaisdell, the question came again to his lips; and this time it found
+utterance.
+
+Mrs. Jane herself had introduced Miss Maggie's name, and had said an
+inconsequential something about her when Mr. Smith asked:--
+
+"Mrs. Blaisdell, please,--may I ask? I must confess to a great
+curiosity as to why Miss Duff is always 'poor Maggie.'"
+
+Mrs. Blaisdell laughed pleasantly.
+
+"Why, really, I don't know," she answered, "only it just comes
+natural, that's all. Poor Maggie's been so unfortunate. There! I did
+it again, didn't I? That only goes to show how we all do it,
+unconsciously."
+
+Frank Blaisdell, across the table, gave a sudden emphatic sniff.
+
+"Humph! Well, I guess if you had to live with Father Duff, Jane, it
+would be 'poor Jane' with you, all right!"
+
+"Yes, I know." His wife sighed complacently.
+
+"Father Duff's a trial, and no mistake. But Maggie doesn't seem to
+mind."
+
+"Mind! Aunt Maggie's a saint--that's what she is!" It was Mellicent
+who spoke, her young voice vibrant with suppressed feeling. "She's the
+dearest thing ever! There COULDN'T be anybody better than Aunt
+Maggie!"
+
+Nothing more was said just then, but in the evening, later, after
+Mellicent had gone to walk with young Pennock, and her father had gone
+back down to the store, Mrs. Blaisdell took up the matter of "Poor
+Maggie" again.
+
+"I've been thinking what you said," she began, "about our calling her
+'poor Maggie,' and I've made up my mind it's because we're all so
+sorry for her. You see, she's been so unfortunate, as I said. Poor
+Maggie! I've so often wished there was something I could do for her.
+Of course, if we only had money--but we haven't; so I can't. And even
+money wouldn't take away her father, either. Oh, mercy! I didn't mean
+that, really,--not the way it sounded," broke off Mrs. Blaisdell, in
+shocked apology. "I only meant that she'd have her father to care for,
+just the same."
+
+"He's something of a trial, I take it, eh?" smiled Mr. Smith.
+
+"Trial! I should say he was. Poor Maggie! How ever she endures it, I
+can't imagine. Of course, we call him Father Duff, but he's really not
+any relation to us--I mean to Frank and the rest. But their mother
+married him when they were children, and they never knew their own
+father much, so he's the father they know. When their mother died,
+Maggie bad just entered college. She was eighteen, and such a pretty
+girl! I knew the family even then. Frank was just beginning to court
+me.
+
+"Well, of course Maggie had to come home right away. None of the rest
+wanted to take care of him and Maggie had to. There was another Duff
+sister then--a married sister (she's died since), but SHE wouldn't
+take him, so Maggie had to. Of course, none of the Blaisdells wanted
+the care of him--and he wasn't their father, anyway. Frank was wanting
+to marry me, and Jim and Flora were in school and wanted to stay
+there, of course. So Maggie came. Poor girl! It was real hard for her.
+She was so ambitious, and so fond of books. But she came, and went
+right into the home and kept it so Frank and Jim and Flora could live
+there just the same as when their mother was alive. And she had to do
+all the work, too. They were too poor to keep a girl. Kind of hard,
+wasn't it?--and Maggie only eighteen!"
+
+"It was, indeed!" Mr. Smith's lips came together a bit grimly.
+
+"Well, after a time Frank and Jim married, and there was only Flora
+and Father Duff at home. Poor Maggie tried then to go to college
+again. She was over twenty-one, and supposed to be her own mistress,
+of course. She found a place where she could work and pay her way
+through college, and Flora said she'd keep the house and take care of
+Father Duff. But, dear me; it wasn't a month before that ended, and
+Maggie had to come home again. Flora wasn't strong, and the work
+fretted her. Besides, she never could get along with Father Duff, and
+she was trying to learn dressmaking, too. She stuck it out till she
+got sick, though, then of course Maggie had to come back."
+
+"Well, by Jove!" ejaculated Mr. Smith.
+
+"Yes, wasn't it too bad? Poor Maggie, she tried it twice again. She
+persuaded her father to get a girl. But that didn't work, either. The
+first girl and her father fought like cats and dogs, and the last time
+she got one her father was taken sick, and again she had to come home.
+Some way, it's always been that way with poor Maggie. No sooner does
+she reach out to take something than it's snatched away, just as she
+thinks she's got it. Why, there was her father's cousin George--he was
+going to help her once. But a streak of bad luck hit him at just that
+minute, and he gave out."
+
+"And he never tried--again?"
+
+"No. He went to Alaska then. Hasn't ever been back since. He's done
+well, too, they say, and I always thought he'd send back something;
+but he never has. There was some trouble, I believe, between him and
+Father Duff at the time he went to Alaska, so that explains it,
+probably. Anyway, he's never done anything for them. Well, when he
+gave out, Maggie just gave up college then, and settled down to take
+care of her father, though I guess she's always studied some at home;
+and I know that for years she didn't give up hope but that she could
+go some time. But I guess she has now. Poor Maggie!"
+
+"How old is she?"
+
+Why, let me see--forty-three, forty-four--yes, she's forty-five. She
+had her forty-third birthday here--I remember I gave her a
+handkerchief for a birthday present--when she was helping me take care
+of Mellicent through the pneumonia; and that was two years ago. She
+used to come here and to Jim's and Flora's days at a time; but she
+isn't quite so free as she was--Father Duff's worse now, and she don't
+like to leave him nights, much, so she can't come to us so often.
+See?"
+
+"Yes, I--see." There was a queer something in Mr. Smith's voice. "And
+just what is the matter with Mr. Duff?"
+
+"Matter!" Mrs. Jane Blaisdell gave a short laugh and shrugged her
+shoulders. "Everything's the matter--with Father Duff! Oh, it's
+nerves, mostly, the doctor says, and there are some other things--long
+names that I can't remember. But, as I said, everything's the matter
+with Father Duff. He's one of those men where there isn't anything
+quite right. Frank says he's got so he just objects to everything--on
+general principles. If it's blue, he says it ought to be black, you
+know. And, really, I don't know but Frank's right. How Maggie stands
+him I don't see; but she's devotion itself. Why, she even gave up her
+lover years ago, for him. She wouldn't leave her father, and, of
+course, nobody would think of taking HIM into the family, when he
+wasn't BORN into it, so the affair was broken off. I don't know,
+really, as Maggie cared much. Still, you can't tell. She never was one
+to carry her heart on her sleeve. Poor Maggie! I've always so wished I
+could do something for her!
+
+"There, how I have run on! But, then, you asked, and you're
+interested, I know, and that's what you're here for--to find out about
+the Blaisdells."
+
+"To--to--f-find out--" stammered Mr. Smith, grown suddenly very red.
+
+"Yes, for your book, I mean."
+
+"Oh, yes--of course; for my book," agreed Mr. Smith, a bit hastily. He
+had the guilty air of a small boy who has almost been caught in a raid
+on the cooky jar.
+
+"And although poor Maggie isn't really a Blaisdell herself, she's
+nearly one; and they've got lots of Blaisdell records down there--
+among Mother Blaisdell's things, you know. You'll want to see those."
+
+"Yes; yes, indeed. I'll want to see those, of course," declared Mr.
+Smith, rising to his feet, preparatory to going to his own room.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+POOR MAGGIE
+
+
+It was some days later that Mr. Smith asked Benny one afternoon to
+show him the way to Miss Maggie Duff's home.
+
+"Sure I will," agreed Benny with alacrity. "You don't ever have ter do
+any teasin' ter get me ter go ter Aunt Maggie's."
+
+"You're fond of Aunt Maggie, then, I take it."
+
+Benny's eyes widened a little.
+
+"Why, of course! Everybody's fond of Aunt Maggie. Why, I don't know
+anybody that don't like Aunt Maggie."
+
+"I'm sure that speaks well--for Aunt Maggie," smiled Mr. Smith.
+
+"Yep! A feller can take some comfort at Aunt Maggie's," continued
+Benny, trudging along at Mr. Smith's side. "She don't have anythin'
+just for show, that you can't touch, like 'tis at my house, and there
+ain't anythin' but what you can use without gettin' snarled up in a
+mess of covers an' tidies, like 'tis at Aunt Jane's. But Aunt Maggie
+don't save anythin', Aunt Jane says, an' she'll die some day in the
+poor-house, bein' so extravagant. But I don't believe she will. Do
+you, Mr. Smith?"
+
+"Well, really, Benny, I--er--" hesitated the man.
+
+"Well, I don't believe she will," repeated Benny. I hope she won't,
+anyhow. Poorhouses ain't very nice, are they?"
+
+"I--I don't think I know very much about them, Benny."
+
+"Well, I don't believe they are, from what Aunt Jane says. And if they
+ain't, I don't want Aunt Maggie ter go. She hadn't ought ter have
+anythin'--but Heaven--after Grandpa Duff. Do you know Grandpa Duff?"
+
+"No, my b-boy." Mr. Smith was choking over a cough.
+
+"He's sick. He's got a chronic grouch, ma says. Do you know what that
+is?"
+
+"I--I have heard of them."
+
+"What are they? Anything like chronic rheumatism? I know what chronic
+means. It means it keeps goin' without stoppin'--the rheumatism, I
+mean, not the folks that's got it. THEY don't go at all, sometimes.
+Old Dr. Cole don't, and that's what he's got. But when I asked ma what
+a grouch was, she said little boys should be seen and not heard. Ma
+always says that when she don't want to answer my questions. Do you?
+Have you got any little boys, Mr. Smith?"
+
+"No, Benny. I'm a poor old bachelor."
+
+"Oh, are you POOR, too? That's too bad."
+
+Well, that is, I--I--"
+
+"Ma was wonderin' yesterday what you lived on. Haven't you got any
+money, Mr. Smith?"
+
+'Oh, yes, Benny, I've got money enough--to live on." Mr. Smith spoke
+promptly, and with confidence this time.
+
+"Oh, that's nice. You're glad, then, ain't you? Ma says we haven't--
+got enough ter live on, I mean; but pa says we have, if we didn't try
+ter live like everybody else lives what's got more."
+
+Mr. Smith bit his lip, and looked down a little apprehensively at the
+small boy at his side.
+
+"I--I'm not sure, Benny, but _I_ shall have to say little boys should
+be seen and not--" He stopped abruptly. Benny, with a stentorian
+shout, had run ahead to a gate before a small white cottage. On the
+cozy, vine-shaded porch sat a white-haired old man leaning forward on
+his cane.
+
+"Hi, there, Grandpa Duff, I've brought somebody ter see ye!" The gate
+was open now, and Benny was halfway up the short walk. "It's Mr.
+Smith. Come in, Mr. Smith. Here's grandpa right here."
+
+With a pleasant smile Mr. Smith doffed his hat and came forward.
+
+"Thank you, Benny. How do you do, Mr. Duff?"
+
+The man on the porch looked up sharply from beneath heavy brows.
+
+"Humph! Your name's Smith, is it?"
+
+"That's what they call me." The corners of Mr. Smith's mouth twitched
+a little.
+
+"Humph! Yes, I've heard of you."
+
+"You flatter me!" Mr. Smith, on the topmost step, hesitated. "Is your-
+-er--daughter in, Mr. Duff?" He was still smiling cheerfully.
+
+Mr. Duff was not smiling. His somewhat unfriendly gaze was still bent
+upon the newcomer.
+
+"Just what do you want of my daughter?"
+
+"Why, I--I--" Plainly nonplused, the man paused uncertainly. Then,
+with a resumption of his jaunty cheerfulness, he smiled straight into
+the unfriendly eyes. "I'm after some records, Mr. Duff,--records of
+the Blaisdell family. I'm compiling a book on--
+
+"Humph! I thought as much," interrupted Mr. Duff curtly, settling back
+in his chair. "As I said, I've heard of you. But you needn't come here
+asking your silly questions. I shan't tell you a thing, anyway, if you
+do. It's none of your business who lived and died and what they did
+before you were born. If the Lord had wanted you to know he'd 'a' put
+you here then instead of now!"
+
+Looking very much as if he had received a blow in the face, Mr. Smith
+fell back.
+
+"Aw, grandpa"--began Benny, in grieved expostulation. But a cheery
+voice interrupted, and Mr. Smith turned to see Miss Maggie Duff
+emerging from the doorway.
+
+"Oh, Mr. Smith, how do you do?" she greeted him, extending a cordial
+hand. "Come up and sit down."
+
+For only the briefest of minutes he hesitated. Had she heard? Could
+she have heard, and yet speak so unconcernedly? It seemed impossible.
+And yet--He took the chair she offered--but with a furtive glance
+toward the old man. He had only a moment to wait.
+
+Sharply Mr. Duff turned to his daughter.
+
+"This Mr. Smith tells me he has come to see those records. Now, I'm--"
+
+"Oh, father, dear, you couldn't!" interrupted his daughter with
+admonishing earnestness. "You mustn't go and get all those down!" (Mr.
+Smith almost gasped aloud in his amazement, but Miss Maggie did not
+seem to notice him at all.) "Why, father, you couldn't--they're too
+heavy for you! There are the Bible, and all those papers. They're too
+heavy father. I couldn't let you. Besides, I shouldn't think you'd
+want to get them!"
+
+If Mr. Smith, hearing this, almost gasped aloud in his amazement, he
+quite did so at what happened next. His mouth actually fell open as he
+saw the old man rise to his feet with stern dignity.
+
+"That will do, Maggie. I'm not quite in my dotage yet. I guess I'm
+still able to fetch downstairs a book and a bundle of papers." With
+his thumping cane a resolute emphasis to every other step, the old man
+hobbled into the house.
+
+"There, grandpa, that's the talk!" crowed Benny. "But you said--"
+
+"Er--Benny, dear," interposed Miss Maggie, in a haste so precipitate
+that it looked almost like alarm, "run into the pantry and see what
+you can find in the cooky jar." The last of her sentence was addressed
+to Benny's flying heels as they disappeared through the doorway.
+
+Left together, Mr. Smith searched the woman's face for some hint, some
+sign that this extraordinary shift-about was recognized and
+understood; but Miss Maggie, with a countenance serenely expressing
+only cheerful interest, was over by the little stand, rearranging the
+pile of books and newspapers on it.
+
+"I think, after all," she began thoughtfully, pausing in her work,
+"that it will be better indoors. It blows so out here that you'll be
+bothered in your copying, I am afraid."
+
+She was still standing at the table, chatting about the papers,
+however, when at the door, a few minutes later, appeared her father,
+in his arms a big Bible, and a sizable pasteboard box.
+
+"Right here, father, please," she said then, to Mr. Smith's dumfounded
+amazement. "Just set them down right here."
+
+The old man frowned and cast disapproving eyes on his daughter and the
+table.
+
+"There isn't room. I don't want them there," he observed coldly. "I
+shall put them in here." With the words he turned back into the house.
+
+Once again Mr. Smith's bewildered eyes searched Miss Maggie's face and
+once again they found nothing but serene unconcern. She was already at
+the door.
+
+"This way, please," she directed cheerily. And, still marveling, he
+followed her into the house.
+
+Mr. Smith thought he had never seen so charming a living-room. A
+comfortable chair invited him, and he sat down. He felt suddenly
+rested and at home, and at peace with the world. Realizing that, in
+some way, the room had produced this effect, he looked curiously about
+him, trying to solve the secret of it.
+
+Reluctantly to himself he confessed that it was a very ordinary room.
+The carpet was poor, and was badly worn. The chairs, while comfortable
+looking, were manifestly not expensive, and had seen long service.
+Simple curtains were at the windows, and a few fair prints were on the
+walls. Two or three vases, of good lines but cheap materials, held
+flowers, and there was a plain but roomy set of shelves filled with
+books--not immaculate, leather-backed, gilt-lettered "sets" but rows
+of dingy, worn volumes, whose very shabbiness was at once an
+invitation and a promise. Nowhere, however, could Mr. Smith see
+protecting cover mat, or tidy. He decided then that this must be why
+he felt suddenly so rested and at peace with all mankind. Even as the
+conviction came to him, however he was suddenly aware that everything
+was not, after all, peaceful or harmonious.
+
+At the table Mr. Duff and his daughter were arranging the Bible and
+the papers. Miss Maggie suggested piles in a certain order: her father
+promptly objected, and arranged them otherwise. Miss Maggie placed the
+papers first for perusal: her father said "Absurd!" and substituted
+the Bible. Miss Maggie started to draw up a chair to the table: her
+father derisively asked her if she expected a man to sit in that--and
+drew up a different one. Yet Mr. Smith, when he was finally invited to
+take a seat at the table, found everything quite the most convenient
+and comfortable possible.
+
+Once more into Miss Maggie's face he sent a sharply inquiring glance,
+and once more he encountered nothing but unruffled cheerfulness.
+
+With a really genuine interest in the records before him, Mr. Smith
+fell to work then. The Bible had been in the Blaisdell family for
+generations, and it was full of valuable names and dates. He began at
+once to copy them.
+
+Mr. Duff, on the other side of the table, was arranging into piles the
+papers before him. He complained Of the draft, and Miss Maggie shut
+the window. He said then that he didn't mean he wanted to suffocate,
+and she opened the one on the other side. The clock had hardly struck
+three when he accused her of having forgotten his medicine. Yet when
+she brought it he refused to take it. She had not brought the right
+kind of spoon, he said, and she knew perfectly well he never took it
+out of that narrow-bowl kind. He complained of the light, and she
+lowered the curtain; but he told her that he didn't mean he didn't
+want to see at all, so she put it up halfway. He said his coat was too
+warm, and she brought another one. He put it on grudgingly, but he
+declared that it was as much too thin as the other was too thick.
+
+Mr. Smith, in spite of his efforts to be politely deaf and blind,
+found himself unable to confine his attention to birth, death, and
+marriage notices. Once he almost uttered an explosive "Good Heavens,
+how do you stand it?" to his hostess. But he stopped himself just in
+time, and fiercely wrote with a very black mark that Submit Blaisdell
+was born in eighteen hundred and one. A little later he became aware
+that Mr. Duff's attention was frowningly turned across the table
+toward himself.
+
+"If you will spend your time over such silly stuff, why don't you use
+a bigger book?" demanded the old man at last.
+
+"Because it wouldn't fit my pocket," smiled Mr. Smith.
+
+Just what business of yours is it, anyhow, when these people lived and
+died?"
+
+"None, perhaps," still smiled Mr. Smith good humoredly.
+
+"Why don't you let them alone, then? What do you expect to find?"'
+
+"Why, I--I--" Mr. Smith was plainly non-plused.
+
+"Well, I can tell you it's a silly business, whatever you find. If you
+find your grandfather's a bigger man than you are, you'll be proud of
+it, but you ought to be ashamed of it--'cause you aren't bigger
+yourself! On the other hand, if you find he ISN'T as big as you are,
+you'll be ashamed of that, when you ought to be proud of it--'cause
+you've gone him one better. But you won't. I know your kind. I've seen
+you before. But can't you do any work, real work?"
+
+"He is doing work, real work, now, father," interposed Miss Maggie
+quickly. "He's having a woeful time, too. If you'd only help him, now,
+and show him those papers."
+
+A real terror came into Mr. Smith's eyes, but Mr. Duff was already on
+his feet.
+
+"Well, I shan't," he observed tartly. "I'M not a fool, if he is. I'm
+going out to the porch where I can get some air."
+
+"There, work as long as you like, Mr. Smith. I knew you'd rather work
+by yourself," nodded Miss Maggie, moving the piles of papers nearer
+him.
+
+"But, good Heavens, how do you stand--" exploded Mr. Smith before he
+realized that this time he had really said the words aloud. He blushed
+a painful red.
+
+Miss Maggie, too, colored. Then, abruptly, she laughed. "After all, it
+doesn't matter. Why shouldn't I be frank with you? You couldn't help
+seeing--how things were, of course, and I forgot, for a moment, that
+you were a stranger. Everybody in Hillerton understands. You see,
+father is nervous, and not at all well. We have to humor him."
+
+"But do you mean that you always have to tell him to do what you don't
+want, in order to--well--that is--" Mr. Smith, finding himself in very
+deep water, blushed again painfully.
+
+Miss Maggie met his dismayed gaze with cheerful candor.
+
+"Tell him to do what I DON'T want in order to get him to do what I do
+want him to? Yes, oh, yes. But I don't mind; really I don't. I'm used
+to it now. And when you know how, what does it matter? After all,
+where is the difference? To most of the world we say, 'Please do,'
+when we want a thing, while to him we have to say, 'Please don't.'
+That's all. You see, it's really very simple--when you know how."
+
+"Simple! Great Scott!" muttered Mr. Smith. He wanted to say more; but
+Miss Maggie, with a smiling nod, turned away, so he went back to his
+work.
+
+Benny, wandering in from the kitchen, with both hands full of cookies,
+plumped himself down on the cushioned window-seat, and drew a sigh of
+content.
+
+"Say, Aunt Maggie."
+
+"Yes, dear."
+
+"Can I come ter live with you?"
+
+"Certainly not!" The blithe voice and pleasant smile took all the
+sting from the prompt refusal.
+
+What would father and mother do?"
+
+"Oh, they wouldn't mind."
+
+"Benny!"
+
+"They wouldn't. Maybe pa would--a little; but Bess and ma wouldn't.
+And I'D like it."
+
+"Nonsense, Benny!" Miss Maggie crossed to a little stand and picked up
+a small box. "Here's a new picture puzzle. See if you can do it."
+
+Benny shifted his now depleted stock of cookies to one hand, dropped
+to his knees on the floor, and dumped the contents of the box upon the
+seat before him.
+
+"They won't let me eat cookies any more at home--in the house, I mean.
+Too many crumbs."
+
+"But you know you have to pick up your crumbs here, dear."
+
+"Yep. But I don't mind--after I've had the fun of eatin' first. But
+they won't let me drop 'em ter begin with, there, nor take any of the
+boys inter the house. Honest, Aunt Maggie, there ain't anything a
+feller can do, 'seems so, if ye live on the West Side," he persisted
+soberly.
+
+Mr. Smith, copying dates at the table, was conscious of a slightly
+apprehensive glance in his direction from Miss Maggie's eyes, as she
+murmured:--
+
+"But you're forgetting your puzzle, Benny. You've put only five pieces
+together."
+
+"I can't do puzzles. there, either." Benny's voice was still mournful.
+
+"All the more reason, then, why you should like to do them here. See,
+where does this dog's head go?"
+
+Listlessly Benny took the bit of pictured wood in his fingers and
+began to fit it into the pattern before him.
+
+"I used ter do 'em an' leave 'em 'round, but ma says I can't now.
+Callers might come and find 'em, an' what would they say--on the West
+Side! An' that's the way 'tis with everything. Ma an' Bess are always
+doin' things, or not doin' 'em, for those callers. An' I don't see
+why. They never come--not new ones.'
+
+"Yes, yes, dear, but they will, when they get acquainted. You haven't
+found where the dog's head goes yet."
+
+"Pa says he don't want ter get acquainted. He'd rather have the old
+friends, what don't mind baked beans, an' shirt-sleeves, an' doin' yer
+own work, an' what thinks more of yer heart than they do of yer
+pocketbook. But ma wants a hired girl. An' say, we have ter wash our
+hands every meal now--on the table, I mean--in those little glass
+wash-dishes. Ma went down an' bought some, an' she's usin' 'em every
+day, so's ter get used to 'em. She says everybody that is anybody has
+'em nowadays. Bess thinks they're great, but I don't. I don't like 'em
+a mite."
+
+"Oh, come, come, Benny! It doesn't matter--it doesn't really matter,
+does it, if you do have to use the little dishes? Come, you're not
+half doing the puzzle."
+
+"I know it." Benny shifted his position, and picked up a three-
+cornered bit of wood carrying the picture of a dog's paw. "But I was
+just thinkin'. You see, things are so different--on the West Side. Why
+even pa--he's different. He isn't there hardly any now. He's got a new
+job."
+
+"What?" Miss Maggie turned from the puzzle with a start.
+
+"Oh, just for evenin's. It's keepin' books for a man. It brings in
+quite a lot extry, ma says; but she wouldn't let me have some new
+roller skates when mine broke. She's savin' up for a chafin' dish.
+What's a chafin' dish? Do you know? You eat out of it, some way--I
+mean, it cooks things ter eat; an' Bess wants one. Gussie Pennock's
+got one. ALL our eatin's different, 'seems so, on the West Side. Ma
+has dinners nights now, instead of noons. She says the Pennocks do,
+an' everybody does who is anybody. But I don't like it. Pa don't,
+either, an' half the time he can't get home in time for it, anyhow, on
+account of gettin' back to his new job, ye know, an'--"
+
+"Oh, I've found where the dog's head goes," cried Miss Maggie, There
+was a hint of desperation in her voice. "I shall have your puzzle all
+done for you myself, if you don't look out, Benny. I don't believe you
+can do it, anyhow."
+
+"I can, too. You just see if I can't!" retorted Benny, with sudden
+spirit, falling to work in earnest. "I never saw a puzzle yet I
+couldn't do!"
+
+Mr. Smith, bending assiduously over his work at the table, heard Miss
+Maggie's sigh of relief--and echoed it, from sympathy.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+POOR MAGGIE AND SOME OTHERS
+
+
+It was half an hour later, when Mr. Smith and Benny were walking
+across the common together, that Benny asked an abrupt question.
+
+"Is Aunt Maggie goin' ter be put in your book, Mr. Smith?"
+
+"Why--er--yes; her name will be entered as the daughter of the man who
+married the Widow Blaisdell, probably. Why?"
+
+"Nothin'. I was only thinkin'. I hoped she was. Aunt Maggie don't have
+nothin' much, yer know, except her father an' housework--housework
+either for him or some of us. An' I guess she's had quite a lot of
+things ter bother her, an' make her feel bad, so I hoped she'd be in
+the book. Though if she wasn't, she'd just laugh an' say it doesn't
+matter, of course. That's what she always says."
+
+"Always says?" Mr. Smith's voice was mildly puzzled.
+
+"Yes, when things plague, an' somethin' don't go right. She says it
+helps a lot ter just remember that it doesn't matter. See?"
+
+"Well, no,--I don't think I do see," frowned Mr. Smith.
+
+"Oh, yes," plunged in Benny; "'cause, you see, if yer stop ter think
+about it--this thing that's plaguin' ye--you'll see how really small
+an' no-account it is, an' how, when you put it beside really big
+things it doesn't matter at all--it doesn't REALLY matter, ye know.
+Aunt Maggie says she's done it years an' years, ever since she was
+just a girl, an' somethin' bothered her; an' it's helped a lot."
+
+"But there are lots of things that DO matter," persisted Mr. Smith,
+still frowning.
+
+"Oh, yes!" Benny swelled a bit importantly, "I know what you mean.
+Aunt Maggie says that, too; an' she says we must be very careful an'
+not get it wrong. It's only the little things that bother us, an' that
+we wish were different, that we must say 'It doesn't matter' about. It
+DOES matter whether we're good an' kind an' tell the truth an' shame
+the devil; but it DOESN'T matter whether we have ter live on the West
+Side an' eat dinner nights instead of noons, an' not eat cookies any
+of the time in the house,--see?"
+
+"Good for you, Benny,--and good for Aunt Maggie!" laughed Mr. Smith
+suddenly.
+
+"Aunt Maggie? Oh, you don't know Aunt Maggie, yet. She's always tryin'
+ter make people think things don't matter. You'll see!" crowed Benny.
+
+A moment later he had turned down his own street, and Mr. Smith was
+left to go on alone.
+
+Very often, in the days that followed, Mr. Smith thought of this
+speech of Benny's. He had opportunity to verify it, for he was seeing
+a good deal of Miss Maggie, and it seemed, indeed, to him that half
+the town was coming to her to learn that something "didn't matter"--
+though very seldom, except to Benny, did he hear her say the words
+themselves. It was merely that to her would come men, women, and
+children, each with a sorry tale of discontent or disappointment. And
+it was always as if they left with her their burden, for when they
+turned away, head and shoulders were erect once more, eyes were
+bright, and the step was alert and eager.
+
+He used to wonder how she did it. For that matter, he wondered how she
+did--a great many things.
+
+Mr. Smith was, indeed, seeing a good deal of Miss Maggie these days.
+He told himself that it was the records that attracted him. But he did
+not always copy records. Sometimes he just sat in one of the
+comfortable chairs and watched Miss Maggie, content if she gave him a
+word now and then.
+
+He liked the way she carried her head, and the way her hair waved away
+from her, shapely forehead. He liked the quiet strength of the way her
+capable hands lay motionless in her lap when their services were not
+required. He liked to watch for the twinkle in her eye, and for the
+dimple in her cheek that told a smile was coming. He liked to hear her
+talk to Benny. He even liked to hear her talk to her father--when he
+could control his temper sufficiently. Best of all he liked his own
+comfortable feeling of being quite at home, and at peace with all the
+world--the feeling that always came to him now whenever he entered the
+house, in spite of the fact that the welcome accorded him by Mr. Duff
+was hardly more friendly than at the first.
+
+To Mr. Smith it was a matter of small moment whether Mr. Duff welcomed
+him cordially or not. He even indulged now and then in a bout of his
+own with the gentleman, chuckling inordinately when results showed
+that he had pitched his remark at just the right note of contrariety
+to get what he wanted.
+
+For the most part, however, Mr. Smith, at least nominally, spent his
+time at his legitimate task of studying and copying the Blaisdell
+family records, of which he was finding a great number. Rufus
+Blaisdell apparently had done no little "digging" himself in his own
+day, and Mr. Smith told Miss Maggie that it was all a great "find" for
+him.
+
+Miss Maggie seemed pleased. She said that she was glad if she could be
+of any help to him, and she told him to come whenever he liked. She
+arranged the Bible and the big box of papers on a little table in the
+corner, and told him to make himself quite at home; and she showed so
+plainly that she regarded him as quite one of the family, that Mr.
+Smith might be pardoned for soon considering himself so.
+
+It was while at work in this corner that he came to learn so much of
+Miss Maggie's daily life, and of her visitors.
+
+Although many of these visitors were strangers to him, some of them he
+knew.
+
+One day it was Mrs. Hattie Blaisdell, with a countenance even more
+florid than usual. She was breathless and excited, and her eyes were
+worried. She was going to give a luncheon, she said. She wanted Miss
+Maggie's silver spoons, and her forks, and her hand painted sugar-and-
+creamer, and Mother Blaisdell's cut-glass dish.
+
+Mr. Smith, supposing that Miss Maggie herself was to be at the
+luncheon, was just rejoicing within him that she was to have this
+pleasant little outing, when he heard Mrs. Blaisdell telling her to be
+sure to come at eleven to be in the kitchen, and asking where could
+she get a maid to serve in the dining-room, and what should she do
+with Benny. He'd have to be put somewhere, or else he'd be sure to
+upset everything.
+
+Mr. Smith did not hear Miss Maggie's answer to all this, for she
+hurried her visitor to the kitchen at once to look up the spoons, she
+said. But indirectly he obtained a very conclusive reply; for he found
+Miss Maggie gone one day when he came; and Benny, who was in her
+place, told him all about it, even to the dandy frosted cake Aunt
+Maggie had made for the company to eat.
+
+Another day it was Mrs. Jane Blaisdell who came. Mrs. Jane had a tired
+frown between her brows and a despairing droop to her lips. She
+carried a large bundle which she dropped unceremoniously into Miss
+Maggie's lap.
+
+"There, I'm dead beat out, and I've brought it to you. You've just got
+to help me," she finished, sinking into a chair.
+
+"Why, of course, if I can. But what is it?" Miss Maggie's deft fingers
+were already untying the knot.
+
+"It's my old black silk. I'm making it over."
+
+"AGAIN? But I thought the last time it couldn't ever be done again."
+
+"Yes, I know; but there's lots of good in it yet," interposed Mrs.
+Jane decidedly; "and I've bought new velvet and new lace, and some
+buttons and a new lining. I THOUGHT I could do it alone, but I've
+reached a point where I just have got to have help. So I came right
+over."
+
+"Yes, of course, but"--Miss Maggie was lifting a half-finished sleeve
+doubtfully--"why didn't you go to Flora? She'd know exactly--"
+
+Mrs. Jane stiffened.
+
+"Because I can't afford to go to Flora," she interrupted coldly. "I
+have to pay Flora, and you know it. If I had the money I should be
+glad to do it, of course. But I haven't, and charity begins at home I
+think. Besides, I do go to her for NEW dresses. But this old thing--!
+Of course, if you don't WANT to help me--"
+
+"Oh, but I do," plunged in Miss Maggie hurriedly. "Come out into the
+kitchen where we'll have more room," she exclaimed, gathering the
+bundle into her arms and springing to her feet.
+
+"I've got some other lace at home--yards and yards. I got a lot, it
+was so cheap," recounted Mrs. Jane, rising with alacrity. "But I'm
+afraid it won't do for this, and I don't know as it will do for
+anything, it's so--"
+
+The kitchen door slammed sharply, and Mr. Smith heard no more. Half an
+hour later, however, he saw Mrs. Jane go down the walk. The frown was
+gone from her face and the droop from the corners of her mouth. Her
+step was alert and confident. She carried no bundle.
+
+The next day it was Miss Flora. Miss Flora's thin little face looked
+more pinched than ever, and her eyes more anxious, Mr. Smith thought.
+Even her smile, as she acknowledged Mr. Smith's greeting, was so wan
+he wished she had not tried to give it.
+
+She sat down then, by the window, and began to chat with Miss Maggie;
+and very soon Mr. Smith heard her say this:--
+
+"No, Maggie, I don't know, really, what I am going to do--truly I
+don't. Business is so turrible dull! Why, I don't earn enough to pay
+my rent, hardly, now, ter say nothin' of my feed."
+
+Miss Maggie frowned.
+
+"But I thought that Hattie--ISN'T Hattie having some new dresses--and
+Bessie, too?"
+
+A sigh passed Miss Flora's lips.
+
+"Yes, oh, yes; they are having three or four. But they don't come to
+ME any more. They've gone to that French woman that makes the
+Pennocks' things, you know, with the queer name. And of course it's
+all right, and you can't blame 'em, livin' on the West Side, as they
+do now. And, of course, I ain't so up ter date as she is. And just her
+name counts."
+
+"Nonsense! Up to date, indeed!" (Miss Maggie laughed merrily, but Mr.
+Smith, copying dates at the table, detected a note in the laugh that
+was not merriment.) "You're up to date enough for me. I've got just
+the job for you, too. Come out into the kitchen." She was already
+almost at the door. "Why, Maggie, you haven't, either!" (In spite of
+the incredulity of voice and manner, Miss Flora sprang joyfully to her
+feet.) "You never had me make you a--" Again the kitchen door slammed
+shut, and Mr. Smith was left to finish the sentence for himself.
+
+But Mr. Smith was not finishing sentences. Neither was his face
+expressing just then the sympathy which might be supposed to be
+showing, after so sorry a tale as Miss Flora had been telling. On the
+contrary, Mr. Smith, with an actual elation of countenance, was
+scribbling on the edge of his notebook words that certainly he had
+never found in the Blaisdell records before him: "Two months more,
+then--a hundred thousand dollars. And may I be there to see it!"
+
+Half an hour later, as on the previous day, Mr. Smith saw a
+metamorphosed woman hurrying down the little path to the street. But
+the woman to-day was carrying a bundle--and it was the same bundle
+that the woman the day before had brought.
+
+But not always, as Mr. Smith soon learned, were Miss Maggie's visitors
+women. Besides Benny, with his grievances, young Fred Blaisdell came
+sometimes, and poured into Miss Maggie's sympathetic ears the story of
+Gussie Pennock's really remarkable personality, or of what he was
+going to do when he went to college--and afterwards.
+
+Mr. Jim Blaisdell drifted in quite frequently Sunday afternoons,
+though apparently all he came for was to smoke and read in one of the
+big comfortable chairs. Mr. Smith himself had fallen into the way of
+strolling down to Miss Maggie's almost every Sunday after dinner.
+
+One Saturday afternoon Mr. Frank Blaisdell rattled up to the door in
+his grocery wagon. His face was very red, and his mutton-chop whiskers
+were standing straight out at each side.
+
+Jane had collapsed, he said, utterly collapsed. All the week she had
+been house-cleaning and doing up curtains; and now this morning,
+expressly against his wishes, to save hiring a man, she had put down
+the parlor carpet herself. Now she was flat on her back, and supper to
+be got for the boarder, and the Saturday baking yet to be done. And
+could Maggie come and help them out?
+
+Before Miss Maggie could answer, Mr. Smith hurried out from his corner
+and insisted that "the boarder" did not want any supper anyway--and
+could they not live on crackers and milk for the coming few days?
+
+But Miss Maggie laughed and said, "Nonsense!" And in an incredibly
+short time she was ready to drive back in the grocery wagon. Later,
+when he went home, Mr. Smith found her there, presiding over one of
+the best suppers he had eaten since his arrival in Hillerton. She came
+every day after that, for a week, for Mrs. Jane remained "flat on her
+back" seven days, with a doctor in daily attendance, supplemented by a
+trained nurse peremptorily ordered by that same doctor from the
+nearest city.
+
+Miss Maggie, with the assistance of Mellicent, attended to the
+housework. But in spite of the excellence of the cuisine, meal time
+was a most unhappy period to everybody concerned, owing to the
+sarcastic comments of Mr. Frank Blaisdell as to how much his wife had
+"saved" by not having a man to put down that carpet.
+
+Mellicent had little time now to go walking or auto-riding with Carl
+Pennock. Her daily life was, indeed, more pleasure-starved than ever--
+all of which was not lost on Mr. Smith. Mr. Smith and Mellicent were
+fast friends now. Given a man with a sympathetic understanding on one
+side, and a girl hungry for that same sympathy and understanding, and
+it could hardly be otherwise. From Mellicent's own lips Mr. Smith knew
+now just how hungry a young girl can be for fun and furbelows.
+
+"Of course I've got my board and clothes, and I ought to be thankful
+for them," she stormed hotly to him one day. "And I AM thankful for
+them. But sometimes it seems as if I'd actually be willing to go
+hungry for meat and potato, if for once--just once--I could buy a
+five-pound box of candy, and eat it up all at once, if I wanted to!
+But now, why now I can't even treat a friend to an ice-cream soda
+without seeing mother's shocked, reproachful eyes over the rim of the
+glass!"
+
+It was not easy then (nor many times subsequently) for Mr. Smith to
+keep from asking Mellicent the utterly absurd question of how many
+five-pound boxes of candy she supposed one hundred thousand dollars
+would buy. But he did keep from it--by heroic self-sacrifice and the
+comforting recollection that she would know some day, if she cared to
+take the trouble to reckon it up.
+
+In Mellicent's love affair with young Pennock Mr. Smith was enormously
+interested. Not that he regarded it as really serious, but because it
+appeared to bring into Mellicent's life something of the youth and
+gayety to which he thought she was entitled. He was almost as
+concerned as was Miss Maggie, therefore, when one afternoon, soon
+after Mrs. Jane Blaisdell's complete recovery from her "carpet tax"
+(as Frank Blaisdell termed his wife's recent illness), Mellicent
+rushed into the Duff living-room with rose-red cheeks and blazing
+eyes, and an explosive:--"Aunt Maggie, Aunt Maggie, can't you get
+mother to let me go away somewhere--anywhere, right off?"
+
+[Illustration caption: "I CAN'T HELP IT, AUNT MAGGIE. I'VE JUST GOT TO
+BE AWAY!"]
+
+"Why, Mellicent! Away? And just to-morrow the Pennocks' dance?"
+
+"But that's it--that's why I want to go," flashed Mellicent." I don't
+want to be at the dance--and I don't want to be in town, and NOT at
+the dance."
+
+Mr. Smith, at his table in the corner, glanced nervously toward the
+door, then bent assiduously over his work, as being less conspicuous
+than the flight he had been tempted for a moment to essay. But even
+this was not to be, for the next moment, to his surprise, the girl
+appealed directly to him.
+
+"Mr. Smith, please, won't YOU take me somewhere to-morrow?"
+
+"Mellicent!" Even Miss Maggie was shocked now, and showed it.
+
+"I can't help it, Aunt Maggie. I've just got to be away!" Mellicent's
+voice was tragic.
+
+"But, my dear, to ASK a gentleman--" reproved Miss Maggie. She came to
+an indeterminate pause. Mr. Smith had crossed the room and dropped
+into a chair near them.
+
+"See here, little girl, suppose you tell us just what is behind--all
+this," he began gently.
+
+Mellicent shook her head stubbornly.
+
+"I can't. It's too--silly. Please let it go that I want to be away.
+That's all."
+
+"Mellicent, we can't do that." Miss Maggie's voice was quietly firm.
+"We can't do--anything, until you tell us what it is."
+
+There was a brief pause. Mellicent's eyes, still mutinous, sought
+first the kindly questioning face of the man, then the no less kindly
+but rather grave face of the woman. Then in a little breathless burst
+it came.
+
+"It's just something they're all saying Mrs. Pennock said--about me."
+
+"What was it?" Two little red spots had come into Miss Maggie's
+cheeks.
+
+"Yes, what was it?" Mr. Smith was looking actually belligerent.
+
+"It was just that--that they weren't going to let Carl Pennock go with
+me any more--anywhere, or come to see me, because I--I didn't belong
+to their set."
+
+"Their set!" exploded Mr. Smith.
+
+Miss Maggie said nothing, but the red spots deepened.
+
+"Yes. It's just--that we aren't rich like them. I haven't got--money
+enough."
+
+"That you haven't got--got--Oh, ye gods!" For no apparent reason
+whatever Mr. Smith threw back his head suddenly and laughed. Almost
+instantly, however, he sobered: he had caught the expression of the
+two faces opposite.
+
+"I beg your pardon," he apologized promptly. "It was only that to me--
+there was something very funny about that."
+
+"But, Mellicent, are you sure? I don't believe she ever said it,"
+doubted Miss Maggie.
+
+"He hasn't been near me--for a week. Not that I care!" Mellicent
+turned with flashing eyes. "I don't care a bit--not a bit--about
+THAT!"
+
+"Of course you don't! It's not worth even thinking of either. What
+does it matter if she did say it, dear? Forget it!"
+
+"But I can't bear to have them all talk--and notice," choked
+Mellicent. "And we were together such a lot before; and now--I tell
+you I CAN'T go to that dance to-morrow night!"
+
+"And you shan't, if you don't want to," Mr. Smith assured her. "Right
+here and now I invite you and your Aunt Maggie to drive with me to-
+morrow to Hubbardville. There are some records there that I want to
+look up. We'll get dinner at the hotel. It will take all day, and we
+shan't be home till late in the evening. You'll go?"
+
+"Oh, Mr. Smith, you--you DEAR! Of course we'll go! I'll go straight
+now and telephone to somebody--everybody--that I shan't be there; that
+I'm going to be OUT OF TOWN!" She sprang joyously to her feet--but
+Miss Maggie held out a restraining hand.
+
+"Just a minute, dear. You don't care--you SAID you didn't care--that
+Carl Pennock doesn't come to see you any more?"
+
+"Indeed I don't!"
+
+"Then you wouldn't want others to think you did, would you?"
+
+"Of course not!" The red dyed Mellicent's forehead.
+
+"You have said that you'd go to this party, haven't you? That is, you
+accepted the invitation, didn't you, and people know that you did,
+don't they?"
+
+"Why, yes, of course! But that was before--Mrs. Pennock said what she
+did."
+
+"Of course. But--just what do you think these people are going to say
+to-morrow night, when you aren't there?"
+
+"Why, that I--I--" The color drained from her face and left it white.
+"They wouldn't EXPECT me to go after that--insult."
+
+"Then they'll understand that you--CARE, won't they?"
+
+"Why, I--I--They--I CAN'T--" She turned sharply and walked to the
+window. For a long minute she stood, her back toward the two watching
+her. Then, with equal abruptness, she turned and came back. Her cheeks
+were very pink now, her eyes very bright. She carried her head with a
+proud little lift.
+
+"I think, Mr. Smith, that I won't go with you to-morrow, after all,"
+she said steadily. "I've decided to go--to that dance."
+
+The next moment the door shut crisply behind her.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+A SANTA CLAUS HELD UP
+
+
+It was about five months after the multi-millionaire, Mr. Stanley G.
+Fulton, had started for South America, that Edward D. Norton, Esq.,
+received the following letter:--
+
+DEAR NED:--I'm glad there's only one more month to wait. I feel like
+Santa Claus with a box of toys, held up by a snowdrift, and I just
+can't wait to see the children dance--when they get them.
+
+And let me say right here and now how glad I am that I did this thing.
+Oh, yes, I'll admit I still feel like the small boy at the keyhole, at
+times, perhaps; but I'll forget that--when the children begin to
+dance.
+
+And, really, never have I seen a bunch of people whom I thought a
+little money would do more good to than the Blaisdells here in
+Hillerton. My only regret is that I didn't know about Miss Maggie
+Duff, so that she could have had some, too. (Oh, yes, I've found out
+all about "Poor Maggie" now, and she's a dear--the typical self-
+sacrificing, self-effacing bearer of everybody's burdens, including a
+huge share of her own!) However, she isn't a Blaisdell, of course, so
+I couldn't have worked her into my scheme very well, I suppose, even
+if I had known about her. They are all fond of her--though they impose
+on her time and her sympathies abominably. But I reckon she'll get
+some of the benefits of the others' thousands. Mrs. Jane, in
+particular, is always wishing she could do something for "Poor
+Maggie," so I dare say she'll be looked out for all right.
+
+As to who will prove to be the wisest handler of the hundred thousand,
+and thus my eventual heir, I haven't the least idea. As I said before,
+they all need money, and need it badly--need it to be comfortable and
+happy, I mean. They aren't really poor, any of them, except, perhaps,
+Miss Flora. She is a little hard up, poor soul. Bless her heart! I
+wonder what she'll get first, Niagara, the phonograph, or something to
+eat without looking at the price. Did I ever write you about those
+"three wishes" of hers?
+
+I can't see that any of the family are really extravagant unless,
+perhaps, it's Mrs. James--"Hattie." She IS ambitious, and is inclined
+to live on a scale a little beyond her means, I judge. But that will
+be all right, of course, when she has the money to gratify her tastes.
+Jim--poor fellow, I shall be glad to see him take it easy, for once.
+He reminds me of the old horse I saw the other day running one of
+those infernal treadmill threshing machines--always going, but never
+getting there. He works, and works hard, and then he gets a job nights
+and works harder; but he never quite catches up with his bills, I
+fancy. What a world of solid comfort he'll take with that hundred
+thousand! I can hear him draw the long breath now--for once every bill
+paid!
+
+Of course, the Frank Blaisdells are the most thrifty of the bunch--at
+least, Mrs. Frank, "Jane," is--and I dare say they would be the most
+conservative handlers of my millions. But time will tell. Anyhow, I
+shall be glad to see them enjoy themselves meanwhile with the hundred
+thousand. Maybe Mrs. Jane will be constrained to clear my room of a
+few of the mats and covers and tidies! I have hopes. At least, I shall
+surely have a vacation from her everlasting "We can't afford it," and
+her equally everlasting "Of course, if I had the money I'd do it."
+Praise be for that!--and it'll be worth a hundred thousand to me,
+believe me, Ned.
+
+As for her husband--I'm not sure how he will take it. It isn't corn or
+peas or flour or sugar, you see, and I'm not posted as to his opinion
+of much of anything else. He'll spend some of it, though,--I'm sure of
+that. I don't think he always thoroughly appreciates his wife's
+thrifty ideas of economy. I haven't forgotten the night I came home to
+find Mrs. Jane out calling, and Mr. Frank rampaging around the house
+with every gas jet at full blast. It seems he was packing his bag to
+go on a hurried business trip. He laughed a little sheepishly--I
+suppose he saw my blinking amazement at the illumination--and said
+something about being tired of always feeling his way through pitch-
+dark rooms. So, as I say, I'm not quite sure of Mr. Frank when he
+comes into possession of the hundred thousand. He's been cooped up in
+the dark so long he may want to blow in the whole hundred thousand in
+one grand blare of light. However, I reckon I needn't worry--he'll
+still have Mrs. Jane--to turn some of the gas jets down!
+
+As for the younger generation--they're fine, every one of them; and
+just think what this money will mean to them in education and
+advantages! Jim's son, Fred, eighteen, is a fine, manly boy. He's got
+his mother's ambitions, and he's keen for college--even talks of
+working his way (much to his mother's horror) if his father can't find
+the money to send him. Of course, that part will be all right now--in
+a month.
+
+The daughter, Bessie (almost seventeen), is an exceedingly pretty
+girl. She, too, is ambitious--almost too much so, perhaps, for her
+happiness, in the present state of their pocketbook. But of course
+that, too, will be all right, after next month. Benny, the nine-year-
+old, will be concerned as little as any one over that hundred thousand
+dollars, I imagine. The real value of the gift he will not appreciate,
+of course; in fact, I doubt if he even approves of it--lest his
+privileges as to meals and manners be still further curtailed. Poor
+Benny! Now, Mellicent--
+
+Perhaps in no one do I expect to so thoroughly rejoice as I do in poor
+little pleasure-starved Mellicent. I realize, of course, that it will
+mean to her the solid advantages of college, music-culture, and
+travel; but I must confess that in my dearest vision, the child is
+reveling in one grand whirl of pink dresses and chocolate bonbons.
+Bless her dear heart! I GAVE her one five-pound box of candy, but I
+never repeated the mistake. Besides enduring the manifestly suspicious
+disapproval of her mother because I had made the gift, I have had the
+added torment of seeing that box of chocolates doled out to that poor
+child at the rate of two pieces a day. They aren't gone yet, but I'll
+warrant they're as hard as bullets--those wretched bonbons. I picked
+the box up yesterday. You should have heard it rattle!
+
+But there is yet another phase of the money business in connection
+with Mellicent that pleases me mightily. A certain youth by the name
+of Carl Pennock has been beauing her around a good deal, since I came.
+The Pennocks have some money--fifty thousand, or so, I believe--and it
+is reported that Mrs. Pennock has put her foot down on the budding
+romance--because the Blaisdells HAVE NOT GOT MONEY ENOUGH! (Begin to
+see where my chuckles come in?) However true this report may be, the
+fact remains that the youth has not been near the house for a month
+past, nor taken Mellicent anywhere. Of course, it shows him and his
+family up--for just what they are; but it has been mortifying for poor
+Mellicent. She's showing her pluck like a little trump, however, and
+goes serenely on her way with her head just enough in the air--but not
+too much.
+
+I don't think Mellicent's real heart is affected in the least--she's
+only eighteen, remember--but her pride IS. And her mother--! Mrs. Jane
+is thoroughly angry as well as mortified. She says Mellicent is every
+whit as good as those Pennocks, and that the woman who would let a
+paltry thing like money stand in the way of her son's affections is a
+pretty small specimen. For her part, she never did have any use for
+rich folks, anyway, and she is proud and glad that she's poor! I'm
+afraid Mrs. Jane was very angry when she said that. However, so much
+for her--and she may change her opinion one of these days.
+
+My private suspicion is that young Pennock is already repentant, and
+is pulling hard at his mother's leading-strings; for I was with
+Mellicent the other day when we met the lad face to face on the
+street. Mellicent smiled and nodded casually, but Pennock--he turned
+all colors of the rainbow with terror, pleading, apology, and assumed
+indifference all racing each other across his face. Dear, dear, but he
+was a sight!
+
+There is, too, another feature in the case. It seems that a new family
+by the name of Gaylord have come to town and opened up the old Gaylord
+mansion. Gaylord is a son of old Peter Gaylord, and is a millionaire.
+They are making quite a splurge in the way of balls and liveried
+servants, and motor cars, and the town is agog with it all. There are
+young people in the family, and especially there is a girl, Miss
+Pearl, whom, report says, the Pennocks have selected as being a
+suitable mate for Carl. At all events the Pennocks and the Gaylords
+have struck up a furious friendship, and the young people of both
+families are in the forefront of innumerable social affairs--in most
+of which Mellicent is left out.
+
+So now you have it--the whole story. And next month comes to
+Mellicent's father one hundred thousand dollars. Do you wonder I say
+the plot thickens?
+
+As for myself--you should see me! I eat whatever I like. (The man who
+says health biscuit to me now gets knocked down--and I've got the
+strength to do it, too!) I can walk miles and not know it. I've gained
+twenty pounds, and I'm having the time of my life. I'm even enjoying
+being a genealogist--a little. I've about exhausted the resources of
+Hillerton, and have begun to make trips to the neighboring towns. I
+can even spend an afternoon in an old cemetery copying dates from
+moss-grown gravestones, and not entirely lose my appetite for dinner--
+I mean, supper. I was even congratulating myself that I was really
+quite a genealogist when, the other day, I met the REAL THING.
+Heavens, Ned, that man had fourteen thousand four hundred and seventy-
+two dates at his tongue's end, and he said them all over to me. He
+knows the name of every Blake (he was a Blake) back to the year one,
+how many children they had (and they had some families then, let me
+tell you!), and when they all died, and why. I met him one morning in
+a cemetery. I was hunting for a certain stone and I asked him a
+question. Heavens! It was like setting a match to one of those Fourth-
+of-July flower-pot sky-rocket affairs. That question was the match
+that set him going, and thereafter he was a gushing geyser of names
+and dates. I never heard anything like it.
+
+He began at the Blaisdells, but skipped almost at once to the Blakes--
+there were a lot of them near us. In five minutes he had me dumb from
+sheer stupefaction. In ten minutes he had made a century run, and by
+noon he had got to the Crusades. We went through the Dark Ages very
+appropriately, waiting in an open tomb for a thunderstorm to pass. We
+had got to the year one when I had to leave to drive back to
+Hillerton. I've invited him to come to see Father Duff. I thought I'd
+like to have them meet. He knows a lot about the Duffs--a Blake
+married one, 'way back somewhere. I'd like to hear him and Father Duff
+talk--or, rather, I'd like to hear him TRY to talk to Father Duff. Did
+I ever write you Father Duff's opinion of genealogists? I believe I
+did.
+
+I'm not seeing so much of Father Duff these days. Now that it's grown
+a little cooler he spends most of his time in his favorite chair
+before the cook stove in the kitchen.
+
+Jove, what a letter this is! It should be shipped by freight and read
+in sections. But I wanted you to know how things are here. You can
+appreciate it the more--when you come.
+
+You're not forgetting, of course, that it's on the first day of
+November that Mr. Stanley G. Fulton's envelope of instructions is to
+be opened.
+
+As ever yours,
+
+JOHN SMITH.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+"DEAR COUSIN STANLEY"
+
+
+It was very early in November that Mr. Smith, coming home one
+afternoon, became instantly aware that something very extraordinary
+had happened.
+
+In the living-room were gathered Mr. Frank Blaisdell, his wife, Jane,
+and their daughter, Mellicent. Mellicent's cheeks were pink, and her
+eyes more star-like than ever. Mrs. Jane's cheeks, too, were pink. Her
+eyes were excited, but incredulous. Mr. Frank was still in his white
+work-coat, which he wore behind the counter, but which he never wore
+upstairs in his home. He held an open letter in his hand.
+
+It was an ecstatic cry from Mellicent that came first to Mr. Smith's
+ears.
+
+"Oh, Mr. Smith, Mr. Smith, you can't guess what's happened! You
+couldn't guess in a million years!"
+
+"No? Something nice, I hope." Mr. Smith was looking almost as happily
+excited as Mellicent herself.
+
+"Nice--NICE!" Mellicent clasped her hands before her. "Why, Mr. Smith,
+we are going to have a hundred thousand--"
+
+"Mellicent, I wouldn't talk of it--yet," interfered her mother
+sharply.
+
+'But, mother, it's no secret. It can't be kept secret!"
+
+"Of course not--if it's true. But it isn't true," retorted the woman,
+with excited emphasis. "No man in his senses would do such a thing."
+
+"Er--ah--w-what?" stammered Mr. Smith, looking suddenly a little less
+happy.
+
+"Leave a hundred thousand dollars apiece to three distant relations he
+never saw."
+
+"But he was our cousin--you said he was our cousin," interposed
+Mellicent, "and when he died--"
+
+"The letter did not say he had died," corrected her mother. "He just
+hasn't been heard from. But he will be heard from--and then where will
+our hundred thousand dollars be?"
+
+"But the lawyer's coming to give it to us," maintained Mr. Frank
+stoutly. Then abruptly he turned to Mr. Smith. "Here, read this,
+please, and tell us if we have lost our senses--or if somebody else
+has."
+
+Mr. Smith took the letter. A close observer might have noticed that
+his hand shook a little. The letterhead carried the name of a Chicago
+law firm, but Mr. Smith did not glance at that. He plunged at once
+into the text of the letter.
+
+"Aloud, please, Mr. Smith. I want to hear it again," pleaded
+Mellicent.
+
+DEAR SIR (read Mr. Smith then, after clearing his throat),--I
+understand that you are a distant kinsman of Mr. Stanley G. Fulton,
+the Chicago millionaire.
+
+Some six months ago Mr. Fulton left this city on what was reported to
+be a somewhat extended exploring tour of South America. Before his
+departure he transferred to me, as trustee, certain securities worth
+about $300,000. He left with me a sealed envelope, entitled "Terms of
+Trust," and instructed me to open such envelope in six months from the
+date written thereon--if he had not returned--and thereupon to dispose
+of the securities according to the terms of the trust. I will add that
+he also left with me a second sealed envelope entitled "Last Will and
+Testament," but instructed me not to open such envelope until two
+years from the date written thereon.
+
+The period of six months has now expired. I have opened the envelope
+entitled "Terms of Trust," and find that I am directed to convert the
+securities into cash with all convenient speed, and forthwith to pay
+over one third of the net proceeds to his kinsman, Frank G. Blaisdell;
+one third to his kinsman, James A. Blaisdell; and one third to his
+kinswoman, Flora B. Blaisdell, all of Hillerton.
+
+I shall, of course, discharge my duty as trustee under this instrument
+with all possible promptness. Some of the securities have already been
+converted into cash, and within a few days I shall come to Hillerton
+to pay over the cash in the form of certified checks; and I shall ask
+you at that time to be so good as to sign a receipt for your share.
+Meanwhile this letter is to apprise you of your good fortune and to
+offer you my congratulations.
+
+Very truly yours,
+
+EDWARD D. NORTON.
+
+"Oh-h!" breathed Mellicent.
+
+"Well, what do you think of it?" demanded Mr. Frank Blaisdell, his
+arms akimbo.
+
+"Why, it's fine, of course. I congratulate you," cried Mr. Smith,
+handing back the letter.
+
+"Then it's all straight, you think?"
+
+"Most assuredly!"
+
+"Je-hos-a-phat!" exploded the man.
+
+"But he'll come back--you see if he don't!" Mrs. Jane's voice was
+still positive.
+
+"What if he does? You'll still have your hundred thousand," smiled Mr.
+Smith.
+
+"He won't take it back?"
+
+"Of course not! I doubt if he could, if he wanted to."
+
+"And we're really going to have a whole hundred thousand dollars?"
+breathed Mellicent.
+
+"I reckon you are--less the inheritance tax, perhaps.
+
+"What's that? What do you mean?" demanded Mrs. Jane. "Do you mean
+we've got to PAY because we've got that money?"
+
+"Why, y-yes, I suppose so. Isn't there an inheritance tax in this
+State?"
+
+"How much does it cost?" Mrs. Jane's lips were at their most
+economical pucker. "Do we have to pay a GREAT deal? Isn't there any
+way to save doing that?"
+
+"No, there isn't," cut in her husband crisply. "And I guess we can pay
+the inheritance tax--with a hundred thousand to pay it out of. We're
+going to SPEND some of this money, Jane."
+
+The telephone bell in the hall jangled its peremptory summons, and Mr.
+Frank answered it. In a minute he returned, a new excitement on his
+face.
+
+"It's Hattie. She's crazy, of course. They're coming right over."
+
+"Oh, yes! And they've got it, too, haven't they?" remembered
+Mellicent. "And Aunt Flora, and--" She stopped suddenly, a growing
+dismay in her eyes. "Why, he didn't--he didn't leave a cent to AUNT
+MAGGIE!" she cried.
+
+"Gosh! that's so. Say, now, that's too bad!" There was genuine concern
+in Frank Blaisdell's voice.
+
+"But why?" almost wept Mellicent.
+
+Her mother sighed sympathetically.
+
+"Poor Maggie! How she is left out--always!"
+
+"But we can give her some of ours, mother,--we can give her some of
+ours," urged the girl.
+
+"It isn't ours to give--yet," remarked her mother, a bit coldly.
+
+"But, mother, you WILL do it," importuned Mellicent. "You've always
+said you would, if you had it to give."
+
+"And I say it again, Mellicent. I shall never see her suffer, you may
+be sure,--if I have the money to relieve her. But--" She stopped
+abruptly at the sound of an excited voice down the hall. Miss Flora,
+evidently coming in through the kitchen, was hurrying toward them.
+
+"Jane--Mellicent--where are you? Isn't anybody here? Mercy me!" she
+panted, as she reached the room and sank into a chair. "Did you ever
+hear anything like it in all your life? You had one, too, didn't you?"
+she cried, her eyes falling on the letter in her brother's hand. "But
+'tain't true, of course!"
+
+Miss Flora wore no head-covering. She wore one glove (wrong side out),
+and was carrying the other one. Her dress, evidently donned hastily
+for the street, was unevenly fastened, showing the topmost button
+without a buttonhole.
+
+"Mr. Smith says it's true," triumphed Mellicent.
+
+"How does he know? Who told him 'twas true?" demanded Miss Flora.
+
+So almost accusing was the look in her eyes that Mr. Smith actually
+blinked a little. He grew visibly confused.
+
+"Why--er--ah--the letter speaks for itself Miss Flora," he stammered.
+
+"But it CAN'T be true," reiterated Miss Flora. "The idea of a man I
+never saw giving me a hundred thousand dollars like that!--and Frank
+and Jim, too!"
+
+"But he's your cousin--you said he was your cousin," Mr. Smith
+reminded her. "And you have his picture in your album. You showed it
+to me."
+
+"I know it. But, my sakes! I didn't know HE knew I was his cousin. I
+don't s'pose he's got MY picture in HIS album! But how did he know
+about us? It's some other Flora Blaisdell, I tell you."
+
+"There, I never thought of that," cried Jane. "It probably is some
+other Blaisdells. Well, anyhow, if it is, we won't have to pay that
+inheritance tax. We can save that much."
+
+"Save! Well, what do we lose?" demanded her husband apoplectically.
+
+At this moment the rattling of the front-door knob and an imperative
+knocking brought Mrs. Jane to her feet.
+
+"There's Hattie, now, and that door's locked," she cried, hurrying
+into the hall.
+
+When she returned a moment later Harriet Blaisdell and Bessie were
+with her.
+
+There was about Mrs. Harriet Blaisdell a new, indescribable air of
+commanding importance. To Mr. Smith she appeared to have grown inches
+taller.
+
+"Well, I do hope, Jane, NOW you'll live in a decent place," she was
+saying, as they entered the room, "and not oblige your friends to
+climb up over a grocery store."
+
+"Well, I guess you can stand the grocery store a few more days,
+Hattie, "observed Frank Blaisdell dryly. "How long do you s'pose we'd
+live--any of us--if 'twa'n't for the grocery stores to feed us?
+Where's Jim?"
+
+"Isn't he here? I told him I was coming here, and to come right over
+himself at once; that the very first thing we must have was a family
+conclave, just ourselves, you know, so as to plan what to give out to
+the public."
+
+"Er--ah--" Mr. Smith was on his feet, looking somewhat embarrassed;
+"perhaps, then, you would rather I were not present at the--er--family
+conclave."
+
+"Nonsense!" shouted Frank Blaisdell.
+
+"Why, you ARE one of the family, 'seems so," cried Mellicent.
+
+"No, indeed, Mr. Smith, don't go," smiled Mrs. Hattie pleasantly.
+"Besides, you are interested in what concerns us, I know--for the
+book; so, of course, you'll be interested in this legacy of dear
+Cousin Stanley's."
+
+Mr. Smith collapsed suddenly behind his handkerchief, with one of the
+choking coughs to which he appeared to be somewhat addicted.
+
+"Ain't you getting a little familiar with 'dear Cousin Stanley,'
+Hattie?" drawled Frank Blaisdell.
+
+Miss Flora leaned forward earnestly.
+
+"But, Hattie, we were just sayin', 'fore you came, that it couldn't be
+true; that it must mean some other Blaisdells somewhere."
+
+"Absurd!" scoffed Harriet. "There couldn't be any other Frank and Jim
+and Flora Blaisdell, in a Hillerton, too. Besides, Jim said over the
+telephone that that was one of the best law firms in Chicago. Don't
+you suppose they know what they're talking about? I'm sure, I think
+it's quite the expected thing that he should leave his money to his
+own people. Come, don't let's waste any more time over that. What
+we've got to decide is what to DO. First, Of course, we must order
+expensive mourning all around."
+
+"Mourning!" ejaculated an amazed chorus.
+
+"Oh, great Scott!" spluttered Mr. Smith, growing suddenly very red. "I
+never thought--" He stopped abruptly, his face almost purple.
+
+But nobody was noticing Mr. Smith. Bessie Blaisdell had the floor.
+
+"Why, mother, I look perfectly horrid in black, you know I do," she
+was wailing. "And there's the Gaylords' dance just next week; and if
+I'm in mourning I can't go there, nor anywhere. What's the use in
+having all that money if we've got to shut ourselves up like that, and
+wear horrid stuffy black, and everything?"
+
+"For shame, Bessie!" spoke up Miss Flora, with unusual sharpness for
+her. "I think your mother is just right. I'm sure the least we can do
+in return for this wonderful gift is to show our respect and
+appreciation by going into the very deepest black we can. I'm sure I'd
+be glad to."
+
+"Wait!" Mrs. Harriet had drawn her brows together in deep thought.
+"I'm not sure, after all, that it would be best. The letter did not
+say that dear Cousin Stanley had died--he just hadn't been heard from.
+In that case, I don't think we ought to do it. And it would be too
+bad--that Gaylord dance is going to be the biggest thing of the
+season, and of course if we WERE in black--No; on the whole, I think
+we won't, Bessie. Of course, in two years from now, when we get the
+rest, it will be different."
+
+"When you--what?" It was a rather startled question from Mr. Smith.
+
+"Oh, didn't you know? There's another letter to be opened in two years
+from now, disposing of the rest of the property. And he was worth
+millions, you know, millions!"
+
+"But maybe he--er--Did it say you were to--to get those millions
+then?"
+
+"Oh, no, it didn't SAY it, Mr. Smith." Mrs. Harriet Blaisdell's smile
+was a bit condescending. "But of course we will. We are his kinsmen.
+He said we were. He just didn't give it all now because he wanted to
+give himself two more years to come back in, I suppose. You know he's
+gone exploring. And, of course, if he hadn't come back by then, he
+would be dead. Then we'd get it all. Oh, yes, we shall get it, I'm
+sure."
+
+"Oh-h!" Mr. Smith settled back in his chair. He looked somewhat
+nonplused.
+
+"Humph! Well, I wouldn't spend them millions--till I'd got 'em,
+Hattie," advised her brother-in-law dryly.
+
+"I wasn't intending to, Frank," she retorted with some dignity. "But
+that's neither here nor there. What we're concerned with now is what
+to do with what we have got. Even this will make a tremendous
+sensation in Hillerton. It ought to be written up, of course, for the
+papers, and by some one who knows. We want it done just right. Why,
+Frank, do you realize? We shall be rich--RICH--and all in a flash like
+this! I wonder what the Pennocks will say NOW about Mellicent's not
+having money enough for that precious son of theirs! Oh, I can hardly
+believe it yet And it'll mean--everything to us. Think what we can do
+for the children. Think--"
+
+"Aunt Jane, Aunt Jane, is ma here?" Wide open banged the front door as
+Benny bounded down the hall. "Oh, here you are! Say, is it true? Tommy
+Hooker says our great-grandfather in Africa has died an' left us a
+million dollars, an' that we're richer'n Mr. Pennock or even the
+Gaylords, or anybody! Is it true? Is it?"
+
+His mother laughed indulgently.
+
+"Not quite, Benny, though we have been left a nice little fortune by
+your cousin, Stanley G. Fulton--remember the name, dear, your cousin,
+Stanley G. Fulton. And it wasn't Africa, it was South America."
+
+"And did you all get some, too?" panted Benny, looking eagerly about
+him.
+
+"We sure did," nodded his Uncle Frank, "all but poor Mr. Smith here. I
+guess Mr. Stanley G. Fulton didn't know he was a cousin, too," he
+joked, with a wink in Mr. Smith's direction.
+
+"But where's Aunt Maggie? Why ain't she here? She got some, too,
+didn't she?" Benny began to look anxious.
+
+His mother lifted her eyebrows.
+
+"No. You forget, my dear. Your Aunt Maggie is not a Blaisdell at all.
+She's a Duff--a very different family."
+
+"I don't care, she's just as good as a Blaisdell," cut in Mellicent;
+"and she seems like one of us, anyway."
+
+"And she didn't get anything?" bemoaned Benny. "Say," he turned
+valiantly to Mr. Smith, "shouldn't you think he might have given Aunt
+Maggie a little of that money?"
+
+"I should, indeed!" Mr. Smith spoke with peculiar emphasis.
+
+"I guess he would if he'd known her!"
+
+"I'm sure he would!" Once more the peculiar earnestness vibrated
+through Mr. Smith's voice.
+
+"But now he's dead, an' he can't. I guess if he could see Aunt Maggie
+he'd wish he hadn't died 'fore he could fix her up just as good as the
+rest."
+
+"I'm VERY sure he would!" Mr. Smith was laughing now, but his voice
+was just as emphatic, and there was a sudden flame of color in his
+face.
+
+"Your Cousin Stanley isn't dead, my dear,--that is, we are not sure he
+is dead," spoke up Benny's mother quickly. "He just has not been heard
+from for six months."
+
+"But he must be dead, or he'd have come back," reasoned Miss Flora,
+with worried eyes; "and I, for my part, think we OUGHT to go into
+mourning, too."
+
+"Of course he'd have come back," declared Mrs. Jane, "and kept the
+money himself. Don't you suppose he knew what he'd written in that
+letter, and don't you suppose he'd have saved those three hundred
+thousand dollars if he could? Well, I guess he would! The man is dead.
+That's certain enough."
+
+"Well, anyhow, we're not going into mourning till we have to." Mrs.
+Harriet's lips snapped together with firm decision.
+
+"Of course not. I'm sure I don't see any use in having the money if
+we've got to wear black and not go anywhere," pouted Bessie.
+
+"Are we rich, then, really, ma?" demanded Benny.
+
+"We certainly are, Benny."
+
+"Richer 'n the Pennocks?"
+
+"Very much."
+
+"An' the Gaylords?"
+
+"Well--hardly that"--her face clouded perceptibly--"that is, not until
+we get the rest--in two years." She brightened again.
+
+"Then, if we're rich we can have everything we want, can't we?"
+Benny's eyes were beginning to sparkle.
+
+"Well--" hesitated his mother.
+
+"I guess there'll be enough to satisfy your wants, Benny," laughed his
+Uncle Frank.
+
+Benny gave a whoop of delight.
+
+"Then we can go back to the East Side and live just as we've a mind
+to, without carin' what other folks do, can't we?" he crowed. "Cause
+if we ARE rich we won't have ter keep tryin' ter make folks THINK we
+are. They'll know it without our tryin'."
+
+"Benny!" The rest were laughing; but Benny's mother had raised shocked
+hands of protest. "You are incorrigible, child. The East Side, indeed!
+We shall live in a house of our own, now, of course--but it won't be
+on the East Side."
+
+"And Fred'll go to college," put in Miss Flora eagerly.
+
+"Yes; and I shall send Bessie to a fashionable finishing school,"
+bowed Mrs. Harriet, with a shade of importance.
+
+"Hey, Bess, you've got ter be finished," chuckled Benny.
+
+"What's Mell going to do?" pouted Bessie, looking not altogether
+pleased. "Hasn't she got to be finished, too?"
+
+"Mellicent hasn't got the money to be finished--yet," observed Mrs.
+Jane tersely.
+
+"Oh, I don't know what I'm going to do," breathed Mellicent, drawing
+an ecstatic sigh. "But I hope I'm going to do--just what I want to,
+for once!"
+
+"And I'll make you some pretty dresses that you can wear right off,
+while they're in style," beamed Miss Flora.
+
+Frank Blaisdell gave a sudden laugh.
+
+"But what are YOU going to do, Flo? Here you've been telling what
+everybody else is going to do with the money."
+
+A blissful sigh, very like Mellicent's own, passed Miss Flora's lips.
+
+"Oh, I don't know," she breathed in an awe-struck voice. "It don't
+seem yet--that it's really mine."
+
+"Well, 't isn't," declared Mrs. Jane tartly, getting to her feet. "And
+I, for one, am going back to work--in the kitchen, where I belong.
+And--Well, if here ain't Jim at last," she broke off, as her younger
+brother-in-law appeared in the doorway.
+
+"You're too late, pa, you're too late! It's all done," clamored Benny.
+"They've got everything all settled."
+
+The man in the doorway smiled.
+
+"I knew they would have, Benny; and I haven't been needed, I'm sure,--
+your mother's here."
+
+Mrs. Harriet bridled, but did not look unpleased.
+
+"But, say, Jim," breathed Miss Flora, "ain't it wonderful--ain't it
+perfectly wonderful?"
+
+"It is, indeed,--very wonderful," replied Mr. Jim
+
+A Babel of eager voices arose then, but Mr. Smith was not listening
+now. He was watching Mr. Jim's face, and trying to fathom its
+expression.
+
+A little later, when the women had gone into the kitchen and Mr. Frank
+had clattered back to his work downstairs, Mr. Smith thought he had
+the explanation of that look on Mr. Jim's face. Mr. Jim and Beany were
+standing over by the fireplace together.
+
+"Pa, ain't you glad--about the money?" asked Benny.
+
+"I should be, shouldn't I, my son?"
+
+"But you look--so funny, and you didn't say anything, hardly."
+
+There was a moment's pause. The man, with his eyes fixed on the
+glowing coals in the grate, appeared not to have heard. But in a
+moment he said:--
+
+"Benny, if a poor old horse had been climbing a long, long hill all
+day with the hot sun on his back, and a load that dragged and dragged
+at his heels, and if he couldn't see a thing but the dust of the road
+that blinded and choked him, and if he just felt that he couldn't go
+another step, in spite of the whip that snapped 'Get there--get
+there!' all day in his ears--how do you suppose that poor old horse
+would feel if suddenly the load, and the whip, and the hill, and the
+dust disappeared, and he found himself in a green pasture with the
+cool gurgle of water under green trees in his ears--how do you suppose
+that poor old horse would feel?"
+
+"Say, he'd like it great, wouldn't he? But, pa, you didn't tell me yet
+if you liked the money."
+
+The man stirred, as if waking from a trance. He threw his arm around
+Benny's shoulders.
+
+"Like it? Why, of course, I like it, Benny, my boy! Why, I'm going to
+have time now--to get acquainted with my children!"
+
+Across the room Mr. Smith, with a sudden tightening of his throat,
+slipped softly into the hall and thence to his own room. Mr. Smith,
+just then, did not wish to be seen.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+WHAT DOES IT MATTER?
+
+
+The days immediately following the receipt of three remarkable letters
+by the Blaisdell family were nerve-racking for all concerned. Held by
+Mrs. Jane's insistence that they weren't sure yet that the thing was
+true, the family steadfastly refused to give out any definite
+information. Even the eager Harriet yielded to Jane on this point,
+acknowledging that it WOULD be mortifying, of course, if they SHOULD
+talk, and nothing came of it.
+
+Their enigmatic answers to questions, and their expressive shrugs and
+smiles, however, were almost as exciting as the rumors themselves; and
+the Blaisdells became at once a veritable storm center of surmises and
+gossip--a state of affairs not at all unpleasing to some of them, Mrs.
+Harriet in particular.
+
+Miss Maggie Duff, however, was not so well pleased. To Mr. Smith, one
+day, she freed her mind--and Miss Maggie so seldom freed her mind that
+Mr. Smith was not a little surprised.
+
+"I wish," she began, "I do wish that if that Chicago lawyer is coming,
+he'd come, and get done with it! Certainly the present state of
+affairs is almost unbearable."
+
+"It does make it all the harder for you, to have it drag along like
+this, doesn't it?" murmured Mr. Smith uneasily.
+
+"For--ME?"
+
+"That you are not included in the bequest, I mean."
+
+She gave an impatient gesture.
+
+"I didn't mean that. I wasn't thinking of myself. Besides, as I've
+told you before, there is no earthly reason why I should have been
+included. It's the delay, I mean, for the Blaisdells--for the whole
+town, for that matter. This eternal 'Did you know?' and 'They say' is
+getting on my nerves!"
+
+"Why, Miss Maggie, I didn't suppose you HAD any nerves," bantered the
+man.
+
+She threw him an expressive glance.
+
+"Haven't I!" she retorted. Then again she gave the impatient gesture.
+"But even the gossip and the questioning aren't the worst. It's the
+family themselves. Between Hattie's pulling one way and Jane the
+other, I feel like a bone between two quarrelsome puppies. Hattie is
+already house-hunting, on the sly, and she's bought Bessie an
+expensive watch and a string of gold beads. Jane, on the other hand,
+insists that Mr. Fulton will come back and claim the money, so she's
+running her house now on the principle that she's LOST a hundred
+thousand dollars, and so must economize in every possible way. You can
+imagine it!"
+
+"I don't have to--imagine it," murmured the man.
+
+Miss Maggie laughed.
+
+"I forgot. Of course you don't. You do live there, don't you? But that
+isn't all. Flora, poor soul, went into a restaurant the other day and
+ordered roast turkey, and now she's worrying for fear the money won't
+come and justify her extravagance. Mellicent, with implicit faith that
+the hundred thousand is coming wants to wear her best frocks every
+day. And, as if she were not already quite excited enough, young
+Pennock has very obviously begun to sit up and take notice."
+
+"You don't mean he is trying to come back--so soon!" disbelieved Mr.
+Smith.
+
+"Well, he's evidently caught the glitter of the gold from afar,"
+smiled Miss Maggie. "At all events, he's taking notice."
+
+"And--Miss Mellicent?" There was a note of anxiety in Mr. Smith's
+voice.
+
+"Doesn't see him, APPARENTLY. But she comes and tells me his every
+last move (and he's making quite a number of them just now!), so I
+think she does see--a little."
+
+"The young rascal! But she doesn't--care?"
+
+"I think not--really. She's just excited now, as any young girl would
+be; and I'm afraid she's taking a little wicked pleasure in--not
+seeing him."
+
+"Humph! I can imagine it," chuckled Mr. Smith.
+
+"But it's all bad--this delay," chafed Miss Maggie again. "Don't you
+see? It's neither one thing nor another. That's why I do wish that
+lawyer would come, if he's coming."
+
+"I reckon he'll be here before long," murmured Mr. Smith, with an
+elaborately casual air. "But--I wish you were coming in on the deal."
+His kindly eyes were gazing straight into her face now.
+
+She shook her head.
+
+"I'm a Duff, not a Blaisdell--except when they want--" She bit her
+lip. A confused red suffused her face. "I mean, I'm not a Blaisdell at
+all," she finished hastily.
+
+"Humph! That's exactly it!" Mr. Smith was sitting energetically erect.
+"You're not a Blaisdell--except when they want something of you!"
+
+"Oh PLEASE, I didn't mean to say--I DIDN'T say--THAT," cried Miss
+Maggie, in very genuine distress.
+
+"No, I know you didn't, but I did," flared the man. "Miss Maggie, it's
+a downright shame--the way they impose on you sometimes."
+
+"Nonsense! I like to have them--I mean, I like to do what I can for
+them," she corrected hastily, laughing in spite of herself.
+
+"You like to get all tired out, I suppose."
+
+"I get rested--afterward."
+
+"And it doesn't matter, anyway, of course," he gibed.
+
+"Not a bit," she smiled.
+
+"Yes, I suspected that." Mr. Smith was still sitting erect, still
+speaking with grim terseness. "But let me tell you right here and now
+that I don't approve of that doctrine of yours."
+
+"'Doctrine'?"
+
+"That 'It-doesn't-matter' doctrine of yours. I tell you it's very
+pernicious--very! I don't approve of it at all."
+
+There was a moment's silence.
+
+"No?" Miss Maggie said then, demurely. "Oh, well--it doesn't matter--
+if you don't."
+
+He caught the twinkle in her eyes and threw up his Hands despairingly.
+
+"You are incorrigible!"
+
+With a sudden businesslike air of determination Miss Maggie faced him.
+
+"Just what is the matter with that doctrine, please, and what do you
+mean?" she smiled.
+
+"I mean that things DO matter, and that we merely shut our eyes to the
+real facts in the case when we say that they don't. War, death, sin,
+evil--the world is full of them, and they do matter."
+
+"They do matter, indeed." Miss Maggie was speaking very gravely now.
+"They matter--woefully. I never say 'It doesn't matter' to war, or
+death, or sin, or evil. But there are other things--"
+
+"But the other things matter, too," interrupted the man irritably.
+"Right here and now it matters that you don't share in the money; it
+matters that you slave half your time for a father who doesn't
+anywhere near appreciate you; it matters that you slave the rest of
+the time for every Tom and Dick and Harry and Jane and Mehitable in
+Hillerton that has run a sliver under a thumb, either literally or
+metaphorically. It matters that--"
+
+But Miss Maggie was laughing merrily. "Oh, Mr. Smith, Mr. Smith, you
+don't know what you are saying!"
+
+"I do, too. It's YOU who don't know what you are saying!"
+
+"But, pray, what would you have me say?" she smiled.
+
+"I'd have you say it DOES matter, and I'd have you insist on having
+your rights, every time."
+
+"And what if I had?" she retaliated sharply. "My rights, indeed!"
+
+The man fell back, so sudden and so astounding was the change that had
+come to the woman opposite him. She was leaning forward in her chair,
+her lips trembling, her eyes a smouldering flame.
+
+"What if I had insisted on my rights, all the way up?" she quivered.
+"Would I have come home that first time from college? Would I have
+stepped into Mother Blaisdell's shoes and kept the house? Would I have
+swept and baked and washed and ironed, day in and day out, to make a
+home for father and for Jim and Frank and Flora? Would I have come
+back again and again, when my beloved books were calling, calling,
+always calling? Would I have seen other girls love and marry and go to
+homes of their own, while I--Oh, what am I saying, what am I saying?"
+she choked, covering her eyes with the back of her hand, and turning
+her face away. "Please, if you can, forget what I said. Indeed, I
+NEVER--broke out like that--before. I am so--ashamed!"
+
+"Ashamed! Well, you needn't be." Mr. Smith, on his feet, was trying to
+work off his agitation by tramping up and down the small room.
+
+"But I am ashamed," moaned Miss Maggie, her face still averted. "And I
+can't think why I should have been so--so wild. It was just something
+that you said--about my rights, I think. You see--all my life I've
+just HAD to learn to say 'It doesn't matter,' when there were so many
+things I wanted to do, and couldn't. And--don't you see?--I found out,
+after a while, that it didn't really matter, half so much--college and
+my own little wants and wishes as that I should do--what I had to do,
+willingly and pleasantly at home."
+
+"But, good Heavens, how could you keep from tearing 'round and
+throwing things?"
+
+"I couldn't--all the time. I--I smashed a bowl once, and two cups."
+She laughed shamefacedly, and met his eyes now. "But I soon found--
+that it didn't make me or anybody else--any happier, and that it
+didn't help things at all. So I tried--to do the other way. And now,
+please, PLEASE say you'll forget all this--what I've been saying.
+Indeed, Mr. Smith I am very much ashamed."
+
+"Forget it!" Mr. Smith turned on his heel and marched up and down the
+room again. "Confound that man!"
+
+"What man?"
+
+"Mr. Stanley G. Fulton, if you must know, for not giving you any of
+that money."
+
+"Money, money, money!" Miss Maggie threw out both her hands with a
+gesture of repulsion. "If I've heard that word once, I've heard it a
+hundred times in the last week. Sometimes I wish I might never hear it
+again."
+
+"You don't want to be deaf, do you? Well, you'd have to be, to escape
+hearing that word."
+
+"I suppose so. But--" again she threw out her hands.
+
+"You don't mean--" Mr. Smith was regarding her with curious interest.
+"Don't you WANT--money, really?"
+
+She hesitated; then she sighed.
+
+"Oh, yes, of course. We all want money. We have to have money, too;
+but I don't think it's--everything in the world, by any means."
+
+"You don't think it brings happiness, then?"
+
+"Sometimes. Sometimes not."
+
+"Most of--er--us would be willing to take the risk."
+
+"Most of us would."
+
+"Now, in the case of the Blaisdells here--don't you think this money
+is going to bring happiness to them?"
+
+There was no answer. Miss Maggie seemed to be thinking.
+
+"Miss Maggie," exclaimed Mr. Smith, with a concern all out of
+proportion to his supposed interest in the matter, "you don't mean to
+say you DON'T think this money is going to bring them happiness!"
+
+Miss Maggie laughed a little.
+
+"Oh, no! This money'll bring them happiness all right, of course,--
+particularly to some of them. But I was just wondering; if you don't
+know how to spend five dollars so as to get the most out of it, how
+will you spend five hundred, or five hundred thousand--and get the
+most out of that?"
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+But Miss Maggie shook her head.
+
+"Nothing. I was just thinking," she said.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+SANTA CLAUS ARRIVES
+
+
+It was not long after this that Mr. Smith found a tall, gray-haired
+man, with keen gray eyes, talking with Mrs. Jane Blaisdell and
+Mellicent in the front room over the grocery store.
+
+"Well--" began Mr. Smith, a joyful light of recognition in his eyes.
+Then suddenly he stooped and picked up something from the floor. When
+he came upright his face was very red. He did not look at the tall,
+gray-haired man again as he advanced into the room.
+
+Mellicent turned to him eagerly.
+
+"Oh, Mr. Smith, it's the lawyer--he's come. And it's true. It IS
+true!"
+
+"This is Mr. Smith, Mr. Norton," murmured Mrs. Jane Blaisdell to the
+keen-eyed man, who, also, for no apparent reason, had grown very red.
+"Mr. Smith's a Blaisdell, too,--distant, you know. He's doing a
+Blaisdell book."
+
+"Indeed! How interesting! How are you, Mr.--Smith?" The lawyer smiled
+and held out his hand, but there was an odd constraint in his manner.
+"So you're a Blaisdell, too, are you?"
+
+"Er--yes," said Mr. Smith, smiling straight into the lawyer's eyes.
+
+"But not near enough to come in on the money, of course," explained
+Mrs. Jane. "He isn't a Hiller-Blaisdell. He's just boarding here,
+while he writes his book.
+
+"Oh I see. So he isn't near enough to come in--on the money." This
+time it was the lawyer who was smiling straight into Mr. Smith's eyes.
+
+But he did not smile for long. A sudden question from Mellicent seemed
+to freeze the smile on his lips.
+
+"Mr. Norton, please, what was Mr. Stanley G. Fulton like?" she begged.
+
+"Why--er--you must have seen his pictures in the papers," stammered
+the lawyer.
+
+"Yes, what was he like? Do tell us," urged Mr. Smith with a bland
+smile, as he seated himself.
+
+"Why--er--" The lawyer came to a still more unhappy pause.
+
+"Of course, we've seen his pictures," broke in Mellicent, "but those
+don't tell us anything. And YOU KNEW HIM. So won't you tell us what he
+was like, please, while we're waiting for father to come up? Was he
+nice and jolly, or was he stiff and haughty? What was he like?"
+
+"Yes, what was he like?" coaxed Mr. Smith again. Mr. Smith, for some
+reason, seemed to be highly amused.
+
+The lawyer lifted his head suddenly. An odd flash came to his eyes.
+
+"Like? Oh, just an ordinary man, you know,--somewhat conceited, of
+course." (A queer little half-gasp came from Mr. Smith, but the lawyer
+was not looking at Mr. Smith.) "Eccentric--you've heard that,
+probably. And he HAS done crazy things, and no mistake. Of course,
+with his money and position, we won't exactly say he had bats in his
+belfry--isn't that what they call it?--but--"
+
+Mr. Smith gave a real gasp this time, and Mrs. Jane Blaisdell
+ejaculated:--
+
+"There, I told you so! I knew something was wrong. And now he'll come
+back and claim the money. You see if he don't! And if we've gone and
+spent any Of it--" A gesture of despair finished her sentence.
+
+"Give yourself no uneasiness on that score, madam," the lawyer assured
+her gravely. "I think I can safely guarantee he will not do that."
+
+"Then you think he's--dead?"
+
+"I did not say that, madam. I said I was very sure he would not come
+back and claim this money that is to be paid over to your husband and
+his brother and sister. Dead or alive, he has no further power over
+that money now."
+
+"Oh-h!" breathed Mellicent. "Then it IS--ours!"
+
+"It is yours," bowed the lawyer.
+
+"But Mr. Smith says we've probably got to pay a tax on it," thrust in
+Mrs. Jane, in a worried voice. "Do you know how much we'll HAVE to
+pay? And isn't there any way we can save doing that?"
+
+Before Mr. Norton could answer, a heavy step down the hall heralded
+Mr. Frank Blaisdell's advance, and in the ensuing confusion of his
+arrival, Mr. Smith slipped away. As he passed the lawyer, however,
+Mellicent thought she heard him mutter, "You rascal!" But afterwards
+she concluded she must have been mistaken, for the two men appeared to
+become at once the best of friends. Mr. Norton remained in town
+several days, and frequently she saw him and Mr. Smith chatting
+pleasantly together, or starting off apparently for a walk. Mellicent
+was very sure, therefore, that she must have been mistaken in thinking
+she had heard Mr. Smith utter so remarkable an exclamation as he left
+the room that first day.
+
+During the stay of Mr. Norton in Hillerton, and for some days
+afterward, the Blaisdells were too absorbed in the mere details of
+acquiring and temporarily investing their wealth to pay attention to
+anything else. Under the guidance of Mr. Norton, Mr. Robert Chalmers,
+and the heads of two other Hillerton banks, the three legatees set
+themselves to the task of "finding a place to put it," as Miss Flora
+breathlessly termed it.
+
+Mrs. Hattie said that, for her part, she should like to leave their
+share all in the bank: then she'd have it to spend whenever she wanted
+it. She yielded to the shocked protestations of the others, however,
+and finally consented that her husband should invest a large part of
+it in the bonds he so wanted, leaving a generous sum in the bank in
+her own name. She was assured that the bonds were just as good as
+money, anyway, as they were the kind that were readily convertible
+into cash.
+
+Mrs. Jane, when she understood the matter, was for investing every
+cent of theirs where it would draw the largest interest possible. Mrs.
+Jane had never before known very much about interest, and she was
+fascinated with its delightful possibilities. She spent whole days
+joyfully figuring percentages, and was awakened from her happy
+absorption only by the unpleasant realization that her husband was not
+in sympathy with her ideas at all. He said that the money was his, not
+hers, and that, for once in his life, he was going to have his way.
+"His way" in this case proved to be the prompt buying-out of the
+competing grocery on the other corner, and the establishing of good-
+sized bank account. The rest of the money he said Jane might invest
+for a hundred per cent, if she wanted to.
+
+Jane was pleased to this extent, and asked if it were possible that
+she could get such a splendid rate as one hundred per cent. She had
+not figured on that! She was not so pleased later, when Mr. Norton and
+the bankers told her what she COULD get--with safety; and she was very
+angry because they finally appealed to her husband and she was obliged
+to content herself with a paltry five or six per cent, when there were
+such lovely mining stocks and oil wells everywhere that would pay so
+much more.
+
+She told Flora that she ought to thank her stars that SHE had the
+money herself in her own name, to do just as she pleased with, without
+any old-fogy men bossing her.
+
+But Flora only shivered and said "Mercy me!" and that, for her part,
+she wished she didn't have to say what to do with. it. She was scared
+of her life of it, anyway, and she was just sure she should lose it,
+whatever she did with it; and she 'most wished she didn't have it,
+only it would be nice, of course, to buy things with it--and she
+supposed she would buy things with it, after a while, when she got
+used to it, and was not afraid to spend it.
+
+Miss Flora was, indeed, quite breathless most of the time, these days.
+She tried very hard to give the kind gentlemen who were helping her no
+trouble, and she showed herself eager always to take their advice. But
+she wished they would not ask her opinion; she was always afraid to
+give it, and she didn't have one, anyway; only she did worry, of
+course, and she had to ask them sometimes if they were real sure the
+places they had put her money were perfectly safe, and just couldn't
+blow up. It was so comforting always to see them smile, and hear them
+say: "Perfectly, my dear Miss Flora, perfectly! Give yourself no
+uneasiness." To be sure, one day, the big fat man, not Mr. Chalmers,
+did snap out: "No, madam; only the Lord Almighty can guarantee a
+government bond--the whole country may be blown to atoms by a volcano
+to-morrow morning!"
+
+She was startled, terribly startled; but she saw at once, of course,
+that it must be just his way of joking, for of course there wasn't any
+volcano big enough to blow up the whole United States; and, anyway,
+she did not think it was nice of him, and it was almost like swearing,
+to say "the Lord Almighty" in that tone of voice. She never liked that
+fat man again. After that she always talked to Mr. Chalmers, or to the
+other man with a wart on his nose.
+
+Miss Flora had never had a check-book before, but she tried very hard
+to learn how to use it, and to show herself not too stupid. She was
+glad there were such a lot of checks in the book, but she didn't
+believe she'd ever spend them all--such a lot of money! She had had a
+savings-bank book, to be sure, but she not been able to put anything
+in the bank for a long time, and she had been worrying a good deal
+lately for fear she would have to draw some out, business had been so
+dull. But she would not have to do that now, of course, with all this
+money that had come to her.
+
+They told her that she could have all the money she wanted by just
+filling out one of the little slips in her check-book the way they had
+told her to do it and taking it to Mr. Chalmers's bank--that there
+were a good many thousand dollars there waiting for her to spend, just
+as she liked; and that, when they were gone, Mr. Chalmers would tell
+her how to sell some of her bonds and get more. It seemed very
+wonderful!
+
+There were other things, too, that they had told her--too many for her
+to remember--something about interest, and things called coupons that
+must be cut off the bonds at certain times. She tried to remember it
+all; but Mr. Chalmers had been very kind and had told her not to fret.
+He would help her when the time came. Meanwhile, he had rented her a
+nice tin box (that pulled out like a drawer) in the safety-deposit
+vault under the bank, where she could keep her bonds and all the other
+papers--such a lot of them!--that Mr. Chalmers told her she must keep
+very carefully.
+
+But it was all so new and complicated, and everybody was always
+talking at once, so!
+
+No wonder, indeed, that Miss Flora was quite breathless with it all.
+
+By the time the Blaisdells found themselves able to pay attention to
+Hillerton, or to anything outside their own astounding personal
+affairs, they became suddenly aware of the attention Hillerton was
+paying to THEM.
+
+The whole town was agog. The grocery store, the residence of Frank
+Blaisdell, and Miss Flora's humble cottage might be found at nearly
+any daylight hour with from one to a dozen curious-eyed gazers on the
+sidewalk before them. The town paper had contained an elaborate
+account of the bequest and the remarkable circumstances attending it;
+and Hillerton became the Mecca of wandering automobiles for miles
+around. Big metropolitan dailies got wind of the affair, recognized
+the magic name of Stanley G. Fulton, and sent reporters post-haste to
+Hillerton.
+
+Speculation as to whether the multi-millionaire was really dead was
+prevalent everywhere, and a search for some clue to his reported South
+American exploring expedition was undertaken in several quarters.
+Various rumors concerning the expedition appeared immediately, but
+none of them seemed to have any really solid foundation. Interviews
+with the great law firm having the handling of Mr. Fulton's affairs
+were printed, but even here little could be learned save the mere fact
+of the letter of instructions, upon which they had acted according to
+directions, and the other fact that there still remained one more
+packet--understood to be the last will and testament--to be opened in
+two years' time if Mr. Fulton remained unheard from. The lawyers were
+bland and courteous, but they really had nothing to say, they
+declared, beyond the already published facts.
+
+In Hillerton the Blaisdells accepted this notoriety with
+characteristic variation. Miss Flora, after cordially welcoming one
+"nice young man," and telling him all about how strange and wonderful
+it was, and how frightened she felt, was so shocked and distressed to
+find all that she said (and a great deal that she did not say!)
+staring at her from the first page of a big newspaper, that she
+forthwith barred her doors, and refused to open them till she
+satisfied herself, by surreptitious peeps through the blinds, that it
+was only a neighbor who was knocking for admittance. An offer of
+marriage from a Western ranchman and another from a Vermont farmer
+(both entire strangers) did not tend to lessen her perturbation of
+mind.
+
+Frank, at the grocery store, rather welcomed questioners--so long as
+there was a hope of turning them into customers; but his wife and
+Mellicent showed almost as much terror of them as did Miss Flora
+herself.
+
+James Blaisdell and Fred stoically endured such as refused to be
+silenced by their brusque non-committalism. Benny, at first welcoming
+everything with the enthusiasm he would accord to a circus, soon
+sniffed his disdain, as at a show that had gone stale.
+
+Of them all, perhaps Mrs. Hattie was the only one that found in it any
+real joy and comfort. Even Bessie, excited and interested as she was,
+failed to respond with quite the enthusiasm that her mother showed.
+Mrs. Hattie saw every reporter, talked freely of "dear Cousin Stanley"
+and his wonderful generosity, and explained that she would go into
+mourning, of course, if she knew he was really dead. She sat for two
+new portraits for newspaper use, besides graciously posing for staff
+photographers whenever requested to do so; and she treasured carefully
+every scrap of the printed interviews or references to the affair that
+she could find. She talked with the townspeople, also, and told Al
+Smith how fine it was that he could have something really worth while
+for his book.
+
+Mr. Smith, these days, was keeping rather closely to his work,
+especially when reporters were in evidence. He had been heard to
+remark, indeed, that he had no use for reporters. Certainly he fought
+shy of those investigating the Fulton-Blaisdell legacy. He read the
+newspaper accounts, though, most attentively, particularly the ones
+from Chicago that Mr. Norton kindly sent him sometimes. It was in one
+of these papers that he found this paragraph:--
+
+There seems to be really nothing more that can be learned about the
+extraordinary Stanley G. Fulton-Blaisdell affair. The bequests have
+been paid, the Blaisdells are reveling in their new wealth, and Mr.
+Fulton is still unheard from. There is nothing now to do but to await
+the opening of the second mysterious packet two years hence. This, it
+is understood, is the final disposition of his estate; and if he is
+really dead, such will doubtless prove to be the case. There are
+those, however, who, remembering the multi-millionaire's well-known
+eccentricities, are suspecting him of living in quiet retirement
+somewhere, laughing in his sleeve at the tempest in the teapot that he
+has created; and that long before the two years are up, he will be
+back on Chicago's streets, debonair and smiling as ever. The fact that
+so little can be found in regard to the South American exploring
+expedition might give color to this suspicion; but where on this
+terrestrial ball could Mr. Stanley G. Fulton find a place to live in
+UNREPORTED retirement?
+
+Mr. Smith did not show this paragraph to the Blaisdells. He destroyed
+the paper containing it, indeed, promptly and effectually--with a
+furtive glance over his shoulder as he did so. It was at about this
+time, too, that Mr. Smith began to complain of his eyes and to wear
+smoked glasses. He said he found the new snow glaring.
+
+"But you look so funny, Mr. Smith," said Benny, the first time he saw
+him. "Why, I didn't hardly know you!"
+
+"Didn't you, Benny?" asked Mr. Smith, with suddenly a beaming
+countenance. "Oh, well, that doesn't matter, does it?" And Mr. Smith
+gave an odd little chuckle as he turned away.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+THE TOYS RATTLE OUT
+
+
+Early in December Mrs. Hattie, after an extended search, found a
+satisfactory home. It was a somewhat pretentious house, not far from
+the Gaylord place. Mrs. Hattie had it repapered and repainted
+throughout and two new bathrooms put in. (She said that everybody who
+was anybody always had lots of bathrooms.) Then she set herself to
+furnishing it. She said that, of course, very little of their old
+furniture would do at all. She was talking to Maggie Duff about it one
+day when Mr. Smith chanced to come in. She was radiant that afternoon
+in a handsome silk dress and a new fur coat.
+
+"You're looking very well--and happy, Mrs. Blaisdell," smiled Mr.
+Smith as he greeted her.
+
+"I am well, and I'm perfectly happy, Mr. Smith," she beamed. "How
+could I help it? You know about the new home, of course. Well, it's
+all ready, and I'm ordering the furnishings. Oh, you don't know what
+it means to me to be able at last to surround myself with all the
+beautiful things I've so longed for all my life!"
+
+"I'm very glad, I'm sure." Mr. Smith said the words as if he meant
+them.
+
+Yes, of course; and poor Maggie here, she says she's glad, too,--
+though I don't see how she can be, when she never got a cent, do you,
+Mr. Smith? But, poor Maggie, she's got so used to being left out--"
+
+"Hush, hush!" begged Miss Maggie.
+
+"You'll find money isn't everything in this world, Hattie Blaisdell,"
+growled Mr. Duff, who, to-day, for some unknown reason, had deserted
+the kitchen cookstove for the living-room base-burner. "And when I see
+what a little money does for some folks I'm glad I'm poor. I wouldn't
+be rich if I could. Furthermore, I'll thank you to keep your sympathy
+at home. It ain't needed nor wanted--here."
+
+"Why, Father Duff," bridled Mrs. Hattie indignantly, "you know how
+poor Maggie has had to--"
+
+"Er--but tell us about the new home," interrupted Mr. Smith quickly,
+"and the fine new furnishings."
+
+"Why, there isn't much to tell yet--about the furnishings, I mean. I
+haven't got them yet. But I can tell you what I'm GOING to have." Mrs.
+Hattie settled herself more comfortably, and began to look happy
+again. "As I was saying to Maggie, when you came in, I shall get
+almost everything new--for the rooms that show, I mean,--for, of
+course, my old things won't do at all. And I'm thinking of the
+pictures. I want oil paintings, of course, in gilt frames." She
+glanced a little disdainfully at the oak-framed prints on Miss
+Maggie's walls.
+
+"Going in for old masters, maybe," suggested Mr. Duff, with a sarcasm
+that fell pointless at Mrs. Hattie's feet.
+
+"Old masters?"
+
+"Yes--oil paintings."
+
+"Certainly not." Her chin came up a little. "I'm going to have
+anything old in my house--where it can be seen--For once I'm going to
+have NEW things--all new things. You have to make a show or you won't
+be recognized by the best people."
+
+"But, Hattie, my dear," began Miss Maggie, flushing a little, and
+carefully avoiding Mr. Smith's eyes, "old masters are--are very
+valuable, and--"
+
+"I don't care if they are," retorted Mrs. Hattie, with decision. "If
+they're old, I don't want them, and that settles it. I'm going to have
+velvet carpets and the handsomest lace curtains that I can find; and
+I'm going to have some of those gold chairs, like the Pennocks have,
+only nicer. Theirs are awfully dull, some of them. And I'm going to
+buy--"
+
+"Humph! Pity you can't buy a little common sense--somewhere!" snarled
+old man Duff, getting stiffly to his feet. "You'll need it, to swing
+all that style."
+
+"Oh, father!" murmured Miss Maggie.
+
+"Oh, I don't mind what Father Duff says," laughed Mrs. Hattie. But
+there was a haughty tilt to her chin and an angry sparkle in her eyes
+as she, too, arose. "I'm just going, anyway, so you don't need to
+disturb yourself, Father Duff."
+
+But Father Duff, with another "Humph!" and a muttered something about
+having all he wanted already of "silly chatter," stamped out into the
+kitchen, with the usual emphasis of his cane at every other step.
+
+It was just as well, perhaps, that he went, for Mrs. Hattie Blaisdell
+had been gone barely five minutes when her sister-in-law, Mrs. Jane,
+came in.
+
+"I've come to see you about a very important matter, Maggie," she
+announced, as she threw off her furs--not new ones--and unbuttoned her
+coat--which also was not new.
+
+"Then certainly I will take myself out of the way," said Mr. Smith,
+with a smile, making a move to go.
+
+"No, please don't." Mrs. Jane held up a detaining hand. "Part of it
+concerns you, and I'm glad you're here, anyway. I should like your
+advice."
+
+"Concerns me?" puzzled the man.
+
+"Yes. I'm afraid I shall have to give up boarding you, and one thing I
+came to-day for was to ask Maggie if she'd take you. I wanted to give
+poor Maggie the first chance at you, of course."
+
+"CHANCE at me!" Mr. Smith laughed,--but unmistakably he blushed. "The
+first--But, my dear woman, it is just possible that Miss Maggie may
+wish to--er--decline this great honor which is being conferred upon
+her, and she may hesitate, for the sake of my feelings, to do it
+before me. NOW I'm very sure I ought to have left at once."
+
+"Nonsense!" (Was Miss Maggie blushing the least bit, too?) "I shall be
+very glad to take Mr. Smith as a boarder if he wants to come--but HE'S
+got something to say about it, remember. But tell me, why are you
+letting him go, Jane?" "Now this surely WILL be embarrassing," laughed
+Mr. Smith again nervously. "Do I eat too much, or am I merely noisy,
+and a nuisance generally?"
+
+But Mrs. Jane did not appear to have heard him. She was looking at
+Miss Maggie, her eyes somber, intent.
+
+"Well, I'll tell you. It's Hattie." "Hattie!" exclaimed two amazed
+voices.
+
+"Yes. She says it's perfectly absurd for me to take boarders, with all
+our money; and she's making a terrible fuss about where we live. She
+says she's ashamed--positively ashamed of us--that we haven't moved
+into a decent place yet."
+
+Miss Maggie's lips puckered a little.
+
+"Do you want to go?"
+
+"Y-yes, only it will cost so much. I've always wanted a house--with a
+yard, I mean; and 'twould be nice for Mellicent, of course."
+
+"Well, why don't you go? You have the money."
+
+"Y-yes, I know I have; but it'll cost so much, Maggie. Don't you see?
+It costs not only the money itself, but all the interest that the
+money could be earning. Why, Maggie, I never saw anything like it."
+Her face grew suddenly alert and happy. "I never knew before how much
+money, just MONEY, could earn, while you didn't have to do a thing but
+sit back and watch it do it. It's the most fascinating thing I ever
+saw. I counted up the other day how much we'd have if we didn't spend
+a cent of it for ten years--the legacy, I mean."
+
+"But, great Scott, madam!" expostulated Mr. Smith. "Aren't you going
+to spend any of that money before ten years' time?"
+
+Mrs. Jane fell back in her chair. The anxious frown came again to her
+face.
+
+'Oh, yes, of course. We have spent a lot of it, already. Frank has
+bought out that horrid grocery across the street, and he's put a lot
+in the bank, and he spends from that every day, I know. And I'm
+WILLING to spend some, of course. But we had to pay so much
+inheritance tax and all that it would be my way not to spend much till
+the interest had sort of made that up, you know; but Frank and
+Mellicent--they won't hear to it a minute. They want to move, too, and
+they're teasing me all the time to get new clothes, both for me and
+for her. But Hattie's the worst. I can't do a thing with Hattie. Now
+what shall I do?"
+
+"I should move. You say yourself you'd like to," answered Miss Maggie
+promptly.
+
+"What do you say, Mr. Smith?"
+
+Mr. Smith leaped to his feet and thrust his hands into his pockets as
+he took a nervous turn about the room, before he spoke.
+
+"Good Heavens, woman, that money was given you to--that is, it was
+probably given you to use. Now, why don't you use it?"
+
+"But I am using it," argued Mrs. Jane earnestly. "I think I'm making
+the very best possible use of it when I put it where it will earn
+more. Don't you see? Besides, what does the Bible say about that man
+with one talent that didn't make it earn more?"
+
+With a jerk Mr. Smith turned on his heel and renewed his march.
+
+"I think the only thing money is good for is to exchange it for
+something you want," observed Miss Maggie sententiously.
+
+"There, that's it!" triumphed Mr. Smith, wheeling about. "That's
+exactly it!"
+
+Mrs. Jane sighed and shook her head. She gazed at Miss Maggie with
+fondly reproving eyes.
+
+"Yes, we all know your ideas of money, Maggie. You're very sweet and
+dear, and we love you; but you ARE extravagant."
+
+"Extravagant!" demurred Miss Maggie.
+
+"Yes. You use everything you have every day; and you never protect a
+thing. Actually, I don't believe there's a tidy or a linen slip in
+this house." (DID Mr. Smith breathe a fervent "Thank the Lord!" Miss
+Maggie wondered.) "And that brings me right up to something else I was
+going to say. I want you to know that I'm going to help you."
+
+Miss Maggie looked distressed and raised a protesting hand; but Mrs.
+Jane smilingly shook her head and went on.
+
+"Yes, I am. I always said I should, if I had money, and I shall--
+though I must confess that I'd have a good deal more heart to do it if
+you weren't quite so extravagant. I've already given you Mr. Smith to
+board."
+
+"Oh, I say!" spluttered Mr. Smith.
+
+But again she only smilingly shook her head and continued speaking.
+
+"And if we move, I'm going to give you the parlor carpet, and some
+rugs to protect it."
+
+"Thank you; but, really, I don't want the parlor carpet," refused Miss
+Maggie, a tiny smouldering fire in her eyes.
+
+'And I shall give you some money, too," smiled Mrs. Jane, very
+graciously,--"when the interest begins to come in, you know. I shall
+give you some of that. It's too bad you should have nothing while I
+have so much."
+
+"Jane, PLEASE!" The smouldering fire in Miss Maggie's eyes had become
+a flame now.
+
+"Nonsense, Maggie, you mustn't be so proud. It's no shame to be poor.
+Wasn't I poor just the other day? However, since it distresses you so,
+we won't say any more about it now. I'll go back to my own problems.
+Then, you advise me--you both advise me--to move, do you?"
+
+"I do, most certainly," bowed Miss Maggie, still with a trace of
+constraint.
+
+"And you, Mr. Smith?"
+
+Mr. Smith turned and threw up both his hands.
+
+"For Heaven's sake, lady, go home, and spend--some of that money!"
+
+Mrs. Jane laughed a bit ruefully.
+
+"Well, I don't see but what I shall have to, with everybody against me
+like this," she sighed, getting slowly to her feet. "But if you knew--
+if either of you knew--how really valuable money is, and how much it
+would earn for you, if you'd only let it, I don't believe you'd be
+quite so fast to tell me to go and spend it."
+
+"Perhaps not; but then, you see, we don't know," smiled Miss Maggie,
+once again her cheery self.
+
+Mr. Smith said nothing. Mr. Smith had turned his back just then.
+
+When Mrs. Jane was gone, Mr. Smith faced Miss Maggie with a quizzical
+smile.
+
+"Well?" he hazarded.
+
+"You mean--"
+
+"I'm awaiting orders--as your new boarder."
+
+"Oh! They'll not be alarming, I assure you. Do you really want to
+come?"
+
+"Indeed I do! And I think it's mighty good of you to take me. But--
+SHOULD you, do you think? Haven't you got enough, with your father to
+care for? Won't it be too hard for you?"
+
+She shook her head.
+
+"I think not. Besides, I'm going to have help. Annabelle and Florence
+Martin, a farmer's daughters are very anxious to be in town to attend
+school this winter, and I have said that I would take them. They will
+work for their board."
+
+The man gave a disdainful sniff.
+
+"I can imagine how much work you'll let them do! It strikes me the
+'help' is on the other foot. However, we'll let that pass. I shall be
+glad enough to come, and I'll stay--unless I find you're doing too
+much and going beyond your strength. But, how about--your father?"
+
+"Oh, he won't mind. I'll arrange that he proposes the idea himself.
+Besides,"--she twinkled merrily--"you really get along wonderfully
+with father, you know. And, as for the work--I shall have more time
+now: Hattie will have some one else to care for her headaches, and
+Jane won't put down any more carpets, I fancy, for a while."
+
+"Well, I should hope!" he shrugged. "Honestly, Miss Maggie, one of the
+best things about this Blaisdell money, in my eyes, is that it may
+give you a little rest from being chief cook and bottle washer and
+head nurse combined, on tap for any minute. But, say, that woman WILL
+spend some of that money, won't she?"
+
+Miss Maggie smiled significantly.
+
+"I think she will. I saw Frank last evening--though I didn't think it
+necessary to say so to her. He came to see me. I think you'll find
+that they move very soon, and that the ladies of the family have some
+new clothes."
+
+"Well, I hope so."
+
+"You seem concerned."
+
+"Concerned? Er--ah--well, I am," he asserted stoutly. "Such a windfall
+of wealth ought to bring happiness, I think; and it seemed to, to Mrs.
+Hattie, though, of course, she'll learn better, as time goes on how to
+spend her money. But Mrs. Jane--And, by the way, how is Miss Flora
+bearing up--under the burden?"
+
+Miss Maggie laughed.
+
+"Poor Flora!"
+
+"'Poor Flora'! And do I hear 'Poor Maggie' say 'Poor Flora'?"
+
+"Oh, she won't be 'poor' long," smiled Miss Maggie. "She'll get used
+to it--this stupendous sum of money--one of these days. But just now
+she's nearly frightened to death."
+
+"Frightened!"
+
+"Yes-both because she's got it, and because she's afraid she'll lose
+it. That doesn't sound logical, I know, but Flora isn't being logical
+just now. To begin with, she hasn't the least idea how to spend money.
+Under my careful guidance, however, she has bought her a few new
+dresses--though they're dead black--"
+
+"Black!" interrupted the man.
+
+"Yes, she's put on mourning," smiled Miss Maggie, as he came to a
+dismayed stop. "She would do it. She declared she wouldn't feel half
+decent unless she did, with that poor man dead, and giving her all
+that money."
+
+"But he isn't dead--that is, they aren't sure he's dead," amended Mr.
+Smith hastily.
+
+"But Flora thinks he is. She says he must be, or he would have
+appeared in time to save all that money. She's very much shocked,
+especially at Hattie, that there is so little respect being shown his
+memory. So she is all the more determined to do the best she can on
+her part."
+
+"But she--she didn't know him, so she can't--er--really MOURN for
+him," stammered the man. There was a most curious helplessness on Mr.
+Smith's face.
+
+"No, she says she can't really mourn," smiled Miss Maggie again, "and
+that's what worries her the most of anything--because she CAN'T mourn,
+and when he's been so good to her--and he with neither wife nor chick
+nor child TO mourn for him, she says. But she's determined to go
+through the outward form of it, at least. So she's made herself some
+new black dresses, and she's bought a veil. She's taken Mr. Fulton's
+picture (she had one cut from a magazine, I believe), and has had it
+framed and, hung on her wall. On the mantel beneath it she keeps fresh
+flowers always. She says it's the nearest she can come to putting
+flowers on his grave, poor man!"
+
+"Good Heavens!" breathed Mr. Smith, falling limply into a chair.
+
+"And she doesn't go anywhere, except to church, and for necessary
+errands."
+
+"That explains why I haven't seen her. I had wondered where she was."
+
+"Yes. She's very conscientious. But she IS going later to Niagara.
+I've persuaded her to do that. She'll go with a party, of course,--one
+of those 'personally conducted' affairs, you know. Poor dear! she's so
+excited! All her life she's wanted to see Niagara. Now she's going,
+and she can hardly believe it's true. She wants a phonograph, too, but
+she's decided not to get that until after six months' mourning is up--
+it's too frivolous and jolly for a house of mourning."
+
+"Oh, good Heavens!" breathed Mr. Smith again.
+
+"It is funny, isn't it, that she takes it quite so seriously? Bessie
+suggested (I'm afraid Bessie was a little naughty!) that she get the
+phonograph, but not allow it to play anything but dirges and hymn
+tunes."
+
+"But isn't the woman going to take ANY comfort with that money?"
+demanded Mr. Smith.
+
+"Indeed, she is! She's taking comfort now. You have no idea, Mr.
+Smith, what it means to her, to feel that she need never want again,
+and that she can buy whatever she pleases, without thinking of the
+cost. That's why she's frightened--because she IS so happy. She thinks
+it can't be right to be so happy. It's too pleasant--to be right. When
+she isn't being frightened about that, she's being frightened for fear
+she'll lose it, and thus not have it any more. I don't think she quite
+realizes yet what a big sum of money it is, and that she'd have to
+lose a great deal before she lost it all."
+
+"Oh, well, she'll get used to that, in time. They'll all get used to
+it--in time," declared Mr. Smith, his face clearing a little. "Then
+they'll begin to live sanely and sensibly, and spend the money as it
+should be spent. Of course, you couldn't expect them to know what to
+do, at the very first, with a sum like that dropped into their laps.
+What would you do yourself? Yes, what would you do?" repeated Mr.
+Smith, his face suddenly alert and interested again. "What would you
+do if you should fall heir to a hundred thousand dollars--to-morrow?"
+
+"What would I do? What wouldn't I do?" laughed Miss Maggie. Then
+abruptly her face changed. Her eyes became luminous, unfathomable.
+"There is so much that a hundred thousand dollars could do--so much!
+Why, I would--" Her face changed again abruptly. She sniffed as at an
+odor from somewhere. Then lightly she sprang to her feet and crossed
+to the stove. "What would I do with a hundred thousand dollars?" she
+demanded, whisking open a damper in the pipe. "I'd buy a new base-
+burner that didn't leak gas! That's what I'd do with a hundred
+thousand dollars. Are you going to give it to me?"
+
+"Eh? Ah-what?" Mr. Smith was visibly startled.
+
+Miss Maggie laughed merrily.
+
+"Don't worry. I wasn't thinking of charging quite that for your board.
+But you seemed so interested, I didn't know but what you were going to
+hand over the hundred thousand, just to see what I would do with it,"
+she challenged mischievously. "However, I'll stop talking nonsense,
+and come down to business. If you'll walk this way, Mr. New Boarder,
+I'll let you choose which of two rooms you'd like."
+
+And Mr. Smith went. But, as had occurred once or twice before, Mr.
+Smith's face, as he followed her, was a study.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+THE DANCING BEGINS
+
+
+Christmas saw many changes in the Blaisdell families.
+
+The James Blaisdells had moved into the big house near the Gaylord
+place. Mrs. Hattie had installed two maids in the kitchen, bought a
+handsome touring car, and engaged an imposing-looking chauffeur. Fred
+had entered college, and Bessie had been sent to a fashionable school
+on the Hudson. Benny, to his disgust, had also been sent away to an
+expensive school. Christmas, however, found them all at home for the
+holidays, and for the big housewarming that their parents were
+planning to give on Christmas night.
+
+The Frank Blaisdells had also moved. They were occupying a new house
+not too far from the grocery store. They had not bought it yet. Mrs.
+Jane said that she wished to live in it awhile, so as to be sure she
+would really like it. Besides, it would save the interest on the money
+for that much time, anyway. True, she had been a little disturbed when
+her husband reminded her that they would be paying rent meanwhile. But
+she said that didn't matter; she was not going to put all that money
+into a house just yet, anyway,--not till she was sure it was the best
+they could do for the price.
+
+They, too, were planning a housewarming. Theirs was to come the night
+after Christmas. Mrs. Jane told her husband that they should not want
+theirs the same night, of course, as Hattie's, and that if she had
+hers right away the next night, she could eat up any of the cakes or
+ice cream that was left from Hattie's party, and thus save buying so
+much new for herself. But her husband was so indignant over the idea
+of eating "Hattie's leavings" that she had to give up this part of her
+plan, though she still arranged to have her housewarming on the day
+following her sister-in-law's.
+
+Mellicent, like Bessie, was home from school, though not from the same
+school. Mrs. Jane had found another one that was just as good as
+Bessie's, she said, and which did not cost near so much money. Mr.
+Smith was not living with them now, of course. He was boarding at Miss
+Maggie Duff's.
+
+Miss Flora was living in the same little rented cottage she had
+occupied for many years. She said that she should move, of course,
+when she got through her mourning, but, until then she thought it more
+suitable for her to stay where she was. She had what she wanted to
+eat, now, however, and she did not do dressmaking any longer. She
+still did her own housework, in spite of Harriet Blaisdell's
+insistence that she get a maid. She said that there was plenty of time
+for all those things when she had finished her mourning. She went out
+very little, though she did go to the housewarming at her brother
+James's--"being a relative, so," she decided that no criticism could
+be made.
+
+It seemed as if all Hillerton went to that house-warming. Those who
+were not especially invited to attend went as far as the street or the
+gate, and looked on enviously. Mrs. Hattie had been very generous with
+her invitations, however. She said that she had asked everybody who
+ever pretended to go anywhere. She told Maggie Duff that, of course,
+after this, she should be more exclusive--very exclusive, in fact; but
+that this time Jim wanted to ask everybody, and she didn't mind so
+much--she was really rather glad to have all these people see the
+house, and all--they certainly never would have the chance again.
+
+Mr. Smith attended with Miss Maggie. Mrs. Hattie had very kindly
+included him in the invitation. She had asked Father Duff, too,
+especially, though she said she knew, of course, that he would not go-
+-he never went anywhere. Father Duff bristled up at this, and declared
+that he guessed he would go, after all, just to show them that he
+could, if he wanted to. Mrs. Hattie grew actually pale, but Miss
+Maggie exclaimed joyfully that, of course, he would go--he ought to
+go, to show proper respect! Father Duff said no then, very decidedly;
+that nothing could hire him to go, and that he had no respect to show.
+He declared that he had no use for gossip and gabble and unwholesome
+eating; and he said that he should not think Maggie would care to go,
+either,--unless she could be in the kitchen, where it would seem
+natural to her!
+
+Mrs. Hattie, however, smiled kindly, and said, of course, now she
+could afford to hire better help than Maggie (caterers from the city
+and all that), so Maggie would not have to be in the kitchen, and that
+with practice she would soon learn not to mind at all being 'round
+among folks in the parlor.
+
+Father Duff had become so apoplectically angry at this that Mr. Smith,
+who chanced to be present, and who also was very angry, was forced to
+forget his own wrath in his desire to make the situation easier for
+Miss Maggie.
+
+He had not supposed that Miss Maggie would go at all, after that. He
+had even determined not to go himself. But Miss Maggie, after a day's
+thought, had laughed and had said, with her eyes twinkling: "Oh, well,
+it doesn't matter, you know,--it doesn't REALLY matter, does it?" And
+they had gone.
+
+It was a wonderful party. Mr. Smith enjoyed it hugely. He saw almost
+everybody he knew in Hillerton, and many that he did not know. He
+heard the Blaisdells and their new wealth discussed from all
+viewpoints, and he heard some things about the missing millionaire
+benefactor that were particularly interesting--to him. The general
+opinion seemed to be that the man was dead; though a few admitted that
+there was a possibility, of course, that he was merely lost somewhere
+in darkest South America and would eventually get back to
+civilization, certainly long before the time came to open the second
+letter of instructions. Many professed to know the man well, through
+magazine and newspaper accounts (there were times when Mr. Smith
+adjusted more carefully the smoked glasses which he was still
+wearing); and some had much to say of the millionaire's
+characteristics, habits, and eccentricities; all of which Mr. Smith
+enjoyed greatly.
+
+Then, too, there were the Blaisdells themselves. They were all there,
+even to Miss Flora, who was in dead black; and Mr. Smith talked with
+them all.
+
+Miss Flora told him that she was so happy she could not sleep nights,
+but that she was rather glad she couldn't sleep, after all, for she
+spent the time mourning for poor Mr. Fulton, and thinking how good he
+had been to her. And THAT made it seem as if she was doing SOMETHING
+for him. She said, Yes, oh, yes, she was going to stop black mourning
+in six months, and go into grays and lavenders; and she was glad Mr.
+Smith thought that was long enough, quite long enough for the black,
+but she could not think for a moment of putting on colors now, as he
+suggested. She said, too, that she had decided not to go to Niagara
+for the present. And when he demurred at this, she told him that
+really she would rather not. It would be warmer in the spring, and she
+would much rather wait till she could enjoy every minute without
+feeling that--well, that she was almost dancing over the poor man's
+grave, as it were.
+
+Mr. Smith did not urge her after that. He turned away, indeed, rather
+precipitately--so precipitately that Miss Flora wondered if she could
+have said anything to offend him.
+
+Mr. Smith talked next with Mrs. Jane Blaisdell. Mrs. Jane was looking
+particularly well that evening. Her dress was new, and in good style,
+yet she in some way looked odd to Mr. Smith. In a moment he knew the
+reason: she wore no apron. Mr. Smith had never seen her without an
+apron before. Even on the street she wore a black silk one. He
+complimented her gallantly on her fine appearance. But Mrs. Jane did
+not smile. She frowned.
+
+"Yes, I know. Thank you, of course," she answered worriedly. "But it
+cost an awful lot--this dress did; but Frank and Mellicent would have
+it. That child!--have you seen her to-night?"
+
+"Miss Mellicent? Yes, in the distance. She, too is looking most
+charming, Mrs. Blaisdell."
+
+The woman tapped her foot impatiently.
+
+"Yes, I know she is--and some other folks so, too, I notice. Was she
+with that Pennock boy?"
+
+"Not when I saw her."
+
+"Well, she will be, if she isn't now. He follows her everywhere."
+
+"But I thought--that was broken up." Mr. Smith now was frowning.
+
+"It was. YOU know what that woman said--the insult! But now, since
+this money came--" She let an expressive gesture complete the
+sentence.
+
+Mr. Smith laughed.
+
+"I wouldn't worry, Mrs. Blaisdell. I don't think he'll make much
+headway--now."
+
+"Indeed, he won't--if I can help myself!" flashed the woman
+indignantly.
+
+"I reckon he won't stand much show with Miss Mellicent--after what's
+happened."
+
+"I guess he won't," snapped the woman. "He isn't worth half what SHE
+is now. As if I'd let her look at HIM!"
+
+"But I meant--" Mr. Smith stopped abruptly. There was an odd
+expression on his face.
+
+Mrs. Blaisdell filled the pause.
+
+"But, really, Mr. Smith, I don't know what I am going to do--with
+Mellicent," she sighed.
+
+"Do with her?"
+
+"Yes. She's as wild as a hawk and as--as flighty as a humming-bird,
+since this money came. She's so crazy with joy and excited."
+
+"What if she is?" challenged Mr. Smith, looking suddenly very happy
+himself. "Youth is the time for joy and laughter; and I'm sure I'm
+glad she is taking a little pleasure in life."
+
+Mrs. Blaisdell frowned again.
+
+"But, Mr. Smith, you know as well as I do that life isn't all pink
+dresses and sugar-plums. It is a serious business, and I have tried to
+bring her up to understand it. I have taught her to be thrifty and
+economical, and to realize the value of a dollar. But now--she doesn't
+SEE a dollar but what she wants to spend it. What can I do?"
+
+"You aren't sorry--the money came?" Mr. Smith was eyeing her with a
+quizzical smile.
+
+"Oh, no, no, indeed!" Mrs. Blaisdell's answer was promptly emphatic.
+"And I hope I shall be found worthy of the gift, and able to handle it
+wisely."
+
+"Er-ah--you mean--" Mr. Smith was looking slightly taken aback.
+
+"I mean that I regard wealth as one of the greatest of trusts, to be
+wisely administered, Mr. Smith," she amplified a bit importantly.
+
+'Oh-h!" subsided the man.
+
+"That is why it distresses me so to see my daughter so carried away
+with the mere idea of spending. I thought I'd taught her differently,"
+sighed the woman.
+
+"Perhaps you taught her--too well. But I wouldn't worry," smiled Mr.
+Smith, as he turned away.
+
+Deliberately then Mr. Smith went in search Of Mellicent. He found her
+in the music-room, which had been cleared for dancing. She was
+surrounded by four young men. One held her fan, one carried her white
+scarf on his arm, a third was handing her a glass of water. The fourth
+was apparently writing his name on her dance card. The one with the
+scarf Mr. Smith recognized as Carl Pennock. The one writing on the
+dance programme he knew was young Hibbard Gaylord.
+
+Mr. Smith did not approach at once. Leaning against a window-casing
+near by, he watched the kaleidoscopic throng, bestowing a not too
+conspicuous attention upon the group about Miss Mellicent Blaisdell.
+
+Mellicent was the picture of radiant loveliness. The rose in her
+cheeks matched the rose of her gown, and her eyes sparkled with
+happiness. So far as Mr. Smith could see, she dispensed her favors
+with rare impartiality; though, as he came toward them finally, he
+realized at once that there was a merry wrangle of some sort afoot. He
+had not quite reached them when, to his surprise, Mellicent turned to
+him in very evident relief.
+
+"There, here's Mr. Smith," she cried gayly. "I'm going to sit it out
+with him. I shan't dance it with either of you."
+
+"Oh, Miss Blaisdell!" protested young Gaylord and Carl Pennock
+abjectly.
+
+But Mellicent shook her head.
+
+"No. If you WILL both write your names down for the same dance, it is
+nothing more than you ought to expect."
+
+"But divide it, then. Please divide it," they begged. "We'll be
+satisfied."
+
+"_I_ shan't be!" Mellicent shook her head again merrily.
+
+"I shan't be satisfied with anything--but to sit it out with Mr.
+Smith. Thank you, Mr. Smith," she bowed, as she took his promptly
+offered arm.
+
+And Mr. Smith bore her away followed by the despairing groans of the
+two disappointed youths and the taunting gibes of their companions.
+
+"There! Oh, I'm so glad you came," sighed Mellicent. "You didn't
+mind?"
+
+"Mind? I'm in the seventh heaven!" avowed Mr. Smith with exaggerated
+gallantry. "And it looked like a real rescue, too."
+
+Mellicent laughed. Her color deepened.
+
+"Those boys--they're so silly!" she pouted.
+
+"Wasn't one of them young Pennock?"
+
+"Yes, the tall, dark one."
+
+"He's come back, I see."
+
+She flashed an understanding look into his eyes.
+
+"Oh, yes, he's come back. I wonder if he thinks I don't know--WHY!"
+
+"And---you?" Mr. Smith was smiling quizzically.
+
+She shrugged her shoulders with a demure dropping of her eyes.
+
+Oh, I let him come back--to a certain extent. I shouldn't want him to
+think I cared or noticed enough to keep him from coming back--some."
+
+"But there's a line beyond which he may not pass, eh?"
+
+"There certainly is!--but let's not talk of him. Oh, Mr. Smith, I'm so
+happy!" she breathed ecstatically.
+
+"I'm very glad."
+
+In a secluded corner they sat down on a gilt settee.
+
+"And it's all so wonderful, this--all this! Why Mr. Smith, I'm so
+happy I--I want to cry all the time. And that's so silly--to want to
+cry! But I do. So long--all my life--I've had to WAIT for things so.
+It was always by and by, in the future, that I was going to have--
+anything that I wanted. And now to have them like this, all at once,
+everything I want--why, Mr. Smith, it doesn't seem as if it could be
+true. It just can't be true!"
+
+"But it is true, dear child; and I'm so glad--you've got your five-
+pound box of candy all at once at last. And I HOPE you can treat your
+friends to unlimited soda waters."
+
+"Oh, I can! But that isn't all. Listen!" A new eagerness came to her
+eyes. "I'm going to give mother a present--a frivolous, foolish
+present, such as I've always wanted to. I'm going to give her a gold
+breast-pin with an amethyst in it. She's always wanted one. And I'm
+going to take my own money for it, too,--not the new money that father
+gives me, but some money I've been saving up for years--dimes and
+quarters and half-dollars in my baby-bank. Mother always made me save
+'most every cent I got, you see. And I'm going to take it now for this
+pin. She won't mind if I do spend it foolishly now--with all the rest
+we have. And she'll be so pleased with the pin!"
+
+"And she's always wanted one?"
+
+"Yes, always; but she never thought she could afford it. But now--!
+I'm going to open the bank to-morrow and count it; and I'm so excited
+over it!" She laughed shamefacedly. "I don't believe Mr. Fulton
+himself ever took more joy counting his millions than I shall take in
+counting those quarters and half-dollars to-morrow."
+
+"I don't believe he ever did." Mr. Smith spoke with confident
+emphasis, yet in a voice that was not quite steady. "I'm sure he never
+did."
+
+"What a comfort you are, Mr. Smith," smiled Mellicent, a bit mistily.
+"You always UNDERSTAND so! And we miss you terribly--honestly we do!--
+since you went away. But I'm glad Aunt Maggie's got you. Poor Aunt
+Maggie! That's the only thing that makes me feel bad,--about the
+money, I mean,--and that is that she didn't have some, too. But
+mother's going to give her some. She SAYS she is, and--"
+
+But Mellicent did not finish her sentence. A short, sandy-haired youth
+came up and pointed an accusing finger at her dance card; and
+Mellicent said yes, the next dance was his. But she smiled brightly at
+Mr. Smith as she floated away, and Mr. Smith, well content, turned and
+walked into the adjoining room.
+
+He came face to face then with Mrs. Hattie and her daughter. These two
+ladies, also, were pictures of radiant loveliness--especially were
+they radiant, for every beam of light found an answering flash in the
+shimmering iridescence of their beads and jewels and opalescent
+sequins.
+
+"Well, Mr. Smith, what do you think of my party?"
+
+As she asked the question Mrs. Hattie tapped his shoulder with her
+fan.
+
+"I think a great deal--of your party," smiled the man. "And you?" He
+turned to Miss Bessie.
+
+"Oh, it'll do--for Hillerton." Miss Bessie smiled mischievously into
+her mother's eyes, shrugged her shoulders, and passed on into the
+music-room.
+
+"As if it wasn't quite the finest thing Hillerton ever had--except the
+Gaylord parties, of course," bridled Mrs. Hattie, turning to Mr.
+Smith. "That's just daughter's way of teasing me--and, of course, now
+she IS where she sees the real thing in entertaining--she goes home
+with those rich girls in her school, you know. But this is a nice
+party, isn't it Mr. Smith?"
+
+"It certainly is."
+
+"Daughter says we should have wine; that everybody who is anybody has
+wine now--champagne, and cigarettes for the ladies. Think of it--in
+Hillerton! Still, I've heard the Gaylords do. I've never been there
+yet, though, of course, we shall be invited now. I'm crazy to see the
+inside of their house; but I don't believe it's MUCH handsomer than
+this. Do you? But there! You don't know, of course. You've never been
+there, any more than I have, and you're a man of simple tastes, I
+judge, Mr. Smith." She smiled graciously. "Benny says that Aunt
+Maggie's got the nicest house he ever saw, and that Mr. Smith says so,
+too. So, you see, I have grounds for my opinion."
+
+Mr. Smith laughed.
+
+"Well, I'm not sure I ever said just that to Benny, but I'll not
+dispute it. Miss Maggie's house is indeed wonderfully delightful--to
+live in."
+
+"I've no doubt of it," conceded Mrs. Hattie complacently. "Poor
+Maggie! She always did contrive to make the most of everything she
+had. But she's never been ambitious for really nice things, I imagine.
+At least, she always seems contented enough with her shabby chairs and
+carpets. While I--"She paused, looked about her, then drew a blissful
+sigh. "Oh, Mr. Smith, you don't know--you CAN'T know what it is to me
+to just look around and realize that they are all mine--these
+beautiful things!"
+
+"Then you're very happy, Mrs. Blaisdell?"
+
+"Oh, yes. Why, Mr. Smith, there isn't a piece of furniture in this
+room that didn't cost more than the Pennocks'--I know, because I've
+been there. And my curtains are nicer, too, and my pictures, they're
+so much brighter--some of her oil paintings are terribly dull-looking.
+And my Bessie--did you notice her dress to-night? But, there! You
+didn't, of course. And if you had, you wouldn't have realized how
+expensive it was. What do you know about the cost of women's dresses?"
+she laughed archly. "But I don't mind telling you. It was one hundred
+and fifty dollars, a HUNDRED AND FIFTY DOLLARS, and it came from New
+York. I don't believe that white muslin thing of Gussie Pennock's cost
+fifty! You know Gussie?"
+
+"I've seen her."
+
+'Yes, of course you have--with Fred. He used to go with her a lot. He
+goes with Pearl Gaylord more now. There, you can see them this minute,
+dancing together--the one in the low-cut, blue dress. Pretty, too,
+isn't she? Her father's worth a million, I suppose. I wonder how
+'twould feel to be worth--a million." She spoke musingly, her eyes
+following the low-cut blue dress. "But, then, maybe I shall know, some
+time,--from Cousin Stanley, I mean," she explained smilingly, in
+answer to the question she thought she saw behind Mr. Smith's smoked
+glasses. "Oh, of course, there's nothing sure about it. But he gave us
+SOME, and if he's dead, of course, that other letter'll be opened in
+two years; and I don't see why he wouldn't give us the rest, as long
+as he'd shown he remembered he'd got us. Do you?"
+
+"Well--er--as to that--" Mr. Smith hesitated. He had grown strangely
+red.
+
+"Well, there aren't any other relations so near, anyway, so I can't
+help thinking about it, and wondering," she interposed. "And 'twould
+be MILLIONS, not just one million. He's worth ten or twenty, they say.
+But, then, we shall know in time."
+
+"Oh, yes, you'll know--in time," agreed Mr. Smith with a smile,
+turning away as another guest came up to his hostess.
+
+Mr. Smith's smile had been rather forced, and his face was still
+somewhat red as he picked his way through the crowded rooms to the
+place where he could see Frank Blaisdell standing alone, surveying the
+scene, his hands in his pockets.
+
+"Well, Mr. Smith, this is some show, ain't it?' greeted the grocer, as
+Mr. Smith approached.
+
+"It certainly is."
+
+"Gee! I should say so--though I can't say I'm stuck on the brand,
+myself. But, as for this money business, do you know? I'm as bad as
+Flo. I can't sense it yet--that it's true. Gosh! Look at Hattie, now.
+Ain't she swingin' the style to-night?"
+
+She certainly is looking handsome and very happy."
+
+"Well, she ought to. I believe in lookin' happy. I believe in takin'
+some comfort as you go along--not that I've taken much, in times past.
+But I'm goin' to now."
+
+"Good! I'm glad to hear it."
+
+"Well, I AM. Why, man, I'm just like a potato-top grown in a cellar,
+and I'm comin' out and get some sunshine. And Mellicent is, too. Poor
+child! SHE'S been a potato-top in a cellar all right. But now--Have
+you seen her to-night?"
+
+"I have--and a very charming sight she was," smiled Mr. Smith.
+
+"Ain't she, now?" The father beamed proudly. "Well, she's goin' to be
+that right along now. She's GOIN' where she wants to go, and DO what
+she wants to do; and she's goin' to have all the fancy fluma-diddles
+to wear she wants."
+
+"Good! I'm glad to hear that, too," laughed Mr. Smith.
+
+"Well, she is. This savin' an' savin' is all very well, of course,
+when you have to. But I've saved all my life and, by jingo, I'm goin'
+to spend now! You see if I don't."
+
+"I hope you will."
+
+"Thank you. I'm glad to have one on my side, anyhow. I only wish--You
+couldn't talk my wife 'round to your way of thinkin', could you?" he
+shrugged, with a whimsical smile. "My wife's eaten sour cream to save
+the sweet all her life, an' she hain't learned yet that if she'd eat
+the sweet to begin with she wouldn't have no sour cream--'twouldn't
+have time to get sour. An' there's apples, too. She eats the specked
+ones always; so she don't never eat anything but the worst there is.
+An' she says they're the meanest apples she ever saw. Now I tell her
+if she'll only pick out the best there is every time, as I do she'll
+not only enjoy every apple she eats, but she'll think they're the
+nicest apples that ever grew. Funny, ain't it? Here I am havin' to
+urge my wife to spend money, while my sister-in-law here--Talk about
+ducks takin' to the water! That ain't no name for the way she sails
+into Jim's little pile."
+
+Mr. Smith laughed.
+
+"By the way, where is Mr. Jim?" he asked.
+
+The other shook his head.
+
+"Hain't seen him--but I can guess where he is, pretty well. You go
+down that hall and turn to your left. In a little room at the end
+you'll find him. That's his den. He told Hattie 'twas the only room in
+the house he'd ask for, but he wanted to fix it up himself. Hattie,
+she wanted to buy all sorts of truck and fix it up with cushions and
+curtains and Japanese gimcracks like she see a den in a book, and make
+a showplace of it. But Jim held out and had his way. There ain't
+nothin' in it but books and chairs and a couch and a big table; and
+they're all old--except the books--so Hattie don't show it much, when
+she's showin' off the house. You'll find him there all right. You see
+if you don't. Jim always would rather read than eat, and he hates
+shindigs of this sort a little worse 'n I do." "All right. I'll look
+him up," nodded Mr. Smith, as he turned away.
+
+Deliberately, but with apparent carelessness, strolled Mr. Smith
+through the big drawing-rooms, and down the hall. Then to the left--
+the directions were not hard to follow, and the door of the room at
+the end was halfway open, giving a glimpse of James Blaisdell and
+Benny before the big fireplace.
+
+With a gentle tap and a cheerful "Do you allow intruders?" Mr. Smith
+pushed open the door.
+
+James Blaisdell sprang to his feet.
+
+"Er--I--oh, Mr. Smith, come in, come right in!" The frown on his face
+gave way to a smile. "I thought--Well, never mind what I thought. Sit
+down, won't you?"
+
+"Thank you, if you don't mind."
+
+Mr. Smith dropped into a chair and looked about him.
+
+"Ain't it great?" beamed Benny. "It's 'most as nice as Aunt Maggie's,
+ain't it? And I can eat all the cookies here I want to, and come in
+even if my shoes are muddy, and bring the boys in, too."
+
+"It certainly is--great," agreed Mr. Smith, his admiring eyes sweeping
+the room again.
+
+To Mr. Smith it was like coming into another world. The deep,
+comfortable chairs, the shaded lights, the leaping fire on the hearth,
+the book-lined walls--even the rhythmic voices of the distant violins
+seemed to sing of peace and quietness and rest.
+
+"Dad's been showin' me the books he used ter like when he was a little
+boy like me," announced Benny. "Hain't he got a lot of 'em?--books, I
+mean."
+
+"He certainly has."
+
+Mr. James Blaisdell stirred a little in his chair.
+
+"I suppose I have--crowded them a little," he admitted. "But, you see,
+there were so many I'd always wanted, and when the chance came--well,
+I just bought them; that's all."
+
+"And you have the time now to read them."
+
+"I have, thank--Well, I suppose I should say thanks to Mr. Stanley G.
+Fulton," he laughed, with some embarrassment. "I wish Mr. Fulton could
+know--how much I do thank him," he finished soberly, his eyes
+caressing the rows of volumes on the shelves. "You see, when you've
+wanted something all your life--" He stopped with an expressive
+gesture.
+
+"You don't care much for--that, then, I take it," inferred Mr. Smith,
+with a wave of his hand toward the distant violins.
+
+"Dad says there's only one thing worse than a party, and that's two
+parties," piped up Benny from his seat on the rug.
+
+Mr. Smith laughed heartily, but the other looked still more
+discomfited.
+
+"I'm afraid Benny is--is telling tales out of school," he murmured.
+
+"Well, 'tis out of school, ain't it?" maintained Benny. "Say, Mr.
+Smith, did you have ter go ter a private school when you were a little
+boy? Ma says everybody does who is anybody. But if it's Cousin
+Stanley's money that's made us somebody, I wished he'd kept it at
+home--'fore I had ter go ter that old school."
+
+"Oh, come, come, my boy," remonstrated the father, drawing his son
+into the circle of his arm. "That's neither kind nor grateful;
+besides, you don't know what you're talking about. Come, suppose we
+show Mr. Smith some of the new books."
+
+From case to case, then, they went, the host eagerly displaying and
+explaining, the guest almost as eagerly watching and listening. And in
+the kindling eye and reverent fingers of the man handling the volumes,
+Mr. Smith caught some inkling of what those books meant to Jim
+Blaisdell.
+
+"You must be fond of--books, Mr. Blaisdell," he said somewhat
+awkwardly, after a time.
+
+"Ma says dad'd rather read than eat," giggled Benny; "but pa says
+readin' IS eatin'. But I'd rather have a cookie, wouldn't you, Mr.
+Smith?"
+
+"You wait till you find what there IS in these books, my son," smiled
+his father. "You'll love them as well as I do, some day. And your
+brother--" He paused, a swift shadow on his face. He turned to Mr.
+Smith. "My boy, Fred, loves books, too. He helped me a lot in my
+buying. He was in here--a little while ago. But he couldn't stay, of
+course. He said he had to go and dance with the girls--his mother
+expected it."
+
+"Ho! MOTHER! Just as if he didn't want ter go himself!" grinned Benny
+derisively. "You couldn't HIRE him ter stay away--'specially if Pearl
+Gaylord's 'round."
+
+Oh, well, he's young, and young feet always dance When Pan pipes,"
+explained the father, with a smile that was a bit forced. "But Pan
+doesn't always pipe, and he's ambitious--Fred is." The man turned
+eagerly to Mr. Smith again. "He's going to be a lawyer--you see, he's
+got a chance now. He's a fine student. He led his class in high
+school, and he'll make good in college, I'm sure. He can have the best
+there is now, too, without killing himself with work to get it. He's
+got a fine mind, and--" The man stopped abruptly, with a shamed laugh.
+"But--enough of this. You'll forgive 'the fond father,' I know. I
+always forget myself when I'm talking of that boy--or, rather perhaps
+it's that I'm REMEMBERING myself. You see, I want him to do all that I
+wanted to do--and couldn't. And--"
+
+"Jim, JIM!" It was Mrs. Hattie in the doorway. "There, I might have
+known where I'd find you. Come, the guests are going, and are looking
+for you to say good-night. Jim, you'll have to come! Why, what'll
+people say? They'll think we don't know anything--how to behave, and
+all that. Mr. Smith, you'll excuse him, I know."
+
+"Most certainly," declared Mr. Smith. "I must be going myself, for
+that matter," he finished, as he followed his hostess through the
+doorway.
+
+Five minutes later he had found Miss Maggie, and was making his
+adieus.
+
+Miss Maggie, on the way home, was strangely silent.
+
+"Well, that was some party," began Mr. Smith after waiting for her to
+speak.
+
+"It was, indeed."
+
+"Quite a house!"
+
+"Yes."
+
+[Illustration with caption: "JIM, YOU'LL HAVE TO COME!"]
+
+"How pretty Miss Mellicent looked!"
+
+"Very pretty."
+
+"I'm glad at last to see that poor child enjoying herself."
+
+"Yes."
+
+Mr. Smith frowned and stole a sidewise glance at his companion. Was it
+possible? Could Miss Maggie be showing at last a tinge of envy and
+jealousy? It was so unlike her! And yet--
+
+"Even Miss Flora seemed to be having a good time, in spite of that
+funereal black," he hazarded again.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And I'm sure Mrs. James Blaisdell and Miss Bessie were very radiant
+and shining."
+
+"Oh, yes, they--shone."
+
+Mr. Smith bit his lip, and stole another sidewise glance.
+
+"Er--how did you enjoy it? Did you have a good time?"
+
+"Oh, yes, very."
+
+There was a brief silence. Mr. Smith drew a long breath and began
+again.
+
+"I had no idea Mr. James Blaisdell was so fond of--er--books. I had
+quite a chat with him in his den."
+
+No answer.
+
+"He says Fred--"
+
+"Did you see that Gaylord girl?" Miss Maggie was galvanized into
+sudden life. "He's perfectly bewitched with her. And she--that
+ridiculous dress--and for a young girl! Oh, I wish Hattie would let
+those people alone!"
+
+"Oh, well, he'll be off to college next week," soothed Mr. Smith.
+
+"Yes, but whom with? Her brother!--and he's worse than she is, if
+anything. Why, he was drunk to-night, actually drunk, when he came! I
+don't want Fred with him. I don't want Fred with any of them."
+
+"No, I don't like their looks myself very well, but--I fancy young
+Blaisdell has a pretty level head on him. His father says--"
+
+"His father worships him," interrupted Miss Maggie. "He worships all
+those children. But into Fred--into Fred he's pouring his whole lost
+youth. You don't know. You don't understand, of course, Mr. Smith. You
+haven't known him all the way, as I have." Miss Maggie's voice shook
+with suppressed feeling. "Jim was always the dreamer. He fairly lived
+in his books. They were food and drink to him. He planned for college,
+of course. From boyhood he was going to write--great plays, great
+poems, great novels. He was always scribbling--something. I think he
+even tried to sell his things, in his 'teens; but of course nothing
+came of that--but rejection slips.
+
+"At nineteen he entered college. He was going to work his way. Of
+course, we couldn't send him. But he was too frail. He couldn't stand
+the double task, and he broke down completely. We sent him into the
+country to recuperate, and there he met Hattie Snow, fell head over
+heels in love with her blue eyes and golden hair, and married her on
+the spot. Of course, there was nothing to do then but to go to work,
+and Mr. Hammond took him into his real estate and insurance office.
+He's been there ever since, plodding plodding, plodding."
+
+By George!" murmured Mr. Smith sympathetically.
+
+"You can imagine there wasn't much time left for books. I think, when
+he first went there, he thought he was still going to write the great
+poem, the great play the great novel, that was to bring him fame and
+money. But he soon learned better. Hattie had little patience with his
+scribbling, and had less with the constant necessity of scrimping and
+economizing. She was always ambitious to get ahead and be somebody,
+and, of course, as the babies came and the expenses increased, the
+demand for more money became more and more insistent. But Jim, poor
+Jim! He never was a money-maker. He worked, and worked hard, and then
+he got a job for evenings and worked harder. But I don't believe he
+ever quite caught up. That's why I was so glad when this money came--
+for Jim. And now, don't you see? he's thrown his whole lost youth into
+Fred. And Fred--"
+
+"Fred is going to make good. You see if he doesn't!"
+
+"I hope he will. But--I wish those Gaylords had been at the bottom of
+the Red Sea before they ever came to Hillerton," she fumed with sudden
+vehemence as she entered her own gate.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+FROM ME TO YOU WITH LOVE
+
+
+It was certainly a gay one--that holiday week. Beginning with the
+James Blaisdells' housewarming it was one continuous round of dances,
+dinners, sleigh-rides and skating parties for Hillerton's young people
+particularly for the Blaisdells, the Pennocks, and the Gaylords.
+
+Mr. Smith, at Miss Maggie's, saw comparatively little of it all,
+though he had almost daily reports from Benny, Mellicent, or Miss
+Flora, who came often to Miss Maggie's for a little chat. It was from
+Miss Flora that he learned the outcome of Mellicent's present to her
+mother. The week was past, and Miss Flora had come down to Miss
+Maggie's for a little visit.
+
+Mr. Smith still worked at the table in the corner of the living-room,
+though the Duff-Blaisdell records were all long ago copied. He was at
+work now sorting and tabulating other Blaisdell records. Mr. Smith
+seemed to find no end to the work that had to be done on his Blaisdell
+book.
+
+As Miss Flora entered the room she greeted Mr. Smith cordially, and
+dropped into a chair.
+
+"Well, they've gone at last," she panted, handing her furs to Miss
+Maggie; "so I thought I'd come down and talk things over. No, don't
+go, Mr. Smith," she begged, as he made a move toward departure. "I
+hain't come; to say nothin' private; besides, you're one of the
+family, anyhow. Keep right on with your work; please."
+
+Thus entreated, Mr. Smith went back to his table, and Miss Flora
+settled herself more comfortably in Miss Maggie's easiest chair.
+
+"So they're all gone," said Miss Maggie cheerily.
+
+"Yes; an' it's time they did, to my way of thinkin'. Mercy me, what a
+week it has been! They hain't been still a minute, not one of 'em,
+except for a few hours' sleep--toward mornin'."
+
+"But what a good time they've had!" exulted Miss Maggie.
+
+"Yes. And didn't it do your soul good to see Mellicent? But Jane--Jane
+nearly had a fit. She told Mellicent that all this gayety was nothing
+but froth and flimsiness and vexation of spirit. That she knew it
+because she'd been all through it when she was young, and she knew the
+vanity of it. And Mellicent--what do you suppose that child said?"
+
+"I can't imagine," smiled Miss Maggie.
+
+"She said SHE wanted to see the vanity of it, too. Pretty cute of her,
+too, wasn't it? Still it's just as well she's gone back to school, I
+think myself. She's been repressed and held back so long, that when
+she did let loose, it was just like cutting the puckering string of a
+bunched-up ruffle--she flew in all directions, and there was no
+holding her back anywhere; and I suppose she has been a bit foolish
+and extravagant in the things she's asked for. Poor dear, though, she
+did get one setback."
+
+"What do you mean?" "Did she tell you about the present for her
+mother?"
+
+"That she was going to get it--yes."
+
+Across the room Mr. Smith looked up suddenly.
+
+"Well, she got it." Miss Flora's thin lips snapped grimly over the
+terse words. "But she had to take it back."
+
+"Take it back!" cried Miss Maggie.
+
+"Yes. And 'twas a beauty--one of them light purple stones with two
+pearls. Mellicent showed it to me--on the way home from the store, you
+know. And she was so pleased over it! 'Oh, I don't mind the saving all
+those years now,' she cried, 'when I see what a beautiful thing
+they've let me get for mother' And she went off so happy she just
+couldn't keep her feet from dancing."
+
+'"I can imagine it," nodded Miss Maggie.
+
+"Well, in an hour she was back. But what a difference! All the light
+and happiness and springiness were gone. She was almost crying. She
+still carried the little box in her hand. 'I'm takin' it back,' she
+choked. 'Mother doesn't like it.' 'Don't like that beautiful pin!'
+says I. 'What does she want?'
+
+"'Oh, yes, she liked the pin,' said Mellicent, all teary; 'she thinks
+it's beautiful. But she doesn't want anything. She says she never
+heard of such foolish goings-on--paying all that money for a silly,
+useless pin. I--I told her 'twas a PRESENT from me, but she made me
+take it back. I'm on my way now back to the store. I'm to get the
+money, if I can. If I can't, I'm to get a credit slip. Mother says we
+can take it up in forks and spoons and things we need. I--I told her
+'twas a present, but--' She couldn't say another word, poor child. She
+just turned and almost ran from the room. That was last night. She
+went away this morning, I suppose. I didn't see her again, so I don't
+know how she did come out with the store-man."
+
+"Too bad--too bad!" sympathized Miss Maggie. (Over at the table Mr.
+Smith had fallen to writing furiously, with vicious little jabs of his
+pencil.) "But Jane never did believe in present-giving. They never gave
+presents to each other even at Christmas. She always called it a
+foolish, wasteful practice, and Mellicent was always SO unhappy
+Christmas morning!"
+
+"I know it. And that's just what the trouble is. Don't you see? Jane
+never let 'em take even comfort, and now that they CAN take some
+comfort, Jane's got so out of the habit, she don't know how to begin."
+
+"Careful, careful, Flora!" laughed Miss Maggie. "I don't think YOU can
+say much on that score."
+
+"Why, Maggie Duff, I'M taking comfort," bridled Miss Flora. "Didn't I
+have chicken last week and turkey three weeks ago? And do I ever skimp
+the butter or hunt for cake-rules with one egg now? And ain't I going
+to Niagara and have a phonograph and move into a fine place just as
+soon as my mourning is up? You wait and see!"
+
+"All right, I'll wait," laughed Miss Maggie. Then, a bit anxiously,
+she asked: "Did Fred go to-day?"
+
+"Yes, looking fine as a fiddle, too. I was sweeping off the steps when
+he went by the house. He stopped and spoke. Said he was going in now
+for real work--that he'd played long enough. He said he wouldn't be
+good for a row of pins if he had many such weeks as this had been."
+
+"I'm glad he realized it," observed Miss Maggie grimly. "I suppose the
+Gaylord young people went, too."
+
+"Hibbard did, but Pearl doesn't go till next week. She isn't in the
+same school with Bess, you know. It's even grander than Bess's they
+say. Hattie wants to get Bess into it next year. Oh, I forgot; we've
+got to call her 'Elizabeth' now. Did you know that?"
+
+Miss Maggie shook her head.
+
+"Well, we have. Hattie says nicknames are all out now, and that
+'Elizabeth' is very stylish and good form and the only proper thing to
+call her. She says we must call her 'Harriet,' too. I forgot that."
+
+"And Benny 'Benjamin'?" smiled Miss Maggie.
+
+"Yes. And Jim 'James.' But I'm afraid I shall forget--sometimes."
+
+"I'm afraid--a good many of us will," laughed Miss Maggie.
+
+"It all came from them Gaylords, I believe," sniffed Flora. "I don't
+think much of 'em; but Hattie seems to. I notice she don't put nothin'
+discouragin' in the way of young Gaylord and Bess. But he pays 'most
+as much attention to Mellicent, so far as I can see, whenever Carl
+Pennock will give him a chance. Did you ever see the beat of that boy?
+It's the money, of course. I hope Mellicent'll give him a good lesson,
+before she gets through with it. He deserves it," she ejaculated, as
+she picked up her fur neck-piece, and fastened it with a jerk.
+
+In the doorway she paused and glanced cautiously toward Mr. Smith. Mr.
+Smith, perceiving the glance, tried very hard to absorb himself in the
+rows of names dates before him; but he could not help hearing Miss
+Flora's next words.
+
+"Maggie, hain't you changed your mind a mite yet? WON'T you let me
+give you some of my money? I'd so LOVE to, dear!"
+
+But Miss Maggie, with a violent shake of her head, almost pushed Miss
+Flora into the hall and shut the door firmly.
+
+Mr. Smith, left alone at his table, wrote again furiously, and with
+vicious little jabs of his pencil.
+
+.       .         .          .           .          .          .
+
+One by one the winter days passed. At the Duffs' Mr. Smith was finding
+a most congenial home. He liked Miss Maggie better than ever, on
+closer acquaintance. The Martin girls fitted pleasantly into the
+household, and plainly did much to help the mistress of the house.
+Father Duff was still as irritable as ever, but he was not so much in
+evidence, for his increasing lameness was confining him almost
+entirely to his own room. This meant added care for Miss Maggie, but,
+with the help of the Martins, she still had some rest and leisure,
+some time to devote to the walks and talks with Mr. Smith. Mr. Smith
+said it was absolutely imperative, for the sake of her health, that
+she should have some recreation, and that it was an act of charity,
+anyway, that she should lighten his loneliness by letting him walk and
+talk with her.
+
+Mr. Smith could not help wondering a good deal these days about Miss
+Maggie's financial resources. He knew from various indications that
+they must be slender. Yet he never heard her plead poverty or preach
+economy. In spite of the absence of protecting rugs and tidies,
+however, and in spite of the fact that she plainly conducted her life
+and household along the lines of the greatest possible comfort, he saw
+many evidences that she counted the pennies--and that she made every
+penny count.
+
+He knew, for a fact, that she had refused to accent any of the
+Blaisdells' legacy. Jane, to be sure, had not offered any money yet
+(though she had offered the parlor carpet, which had been promptly
+refused), but Frank and James and Flora had offered money, and had
+urged her to take it. Miss Maggie, however would have none of it.
+
+Mr. Smith suspected that Miss Maggie was proud, and that she regarded
+such a gift as savoring too much of charity. Mr. Smith wished HE could
+say something to Miss Maggie. Mr. Smith was, indeed, not a little
+disturbed over the matter. He did try once to say something; but Miss
+Maggie tossed it off with a merry: "Take their money? Never! I should
+feel as if I were eating up some of Jane's interest, or one of
+Hattie's gold chairs!" After that she would not let him get near the
+subject. There seemed then really nothing that he could do. It was
+about this time, however, that Mr. Smith began to demand certain extra
+luxuries--honey, olives, sardines, candied fruits, and imported
+jellies. They were always luxuries that must be bought, not prepared
+in the home; and he promptly increased the price of his board--but to
+a sum far beyond the extra cost of the delicacies he ordered. When
+Miss Maggie remonstrated at the size of the increase, he pooh-poohed
+her objections, and declared that even that did not pay for having
+such a nuisance of a boarder around, with all his fussy notions. He
+insisted, moreover, that the family should all partake freely of the
+various delicacies, declaring that it seemed to take away the sting of
+his fussiness if they ate as he ate, and so did not make him appear
+singular in his tastes. Of the Blaisdells Mr. Smith saw a good deal
+that winter. They often came to Miss Maggie's, and occasionally he
+called at their homes. Mr. Smith was on excellent terms with them all.
+They seemed to regard him, indeed, as quite one of the family, and
+they asked his advice, and discussed their affairs before him with as
+much freedom as if he were, in truth, a member of the family.
+
+He knew that Mrs. Hattie Blaisdell was having a very gay winter, and
+that she had been invited twice to the Gaylords'. He knew that James
+Blaisdell was happy in long evenings with his books before the fire.
+From Fred's mother he learned that Fred had made the most exclusive
+club in college, and from Fred's father he learned that the boy was
+already leading his class in his studies. He heard of Bessie's visits
+to the homes of wealthy New Yorkers, and of the trials Benny's
+teachers were having with Benny.
+
+He knew something of Miss Flora's placid life in her "house of
+mourning" (as Bessie had dubbed the little cottage), and he heard of
+the "perfectly lovely times" Mellicent was having at her finishing
+school. He dropped in occasionally to talk over the price of beans and
+potatoes with Mr. Frank Blaisdell in his bustling grocery store, and
+he often saw Mrs. Jane at Miss Maggie's. It was at Miss Maggie's,
+indeed, one day, that he heard Mrs. Jane say, as she sank wearily into
+a chair:--
+
+"Well, I declare! Sometimes I think I'll never give anybody a thing
+again!"
+
+Mr. Smith, at his table, was conscious of a sudden lively interest. So
+often, in his earlier acquaintance with Mrs. Jane, while he boarded
+there, had he heard her say to mission-workers, church-solicitors, and
+doorway beggars, alike, something similar to this; "No, I can give you
+nothing. I have nothing to give. I'd love to, if I could--really I
+would. It makes me quite unhappy to hear of all this need and
+suffering. I'd so love to do something! And if I were rich I would;
+but as it is, I can only give you my sympathy and my prayers."
+
+Mr. Smith was thinking of this now. He had wondered several times,
+since the money came, as to Mrs. Jane's giving. Hence his interest now
+in what she was about to say.
+
+"Why, Jane, what's the matter?" Miss Maggie was querying.
+
+"Everything's the matter," snapped Jane. "And positively a more
+ungrateful set of people all around I never saw. To begin with, take
+the church. You know I've never been able to do anything. We couldn't
+afford it. And now I was so happy that I COULD do something, and I
+told them so; and they seemed real pleased at first. I gave two
+dollars apiece to the Ladies' Aid, the Home Missionary Society, and
+the Foreign Missionary Society--and, do you know? they hardly even
+thanked me! They acted for all the world as if they expected more--the
+grasping things! And, listen! On the way home, just as I passed the
+Gale girls' I heard Sue say: 'What's two dollars to her? She'll never
+miss it.' They meant me, of course. So you see it wasn't appreciated.
+Now, was it?"
+
+"Perhaps not."
+
+"What's the good of giving, if you aren't going to get any credit, or
+thanks, just because you're rich, I should like to know? And they
+aren't the only ones. Nothing has been appreciated," went on Mrs. Jane
+discontentedly." Look at Cousin Mary Davis--YOU know how poor they've
+always been, and how hard it's been for them to get along. Her Carrie-
+-Mellicent's age, you know--has had to go to work in Hooper's store.
+Well, I sent Mellicent's old white lace party dress to Mary. 'Twas
+some soiled, of course, and a little torn; but I thought she could
+clean it and make it over beautifully for Carrie. But, what do you
+think?--back it came the next day with a note from Mary saying very
+crisply that Carrie had no place to wear white lace dresses, and they
+had no time to make it over if she did. No place to wear it, indeed!
+Didn't I invite her to my housewarming? And didn't Hattie, too? But
+how are you going to help a person like that?"
+
+"But, Jane, there must be ways--some ways." Miss Maggie's forehead was
+wrinkled into a troubled frown. "They need help, I know. Mr. Davis has
+been sick a long time, you remember."
+
+"Yes, I know he has; and that's all the more reason, to my way of
+thinking, why they should be grateful for anything--ANYTHING! The
+trouble is, she wants to be helped in ways of her own choosing. They
+wanted Frank to take Sam, the boy,--he's eighteen now--into the store,
+and they wanted me to get embroidery for Nellie to do at home--she's
+lame, you know, but she does do beautiful work. But I couldn't do
+either. Frank hates relatives in the store; he says they cause all
+sorts of trouble with the other help; and I certainly wasn't going to
+ask him to take any relatives of MINE. As for Nellie--I DID ask Hattie
+if she couldn't give her some napkins to do, or something, and she
+gave me a dozen for her--she said Nellie'd probably do them as cheap
+as anybody, and maybe cheaper. But she told me not to go to the
+Gaylords or the Pennocks, or any of that crowd, for she wouldn't have
+them know for the world that we had a relative right here in town that
+had to take in sewing. I told her they weren't her relations nor the
+Blaisdells'; they were mine, and they were just as good as her folks
+any day, and that it was no disgrace to be poor. But, dear me! You
+know Hattie. What could I do? Besides, she got mad then, and took back
+the dozen napkins she'd given me. So I didn't have anything for poor
+Nellie. Wasn't it a shame?"
+
+"I think it was." Miss Maggie's lips shut in a thin straight line.
+
+"Well, what could I do?" bridled Jane defiantly. "Besides, if I'd
+taken them to her, they wouldn't have appreciated it, I know. They
+never appreciate anything. Why, last November, when the money came, I
+sent them nearly all of Mellicent's and my old summer things--and if
+little Tottie didn't go and say afterwards that her mamma did wish
+Cousin Jane wouldn't send muslins in December when they hadn't room
+enough to store a safety pin. Oh, of course, Mary didn't say that to
+ME, but she must have said it somewhere, else Tottie wouldn't have got
+hold of it. 'Children and fools,' you know," she finished meaningly,
+as she rose to go.
+
+Mr. Smith noticed that Miss Maggie seemed troubled that evening, and
+he knew that she started off early the next morning and was gone
+nearly all day, coming home only for a hurried luncheon. It being
+Saturday, the Martin girls were both there to care for Father Duff and
+the house. Not until some days later did Mr. Smith suspect that he had
+learned the reason for all this. Then a thin-faced young girl with
+tired eyes came to tea one evening and was introduced to him as Miss
+Carrie Davis. Later, when Miss Maggie had gone upstairs to put Father
+Duff to bed, Mr. Smith heard Carrie Davis telling Annabelle Martin all
+about how kind Miss Maggie had been to Nellie, finding her all that
+embroidery to do for that rich Mrs. Gaylord, and how wonderful it was
+that she had been able to get such a splendid job for Sam right in
+Hooper's store where she was.
+
+Mr. Smith thought he understood then Miss Maggie's long absence on
+Saturday.
+
+Mr. Smith was often running across little kindnesses that Miss Maggie
+had done. He began to think that Miss Maggie must be a very charitable
+person--until he ran across several cases that she had not helped.
+Then he did not know exactly what to think.
+
+His first experience of this kind was when he met an unmistakably
+"down-and-out" on the street one day, begging clothing, food,
+anything, and telling a sorry tale of his unjust discharge from a
+local factory. Mr. Smith gave the man a dollar, and sent him to Miss
+Maggie. He happened to know that Father Duff had discarded an old suit
+that morning--and Father Duff and the beggar might have been taken for
+twins as to size. On the way home a little later he met the beggar
+returning, just as forlorn, and even more hungry-looking.
+
+"Well, my good fellow, couldn't she fix you up?" questioned Mr. Smith
+in some surprise.
+
+"Fix me up!" glowered the man disdainfully. "Not much she did! She
+didn't fix me up ter nothin'--but chin music!"
+
+And Mr. Smith had thought Miss Maggie was so charitable!
+
+A few days later he heard an eager-eyed young woman begging Miss
+Maggie for a contribution to the Pension Fund Fair in behalf of the
+underpaid shopgirls in Daly's. Daly's was a Hillerton department
+Store, notorious for its unfair treatment of its employees.
+
+Miss Maggie seemed interested, and asked many questions. The eager-
+eyed young woman became even more eager-eyed, and told Miss Maggie all
+about the long hours, the nerve-wearing labor, the low wages--wages
+upon which it was impossible for any girl to live decently--wages
+whose meagerness sent many a girl to her ruin.
+
+Miss Maggie listened attentively, and said, "Yes, yes, I see," several
+times. But in the end the eager-eyed young woman went away empty-
+handed and sad-eyed. And Mr. Smith frowned again.
+
+He had thought Miss Maggie was so kind-hearted! She gave to some
+fairs--why not to this one? As soon as possible Mr. Smith hunted up
+the eager-eyed young woman and gave her ten dollars. He would have
+given her more, but he had learned from unpleasant experience that
+large gifts from unpretentious Mr. John Smith brought comments and
+curiosity not always agreeable.
+
+It was not until many weeks later that Mr. Smith chanced to hear of
+the complete change of policy of Daly's department store. Hours were
+shortened, labor lightened, and wages raised. Incidentally he learned
+that it had all started from a crusade of women's clubs and church
+committees who had "got after old Daly" and threatened all sorts of
+publicity and unpleasantness if the wrongs were not righted at once.
+He learned also that the leader in the forefront of this movement had
+been--Maggie Duff.
+
+As it chanced, it was on that same day that a strange man accosted him
+on the street.
+
+"Say, she was all right, she was, old man. I been hopin' I'd see ye
+some day ter tell ye."
+
+"To tell me?" echoed Mr. Smith stupidly.
+
+The man grinned.
+
+"Ye don't know me, do ye? Well, I do look diff'rent, I'll own. Ye give
+me a dollar once, an' sent me to a lady down the street thar. Now do
+ye remember?"
+
+"Oh! OH! Are YOU that man?"
+
+"Sure I am! Well, she was all right. 'Member? I thought 'twas only
+chin-music she was givin' me. But let me tell ye. She hunted up the
+wife an' kids, an' what's more, she went an' faced my boss, an' she
+got me my job back, too. What do ye think of that, now?"
+
+"Why, I'm--I'm glad, of course!" Mr. Smith spoke as one in deep
+thought.
+
+And all the way home Mr. Smith walked--as one in deep thought.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+IN SEARCH OF REST
+
+
+June brought all the young people home again. It brought, also, a
+great deal of talk concerning plans for vacation. Bessie--Elizabeth--
+said they must all go away.
+
+From James Blaisdell this brought a sudden and vigorous remonstrance.
+
+"Nonsense, you've just got home!" he exclaimed. "Hillerton'll be a
+vacation to you all right. Besides, I want my family together again. I
+haven't seen a thing of my children for six months."
+
+Elizabeth gave a silvery laugh. (Elizabeth had learned to give very
+silvery laughs.) She shrugged her shoulders daintily and looked at her
+rings.
+
+"Hillerton? Ho! You wouldn't really doom us to Hillerton all summer,
+daddy."
+
+"What's the matter with Hillerton?"
+
+"What isn't the matter with Hillerton?" laughed the daughter again.
+
+"But I thought we--we would have lovely auto trips," stammered her
+mother apologetically. "Take them from here, you know, and stay
+overnight at hotels around. I've always wanted to do that; and we can
+now, dear."
+
+"Auto trips! Pooh!" shrugged Elizabeth. "Why, mumsey, we're going to
+the shore for July, and to the mountains for August. You and daddy and
+I. And Fred's going, too, only he'll be at the Gaylord camp in the
+Adirondacks, part of the time."
+
+"Is that true, Fred?" James Blaisdell's eyes, fixed on his son, were
+half wistful, half accusing.
+
+Fred stirred restlessly.
+
+"Well, I sort of had to, governor," he apologized. "Honest, I did.
+There are some things a man has to do! Gaylord asked me, and--Hang it
+all, I don't see why you have to look at me as if I were committing a
+crime, dad!"
+
+"You aren't, dear, you aren't," fluttered Fred's mother hurriedly;
+"and I'm sure it's lovely you've got the chance to go to the Gaylords'
+camp. And it's right, quite right, that we should travel this summer,
+as Bessie--er--Elizabeth suggests. I never thought; but, of course,
+you young people don't want to be hived up in Hillerton all summer!"
+
+"Bet your life we don't, mater," shrugged Fred, carefully avoiding his
+father's eyes, "after all that grind."
+
+"GRIND, Fred?"
+
+But Fred had turned away, and did not, apparently, hear his father's
+grieved question.
+
+Mr. Smith learned all about the vacation plans a day or two later from
+Benny.
+
+"Yep, we're all goin' away for all summer," he repeated, after he had
+told the destination of most of the family. "I don't think ma wants
+to, much, but she's goin' on account of Bess. Besides, she says
+everybody who is anybody always goes away on vacations, of course. So
+we've got to. They're goin' to the beach first, and I'm goin' to a
+boys' camp up in Vermont--Mellicent, she's goin' to a girls' camp. Did
+you know that?"
+
+Mr. Smith shook his head.
+
+"Well, she is," nodded Benny. "She tried to get Bess to go--Gussie
+Pennock's goin'. But Bess!--my you should see her nose go up in the
+air! She said she wa'n't goin' where she had to wear great coarse
+shoes an' horrid middy-blouses all day, an' build fires an' walk miles
+an' eat bugs an' grasshoppers."
+
+"Is Miss Mellicent going to do all that?" smiled Mr. Smith.
+
+"Bess says she is--I mean, ELIZABETH. Did you know? We have to call
+her that now, when we don't forget it. I forget it, mostly. Have you
+seen her since she came back?"
+
+"No."
+
+"She's swingin' an awful lot of style--Bess is. She makes dad dress up
+in his swallow-tail every night for dinner. An' she makes him and Fred
+an' me stand up the minute she comes into the room, no matter if
+there's forty other chairs in sight; an' we have to STAY standin' till
+she sits down--an' sometimes she stands up a-purpose, just to keep US
+standing. I know she does. She says a gentleman never sits when a lady
+is standin' up in his presence. An' she's lecturin' us all the time on
+the way to eat an' talk an' act. Why, we can't even walk natural any
+longer. An' she says the way Katy serves our meals is a disgrace to
+any civilized family."
+
+"How does Katy like that?"
+
+"Like it! She got mad an' gave notice on the spot. An' that made ma
+'most have hysterics--she did have one of her headaches--'cause good
+hired girls are awful scarce, she says. But Bess says, Pooh! we'll get
+some from the city next time that know their business, an' we're goin'
+away all summer, anyway, an' won't ma please call them 'maids,' as she
+ought to, an' not that plebeian 'hired girl.' Bess loves that word.
+Everything's 'plebeian' with Bess now. Oh we're havin' great times at
+our house since Bess--ELIZABETH--came!" grinned Benny, tossing his cap
+in the air, and dancing down the walk much as he had danced the first
+night Mr. Smith saw him a year before.
+
+The James Blaisdells were hardly off to shore and camp when Miss Flora
+started on her travels. Mr. Smith learned all about her plans, too,
+for she came down one day to talk them over with Miss Maggie.
+
+Miss Flora was looking very well in a soft gray and white summer silk.
+Her forehead had lost its lines of care, and her eyes were no longer
+peering for wrinkles. Miss Flora was actually almost pretty.
+
+"How nice you look!" exclaimed Miss Maggie.
+
+"Do I?" panted Miss Flora, as she fluttered up the steps and sank into
+one of the porch chairs.
+
+"Indeed, you do!" exclaimed Mr. Smith admiringly. Mr. Smith was
+putting up a trellis for Miss Maggie's new rosebush. He was working
+faithfully, but not with the skill of accustomedness.
+
+"I'm so glad you like it!" Miss Flora settled back into her chair and
+smoothed out the ruffles across her lap. "It isn't too gay, is it? You
+know the six months are more than up now."
+
+"Not a bit!" exclaimed Mr. Smith.
+
+"No, indeed!" cried Miss Maggie.
+
+"I hoped it wasn't," sighed Miss Flora happily. "Well, I'm all packed
+but my dresses."
+
+"Why, I thought you weren't going till Monday," said Miss Maggie.
+
+"Oh, I'm not."
+
+"But--it's only Friday now!"
+
+Miss Flora laughed shamefacedly.'
+
+"Yes, I know. I suppose I am a little ahead of time. But you see, I
+ain't used to packing--not a big trunk, so--and I was so afraid I
+wouldn't get it done in time. I was going to put my dresses in; but
+Mis' Moore said they'd wrinkle awfully, if I did, and, of course, they
+would, when you come to think of it. So I shan't put those in till
+Sunday night. I'm so glad Mis' Moore's going. It'll be so nice to have
+somebody along that I know."
+
+"Yes, indeed," smiled Miss Maggie.
+
+"And she knows everything--all about tickets and checking the baggage,
+and all that. You know we're only going to be personally conducted to
+Niagara. After that we're going to New York and stay two weeks at some
+nice hotel. I want to see Grant's Tomb and the Aquarium, and Mis'
+Moore wants to go to Coney Island. She says she's always wanted to go
+to Coney Island just as I have to Niagara."
+
+"I'm glad you can take her," said Miss Maggie heartily.
+
+"Yes, and she's so pleased. You know, even if she has such a nice
+family, and all, she hasn't much money, and she's been awful nice to
+me lately. I used to think she didn't like me, too. But I must have
+been mistaken, of course. And 'twas so with Mis' Benson and Mis'
+Pennock, too. But now they've invited me there and have come to see
+me, and are SO interested in my trip and all. Why, I never knew I had
+so many friends, Maggie. Truly I didn't!"
+
+Miss Maggie said nothing, but, there was an odd expression on her
+face. Mr. Smith pounded a small nail home with an extra blow of his
+hammer.
+
+"And they're all so kind and interested about the money, too," went on
+Miss Flora, gently rocking to and fro. "Bert Benson sells stocks and
+invests money for folks, you know, and Mis' Benson said he'd got some
+splendid-payin' ones, and he'd let me have some, and--"
+
+"Flo, you DIDN'T take any of that Benson gold-mine stock!" interrupted
+Miss Maggie sharply.
+
+Mr. Smith's hammer stopped, suspended in mid-air.
+
+"No; oh, no! I asked Mr. Chalmers and he said better not. So I
+didn't." Miss Maggie relaxed in her chair, and Mr. Smith's hammer fell
+with a gentle tap on the nail-head. "But I felt real bad about it--
+when Mis' Benson had been so kind as to offer it, you know. It looked
+sort of--of ungrateful, so."
+
+"Ungrateful!" Miss Maggie's voice vibrated with indignant scorn.
+"Flora, you won't--you WON'T invest your money without asking Mr.
+Chalmers's advice first, will you?"
+
+"But I tell you I didn't," retorted Miss Flora, with unusual
+sharpness, for her. "But it was good stock, and it pays splendidly.
+Jane took some. She took a lot."
+
+"Jane!--but I thought Frank wouldn't let her."
+
+"Oh, Frank said all right, if she wanted to, she might. I suspect he
+got tired of her teasing, and it did pay splendidly. Why, 'twill pay
+twenty-five per cent, probably, this year, Mis' Benson says. So Frank
+give in. You see, he felt he'd got to pacify Jane some way, I s'pose,
+she's so cut up about his selling out."
+
+"Selling out!" exclaimed Miss Maggie.
+
+"Oh, didn't you know that? Well, then I HAVE got some news!" Miss
+Flora gave the satisfied little wriggle with which a born news-lover
+always prefaces her choicest bit of information. "Frank has sold his
+grocery stores--both of 'em."
+
+"Why, I can't believe it!" Miss Maggie fell back with a puzzled frown.
+
+"SOLD them! Why, I should as soon think of his--his selling himself,"
+cried Mr. Smith. "I thought they were inseparable."
+
+"Well, they ain't--because he's separated 'em." Miss Flora was rocking
+a little faster now.
+
+"But why?" demanded Miss Maggie.
+
+"He says he wants a rest. That he's worked hard all his life, and it's
+time he took some comfort. He says he doesn't take a minute of comfort
+now 'cause Jane's hounding him all the time to get more money, to get
+more money. She's crazy to see the interest mount up, you know--Jane
+is. But he says he don't want any more money. He wants to SPEND money
+for a while. And he's going to spend it. He's going to retire from
+business and enjoy himself."
+
+"Well," ejaculated Mr. Smith, "this is a piece of news, indeed!"
+
+"I should say it was," cried Miss Maggie, still almost incredulous.
+"How does Jane take it?"
+
+"Oh, she's turribly fussed up over it, as you'd know she would be.
+Such a good chance wasted, she thinks, when he might be making all
+that money earn more. You know Jane wants to turn everything into
+money now. Honestly, Maggie, I don't believe Jane can look at the moon
+nowadays without wishing it was really gold, and she had it to put out
+to interest!"
+
+"Oh, Flora!" remonstrated Miss Maggie faintly.
+
+"Well, it's so," maintained Miss Flora, "So 't ain't any wonder, of
+course, that she's upset over this. That's why Frank give in to her, I
+think, and let her buy that Benson stock. Besides, he's feeling
+especially flush, because he's got the cash the stores brought, too.
+So he told her to go ahead."
+
+"I'm sorry about that stock," frowned Miss Maggie.
+
+"Oh, it's perfectly safe. Mis' Benson said 'twas," comforted Miss
+Flora. "You needn't worry about that. And 'twill pay splendid." "When
+did this happen--the sale of the store, I mean?" asked Mr. Smith. Mr.
+Smith was not even pretending to work now.
+
+"Yesterday--the finish of it. I'm waiting to see Hattie. She'll be
+tickled to death. She's ALWAYS hated it that Frank had a grocery
+store, you know; and since the money's come, and she's been going with
+the Gaylords and the Pennocks, and all that crowd, she's felt worse
+than ever. She was saying to me only last week how ashamed she was to
+think that her friends might see her own brother-in-law any day
+wearing horrid white coat, and selling molasses over the counter. My,
+but Hattie'll be tickled all right--or 'Harriet,' I suppose I should
+say, but I never can remember it.
+
+"But what is Frank going to--to do with himself?" demanded Miss
+Maggie. "Why, Flora, he'll be lost without that grocery store!"
+
+"Oh, he's going to travel, first. He says he always wanted to, and
+he's got a chance now, and he's going to. They're going to the
+Yellowstone Park and the Garden of the Gods and to California. And
+that's another thing that worries Jane--spending all that money for
+them just to ride in the cars."
+
+"Is she going, too?" queried Mr. Smith.
+
+"Oh, yes, she's going, too. She says she's got to go to keep Frank
+from spending every cent he's got," laughed Miss Flora. "I was over
+there last night, and they told me all about it."
+
+"When do they go?"
+
+"Just as soon as they can get ready. Frank's got to help Donovan, the
+man that's bought the store, a week till he gets the run of things, he
+says. Then he's going. You wait till you see him." Miss Flora got to
+her feet, and smoothed out the folds of her skirt. "He's as tickled as
+a boy with a new jack-knife. And I'm glad. Frank has been a turrible
+hard worker all his life. I'm glad he's going to take some comfort,
+same as I am."
+
+When Miss Flora had gone, Miss Maggie turned to Mr. Smith with eyes
+that still carried dazed unbelief.
+
+"DID Flora say that Frank Blaisdell had sold his grocery stores?"
+
+"She certainly did! You seem surprised."
+
+"I'm more than surprised. I'm dumfounded."
+
+"Why? You don't think, like Mrs. Jane, that he ought not to enjoy his
+money, certainly?"
+
+"Oh, no. He's got money enough to retire, if he wants to, and he's
+certainly worked hard enough to earn a rest."
+
+"Then what is it?"
+
+Miss Maggie laughed a little.
+
+"I'm not sure I can explain. But, to me, it's--just this: while he's
+got plenty to retire UPON, he hasn't got anything to--to retire TO."
+
+"And, pray, what do you mean by that?"
+
+"Why, Mr. Smith, I've known that man from the time he was trading
+jack-knives and marbles and selling paper boxes for five pins. I
+remember the whipping he got, too, for filching sugar and coffee and
+beans from the pantry and opening a grocery store in our barn. From
+that time to this, that boy has always been trading SOMETHING. He's
+been absolutely uninterested in anything else. I don't believe he's
+read a book or a magazine since his school days, unless it had
+something to do with business or groceries. He hasn't a sign of a fad-
+-music, photography, collecting things--nothing. And he hates society.
+Jane has to fairly drag him out anywhere. Now, what I want to know is,
+what is the man going to do?"
+
+"Oh, he'll find something," laughed Mr. Smith. "He's going to travel,
+first, anyhow."
+
+"Yes, he's going to travel, first. And then--we'll see," smiled Miss
+Maggie enigmatically, as Mr. Smith picked up his hammer again.
+
+By the middle of July the Blaisdells were all gone Hillerton and there
+remained only their letters for Miss Maggie--and for Mr. Smith. Miss
+Maggie was very generous with her letters. Perceiving Mr. Smith's
+genuine interest, she read him extracts from almost every one that
+came. And the letters were always interesting--and usually
+characteristic.
+
+Benny wrote of swimming and tennis matches, and of "hikes" and the
+"bully eats." Hattie wrote of balls and gowns and the attention "dear
+Elizabeth" was receiving from some really very nice families who were
+said to be fabulously rich. Neither James nor Bessie wrote at all.
+Fred, too, remained unheard from.
+
+Mellicent wrote frequently--gay, breezy letters full to the brim of
+the joy of living. She wrote of tennis, swimming, camp-fire stories,
+and mountain trails: they were like Benny's letters in petticoats,
+Miss Maggie said.
+
+Long and frequent epistles came from Miss Flora. Miss Flora was having
+a beautiful time. Niagara was perfectly lovely--only what a terrible
+noise it made! She was glad she did not have to stay and hear it
+always. She liked New York, only that was noisy, too, though Mrs.
+Moore did not seem to mind it. Mrs. Moore liked Coney Island, too, but
+Miss Flora much preferred Grant's Tomb, she said. It was so much more
+quiet and ladylike. She thought some things at Coney Island were
+really not nice at all, and she was surprised that Mrs. Moore should
+enjoy them so much.
+
+Between the lines it could be seen that in spite of all the good
+times, Miss Flora was becoming just the least bit homesick. She wrote
+Miss Maggie that it did seem queer to go everywhere, and not see a
+soul to bow to. It gave her such a lonesome feeling--such a lot of
+faces, and not one familiar one! She had tried to make the
+acquaintance of several people--real nice people; she knew they were
+by the way they looked. But they wouldn't say hardly anything to her,
+nor answer her questions; and they always got up and moved away very
+soon.
+
+To be sure, there was one nice young man. He was lovely to them, Miss
+Flora said. He spoke to them first, too. It was when they were down to
+Coney Island. He helped them through the crowds, and told them about
+lots of nice things they didn't want to miss seeing. He walked with
+them, too, quite awhile, showing them the sights. He was very kind--he
+seemed so especially kind, after all those other cold-hearted people,
+who didn't care! That was the day she and Mrs. Moore both lost their
+pocketbooks, and had such an awful time getting back to New York. It
+was right after they had said good-bye to the nice young gentleman
+that they discovered that they had lost them. They were so sorry that
+they hadn't found it out before, Miss Flora said, for he would have
+helped them, she was sure. But though they looked everywhere for him,
+they could not find him at all, and they had to appeal to strangers,
+who took them right up to a policeman the first thing, which was very
+embarrassing, Miss Flora said. Why, she and Mrs. Moore felt as if they
+had been arrested, almost! Miss Maggie pursed her lips a, little, when
+she read this letter to Mr. Smith, but she made no comment.
+
+From Jane, also, came several letters, and from Frank Blaisdell one
+short scrawl.
+
+Frank said he was having a bully time, but that he'd seen some of the
+most shiftless-looking grocery stores that he ever set eyes on. He
+asked if Maggie knew how trade was at his old store, and if Donovan
+was keeping it up to the mark. He said that Jane was well, only she
+was getting pretty tired because she WOULD try to see everything at
+once, for fear she'd lose something, and not get her money's worth,
+for all the world just as she used to eat things to save them.
+
+Jane wrote that she was having a very nice time, of course,--she
+couldn't help it, with all those lovely things to see; but she said
+she never dreamed that just potatoes, meat, and vegetables could cost
+so much anywhere as they did in hotels, and as for the prices those
+dining-cars charged--it was robbery--sheer robbery! And why an able-
+bodied man should be given ten cents every time he handed you your own
+hat, she couldn't understand.
+
+At Hillerton, Mr. Smith passed a very quiet summer, but a very
+contented one. He kept enough work ahead to amuse him, but never
+enough to drive him. He took frequent day-trips to the surrounding
+towns, and when possible he persuaded Miss Maggie to go with him. Miss
+Maggie was wonderfully good company. As the summer advanced, however,
+he did not see so much of her as he wanted to, for Father Duff's
+increasing infirmities made more and more demands on her time.
+
+The Martin girls were still there. Annabelle was learning the
+milliner's trade, and Florence had taken a clerkship for afternoons
+during the summer. They still helped about the work, and relieved Miss
+Maggie whenever possible. They were sensible, jolly girls, and Mr.
+Smith liked them very much.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+THE FLY IN THE OINTMENT
+
+
+In August Father Duff died. Miss Flora came home at once. James
+Blaisdell was already in town. Hattie was at the mountains. She wrote
+that she could not think of coming down for the funeral, but she
+ordered an expensive wreath. Frank and Jane were in the Far West, and
+could not possibly have arrived in time, anyway. None of the young
+people came.
+
+Mr. Smith helped in every way that he could help, and Miss Maggie told
+him that he was a great comfort, and that she did not know what she
+would have done without him. Miss Flora and Mr. James Blaisdell
+helped, too, in every way possible, and at last the first hard sad
+days were over, and the household had settled back into something like
+normal conditions again.
+
+Miss Maggie had more time now, and she went often to drive or for
+motor rides with Mr. Smith. Together they explored cemeteries for
+miles around; and although Miss Maggie worried sometimes because they
+found so little Blaisdell data, Mr. Smith did not seem to mind it at
+all.
+
+In September Miss Flora moved into an attractive house on the West
+Side, bought some new furniture, and installed a maid in the kitchen--
+all under Miss Maggie's kindly supervision. In September, too, Frank
+and Jane Blaisdell came home, and the young people began to prepare
+for the coming school year.
+
+Mr. Smith met Mrs. Hattie one day, coming out of Miss Maggie's gate.
+She smiled and greeted him cordially, but she looked so palpably upset
+over something that he exclaimed to Miss Maggie, as soon he entered
+the house: "What was it? IS anything the matter with Mrs. James
+Blaisdell?"
+
+Miss Maggie smiled--but she frowned, too.
+
+"No, oh, no--except that Hattie has discovered that a hundred thousand
+dollars isn't a million."
+
+"What do you mean by that?"
+
+"Oh, where she's been this summer she's measured up, of course, with
+people a great deal richer than she. And she doesn't like it. Here in
+Hillerton her hundred--and two-hundred-dollar dresses looked very
+grand to her, but she's discovered that there are women who pay five
+hundred and a thousand, and even more. She feels very cheap and
+poverty-stricken now, therefore, in her two-hundred-dollar gowns. Poor
+Hattie! If she only would stop trying to live like somebody else!"
+
+"But I thought--I thought this money was making them happy," stammered
+Mr. Smith.
+
+"It was--until she realized that somebody else had more," sighed Miss
+Maggie, with a shake of her head.
+
+"Oh, well, she'll get over that."
+
+"Perhaps."
+
+"At any rate, it's brought her husband some comfort."
+
+"Y-yes, it has; but--"
+
+"What do you mean by that?" he demanded, when she did not finish her
+sentence.
+
+"I was wondering--if it would bring him any more."
+
+"They haven't lost it?"
+
+"Oh, no, but they've spent a lot--and Hattie is beginning again her
+old talk that she MUST have more money in order to live 'even decent.'
+It sounds very familiar to me, and to Jim, I suspect, poor fellow. I
+saw him the other night, and from what he said, and what she says, I
+can see pretty well how things are going. She's trying to get some of
+her rich friends to give Jim a better position, where he'll earn more.
+She doesn't understand, either, why Jim can't go into the stock market
+and make millions, as some men do. I'm afraid she isn't always--
+patient. She says there are Fred and Elizabeth and Benjamin to
+educate, and that she's just got to have more money to tide them over
+till the rest of the legacy comes."
+
+"The rest of the legacy!" exploded Mr. Smith. "Good Heavens, does that
+woman think that--" Mr. Smith stopped with the air of one pulling
+himself back from an abyss.
+
+Miss Maggie laughed.
+
+"I don't wonder you exclaim. It is funny--the way she takes that for
+granted, isn't it? Still, there are grounds for it, of course."
+
+"Oh, are there? Do YOU think-she'll get more, then?" demanded Mr.
+Smith, almost savagely.
+
+Miss Maggie laughed again.
+
+"I don't know what to think. To my mind the whole thing was rather
+extraordinary, anyway, that he should have given them anything--utter
+strangers as they were. Still, as Hattie says, as long as he HAS
+recognized their existence, why, he may again of course. Still, on the
+other hand, he may have very reasonably argued that, having willed
+them a hundred thousand apiece, that was quite enough, and he'd give
+the rest somewhere else."
+
+"Humph! Maybe," grunted Mr. Smith.
+
+"And he may come back alive from South America"
+
+"He may."
+
+"But Hattie isn't counting on either of these contingencies, and she
+is counting on the money," sighed Miss Maggie, sobering again. "And
+Jim,--poor Jim!--I'm afraid he's going to find it just as hard to keep
+caught up now--as he used to."
+
+"Humph!" Mr. Smith frowned. He did not speak again. He stood looking
+out of the window, apparently in deep thought.
+
+Miss Maggie, with another sigh, turned and went out into the kitchen.
+
+The next day, on the street, Mr. Smith met Mellicent Blaisdell. She
+was with a tall, manly-looking, square-jawed young fellow whom Mr.
+Smith had never seen before. Mellicent smiled and blushed adorably.
+Then, to his surprise, she stopped him with a gesture.
+
+"Mr. Smith, I know it's on the street, but I--I want Mr. Gray to meet
+you, and I want you to meet Mr. Gray. Mr. Smith is--is a very good
+friend of mine, Donald."
+
+Mr. Smith greeted Donald Gray with a warm handshake and a keen glance
+into his face. The blush, the hesitation, the shy happiness in
+Mellicent's eyes had been unmistakable. Mr. Smith felt suddenly that
+Donald Gray was a man he very much wanted to know--a good deal about.
+He chatted affably for a minute. Then he went home and straight to
+Miss Maggie.
+
+"Who's Donald Gray, please?" he demanded.
+
+Miss Maggie laughed and threw up her hands.
+
+"Oh, these children!"
+
+"But who is he?"
+
+"Well, to begin with, he's devoted to Mellicent."
+
+"You don't have to tell me that. I've seen him--and Mellicent."
+
+"Oh!" Miss Maggie smiled appreciatively.
+
+"What I want to know is, who is he?"
+
+"He's a young man whom Mellicent met this summer. He plays the violin,
+and Mellicent played his accompaniments in a church entertainment.
+That's where she met him first. He's the son of a minister near their
+camp, where the girls went to church. He's a fine fellow, I guess.
+He's hard hit--that's sure. He came to Hillerton at once, and has gone
+to work in Hammond's real estate office. So you see he's in earnest."
+
+"I should say he was! I liked his appearance very much."
+
+"Yes, I did--but her mother doesn't."
+
+"What do you mean? She--objects?"
+
+"Decidedly! She says he's worse than Carl Pennock--that he hasn't got
+any money, not ANY money."
+
+'Money!" ejaculated Mr. Smith, in genuine amazement. "You don't mean
+that she's really letting money stand in the way if Mellicent cares
+for him? Why, it was only a year ago that she herself was bitterly
+censuring Mrs. Pennock for doing exactly the same thing in the case of
+young Pennock and Mellicent."
+
+"I know," nodded Miss Maggie. "But--she seems to have forgotten that."
+
+"Shoe's on the other foot this time."
+
+"It seems to be."
+
+"Hm-m!" muttered Mr. Smith.
+
+"I don't think Jane has done much yet, by way Of opposition. You see
+they've only reached home, and she's just found out about it. But she
+told me she shouldn't let it go on, not for a moment. She has other
+plans for Mellicent."
+
+"Shall I be--meddling in what isn't my business, if I ask what they
+are?" queried Mr. Smith diffidently. "You know I am very much
+interested in--Miss Mellicent."
+
+"Not a bit. I'm glad to have you. Perhaps you can suggest--a way out
+for us," sighed Miss Maggie. "The case is just this: Jane wants
+Mellicent to marry Hibbard Gaylord."
+
+"Shucks! I've seen young Gray only once, but I'd give more for his
+little finger than I would for a cartload of Gaylords!" flung out Mr.
+Smith.
+
+"So would I," approved Miss Maggie. "But Jane--well, Jane feels
+otherwise. To begin with, she's very much flattered at Gaylord's
+attentions to Mellicent--the more so because he's left Bessie--I beg
+her pardon, 'Elizabeth"--for her."
+
+"Then Miss Elizabeth is in it, too?"
+
+"Very much in it. That's one of the reasons why Hattie is so anxious
+for more money. She wants clothes and jewels for Bessie so she can
+keep pace with the Gaylords. You see there's a wheel within a wheel
+here."
+
+"I should say there was!"
+
+"As near as I can judge, young Gaylord is Bessie's devoted slave--
+until Mellicent arrives; then he has eyes only for HER, which piques
+Bessie and her mother not a little. They were together more or less
+all summer and I think Hattie thought the match was as good as made.
+Now, once in Hillerton, back he flies to Mellicent."
+
+"And--Mellicent?"
+
+Miss Maggie's eyes became gravely troubled.
+
+"I don't understand Mellicent. I think--no, I KNOW she cares for young
+Gray; but--well, I might as well admit it, she is ready any time to
+flirt outrageously with Hibbard Gaylord, or--or with anybody else, for
+that matter. I saw her flirting with you at the party last Christmas!"
+Miss Maggie's face showed a sudden pink blush.
+
+Mr. Smith gave a hearty laugh.
+
+"Don't you worry, Miss Maggie. If she'll flirt with young Gaylord AND
+OTHERS, it's all right. There's safety in numbers, you know."
+
+"But I don't like to have her flirt at all, Mr. Smith."
+
+"It isn't flirting. It's just her bottled-up childhood and youth
+bubbling over. She can't help bubbling, she's been repressed so long.
+She'll come out all right, and she won't come out hand in hand with
+Hibbard Gaylord. You see if she does."
+
+Miss Maggie shook her head and sighed.
+
+You don't know Jane. Jane will never give up. She'll be quiet, but
+she'll be firm. With one hand she'll keep Gray away, and with the
+other she'll push Gaylord forward. Even Mellicent herself won't know
+how it's done. But it'll be done, and I tremble for the consequences."
+
+"Hm-m!" Mr. Smith's eyes had lost their twinkle now. To himself he
+muttered: "I wonder if maybe--I hadn't better take a hand in this
+thing myself."
+
+"You said--I didn't understand what you said," murmured Miss Maggie
+doubtfully.
+
+"Nothing--nothing, Miss Maggie," replied the man. Then, with business-
+like alertness, he lifted his chin. "How long do you say this has been
+going on?"
+
+"Why, especially since they all came home two weeks ago. Jane knew
+nothing of Donald Gray till then."
+
+"Where does Carl Pennock come in?"
+
+Miss Maggie gave a gesture of despair.
+
+"Oh, he comes in anywhere that he can find a chance; though, to do her
+justice, Mellicent doesn't give him--many chances."
+
+"What does her father say to all this? How does he like young Gray?"
+
+Miss Maggie gave another gesture of despair.
+
+"He says nothing--or, rather, he laughs, and says: 'Oh, well, it will
+come out all right in time. Young folks will be young folks!'"
+
+"But does he like Gray? He knows him, of course."
+
+"Oh, yes, he likes him. He's taken him to ride in his car once, to my
+knowledge."
+
+"His car! Then Mr. Frank Blaisdell has--a car?"
+
+"Oh, yes, he's just been learning to run it. Jane says he's crazy over
+it, and that he's teasing her to go all the time. She says he wants to
+be on the move somewhere every minute. He's taken up golf, too. Did
+you know that?"
+
+"Well, no, I--didn't."
+
+"Oh yes, he's joined the Hillerton Country Club, and he goes up to the
+links every morning for practice."
+
+"I can't imagine it--Frank Blaisdell spending his mornings playing
+golf!"
+
+"You forget," smiled Miss Maggie. "Frank Blaisdell is a retired
+business man. He has begun to take some pleasure in life now."
+
+"Humph!" muttered Mr. Smith, as he turned to go into his own room.
+
+Mr. Smith called on the Frank Blaisdells that evening. Mr. Blaisdell
+took him out to the garage (very lately a barn), and showed him the
+shining new car. He also showed him his lavish supply of golf clubs,
+and told him what a "bully time" he was having these days. He told
+him, too, all about his Western trip, and said there was nothing like
+travel to broaden a man's outlook. He said a great deal about how glad
+he was to get out of the old grind behind the counter--but in the next
+breath he asked Mr. Smith if he had ever seen a store run down as his
+had done since he left it. Donovan didn't know any more than a cat how
+such a store should be run, he said.
+
+When they came back from the garage they found callers in the living-
+room. Carl Pennock and Hibbard Gaylord were chatting with Mellicent.
+Almost at once the doorbell rang, too, and Donald Gray came in with
+his violin and a roll of music. Mellicent's mother came in also. She
+greeted all the young men pleasantly, and asked Carl Pennock to tell
+Mr. Smith all about his fishing trip. Then she sat down by young Gray
+and asked him many questions about his music. She was SO interested in
+violins, she said.
+
+Gray waxed eloquent, and seemed wonderfully pleased--for about five
+minutes; then Mr. Smith saw that his glance was shifting more and more
+frequently and more and more unhappily to Mellicent and Hibbard
+Gaylord, talking tennis across the room.
+
+Mr. Smith apparently lost interest in young Pennock's fish story then.
+At all events, another minute found him eagerly echoing Mrs.
+Blaisdell's interest in violins--but with this difference: violins in
+the abstract with her became A violin in the concrete with him; and he
+must hear it at once.
+
+Mrs. Jane herself could not have told exactly how it was done, but she
+knew that two minutes later young Gray and Mellicent were at the
+piano, he, shining-eyed and happy, drawing a tentative bow across the
+strings: she, no less shining-eyed and happy, giving him "A" on the
+piano.
+
+Mr. Smith enjoyed the music very much--so much that he begged for
+another selection and yet another. Mr. Smith did not appear to realize
+that Messrs. Pennock and Gaylord were passing through sham interest
+and frank boredom to disgusted silence. Equally oblivious was he of
+Mrs. Jane's efforts to substitute some other form of entertainment for
+the violin-playing. He shook hands very heartily, however, with
+Pennock and Gaylord when they took their somewhat haughty departure, a
+little later, and, strange to say, his interest in the music seemed to
+go with their going; for at once then he turned to Mr. and Mrs. Frank
+Blaisdell with a very animated account of some Blaisdell data he had
+found only the week before.
+
+He did not appear to notice that the music of the piano had become
+nothing but soft fitful snatches with a great deal of low talk and
+laughter between. He seemed interested only that Mr. Blaisdell, and
+especially Mrs. Blaisdell, should know the intimate history of one
+Ephraim Blaisdell, born in 1720, and his ten children and forty-nine
+grandchildren. He talked of various investments then, and of the
+weather. He talked of the Blaisdells' trip, and of the cost of
+railroad fares and hotel life. He talked--indeed, Mrs. Jane told her
+husband after he left that Mr. Smith had talked of everything under
+the sun, and that she nearly had a fit because she could not get one
+minute to herself to break in upon Mellicent and that horrid Gray
+fellow at the piano. She had not supposed Mr. Smith could talk like
+that. She had never remembered he was such a talker!
+
+The young people had a tennis match on the school tennis court the
+next day. Mr. Smith told Miss Maggie that he thought he would drop
+around there. He said he liked very much to watch tennis games.
+
+Miss Maggie said yes, that she liked to watch tennis games, too. If
+this was just a wee bit of a hint, it quite failed of its purpose, for
+Mr. Smith did not offer to take her with him. He changed the subject,
+indeed, so abruptly, that Miss Maggie bit her lip and flushed a
+little, throwing a swift glance into his apparently serene
+countenance.
+
+Miss Maggie herself, in the afternoon, with an errand for an excuse,
+walked slowly by the tennis court. She saw Mr. Smith at once--but he
+did not seem at all interested in the playing. He had his back to the
+court, in fact. He was talking very animatedly with Mellicent
+Blaisdell. He was still talking with her--though on the opposite side
+of the court--when Miss Maggie went by again on her way home.
+
+Miss Maggie frowned and said something just under her breath about
+"that child--flirting as usual!" Then she went on, walking very fast,
+and without another glance toward the tennis ground. But a little
+farther on Miss Maggie's step lagged perceptibly, and her head lost
+its proud poise. Miss Maggie, for a reason she could not have
+explained herself, was feeling suddenly old, and weary, and very much
+alone.
+
+To the image in the mirror as she took off her hat a few minutes later
+in her own hall, she said scornfully:
+
+"Well, why shouldn't you feel old? You are old. YOU ARE OLD!" Miss
+Maggie had a habit of talking to herself in the mirror--but never
+before had she said anything like this to herself.
+
+An hour later Mr. Smith came home to supper.
+
+"Well, how did the game go?" queried Miss Maggie, without looking up
+from the stocking she was mending.
+
+"Game? Go? Oh! Why, I don't remember who did win finally," he
+answered. Nor did it apparently occur to him that for one who was so
+greatly interested in tennis, he was curiously uninformed.
+
+It did occur to Miss Maggie, however.
+
+The next day Mr. Smith left the house soon after breakfast, and,
+contrary to his usual custom, did not mention where he was going. Miss
+Maggie was surprised and displeased. More especially was she
+displeased because she WAS displeased. As if it mattered to her where
+he went, she told herself scornfully.
+
+The next day and the next it was much the same. On the third day she
+saw Jane.
+
+"Where's Mr. Smith?" demanded Jane, without preamble, glancing at the
+vacant chair by the table in the corner.
+
+Miss Maggie, to her disgust, could feel the color burning in her
+cheeks; but she managed to smile as if amused.
+
+"I don't know, I'm sure. I'm not Mr. Smith's keeper, Jane."
+
+"Well, if you were I should ask you to keep him away from Mellicent,"
+retorted Mrs. Jane tartly.
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"I mean he's been hanging around Mellicent almost every day for a
+week."
+
+Miss Maggie flushed painfully.
+
+"Nonsense, Jane! He's more than twice her age. Mr. Smith is fifty if
+he's a day."
+
+"I'm not saying he isn't," sniffed Jane, her nose uptilted. "But I do
+say, 'No fool like an old fool'!"
+
+"Nonsense!" scorned Miss Maggie again. "Mr. Smith has always been fond
+of Mellicent, and--and interested in her. But I don't believe he cares
+for her--that way."
+
+Then why does he come to see her and take her auto-riding, and hang
+around her every minute he gets a chance?" snapped Jane. "I know how
+he acts at the house, and I hear he scarcely left her side at the
+tennis match the other day."
+
+"Yes, I--" Miss Maggie did not finish her sentence. A slow change came
+to her countenance. The flush receded, leaving her face a bit white.
+
+"I wonder if the man really thinks he stands any chance," spluttered
+Jane, ignoring Miss Maggie's unfinished sentence. "Why, he's worse
+than that Donald Gray. He not only hasn't got the money, but he's old,
+as well."
+
+"Yes, we're all--getting old, Jane." Miss Maggie tossed the words off
+lightly, and smiled as she uttered them. But after Mrs. Jane had gone,
+she went to the little mirror above the mantel and gazed at herself
+long and fixedly.
+
+"Well, what if he does? It's nothing to you, Maggie Duff!" she
+muttered under her breath. Then resolutely she turned away, picked up
+her work, and fell to sewing very fast.
+
+Two days later Mellicent went back to school. Bessie went, too. Fred
+and Benny had already gone. To Miss Maggie things seemed to settle
+back into their old ways again then. With Mr. Smith she took drives
+and motor-rides, enjoying the crisp October air and the dancing
+sunlight on the reds and browns and yellows of the autumnal foliage.
+True, she used to wonder sometimes if the end always justified the
+means--it seemed an expensive business to hire an automobile to take
+them fifty miles and back, and all to verify a single date. And she
+could not help noticing that Mr. Smith appeared to have many dates
+that needed verifying--dates that were located in very diverse parts
+of the surrounding country. Miss Maggie also could not help noticing
+that Mr. Smith was getting very little new material for his Blaisdell
+book these days, though he still worked industriously over the old,
+retabulating, and recopying. She knew this, because she helped him do
+it--though she was careful to let him know that she recognized the
+names and dates as old acquaintances.
+
+To tell the truth, Miss Maggie did not like to admit, even to herself,
+that Mr. Smith must be nearing the end of his task. She did not like
+to think of the house--after Mr. Smith should have gone. She told
+herself that he was just the sort of homey boarder that she liked, and
+she wished she might keep him indefinitely.
+
+She thought so all the more when the long evenings of November brought
+a new pleasure; Mr. Smith fell into the way of bringing home books to
+read aloud; and she enjoyed that very much. They had long talks, too,
+over the books they read. In one there was an old man who fell in love
+with a young girl, and married her. Miss Maggie, as certain parts of
+this story were read, held her breath, and stole furtive glances into
+Mr. Smith's face. When it was finished she contrived to question with
+careful casualness, as to his opinion of such a marriage.
+
+Mr. Smith's answer was prompt and unequivocal. He said he did not
+believe that such a marriage should take place, nor did he believe
+that in real life, it would result in happiness. Marriage should be
+between persons of similar age, tastes, and habits, he said very
+decidedly. And Miss Maggie blushed and said yes, yes, indeed! And that
+night, when Miss Maggie gazed at herself in the glass, she looked so
+happy--that she appeared to be almost as young as Mellicent herself!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+AN AMBASSADOR OF CUPID'S
+
+
+Christmas again brought all the young people home for the holidays. It
+brought, also, a Christmas party at James Blaisdell's home. It was a
+very different party, however, from the housewarming of a year before.
+
+To begin with, the attendance was much smaller; Mrs. Hattie had been
+very exclusive in her invitations this time. She had not invited
+"everybody who ever went anywhere." There were champagne, and
+cigarettes for the ladies, too.
+
+As before, Mr. Smith and Miss Maggie went together. Miss Maggie, who
+had not attended any social gathering since Father Duff died, yielded
+to Mr. Smith's urgings and said that she would go to this. But Miss
+Maggie wished afterward that she had not gone--there were so many,
+many features about that party that Miss Maggie did not like.
+
+She did not like the champagne nor the cigarettes. She did not like
+Bessie's showy, low-cut dress, nor her supercilious airs. She did not
+like the look in Fred's eyes, nor the way he drank the champagne. She
+did not like Jane's maneuvers to bring Mellicent and Hibbard Gaylord
+into each other's company--nor the way Mr. Smith maneuvered to get
+Mellicent for himself.
+
+Of all these, except the very last, Miss Maggie talked with Mr. Smith
+on the way home--yet it was the very last that was uppermost in her
+mind, except perhaps, Fred. She did speak of Fred; but because that,
+too, was so much to her, she waited until the last before she spoke of
+it.
+
+"You saw Fred, of course," she began then.
+
+"Yes." Short as the word was, it carried a volume of meaning to Miss
+Maggie's fearful ears. She turned to him quickly.
+
+"Mr. Smith, it--it isn't true, is it?"
+
+"I'm afraid it is."
+
+"You saw him--drinking, then?"
+
+"Yes. I saw some, and I heard--more. It's just as I feared. He's got
+in with Gaylord and the rest of his set at college, and they're a bad
+lot--drinking, gambling--no good."
+
+"But Fred wouldn't--gamble, Mr. Smith! Oh, Fred wouldn't do that. And
+he's so ambitious to get ahead! Surely he'd know he couldn't get
+anywhere in his studies, if--if he drank and gambled!"
+
+"It would seem so."
+
+"Did you see his father? I saw him only a minute at the first, and he
+didn't look well a bit, to me."
+
+"Yes, I saw him. I found him in his den just as I did last year. He
+didn't look well to me, either."
+
+"Did he say anything about--Fred?"
+
+"Not a word--and that's what worries me the most. Last year he talked
+a lot about him, and was so proud and happy in his coming success.
+This time he never mentioned him; but he looked--bad."
+
+"What did he talk about?"
+
+"Oh, books, business:--nothing in particular. And he wasn't interested
+in what he did say. He was very different from last year."
+
+"Yes, I know. He is different," sighed Maggie. "He's talked with me
+quite a lot about--about the way they're living. He doesn't like--so
+much fuss and show and society."
+
+Mr. Smith frowned.
+
+"But I thought--Mrs. Hattie would get over all that by this time,
+after the newness of the money was worn off."
+
+"I hoped she would. But--she doesn't. It's worse, if anything," sighed
+Miss Maggie, as they ascended the steps at her own door.
+
+Mr. Smith frowned again.
+
+"And Miss Bessie--" he began disapprovingly, then stopped. "Now, Miss
+Mellicent--" he resumed, in a very different voice.
+
+But Miss Maggie was not apparently listening. With a rather loud
+rattling of the doorknob she was pushing open the door.
+
+"Why, how hot it is! Did I leave that damper open?" she cried,
+hurrying into the living-room.
+
+And Mr. Smith, hurrying after, evidently forgot to finish his
+sentence.
+
+Miss Maggie did not attend any more of the merrymakings of that
+holiday week. But Mr. Smith did. It seemed to Miss Maggie, indeed,
+that Mr. Smith was away nearly every minute of that long week--and it
+WAS a long week to Miss Maggie. Even the Martin girls were away many
+of the evenings. Miss Maggie told herself that that was why the house
+seemed so lonesome.
+
+But though Miss Maggie did not participate in the gay doings, she
+heard of them. She heard of them on all sides, except from Mr. Smith--
+and on all sides she heard of the devotion of Mr. Smith to Miss
+Mellicent. She concluded that this was the reason why Mr. Smith
+himself was so silent.
+
+Miss Maggie was shocked and distressed. She was also very much
+puzzled. She had supposed that Mr. Smith understood that Mellicent and
+young Gray cared for each other, and she had thought that Mr. Smith
+even approved of the affair between them. Now to push himself on the
+scene in this absurd fashion and try "to cut everybody out," as it was
+vulgarly termed--she never would have believed it of Mr. Smith in the
+world. And she was disappointed, too. She liked Mr. Smith very much.
+She had considered him to be a man of good sense and good judgment.
+And had he not himself said, not so long ago, that he believed lovers
+should be of the same age, tastes, and habits? And yet, here now he
+was--
+
+And there could be no mistake about it. Everybody was saying the same
+thing. The Martin girls brought it home as current gossip. Jane was
+highly exercised over it, and even Harriet had exclaimed over the
+"shameful flirtation Mellicent was carrying on with that man old
+enough to be her father!" No, there was no mistake. Besides, did she
+not see with her own eyes that Mr. Smith was gone every day and
+evening, and that, when he was at home at meal-time, he was silent and
+preoccupied, and not like himself at all?
+
+And it was such a pity--she had thought so much of Mr. Smith! It
+really made her feel quite ill.
+
+And Miss Maggie looked ill on the last evening of that holiday week
+when, at nine o'clock, Mr. Smith found her sitting idle-handed before
+the stove in the living-room.
+
+"Why, Miss Maggie, what's the matter with you?" cried the man, in very
+evident concern. "You don't look like yourself to-night!"
+
+Miss Maggie pulled herself up hastily.
+
+"Nonsense! I--I'm perfectly well. I'm just--tired, I guess. You're
+home early, Mr. Smith." In spite of herself Miss Maggie's voice
+carried a tinge of something not quite pleasant.
+
+Mr. Smith, however, did not appear to notice it.
+
+"Yes, I'm home early for once, thank Heaven!" he half groaned, as he
+dropped himself into a chair.
+
+"It has been a strenuous week for you, hasn't it?" Again the tinge of
+something not quite pleasant in Miss Maggie's voice.
+
+"Yes, but it's been worth it."
+
+"Of course!"
+
+Mr. Smith turned deliberately and looked at Miss Maggie. There was a
+vague questioning in his eyes. Obtaining, apparently, however, no
+satisfactory answer from Miss Maggie's placid countenance, he turned
+away and began speaking again.
+
+"Well, anyway, I've accomplished what I set out to do."
+
+"You-you've ALREADY accomplished it?" faltered Miss Maggie. She was
+gazing at him now with startled, half-frightened eyes.
+
+"Yes. Why, Miss Maggie, what's the matter? What makes you look so--so
+queer?"
+
+"Queer? Nonsense! Why, nothing--nothing at all," laughed Miss Maggie
+nervously, but very gayly. "I may have been a little--surprised, for a
+moment; but I'm very glad--very."
+
+"Glad?"
+
+"Why, yes, for--for you. Isn't one always glad when--when a love
+affair is--is all settled?"
+
+"Oh, then you suspected it." Mr. Smith smiled pleasantly, but without
+embarrassment. "It doesn't matter, of course, only--well, I had hoped
+it wasn't too conspicuous."
+
+"Oh, but you couldn't expect to hide a thing like that, Mr. Smith,"
+retorted Miss Maggie, with what was very evidently intended for an
+arch smile. "I heard it everywhere--everywhere."
+
+"The mischief you did!" frowned Mr. Smith, looking slightly annoyed.
+"Well, I suppose I couldn't expect to keep a thing like that entirely
+in the dark. Still, I don't believe the parties themselves--quite
+understood. Of course, Pennock and Gaylord knew that they were kept
+effectually away, but I don't believe they realized just how
+systematically it was done. Of course, Gray understood from the
+first."
+
+"Poor Mr. Gray! I--I can't help being sorry for him."
+
+"SORRY for him!"
+
+"Certainly; and I should think YOU might give him a little sympathy,"
+rejoined Miss Maggie spiritedly. "You KNOW how much he cared for
+Mellicent."
+
+Mr. Smith sat suddenly erect in his chair.
+
+"Cared for her! Sympathy! Why, what in the world are you talking
+about? Wasn't I doing the best I could for them all the time? Of
+COURSE, it kept HIM away from her, too, just as it did Pennock and
+Gaylord; but HE understood. Besides, he HAD her part of the time. I
+let him in whenever it was possible."
+
+"Let him in!" Miss Maggie was sitting erect now. "Whatever in the
+world are YOU talking about? Do you mean to say you were doing this
+FOR Mr. Gray, all the time?"
+
+"Why, of course! Whom else should I do it for? You didn't suppose it
+was for Pennock or Gaylord, did you? Nor for--" He stopped short and
+stared at Miss Maggie in growing amazement and dismay. "You didn't--
+you DIDN'T think--I was doing that--for MYSELF?"
+
+"Well, of course, I--I--" Miss Maggie was laughing and blushing
+painfully, but there was a new light in her eyes. "Well, anyway,
+everybody said you were!" she defended herself stoutly.
+
+"Oh, good Heavens!" Mr. Smith leaped to his feet and thrust his hands
+into his pockets, as he took a nervous turn about the room. "For
+myself, indeed! as if, in my position, I'd--How perfectly absurd!" He
+wheeled and faced her irritably. "And you believed that? Why, I'm not
+a marrying man. I don't like--I never saw the woman yet that I--" With
+his eyes on Miss Maggie's flushed, half-averted face, he stopped again
+abruptly. "Well, I'll be--" Even under his breath he did not finish
+his sentence; but, with a new, quite different expression on his face,
+he resumed his nervous pacing of the room, throwing now and then a
+quick glance at Miss Maggie's still averted face.
+
+"It WAS absurd, of course, wasn't it?" Miss Maggie stirred and spoke
+lightly, with the obvious intention of putting matters back into usual
+conditions again. "But, come, tell me, just what did you do, and how?
+I'm so interested--indeed, I am!"
+
+"Eh? What?" Mr. Smith spoke as if he was thinking of something else
+entirely. "Oh--THAT." Mr. Smith sat down, but he did not go on
+speaking at once. His eyes frowningly regarded the stove.
+
+"You said--you kept Pennock and Gaylord away," Miss Maggie hopefully
+reminded him.
+
+"Er--yes. Oh, I--it was really very simple--I just monopolized
+Mellicent myself, when I couldn't let Donald have her. That's all. I
+saw very soon that she couldn't cope with her mother alone. And
+Gaylord--well, I've no use for that young gentleman."
+
+"But you like--Donald?"
+
+"Very much. I've been looking him up for some time. He's all right."
+
+"I'm glad."
+
+"Yes." Mr. Smith spoke abstractedly, without enthusiasm. Plainly Mr.
+Smith was still thinking of something else.
+
+Miss Maggie asked other questions--Miss Maggie was manifestly
+interested--and Mr. Smith answered them, but still without enthusiasm.
+Very soon he said good-night and went to his own room.
+
+For some days after this, Mr. Smith did not appear at all like
+himself. He seemed abstracted and puzzled. Miss Maggie, who still felt
+self-conscious and embarrassed over her misconception of his
+attentions to Mellicent, was more talkative than usual in her nervous
+attempt to appear perfectly natural. The fact that she often found his
+eyes fixed thoughtfully upon her, and felt them following her as she
+moved about the room, did not tend to make her more at ease. At such
+times she talked faster than ever--usually, if possible, about some
+member of the Blaisdell family: Miss Maggie had learned that Mr. Smith
+was always interested in any bit of news about the Blaisdells.
+
+It was on such an occasion that she told him about Miss Flora and the
+new house.
+
+"I don't know, really, what I am going to do with her," she said. "I
+wonder if perhaps you could help me."
+
+"Help you?--about Miss Flora?"
+
+"Yes. Can you think of any way to make her contented?"
+
+"CONTENTED! Why, I thought--Don't tell me SHE isn't happy!" There was
+a curious note of almost despair in Mr. Smith's voice. "Hasn't she a
+new house, and everything nice to go with it?"
+
+Miss Maggie laughed. Then she sighed.
+
+"Oh, yes--and that's what's the trouble. They're TOO nice. She feels
+smothered and oppressed--as if she were visiting somewhere, and not at
+home. She's actually afraid of her maid. You see, Miss Flora has
+always lived very simply. She isn't used to maids--and the maid knows
+it, which, if you ever employed maids, you would know is a terrible
+state of affairs."
+
+"Oh, but she--she'll get used to that, in time." "Perhaps," conceded
+Miss Maggie, "but I doubt it. Some women would, but not Miss Flora.
+She is too inherently simple in her tastes. 'Why, it's as bad as
+always living in a hotel!' she wailed to me last night. 'You know on
+my trip I was so afraid always I'd do something that wasn't quite
+right, before those awful waiters in the dining-rooms, and I was
+anticipating so much getting home where I could act natural--and here
+I've got one in my own house!'"
+
+Mr. Smith frowned, but he laughed, too.
+
+"Poor Miss Flora! But why doesn't she dismiss the lady?"
+
+"She doesn't dare to. Besides, there's Hattie. She says Hattie is
+always telling her what is due her position, and that she must do this
+and do that. She's being invited out, too, to the Pennocks' and the
+Bensons'; and they're worse than the maid, she declares. She says she
+loves to 'run in' and see people, and she loves to go to places and
+spend the day with her sewing; but that these things where you go and
+stand up and eat off a jiggly plate, and see everybody, and not really
+see ANYBODY, are a nuisance and an abomination."
+
+"Well, she's about right there," chuckled Mr. Smith.
+
+"Yes, I think she is," smiled Miss Maggie; "but that isn't telling me
+how to make her contented."
+
+"Contented! Great Scott!" snapped Mr. Smith, with an irritability that
+was as sudden as it was apparently causeless. "I didn't suppose you
+had to tell any woman on this earth how to be contented--with a
+hundred thousand dollars!"
+
+"It would seem so, wouldn't it?"
+
+Something in Miss Maggie's voice sent Mr. Smith's eyes to her face in
+a keen glance of interrogation.
+
+"You mean--you'd like the chance to prove it? That you wish YOU had
+that hundred thousand?"
+
+"Oh, I didn't say--that," twinkled Miss Maggie mischievously, turning
+away.
+
+It was that same afternoon that Mr. Smith met Mrs. Jane Blaisdell on
+the street.
+
+"You're just the man I want to see," she accosted him eagerly.
+
+"Then I'll turn and walk along with you, if I may," smiled Mr. Smith.
+"What can I do for you?"
+
+"Well, I don't know as you can do anything," she sighed; "but
+somebody's got to do something. Could you--DO you suppose you could
+interest my husband in this Blaisdell business of yours?"
+
+Mr. Smith gave a start, looking curiously disconcerted.
+
+"B-Blaisdell business?" he stammered. "Why, I--I thought he was--er--
+interested in motoring and golf."
+
+"Oh, he was, for a time; but it's too cold for those now, and he got
+sick of them, anyway, before it did come cold, just as he does of
+everything. Well, yesterday he asked a question--something about
+Father Blaisdell's mother; and that gave me the idea. DO you suppose
+you could get him interested in this ancestor business? Oh, I wish you
+could! It's so nice and quiet, and it CAN'T cost much--not like golf
+clubs and caddies and gasoline, anyway. Do you think you could?"
+
+"Why, I--I don't know, Mrs. Blaisdell," murmured Mr. Smith, still a
+little worriedly. "I--I could show him what I have found, of course."
+
+"Well, I wish you would, then. Anyway, SOMETHING'S got to be done,"
+she sighed. "He's nervous as a witch. He can't keep still a minute. And he
+isn't a bit well, either. He ate such a lot of rich food and all sorts of
+stuff on our trip that he got his stomach all out of order; and now he
+can't eat anything, hardly."
+
+"Humph! Well, if his stomach's knocked out I pity him," nodded Mr.
+Smith. "I've been there."
+
+"Oh, have you? Oh, yes, I remember. You did say so when you first
+came, didn't you? But, Mr. Smith PLEASE, if you know any of those
+health fads, don't tell them to my husband. Don't, I beg of you! He's
+tried dozens of them until I'm nearly wild, and I've lost two hired
+girls already. One day it'll be no water, and the next it'll be all he
+can drink; and one week he won't eat anything but vegetables, and the
+next he won't touch a thing but meat and--is it fruit that goes with
+meat or cereals? Well, never mind. Whatever it is, he's done it. And
+lately he's taken to inspecting every bit of meat and groceries that
+comes into the house. Why, he spends half his time in the kitchen,
+nosing 'round the cupboards and refrigerator; and, of course, NO girl
+will stand that! That's why I'm hoping, oh, I AM hoping that you can
+do SOMETHING with him on that ancestor business. There, here is the
+Bensons', where I've got to stop--and thank you ever so much, Mr.
+Smith, if you will."
+
+"All right, I'll try," promised Mr. Smith dubiously, as he lifted his
+hat. But he frowned, and he was still frowning when he met Miss Maggie
+at the Duff supper-table half an hour later.
+
+"Well, I've found another one who wants me to tell to be contented,
+though afflicted with a hundred thousand dollars," he greeted her
+gloweringly.
+
+"Is that so?" smiled Miss Maggie.
+
+"Yes.--CAN'T a hundred thousand dollars bring any one satisfaction?"
+
+Miss Maggie laughed, then into her eyes came the mischievous twinkle
+that Mr. Smith had learned to watch for.
+
+"Don't blame the poor money," she said then demurely. "Blame--the way
+it is spent!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+JUST A MATTER OF BEGGING
+
+
+True to his promise, Mr. Smith "tried" Mr. Frank Blaisdell on "the
+ancestor business" very soon. Laboriously he got out his tabulated
+dates and names and carefully he traced for him several lines of
+descent from remote ancestors. Painstakingly he pointed out a
+"Submit," who had no history but the bare fact of her marriage to one
+Thomas Blaisdell, and a "Thankful Marsh," who had eluded his every
+attempt to supply her with parents. He let it be understood how
+important these missing links were, and he tried to inspire his
+possible pupil with a frenzied desire to go out and dig them up. He
+showed some of the interesting letters he had received from various
+Blaisdells far and near, and he spread before him the genealogical
+page of his latest "Transcript," and explained how one might there
+stumble upon the very missing link he was looking for.
+
+But Mr. Frank Blaisdell was openly bored. He said he didn't care how
+many children his great-grandfather had, nor what they died of; and as
+for Mrs. Submit and Miss Thankful, the ladies might bury themselves in
+the "Transcript," or hide behind that wall of dates and names till
+doomsday, for all he cared. HE shouldn't disturb 'em. He never did
+like figures, he said, except figures that represented something worth
+while, like a day's sales or a year's profits.
+
+And speaking of grocery stores, had Mr. Smith ever seen a store run
+down as his old one had since he sold out? For that matter, something
+must have got into all the grocery stores; for a poorer lot of goods
+than those delivered every day at his home he never saw. It was a
+disgrace to the trade.
+
+He said a good deal more about his grocery store--hut nothing whatever
+more about his Blaisdell ancestors; so Mr. Smith felt justified in
+considering his efforts to interest Mr. Frank Blaisdell in the
+ancestor business a failure. Certainly he never tried it again.
+
+It was in February that a certain metropolitan reporter, short for
+feature articles, ran up to Hillerton and contributed to his paper,
+the following Sunday, a write-up on "The Blaisdells One Year After,"
+enlarging on the fine new homes, the motor cars, and the luxurious
+living of the three families. And it was three days after this article
+was printed that Miss Flora appeared at Miss Maggie's, breathless with
+excitement.
+
+"Just see what I've got in the mail this morning!" she cried to Miss
+Maggie, and to Mr. Smith, who had opened the door for her.
+
+With trembling fingers she took from her bag a letter, and a small
+picture evidently cut from a newspaper.
+
+"There, see," she panted, holding them out. "It's a man in Boston, and
+these are his children. There are seven of them. He wrote me a
+beautiful letter. He said he knew I must have a real kind heart, and
+he's in terrible trouble. He said he saw in the paper about the
+wonderful legacy I'd had. and he told his wife he was going to write
+to me, to see if I wouldn't help them--if only a little, it would aid
+them that much."
+
+"He wants money, then?" Miss Maggie had taken the letter and the
+picture rather gingerly in her hands. Mr. Smith had gone over to the
+stove suddenly--to turn a damper, apparently, though a close observer
+might have noticed that he turned it back to its former position
+almost at once.
+
+"Yes," palpitated Miss Flora. "He's sick, and he lost his position,
+and his wife's sick, and two of the children, and one of 'em's lame,
+and another's blind. Oh, it was such a pitiful story, Maggie! Why,
+some days they haven't had enough to eat--and just look at me, with
+all my chickens and turkeys and more pudding every day than I can
+stuff down!"
+
+"Did he give you any references?"
+
+"References! What do you mean? He didn't ask me to HIRE him for
+anything."
+
+"No, no, dear, but I mean--did he give you any references, to show
+that he was--was worthy and all right," explained Miss Maggie
+patiently.
+
+"Of course he didn't! Why, he didn't need to. He told me himself how
+things were with him," rebuked Miss Flora indignantly. "It's all in
+the letter there. Read for yourself."
+
+"But he really ought to have given you SOME reference, dear, if he
+asked you for money."
+
+"Well, I don't want any reference. I believe him. I'd be ashamed to
+doubt a man like that! And YOU would, after you read that letter, and
+look into those blessed children's faces. Besides, he never thought of
+such a thing--I know he didn't. Why, he says right in the letter there
+that he never asked for help before, and he was so ashamed that he had
+to now."
+
+[Illustration with caption: "AND LOOK INTO THOSE BLESSED CHILDREN'S
+FACES"]
+
+Mr. Smith made a sudden odd little noise in his throat. Perhaps he got
+choked. At all events, he was seized with a fit of coughing just then.
+
+Miss Maggie turned over the letter in her hand.
+
+"Where does he tell you to send the money?"
+
+"It's right there--Box four hundred and something; and I got a money
+order, just as he said."
+
+"You GOT one! Do you mean that you've already sent this money?" cried
+Miss Maggie.
+
+"Why, yes, of course. I stopped at the office on the way down here."
+
+"And you sent--a money order?"
+
+"Yes. He said he would rather have that than a check."
+
+"I don't doubt it! You don't seem to have--delayed any."
+
+"Of course I didn't delay! Why, Maggie, he said he HAD to have it at
+once. He was going to be turned out--TURNED OUT into the streets!
+Think of those seven little children in the streets! Wait, indeed!
+Why, Maggie, what can you be thinking of?"
+
+"I'm thinking you've been the easy victim of a professional beggar,
+Flora," retorted Miss Maggie, with some spirit, handing back the
+letter and the picture.
+
+"Why, Maggie, I never knew you to be so--so unkind," charged Miss
+Flora, her eyes tearful. "He can't be a professional beggar. He SAID
+he wasn't--that he never begged before in his life."
+
+Miss Maggie, with a despairing gesture, averted her face.
+
+Miss Flora turned to Mr. Smith.
+
+"Mr. Smith, you--YOU don't think so, do you?" she pleaded.
+
+Mr. Smith grew very red--perhaps because he had to stop to cough
+again.
+
+"Well, Miss Flora, I--I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I shall have to agree
+with Miss Maggie here, to some extent."
+
+"But you didn't read the letter. You don't know how beautifully he
+talked."
+
+"You told me; and you say yourself that he gave you only a post-office
+box for an address. So you see you couldn't look him up very well."
+
+"I don't need to!" Miss Flora threw back her head a little haughtily.
+"And I'm glad I don't doubt my fellow men and women as you and Maggie
+Duff do! If either of you KNEW what you're talking about, I wouldn't
+say anything. But you don't. You CAN'T KNOW anything about this man,
+and you didn't ever get letters like this, either of you, of course.
+But, anyhow, I don't care if he ain't worthy. I wouldn't let those
+children suffer; and I--I'm glad I sent it. I never in my life was so
+happy as I was on the way here from the post-office this morning."
+
+Without waiting for a reply, she turned away majestically; but at the
+door she paused and looked back at Miss Maggie.
+
+"And let me tell you that, however good or bad this particular man may
+be, it's given me an idea, anyway," she choked. The haughtiness was
+all gone now "I know now why it hasn't seemed right to be so happy.
+It's because there are so many other folks in the world that AREN'T
+happy. Why, my chicken and turkey would choke me now if I didn't give
+some of it to--to all these others. And I'm going to--I'M GOING TO!"
+she reiterated, as she fled from the room.
+
+As the door shut crisply, Miss Maggie turned and looked at Mr. Smith.
+But Mr. Smith had crossed again to the stove and was fussing with the
+damper. Miss Maggie, after a moment's hesitation, turned and went out
+into the kitchen, without speaking.
+
+Mr. Smith and Miss Maggie saw very little of Miss Flora after this for
+some time. But they heard a good deal about her. They heard of her
+generous gifts to families all over town.
+
+A turkey was sent to every house on Mill Street, without exception,
+and so much candy given to the children that half of them were made
+ill, much to the distress of Miss Flora, who, it was said, promptly
+sent a physician to undo her work. The Dow family, hard-working and
+thrifty, and the Nolans, notorious for their laziness and
+shiftlessness, each received a hundred dollars outright. The Whalens,
+always with both hands metaphorically outstretched for alms, were loud
+in their praises of Miss Flora's great kindness of heart; but the
+Davises (Mrs. Jane Blaisdell's impecunious relatives) had very visible
+difficulty in making Miss Flora understand that gifts bestowed as she
+bestowed them were more welcome unmade.
+
+Every day, from one quarter or another, came stories like these to the
+ears of Miss Maggie and Mr. Smith. But Miss Flora was seen very
+seldom. Then one day, about a month later, she appeared as before at
+the Duff cottage, breathless and agitated; only this time, plainly,
+she had been crying.
+
+"Why, Flora, what in the world is the matter?" cried Miss Maggie, as
+she hurried her visitor into a comfortable chair and began to unfasten
+her wraps.
+
+"I'll tell you in a minute. I came on purpose to tell you. But I want
+Mr. Smith, too. Oh, he ain't here, is he?" she lamented, with a
+disappointed glance toward the vacant chair by the table in the
+corner. "I thought maybe he could help me, some way. I won't go to
+Frank, or Jim. They've--they've said so many things. Oh, I did so hope
+Mr. Smith was here!"
+
+"He is here, dear. He's in his room. He just came in. I'll call him,"
+comforted Miss Maggie, taking off Miss Flora's veil and hat and
+smoothing back her hair. "But you don't want him to find you crying
+like this, Flora. What is it, dear?"
+
+"Yes, yes, I know, but I'm not crying--I mean, I won't any more. And
+I'll tell you just as soon as you get Mr. Smith. It's only that I've
+been--so silly, I suppose. Please get Mr. Smith."
+
+"All right, dear."
+
+Miss Maggie, still with the disturbed frown between her eyebrows,
+summoned Mr. Smith. Then together they sat down to hear Miss Flora's
+story.
+
+"It all started, of course, from--from that day I brought the letter
+here--from that man in Boston with seven children, you know."
+
+"Yes, I remember," encouraged Miss Maggie.
+
+"Well, I--I did quite a lot of things after that. I was so glad and
+happy to discover I could do things for folks. It seemed to--to take
+away the wickedness of my having so much, you know; and so I gave food
+and money, oh, lots of places here in town--everywhere, 'most, that I
+could find that anybody needed it."
+
+"Yes, I know. We heard of the many kind things you did, dear." Miss
+Maggie had the air of one trying to soothe a grieved child.
+
+"But they didn't turn out to be kind--all of 'em," quavered Miss
+Flora. "Some of 'em went wrong. I don't know why. I TRIED to do 'em
+all right!"
+
+"Of course you did!"
+
+"I know; but 'tain't those I came to talk about. It's the others--the
+letters."
+
+"Letters?"
+
+"Yes. I got 'em--lots of 'em--after the first one--the one you saw.
+First I got one, then another and another, till lately I've been
+getting 'em every day, 'most, and some days two or three at a time."
+
+"And they all wanted--money, I suppose," observed Mr. Smith, "for
+their sick wives and children, I suppose."
+
+"Oh, not for children always--though it was them a good deal. But it
+was for different things--and such a lot of them! I never knew there
+could be so many kinds of such things. And I was real pleased, at
+first,--that I could help, you know, in so many places."
+
+"Then you always sent it--the money?" asked Mr. Smith.
+
+"Oh, yes. Why, I just had to, the way they wrote; I wanted to, too.
+They wrote lovely letters, and real interesting ones, too. One man
+wanted a warm coat for his little girl, and he told me all about what
+hard times they'd had. Another wanted a brace for his poor little
+crippled boy, and HE told me things. Why, I never s'posed folks could
+have such awful things, and live! One woman just wanted to borrow
+twenty dollars while she was so sick. She didn't ask me to give it to
+her. She wasn't a beggar. Don't you suppose I'd send her that money?
+Of course I would! And there was a poor blind man--he wanted money to
+buy a Bible in raised letters; and of COURSE I wouldn't refuse that!
+Some didn't beg; they just wanted to sell things. I bought a diamond
+ring to help put a boy through school, and a ruby pin of a man who
+needed the money for bread for his children. And there was--oh, there
+was lots of 'em--too many to tell."
+
+"And all from Boston, I presume," murmured Mr. Smith.
+
+"Oh, no,--why, yes, they were, too, most of 'em, when you come to
+think of it. But how did you know?"
+
+"Oh, I--guessed it. But go on. You haven't finished."
+
+"No, I haven't finished," moaned Miss Flora, almost crying again. "And
+now comes the worst of it. As I said, at first I liked it--all these
+letters--and I was so glad to help. But they're coming so fast now I
+don't know what to do with 'em. And I never saw such a lot of things
+as they want--pensions and mortgages, and pianos, and educations, and
+wedding dresses, and clothes to be buried in, and--and there were so
+many, and--and so queer, some of 'em, that I began to be afraid maybe
+they weren't quite honest, all of 'em, and of course I CAN'T send to
+such a lot as there are now, anyway, and I was getting so worried.
+Besides, I got another one of those awful proposals from those
+dreadful men that want to marry me. As if I didn't know THAT was for
+my money! Then to-day, this morning, I--I got the worst of all." From
+her bag she took an envelope and drew out a small picture of several
+children, cut apparently from a newspaper. "Look at that. Did you ever
+see that before?" she demanded.
+
+Miss Maggie scrutinized the picture.
+
+"Why, no,--yes, it's the one you brought us a month ago, isn't it?"
+
+Miss Flora's eyes flashed angrily.
+
+"Indeed, it ain't! The one I showed you before is in my bureau drawer
+at home. But I got it out this morning, when this one came, and
+compared them; and they're just exactly alike--EXACTLY!"
+
+"Oh, he wrote again, then,--wants more money, I suppose," frowned Miss
+Maggie.
+
+"No, he didn't. It ain't the same man. This man's name is Haley, and
+that one was Fay. But Mr. Haley says this is a picture of his
+children, and he says that the little girl in the corner is Katy, and
+she's deaf and dumb; but Mr. Fay said her name was Rosie, and that she
+was LAME. And all the others--their names ain't the same, either, and
+there ain't any of 'em blind. And, of course, I know now that--that
+one of those men is lying to me. Why, they cut them out of the same
+newspaper; they've got the same reading on the back! And I--I don't
+know what to believe now. And there are all those letters at home that
+I haven't answered yet; and they keep coming--why, I just dread to see
+the postman turn down our street. And one man--he wrote twice. I
+didn't like his first letter and didn't answer it; and now he says if
+I don't send him the money he'll tell everybody everywhere what a
+stingy t-tight-wad I am. And another man said he'd come and TAKE it if
+I didn't send it; and you KNOW how afraid of burglars I am! Oh what
+shall I do, what shall I do?" she begged piteously.
+
+Mr. Smith said a sharp word behind his teeth.
+
+"Do?" he cried then wrathfully. "First, don't you worry another bit,
+Miss Flora. Second, just hand those letters over to me--every one of
+them. I'll attend to 'em!"
+
+"To YOU?" gasped Miss Flora. "But--how can you?"
+
+"Oh, I'll be your secretary. Most rich people have to have
+secretaries, you know."
+
+"But how'll you know how to answer MY letters?" demanded Miss Flora
+dubiously. "Have you ever been--a secretary?"
+
+"N-no, not exactly a secretary. But--I've had some experience with
+similar letters," observed Mr. Smith dryly.
+
+Miss Flora drew a long sigh.
+
+"Oh, dear! I wish you could. Do you think you can? I hoped maybe you
+could help me some way, but I never thought of that--your answering
+'em, I mean. I supposed everybody had to answer their own letters.
+How'll you know what I want to say?"
+
+Mr. Smith laughed a little.
+
+"I shan't be answering what YOU want to say--but what _I_ want to say.
+In this case, Miss Flora, I exceed the prerogatives of the ordinary
+secretary just a bit, you see. But you can count on one thing--I
+shan't be spending any money for you."
+
+"You won't send them anything, then?"
+
+"Not a red cent."
+
+Miss Flora looked distressed.
+
+"But, Mr. Smith, I want to send some of 'em something! I want to be
+kind and charitable."
+
+"Of course you do, dear," spoke up Miss Maggie. "But you aren't being
+either kind or charitable to foster rascally fakes like that,"
+pointing to the picture in Miss Flora's lap.
+
+"Are they ALL fakes, then?"
+
+"I'd stake my life on most of 'em," declared Mr. Smith. "They have all
+the earmarks of fakes, all right."
+
+Miss Flora stirred restlessly.
+
+"But I was having a beautiful time giving until these horrid letters
+began to come."
+
+"Flora, do you give because YOU like the sensation of giving, and of
+receiving thanks, or because you really want to help somebody?" asked
+Miss Maggie, a bit wearily.
+
+"Why, Maggie Duff, I want to help people, of course," almost wept Miss
+Flora.
+
+Well, then, suppose you try and give so it will help them, then," said
+Miss Maggie. "One of the most risky things in the world, to my way of
+thinking, is a present of--cash. Don't you think so, Mr. Smith?"
+
+"Er--ah--w-what? Y-yes, of course," stammered Mr. Smith, growing
+suddenly, for some unapparent reason, very much confused. "Yes--yes, I
+do." As Mr. Smith finished speaking, he threw an oddly nervous glance
+into Miss Maggie's face.
+
+But Miss Maggie had turned back to Miss Flora.
+
+"There, dear," she admonished her, "now, you do just as Mr. Smith
+says. Just hand over your letters to him for a while, and forget all
+about them. He'll tell you how he answers them, of course. But you
+won't have to worry about them any more. Besides they'll soon stop
+coming,--won't they, Mr. Smith?"
+
+"I think they will. They'll dwindle to a few scattering ones, anyway,-
+-after I've handled them for a while."
+
+"Well, I should like that," sighed Miss Flora. "But--can't I give
+anything anywhere?" she besought plaintively.
+
+"Of course you can!" cried Miss Maggie. "But I would investigate a
+little, first, dear. Wouldn't you, Mr. Smith? Don't you believe in
+investigation?"
+
+Once again, before he answered, Mr. Smith threw a swiftly questioning
+glance into Miss Maggie's face.
+
+"Yes, oh, yes; I believe in--investigation," he said then. "And now,
+Miss Flora," he added briskly, as Miss Flora reached for her wraps,
+"with your kind permission I'll walk home with you and have a look at-
+-my new job of secretarying."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+STILL OTHER FLIES
+
+
+It was when his duties of secretaryship to Miss Flora had dwindled to
+almost infinitesimal proportions that Mr. Smith wished suddenly that
+he were serving Miss Maggie in that capacity, so concerned was he over
+a letter that had come to Miss Maggie in that morning's mail.
+
+He himself had taken it from the letter-carrier's hand and had placed
+it on Miss Maggie's little desk. Casually, as he did so, he had
+noticed that it bore a name he recognized as that of a Boston law
+firm; but he had given it no further thought until later, when, as he
+sat at his work in the living-room, he had heard Miss Maggie give a
+low cry and had looked up to find her staring at the letter in her
+hand, her face going from red to white and back to red again.
+
+"Why, Miss Maggie, what is it?" he cried, springing to his feet.
+
+As she turned toward him he saw that her eyes were full of tears.
+
+"Why, it--it's a letter telling me---" She stopped abruptly, her eyes
+on his face.
+
+"Yes, yes, tell me," he begged. "Why, you are--CRYING, dear!" Mr.
+Smith, plainly quite unaware of the caressing word he had used, came
+nearer, his face aglow with sympathy, his eyes very tender.
+
+The red surged once more over Miss Maggie's face. She drew back a
+little, though manifestly with embarrassment, not displeasure.
+
+"It's--nothing, really it's nothing," she stammered. "It's just a
+letter that--that surprised me."
+
+"But it made you cry!"
+
+"Oh, well, I--I cry easily sometimes." With hands that shook visibly,
+she folded the letter and tucked it into its envelope. Then with a
+carelessness that was a little too elaborate, she tossed it into her
+open desk. Very plainly, whatever she had meant to do in the first
+place, she did not now intend to disclose to Mr. Smith the contents of
+that letter.
+
+"Miss Maggie, please tell me--was it bad news?"
+
+"Bad? Why, of course not!" She laughed gayly.
+
+Mr. Smith thought he detected a break very like a sob in the laugh.
+
+"But maybe I could--help you," he pleaded.
+
+She shook her head.
+
+"You couldn't--indeed, you couldn't!"
+
+"Miss Maggie, was it--money matters?"
+
+He had his answer in the telltale color that flamed instantly into her
+face--but her lips said:--
+
+"It was--nothing--I mean, it was nothing that need concern you." She
+hurried away then to the kitchen, and Mr. Smith was left alone to fume
+up and down the room and frown savagely at the offending envelope
+tiptilted against the ink bottle in Miss Maggie's desk, just as Miss
+Maggie's carefully careless hand had thrown it.
+
+Miss Maggie had several more letters from the Boston law firm, and Mr.
+Smith knew it--though he never heard Miss Maggie cry out at any of the
+other ones. That they affected her deeply, however, he was certain.
+Her very evident efforts to lead him to think that they were of no
+consequence would convince him of their real importance to her if
+nothing else had done so. He watched her, therefore, covertly,
+fearfully, longing to help her, but not daring to offer his services.
+
+That the affair had something to do with money matters he was sure.
+That she would not deny this naturally strengthened him in this
+belief. He came in time, therefore, to formulate his own opinion: she
+had lost money--perhaps a good deal (for her), and she was too proud
+to let him or any one else know it.
+
+He watched then all the more carefully to see if he could detect any
+NEW economies or new deprivations in her daily living. Then, because
+he could not discover any such, he worried all the more: if she HAD
+lost that money, she ought to economize, certainly. Could she be so
+foolish as to carry her desire for secrecy to so absurd a length as to
+live just exactly as before when she really could not afford it?
+
+It was at about this time that Mr. Smith requested to have hot water
+brought to his room morning and night, for which service he insisted,
+in spite of Miss Maggie's remonstrances, on paying three dollars a
+week extra.
+
+There came a strange man to call one day. He was a member of the
+Boston law firm. Mr. Smith found out that much, but no more. Miss
+Maggie was almost hysterical after his visit. She talked very fast and
+laughed a good deal at supper that night; yet her eyes were full of
+tears nearly all the time, as Mr. Smith did not fail to perceive.
+
+"And I suppose she thinks she's hiding it from me--that her heart is
+breaking!" muttered Mr. Smith savagely to himself, as he watched Miss
+Maggie's nervous efforts to avoid meeting his eyes. "I vow I'll have
+it out of her. I'll have it out--to-morrow!"
+
+Mr. Smith did not "have it out" with Miss Maggie the following day,
+however. Something entirely outside of himself sent his thoughts into
+a new channel.
+
+He was alone in the Duff living-room, and was idling over his work, at
+his table in the corner, when Mrs. Hattie Blaisdell opened the door
+and hurried in, wringing her hands. Her face was red and swollen from
+tears.
+
+"Where's Maggie? I want Maggie! Isn't Maggie here?" she implored.
+
+Mr. Smith sprang to his feet and hastened toward her.
+
+"Why, Mrs. Blaisdell, what is it? No, she isn't here. I'm so sorry!
+Can't I do--anything?"
+
+"Oh, I don't know--I don't know," moaned the woman, flinging herself
+into a chair. "There can't anybody do anything, I s'pose; but I've GOT
+to have somebody. I can't stay there in that house--I can't--I can't--
+I CAN'T!"
+
+"No, no, of course not. And you shan't," soothed the man. "And she'll
+be here soon, I'm sure--Miss Maggie will. But just let me help you off
+with your things," he urged, somewhat awkwardly trying to unfasten her
+heavy wraps. "You'll be so warm here."
+
+"Yes, I know, I know." Impatiently she jerked off the rich fur coat
+and tossed it into his arms; then she dropped into the chair again and
+fell to wringing her hands. "Oh, what shall I do, what shall I do?"
+
+"But what is it?" stammered Mr. Smith helplessly. "Can't I do--
+something? Can't I send for--for your husband?"
+
+At the mention of her husband, Mrs. Blaisdell fell to weeping afresh.
+
+"No, no! He's gone--to Fred, you know."
+
+"To--Fred?"
+
+"Yes, yes, that's what's the matter. Oh, Fred, Fred, my boy!"
+
+"Fred! Oh, Mrs. Blaisdell, I'm so sorry! But what--IS it?"
+
+The woman dropped her hands from her face and looked up wildly, half
+defiantly.
+
+"Mr. Smith, YOU know Fred. You liked him, didn't you? He isn't bad and
+wicked, is he? And they can't shut him up if--if we pay it back--all
+of it that he took? They won't take my boy--to PRISON?"
+
+"To PRISON--FRED!"
+
+At the look of horror on Mr. Smith's face, she began to wring her
+hands again.
+
+"You don't know, of course. I'll have to tell you--I'll have to," she
+moaned.
+
+"But, my dear woman,--not unless you want to."
+
+"I do want to--I do want to! I've GOT to talk--to somebody. It's this
+way." With a visible effort she calmed herself a little and forced
+herself to talk more coherently. "We got a letter from Fred. It came
+this morning. He wanted, some money--quick. He wanted seven hundred
+dollars and forty-two cents. He said he'd got to have it--if he
+didn't, he'd go and KILL himself. He said he'd spent all of his
+allowance, every cent, and that's what made him take it--this other
+money, in the first place."
+
+"You mean--money that didn't belong to him?" Mr. Smith's voice was a
+little stern.
+
+"Yes; but you mustn't blame him, you mustn't blame him, Mr. Smith. He
+said he owed it. It was a--a debt of honor. Those were his very
+words."
+
+"Oh! A debt of honor, was it?" Mr. Smith's lips came together grimly.
+
+"Yes; and--Oh, Maggie, Maggie, what shall I do? What shall I do?" she
+broke off wildly, leaping to her feet as Miss Maggie pushed open the
+door and hurried in.
+
+"Yes, I know. Don't worry. We'll find something to do." Miss Maggie,
+white-faced, but with a cheery smile, was throwing off her heavy coat
+and her hat. A moment later she came over and took Mrs. Hattie's
+trembling hands in both her own. "Now, first, tell me all about it,
+dear."
+
+"You KNOW, then?"
+
+"Only a little," answered Miss Maggie, gently pushing the other back
+into her chair. "I met Frank. Jim telephoned him something, just
+before he left. But I want the whole story. Now, what is it?"
+
+"I was just telling Mr. Smith." She began to wring her hands again,
+but Miss Maggie caught and held them firmly. "You see, Fred, he was
+treasurer of some club, or society, or something; and--and he--he
+needed some money to--to pay a man, and he took that--the money that
+belonged to the club, you know, and he thought he could pay it back,
+little by little. But something happened--I don't know what--a new
+treasurer, or something: anyhow, it was going to be found out--that
+he'd taken it. It was going to be found out to-morrow, and so he wrote
+the letter to his father. And Jim's gone. But he looked so--oh, I
+never saw him look so white and terrible. And I'm so afraid--of what
+he'll do--to Fred. My boy--my boy!"
+
+"Is Jim going to give him the money?" asked Miss Maggie.
+
+"Yes, oh, yes. Jim drew it out of the bank. Fred said he must have
+cash. And he's going to give it to him. Oh, they can't shut him up--
+they CAN'T send him to prison NOW, can they?"
+
+"Hush, dear! No, they won't send him to prison. If Jim has gone with
+the money, Fred will pay it back and nobody will know it. But, Hattie,
+Fred DID it, just the same."
+
+"I--I know it."
+
+"And, Hattie, don't you see? Something will have to be done. Don't you
+see where all this is leading? Fred has been gambling, hasn't he?"
+
+"I--I'm afraid so."
+
+"And you know he drinks."
+
+"Y-yes. But he isn't going to, any more. He said he wasn't. He wrote a
+beautiful letter. He said if his father would help him out of this
+scrape, he'd never get into another one, and he'd SHOW him how much he
+appreciated it."
+
+"Good! I'm glad to hear that," cried Miss Maggie. "He'll come out all
+right, yet."
+
+"Of course he will!" Mr. Smith, over at the window, blew his nose
+vigorously. Mr. Smith had not sat down since Miss Maggie's entrance.
+He had crossed to the window, and had stood looking out--at nothing--
+all through Mrs. Hattie's story.
+
+"You do think he will, don't you?" choked Mrs. Hattie, turning from
+one to the other piteously. "He said he was ashamed of himself; that
+this thing had been an awful lesson to him, and he promised--oh, he
+promised lots of things, if Jim would only go up and help him out of
+this. He'd never, never have to again. But he will, I know he will, if
+that Gaylord fellow stays there. The whole thing was his fault--I know
+it was. I hate him! I hate the whole family!"
+
+"Why, Hattie, I thought you liked them!"
+
+"I don't. They're mean, stuck-up things, and they snub me awfully.
+Don't you suppose I know when I'm being snubbed? And that Gaylord
+girl--she's just as bad, and she's making my Bessie just like her. I
+got Bess into the same school with her, you know, and I was so proud
+and happy. But I'm not--any longer. Why, my Bess, my own daughter,
+actually looks down on us. She's ashamed of her own father and mother-
+-and she shows it. And it's that Gaylord girl that's done it, too, I
+believe. I thought I--I was training my daughter to be a lady--a real
+lady; but I never meant to train her to look down on--on her own
+mother!"
+
+"I'm afraid Bessie--needs something of a lesson," commented Miss
+Maggie tersely. "But Bessie will be older, one of these days, Hattie,
+and then she'll--know more."
+
+"But that's what I've been trying to teach her--'more,' something more
+all the time, Maggie," sighed Mrs. Hattie, wiping her eyes. "And I've
+tried to remember and call her Elizabeth, too.--but I can't. But,
+somehow, to-day, nothing seems of any use, any way. And even if she
+learns more and more, I don't see as it's going to do any good. I
+haven't got ANY friends now. I'm not fine enough yet, it seems, for
+Mrs. Gaylord and all that crowd. They don't want me among them, and
+they show it. And all my old friends are so envious and jealous since
+the money came that THEY don't want me, and THEY show it; so I don't
+feel comfortable anywhere."
+
+"Never mind, dear, just stop trying to live as you think other folks
+want you to live, and live as YOU want to, for a while."
+
+Mrs. Hattie smiled faintly, wiped her eyes again, and got to her feet.
+
+"You talk just like Jim. He's always saying that."
+
+"Well, just try it," smiled Miss Maggie, helping her visitor into the
+luxurious fur coat. "You've no idea how much more comfort you'll
+take."
+
+"Would I?" Mrs. Hattie's eyes were wistful, but almost instantly they
+showed an alert gleam of anger.
+
+"Well, anyhow, I'm not going to try to do what those Gaylords do any
+longer. And--and you're SURE Fred won't have to go to prison?"
+
+"I'm very sure," nodded Miss Maggie.
+
+"All right, then. I can go home now with some comfort. You always make
+me feel better, Maggie, and you, too, Mr. Smith. I'm much obliged to
+you. Good-bye."
+
+"Good-bye," said Mr. Smith.
+
+"Good-bye," said Miss Maggie. "Now, go home and go to bed, and don't
+worry any more or you'll have one of your headaches."
+
+As the door closed behind her visitor, Miss Maggie turned and sank
+into a chair. She looked worn and white, and utterly weary.
+
+"I hope she won't meet Frank or Jane anywhere." She sighed profoundly.
+
+"Why? What do you mean? Do you think they'd blame her--about this
+unfortunate affair of Fred's?"
+
+Miss Maggie sighed again.
+
+"I wasn't thinking of that. I was thinking of another matter. I just
+came from Frank's, and--"
+
+"Yes?" Something in her face sent a questioning frown to Mr. Smith's
+own countenance.
+
+"Do you remember hearing Flora say that Jane had bought a lot of the
+Benson gold-mine stock?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Well, Benson has failed; and they've just found out that that gold-
+mine stock is worth--about two cents on a dollar."
+
+"Two cents! And how much--"
+
+"About forty thousand dollars," said Miss Maggie wearily.
+
+Mr. Smith sat down.
+
+"Well, I'll be--"
+
+He did not finish his sentence.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+FRANKENSTEIN: BEING A LETTER FROM JOHN SMITH TO EDWARD D. NORTON,
+ATTORNEY AT LAW
+
+
+DEAR NED:--Wasn't there a story written once about a fellow who
+created some sort of a machine man without any soul that raised the
+very dickens and all for him? Frank--Frankenstein?--I guess that was
+it. Well, I've created a Frankenstein creature--and I'm dead up
+against it to know what to do with him.
+
+Ned, what in Heaven's name am I going to do with Mr. John Smith? Mr.
+John Smith, let me tell you, is a very healthy, persistent, insistent,
+important person, with many kind friends, a definite position in the
+world, and no small degree of influence. Worse yet (now prepare for a
+stunning blow, Ned!), Mr. Smith has been so inconsiderate as to fall
+in love. Yes, he has. And he has fallen in love as absolutely and as
+idiotically as if he were twenty-one instead of fifty-two. Now, will
+you kindly tell me how Mr. John Smith is going to fade away into
+nothingness? And, even if he finds the way to do that, shall he,
+before fading, pop the question for Mr. Stanley G. Fulton, or shall he
+trust to Mr. Stanley G. Fulton's being able to win for himself the
+love Mr. John Smith fondly hopes is his?
+
+Seriously, joking aside, I'm afraid I've made a mess of things, not
+only for myself, but for everybody else.
+
+First, my own future. I'll spare you rhapsodies, Ned. They say,
+anyway, that there's no fool like an old fool. But I will admit that
+that future looks very dark to me if I am not to have the
+companionship of the little woman, Maggie Duff. Oh, yes, it's "Poor
+Maggie." You've probably guessed as much. As for Miss Maggie herself,
+perhaps it's conceited, but I believe she's not entirely indifferent
+to Mr. John Smith. How she'll like Mr. Stanley G. Fulton I have my
+doubts; but, alas! I have no doubts whatever as to what her opinion
+will be of Mr. Stanley G. Fulton's masquerading as Mr. John Smith! And
+I don't envy Mr. Stanley G. Fulton the job he's got on his hands to
+put himself right with her, either. But there's one thing he can be
+sure of, at least; if she does care for Mr. John Smith, it wasn't Mr.
+Stanley G. Fulton's money that was the bait.
+
+Poor Maggie! (There! you see already I have adopted the Hillerton
+vernacular.) But I fear Miss Maggie is indeed "poor" now. She has had
+several letters that I don't like the looks of, and a call from a
+villainous-looking man from Boston--one of your craft, I believe
+(begging your pardon). I think she's lost some money, and I don't
+believe she had any extra to lose. She's as proud as Lucifer, however,
+and she's determined no one shall find out she's lost any money, so
+her laugh is gayer than ever. But I know, just the same. I can hear
+something in her voice that isn't laughter.
+
+Jove! Ned, what a mess I HAVE made of it! I feel more than ever now
+like the boy with his ear to the keyhole. These people are my friends-
+-or, rather, they are Mr. John Smith's friends. As for being mine--who
+am I, Smith, or Fulton? Will they be Fulton's friends, after they find
+he is John Smith? Will they be Smith's friends, even, after they find
+he is Fulton? Pleasant position I am in! What?
+
+Oh, yes, I can hear you say that it serves me right, and that you
+warned me, and that I was deaf to all remonstrances. It does. You did.
+I was. Now, we'll waste no more time on that. I've admitted all you
+could say. I've acknowledged my error, and my transgression is ever
+before me. I built the box, I walked into it, and I deliberately shut
+the cover down. But now I want to get out. I've got to get out--some
+way. I can't spend the rest of my natural existence as John Smith,
+hunting Blaisdell data--though sometimes I think I'd be willing to, if
+it's the only way to stay with Miss Maggie. I tell you, that little
+woman can make a home out of--
+
+But I couldn't stay with Miss Maggie. John Smith wouldn't have money
+enough to pay his board, to say nothing of inviting Miss Maggie to
+board with him, would he? The opening of Mr. Stanley G. Fulton's last
+will and testament on the first day of next November will effectually
+cut off Mr. John Smith's source of income. There is no provision in
+the will for Mr. John Smith. Smith would have to go to work. I don't
+think he'd like that. By the way, I wonder: do you suppose John Smith
+could earn--his salt, if he was hard put to it? Very plainly, then,
+something has got to be done about getting John Smith to fade away,
+and Stanley G. Fulton to appear before next November.
+
+And I had thought it would be so easy! Early this summer John Smith
+was to pack up his Blaisdell data, bid a pleasant adieu to Hillerton,
+and betake himself to South America. In due course, after a short trip
+to some obscure Inca city, or down some little-known river, Mr.
+Stanley G. Fulton would arrive at some South American hotel from the
+interior, and would take immediate passage for the States, reaching
+Chicago long before November first.
+
+There would be a slight flurry, of course, and a few annoying
+interviews and write-ups; but Mr. Stanley G. Fulton always was known
+to keep his affairs to himself pretty well, and the matter would soon
+be put down as merely another of the multi-millionaire's
+eccentricities. The whole thing would then be all over, and well over.
+But--nowhere had there been taken into consideration the possibilities
+of--a Maggie Duff. And now, to me, that same Maggie Duff is the only
+thing worth considering--anywhere. So there you are!
+
+And even after all this, I haven't accomplished what I set out to do--
+that is, find the future possessor of the Fulton millions (unless Miss
+Maggie--bless her!--says "yes." And even then, some one will have to
+have them after us). I have found out one thing, though. As conditions
+are now, I should not want either Frank, or James, or Flora to have
+them--not unless the millions could bring them more happiness than
+these hundred thousand apiece have brought.
+
+Honest, Ned, that miserable money has made more--But, never mind. It's
+too long a story to write. I'll tell you when I see you--if I ever do
+see you. There's still the possibility, you know, that Mr. Stanley G.
+Fulton is lost in darkest South America, and of course John Smith CAN
+go to work!
+
+I believe I won't sign any name--I haven't got any name--that I feel
+really belongs to me now. Still I might--yes, I will sign it
+
+                                        "FRANKENSTEIN."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+SYMPATHIES MISPLACED
+
+
+The first time Mr. Smith saw Frank Blaisdell, after Miss Maggie's news
+of the forty-thousand-dollar loss, he tried, somewhat awkwardly, to
+express his interest and sympathy. But Frank Blaisdell cut him short.
+
+"That's all right, and I thank you," he cried heartily. "And I know
+most folks would think losing forty thousand dollars was about as bad
+as it could be. Jane, now, is all worked up over it; can't sleep
+nights, and has gone back to turning down the gas and eating sour
+cream so's to save and help make it up. But me--I call it the best
+thing that ever happened."
+
+"Well, really," laughed Mr. Smith; "I'm sure that's a very delightful
+way to look at it--if you can."
+
+"Well, I can; and I'll tell you why. It's put me back where I belong--
+behind the counter of a grocery store. I've bought out the old stand.
+Oh, I had enough left for that, and more! Closed the deal last night.
+Gorry, but I was glad to feel the old floor under my feet again!"
+
+"But I thought you--you were tired of work, and--wanted to enjoy
+yourself," stammered Mr. Smith.
+
+Frank Blaisdell laughed.
+
+"Tired of work--wanted to enjoy myself, indeed! Yes, I know I did say
+something like that. But, let me tell you this, Mr. Smith. Talk about
+work!--I never worked so hard in my life as I have the last ten months
+trying to enjoy myself. How these folks can stand gadding 'round the
+country week in and week out, feeding their stomachs on a French
+dictionary instead of good United States meat and potatoes and squash,
+and spending their days traipsing off to see things they ain't a mite
+interested in, and their nights trying to get rested so they can go
+and see some more the next day, I don't understand."
+
+Mr. Smith chuckled.
+
+"I'm afraid these touring agencies wouldn't like to have you write
+their ads for them, Mr. Blaisdell!"
+
+"Well, they hadn't better ask me to," smiled the other grimly. "But
+that ain't all. Since I come back I've been working even harder trying
+to enjoy myself here at home--knockin' silly little balls over a ten-
+acre lot in a game a healthy ten-year-old boy would scorn to play."
+
+"But how about your new car? Didn't you enjoy riding in that?"
+bantered Mr. Smith.
+
+"Oh, yes, I enjoyed the riding well enough; but I didn't enjoy hunting
+for punctures, putting on new tires, or burrowing into the inside of
+the critter to find out why she didn't go! And that's what I was doing
+most of the time. I never did like machinery. It ain't in my line."
+
+He paused a moment, then went on a little wistfully:--
+
+"I suspect, Mr. Smith, there ain't anything in my line but groceries.
+It's all I know. It's all I ever have known. If--if I had my life to
+live over again, I'd do different, maybe. I'd see if I couldn't find
+out what there was in a picture to make folks stand and stare at it an
+hour at a time when you could see the whole thing in a minute--and it
+wa'n't worth lookin' at, anyway, even for a minute. And music, too.
+Now, I like a good tune what is a tune; but them caterwaulings and
+dirges that that chap Gray plays on that fiddle of his--gorry, Mr.
+Smith, I'd rather hear the old barn door at home squeak any day. But
+if I was younger I'd try to learn to like 'em. I would! Look at Flora,
+now. She can set by the hour in front of that phonygraph of hers, and
+not know it!"
+
+"Yes, I know," smiled Mr. Smith.
+
+"And there's books, too," resumed the other, still wistfully. "I'd
+read books--if I could stay awake long enough to do it--and I'd find
+out what there was in 'em to make a good sensible man like Jim
+Blaisdell daft over 'em--and Maggie Duff, too. Why, that little woman
+used to go hungry sometimes, when she was a girl, so she could buy a
+book she wanted. I know she did. Why, I'd 'a' given anything this last
+year if I could 'a' got interested--really interested, readin'. I
+could 'a' killed an awful lot of time that way. But I couldn't do it.
+I bought a lot of 'em, too, an' tried it; but I expect I didn't begin
+young enough. I tell ye, Mr. Smith, I've about come to the conclusion
+that there ain't a thing in the world so hard to kill as time. I've
+tried it, and I know. Why, I got so I couldn't even kill it EATIN'--
+though I 'most killed myself TRYIN' to! An' let me tell ye another
+thing. A full stomach ain't in it with bein' hungry an' knowing a good
+dinner's coming. Why, there was whole weeks at a time back there that
+I didn't know the meaning of the word 'hungry.' You'd oughter seen the
+jolt I give one o' them waiter-chaps one day when he comes up with his
+paper and his pencil and asks me what I wanted. 'Want?' says I. 'There
+ain't but one thing on this earth I want, and you can't give it to me.
+I want to WANT something. I'm tired of bein' so blamed satisfied all
+the time!'"
+
+"And what did--Alphonso say to that?" chuckled Mr. Smith
+appreciatively.
+
+"Alphonso? Oh, the waiter-fellow, you mean? Oh, he just stared a
+minute, then mumbled his usual 'Yes, sir, very good, sir,' and shoved
+that confounded printed card of his a little nearer to my nose. But,
+there! I guess you've heard enough of this, Mr. Smith. It's only that
+I was trying to tell you why I'm actually glad we lost that money.
+It's give me back my man's job again."
+
+"Good! All right, then. I won't waste any more sympathy on you,"
+laughed Mr. Smith.
+
+"Well, you needn't. And there's another thing. I hope it'll give me
+back a little of my old faith in my fellow-man."
+
+"What do you mean by that?"
+
+"Just this. I won't suspect every man, woman, and child that says a
+civil word to me now of having designs on my pocketbook. Why, Mr.
+Smith, you wouldn't believe it, if I told you, the things that's been
+done and said to get a little money out of me. Of course, the open
+gold-brick schemes I knew enough to dodge, 'most of 'em (unless you
+count in that darn Benson mining stock), and I spotted the
+blackmailers all right, most generally. But I WAS flabbergasted when a
+WOMAN tackled the job and began to make love to me--actually make love
+to me!--one day when Jane's back was turned. Gorry! DO I look such a
+fool as that, Mr. Smith? Well, anyhow, there won't be any more of that
+kind, nor anybody after my money now, I guess," he finished with a
+sage wag of his head as he turned away.
+
+To Miss Maggie that evening Mr. Smith said, after recounting the
+earlier portion of the conversation: "So you see you were right, after
+all. I shall have to own it up. Mr. Frank Blaisdell had plenty to
+retire upon, but nothing to retire to. But I'm glad--if he's happy
+now."
+
+"And he isn't the only one that that forty-thousand-dollar loss has
+done a good turn to," nodded Miss Maggie. "Mellicent has just been
+here. You know she's home from school. It's the Easter vacation,
+anyway, but she isn't going back. It's too expensive."
+
+Miss Maggie spoke with studied casualness, but there was an added
+color in her cheeks--Miss Maggie always flushed a little when she
+mentioned Mellicent's name to Mr. Smith, in spite of her indignant
+efforts not to do so.
+
+"Oh, is that true?"
+
+"Yes. Well, the Pennocks had a dance last night, and Mellicent went.
+She said she had to laugh to see Mrs. Pennock's efforts to keep Carl
+away from her--the loss of the money is known everywhere now, and has
+been greatly exaggerated, I've heard. She said that even Hibbard
+Gaylord had the air of one trying to let her down easy. Mellicent was
+immensely amused."
+
+"Where was Donald Gray?"
+
+"Oh, he wasn't there. He doesn't move in the Pennock crowd much. But
+Mellicent sees him, and--and everything's all right there, now. That's
+why Mellicent is so happy."
+
+"You mean--Has her mother given in?"
+
+"Yes. You see, Jane was at the dance, too, and she saw Carl, and she
+saw Hibbard Gaylord. And she was furious. She told Mellicent this
+morning that she had her opinion of fellows who would show so plainly
+as Carl Pennock and Hibbard Gaylord did that it was the money they
+were after."
+
+"I'm afraid--Mrs. Jane has changed her shoes again," murmured Mr.
+Smith, his eyes merry.
+
+"Has changed--oh!" Miss Maggie's puzzled frown gave way to a laugh.
+"Well, yes, perhaps the shoe is on the other foot again. But, anyway,
+she doesn't love Carl or Hibbard any more, and she does love Donald
+Gray. He HASN'T let the loss of the money make any difference to him,
+you see. He's been even more devoted, if anything. She told Mellicent
+this morning that he was a very estimable young man, and she liked him
+very much. Perhaps you see now why Mellicent is--happy."
+
+"Good! I'm glad to know it," cried Mr. Smith heartily. "I'm glad--"
+His face changed suddenly. His eyes grew somber. "I'm glad the LOSS of
+the money brought them some happiness--if the possession of it
+didn't," he finished moodily, turning to go to his own room. At the
+hall door he paused and looked back at Miss Maggie, standing by the
+table, gazing after him with troubled eyes. "Did Mellicent say--
+whether Fred was there?" he asked.
+
+"Yes. She said he wasn't there. He didn't come home for this vacation
+at all. She said she didn't know why. I suspect Mellicent doesn't know
+anything about that wretched affair of his."
+
+"We'll hope not. So the young gentleman didn't show up at all?"
+
+"No, nor Bessie. She went home with a Long Island girl. Hattie didn't
+go to the Pennocks' either. Hattie has--has been very different since
+this affair of Fred's. I think it frightened her terribly--it was so
+near a tragedy; the boy threatened to kill himself, you know, if his
+father didn't help him out."
+
+"But his father DID help him out!" flared the man irritably.
+
+"Yes, I know he did; and I'm afraid he found things in a pretty bad
+mess--when he got there," sighed Miss Maggie. "It was a bad mess all
+around."
+
+"You are exactly right!" ejaculated Mr. Smith with sudden and peculiar
+emphasis. "It is, indeed, a bad mess all around," he growled as he
+disappeared through the door.
+
+Behind him, Miss Maggie still stood motionless, looking after him with
+troubled eyes.
+
+As the spring days grew warmer, Miss Maggie had occasion many times to
+look after Mr. Smith with troubled eyes. She could not understand him
+at all. One day he would be the old delightful companion, genial,
+cheery, generously donating a box of chocolates to the center-table
+bonbon dish or a dozen hothouse roses to the mantel vase. The next, he
+would be nervous, abstracted, almost irritable. Yet she could see no
+possible reason for the change.
+
+Sometimes she wondered fearfully if Mellicent could have anything to
+do with it. Was it possible that he had cared for Mellicent, and to
+see her now so happy with Donald Gray was more than he could bear? It
+did not seem credible. There was his own statement that he had devoted
+himself to her solely and only to help keep the undesirable lovers
+away and give Donald Gray a chance.
+
+Besides, had he not said that he was not a marrying man, anyway? To be
+sure, that seemed a pity--a man so kind and thoughtful and so
+delightfully companionable! But then, it was nothing to her, of
+course--only she did hope he was not feeling unhappy over Mellicent!
+
+Miss Maggie wished, too, that Mr. Smith would not bring flowers and
+candy so often. It worried her. She felt as if he were spending too
+much money--and she had got the impression in some way that he did not
+have any too much money to spend. And there were the expensive motor
+trips, too--she feared Mr. Smith WAS extravagant. Yet she could not
+tell him so, of course. He never seemed to realize the value of a
+dollar, anyway, and he very obviously did not know how to get the most
+out of it. Look at his foolish generosity in regard to the board he
+paid her!
+
+Miss Maggie wondered sometimes if it might not be worry over money
+matters that was making him so nervous and irritable on occasions now.
+Plainly he was very near the end of his work there in Hillerton. He
+was not getting so many letters on Blaisdell matters from away,
+either. For a month now he had done nothing but a useless repetition
+of old work; and of late, a good deal of the time, he was not even
+making that pretense of being busy. For days at a time he would not
+touch his records. That could mean but one thing, of course; his work
+was done. Yet he seemed to be making no move toward departure. Not
+that she wanted him to go. She should miss him very much when he went,
+of course. But she did not like to feel that he was staying simply
+because he had nowhere to go and nothing to do. Miss Maggie did not
+believe in able-bodied men who had nowhere to go and nothing to do--
+and she wanted very much to believe in Mr. Smith.
+
+She had been under the impression that he was getting the Blaisdell
+material together for a book, and that he was intending to publish it
+himself. He had been very happy and interested. Now he was unhappy and
+uninterested. His book must be ready, but he was making no move to
+publish it. To Miss Maggie this could mean but one thing: some
+financial reverses had made it impossible for him to carry out his
+plans, and had left him stranded with no definite aim for the future.
+
+She was so sorry!--but there seemed to be nothing that she could do.
+She HAD tried to help by insisting that he pay less for his board; but
+he had not only scouted that idea, but had brought her more chocolates
+and flowers than ever--for all the world as if he had divined her
+suspicions and wished to disprove them.
+
+That Mr. Smith was trying to keep something from her, Miss Maggie was
+sure. She was the more sure, perhaps, because she herself had
+something that she was trying to keep from Mr. Smith--and she thought
+she recognized the symptoms.
+
+Meanwhile April budded into May, and May blossomed into June; and June
+brought all the Blaisdells together again in Hillerton.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+WITH EVERY JIM A JAMES
+
+
+Two days after Fred Blaisdell had returned from college, his mother
+came to see Miss Maggie. Mr. Smith was rearranging the books on Miss
+Maggie's shelves and trying to make room for the new ones he had
+brought her through the winter. When Mrs. Hattie came in, red-eyed and
+flushed-faced, he ceased his work at once and would have left the
+room, but she stopped him with a gesture.
+
+"No, don't go. You know all about it, anyway,--and I'd just as soon
+you knew the rest. So you can keep right to work. I just came down to
+talk things over with Maggie. I--I'm sure I don't know w-what I'm
+going to do--when I can't."
+
+"But you always can, dear," soothed Miss Maggie cheerily, handing her
+visitor a fan and taking a chair near her.
+
+Mr. Smith, after a moment's hesitation, turned quietly back to his
+bookshelves.
+
+"But I can't," choked Mrs. Hattie. "I--I'm going away."
+
+"Away? Where? What do you mean?" cried Miss Maggie. "Not to--live!"
+
+"Yes. That's what I came to tell you."
+
+"Why, Hattie Blaisdell, where are you going?"
+
+"To Plainville--next month."
+
+"Plainville? Oh, well, cheer up! That's only forty miles from here. I
+guess we can still see each other. Now, tell me, what does all this
+mean?"
+
+"Well, of course, it began with Fred--his trouble, you know."
+
+"But I thought Jim fixed that all up, dear."
+
+"Oh, he did. He paid the money, and nobody there at college knew a
+thing about it. But there were--other things. Fred told us some of
+them night before last. He says he's ashamed of himself, but that he
+believes there's enough left in him to make a man of him yet. But he
+says he can't do it--there."
+
+"You mean--he doesn't want to go back to college?" Miss Maggie's voice
+showed her disappointment.
+
+"Oh, he wants to go to college--but not there."
+
+"Oh," nodded Miss Maggie. "I see."
+
+"He says he's had too much money to spend--and that 't wouldn't be
+easy not to spend it--if he was back there, in the old crowd. So he
+wants to go somewhere else."
+
+"Well, that's all right, isn't it?"
+
+"Y-yes, oh, yes. Jim says it is. He's awfully happy over it, and--and
+I guess I am."
+
+"Of course you are! But now, what is this about Plainville?" "Oh, that
+grew out of it--all this. Mr. Hammond is going to open a new office in
+Plainville and he's offered Jim--James--no, JIM--I'm not going to call
+him 'James' any more!--the chance to manage it."
+
+"Well, that's fine, I'm sure."
+
+"Yes, of course that part is fine--splendid. He'll get a bigger
+salary, and all that, and--and I guess I'm glad to go, anyway--I don't
+like Hillerton any more. I haven't got any friends here, Maggie. Of
+course, I wouldn't have anything to do with the Gaylords now, after
+what's happened,--that boy getting my boy to drink and gamble, and--
+and everything. And yet--YOU know how I've strained every nerve for
+years, and worked and worked to get where my children could--COULD be
+with them!"
+
+"It didn't pay, did it, Hattie?"
+
+"I guess it didn't! They're perfectly horrid--every one of them, and I
+hate them!"
+
+"Oh, Hattie, Hattie!"
+
+"Well, I do. Look at what they've done to Fred, and Bessie, too! I
+shan't let HER be with them any more, either. There aren't any folks
+here we can be with now. That's why I don't mind going away. All our
+friends that we used to know don't like us any more, they're so
+jealous on account of the money. Oh, yes, I know you think I'm to
+blame for that," she went on aggrievedly. "I can see you do, by your
+face. Jim says so, too. And maybe I am. But it was just so I could get
+ahead. I did so want to BE somebody!"
+
+"I know, Hattie." Miss Maggie looked as if she would like to say
+something more--but she did not say it.
+
+Over at the bookcase Mr. Smith was abstractedly opening and shutting
+the book in his hand. His gaze was out the window near him. He had not
+touched the books on the shelves for some time.
+
+"And look at how I've tried and see what it has come to--Bessie so
+high-headed and airy she makes fun of us, and Fred a gambler and a
+drunkard, and 'most a thief. And it's all that horrid hundred thousand
+dollars!"
+
+The book in Mr. Smith's hand slipped to the floor with a bang; but no
+one was noticing Mr. Smith.
+
+"Oh, Hattie, don't blame the hundred thousand dollars," cried Miss
+Maggie.
+
+"Jim says it was, and Fred does, too. They talked awfully. Fred said
+it was all just the same kind of a way that I'd tried to make folks
+call Jim 'James.' He said I'd been trying to make every single 'Jim'
+we had into a 'James,' until I'd taken away all the fun of living. And
+I suppose maybe he's right, too." Mrs. Hattie sighed profoundly.
+"Well, anyhow, I'm not going to do it any more. There isn't any fun in
+it, anyway. It doesn't make any difference how hard I tried to get
+ahead, I always found somebody else a little 'aheader' as Benny calls
+it. So what's the use?"
+
+"There isn't any use--in that kind of trying, Hattie."
+
+"No, I suppose there isn't. Jim said I was like the little boy that
+they asked what would make him the happiest of anything in the world,
+and he answered, 'Everything that I haven't got.' And I suppose I have
+been something like that. But I don't see as I'm any worse than other
+folks. Everybody goes for money; but I'm sure I don't see why--if it
+doesn't make them any happier than it has me! Well, I must be going."
+Mrs. Hattie rose wearily. "We shall begin to pack the first of the
+month. It looks like a mountain to me, but Jim and Fred say they'll
+help, and--"
+
+Mr. Smith did not hear any more, for Miss Maggie and her guest had
+reached the hall and had closed the door behind them. But when Miss
+Maggie returned, Mr. Smith was pacing up and down the room nervously.
+
+"Well," he demanded with visible irritation, as soon as she appeared,
+"will you kindly tell me if there is anything--desirable--that that
+confounded money has done?"
+
+Miss Maggie looked up in surprise.
+
+"You mean--Jim Blaisdell's money?" she asked.
+
+"I mean all the money--I mean the three hundred thousand dollars that
+those three people received. Has it ever brought any good or
+happiness--anywhere?"
+
+"Oh, yes, I know," smiled Miss Maggie, a little sadly. "But--" Her
+countenance changed abruptly. A passionate earnestness came to her
+eyes. "Don't blame the money--blame the SPENDING of it! The money
+isn't to blame. The dollar that will buy tickets to the movies will
+just as quickly buy a good book; and if you're hungry, it's up to you
+whether you put your money into chocolate eclairs or roast beef. Is
+the MONEY to blame that goes for a whiskey bill or a gambling debt
+instead of for shoes and stockings for the family?"
+
+"Why, n-no." Mr. Smith had apparently lost his own irritation in his
+amazement at hers. "Why, Miss Maggie, you--you seem worked up over
+this matter."
+
+"I am worked up. I'm always worked up--over money. It's been money,
+money, money, ever since I could remember! We're all after it, and we
+all want it, and we strain every nerve to get it. We think it's going
+to bring us happiness. But it won't--unless we do our part. And there
+are some things that even money can't buy. Besides, it isn't the money
+that does the things, anyway,--it's the man behind the money. What do
+you think money is good for, Mr. Smith?"
+
+Mr. Smith, now thoroughly dazed, actually blinked his eyes at the
+question, and at the vehemence with which it was hurled into his face.
+
+"Why, Miss Maggie, it--it--I--I--"
+
+"It isn't good for anything unless we can exchange it for something we
+want, is it?"
+
+"Why, I--I suppose we can GIVE it--"
+
+"But even then we're exchanging it for something we want, aren't we?
+We want to make the other fellow happy, don't we?"
+
+"Well, yes, we do." Mr. Smith spoke with sudden fervor. "But it
+doesn't always work that way. Look at the case right here. Now, very
+likely this--er--Mr. Fulton thought those three hundred thousand
+dollars were going to make these people happy. Personification of
+happiness--that woman was, a few minutes ago, wasn't she?" Mr. Smith
+had regained his air of aggrieved irritation.
+
+"No, she wasn't. But that wasn't the money's fault. It was her own.
+She didn't know how to spend it. And that's just what I mean when I
+say we've got to do our part--money won't buy happiness, unless we
+exchange it for the things that will bring happiness. If we don't know
+how to get any happiness out of five dollars, we won't know how to get
+it out of five hundred, or five thousand, or five hundred thousand,
+Mr. Smith. I don't mean that we'll get the same amount out of five
+dollars, of course,--though I've seen even that happen sometimes!--but
+I mean that we've got to know how to spend five dollars--and to make
+the most of it."
+
+"I reckon--you're right, Miss Maggie."
+
+"I know I'm right, and 't isn't the money's fault when things go
+wrong. Money's all right. I love money. Oh, yes, I know--we're taught
+that the love of money is the root of all evil. But I don't think it
+should be so--necessarily. I think money's one of the most wonderful
+things in the world. It's more than a trust and a gift--it's an
+opportunity, and a test. It brings out what's strongest in us, every
+time. And it does that whether it's five dollars or five hundred
+thousand dollars. If--if we love chocolate eclairs and the movies
+better than roast beef and good books, we're going to buy them,
+whether they're chocolate eclairs and movies on five dollars, or or--
+champagne suppers and Paris gowns on five hundred thousand dollars!"
+
+"Well, by--by Jove!" ejaculated Mr. Smith, rather feebly.
+
+Miss Maggie gave a shamefaced laugh and sank back in her chair.
+
+"You don't know what to think of me, of course; and no wonder," she
+sighed. "But I've felt so bad over this--this money business right
+here under my eyes. I love them all, every one of them. And YOU know
+how it's been, Mr. Smith. Hasn't it worked out to prove just what I
+say? Take Hattie this afternoon. She said that Fred declared she'd
+been trying to make every one of her 'Jims' a 'James,' ever since the
+money came. But he forgot that she did that very same thing before it
+came. All her life she's been trying to make five dollars look like
+ten; so when she got the hundred thousand, it wasn't six months before
+she was trying to make that look like two hundred thousand."
+
+"I reckon you're right."
+
+"Jane is just the opposite. Jane used to buy ingrain carpets and cheap
+chairs and cover them with mats and tidies to save them."
+
+"You're right she did!"
+
+Miss Maggie laughed appreciatively.
+
+"They got on your nerves, too, didn't they? Such layers upon layers of
+covers for everything! It brought me to such a pass that I went to the
+other extreme. I wouldn't protect ANYTHING--which was very
+reprehensible, of course. Well, now she has pretty dishes and solid
+silver--but she hides them in bags and boxes, and never uses them
+except for company. She doesn't take any more comfort with them than
+she did with the ingrain carpets and cheap chairs. Of course, that's a
+little thing. I only mentioned it to illustrate my meaning. Jane
+doesn't know how to play. She never did. When you can't spend five
+cents out of a hundred dollars for pleasure without wincing, you
+needn't expect you're going to spend five dollars out of a hundred
+thousand without feeling the pinch," laughed Miss Maggie.
+
+"And Miss Flora? You haven't mentioned her," observed Mr. Smith, a
+little grimly.
+
+Miss Maggie smiled; then she sighed.
+
+"Poor Flora--and when she tried so hard to quiet her conscience
+because she had so much money! But YOU know how that was. YOU helped
+her out of that scrape. And she's so grateful! She told me yesterday
+that she hardly ever gets a begging letter now."
+
+"No; and those she does get she investigates," asserted Mr. Smith. "So
+the fakes don't bother her much these days. And she's doing a lot of
+good, too, in a small way."
+
+"She is, and she's happy now," declared Miss Maggie, "except that she
+still worries a little because she is so happy. She's dismissed the
+maid and does her own work--I'm afraid Miss Flora never was cut out
+for a fine-lady life of leisure, and she loves to putter in the
+kitchen. She says it's such a relief, too, not to keep dressed up in
+company manners all the time, and not to have that horrid girl spying
+'round all day to see if she behaves proper. But Flora's a dear."
+
+"She is! and I reckon it worked the best with her of any of them."
+
+"WORKED?" hesitated Miss Maggie.
+
+"Er--that is, I mean, perhaps she's made the best use of the hundred
+thousand," stammered Mr. Smith. "She's been--er--the happiest."
+
+"Why, y-yes, perhaps she has, when you come to look at it that way."
+
+"But you wouldn't--er--advise this Mr. Fulton to leave her--his twenty
+millions?"
+
+"Mercy!" laughed Miss Maggie, throwing up both hands. "She'd faint
+dead away at the mere thought of it."
+
+"Humph! Yes, I suppose so." Mr. Smith turned on his heel and resumed
+his restless pacing up and down the room. From time to time he glanced
+furtively at Miss Maggie. Miss Maggie, her hands idly resting in her
+lap, palms upward, was gazing fixedly at nothing.
+
+"Of just what--are you thinking?" he demanded at last, coming to a
+pause at her side.
+
+"I was thinking--of Mr. Stanley G. Fulton," she answered, not looking
+up.
+
+"Oh, you were!" There was an odd something in Mr. Smith's voice.
+
+"Yes. I was wondering--about those twenty millions."
+
+"Oh, you were!" The odd something had increased, but Miss Maggie's
+eyes were still dreamily fixed on space.
+
+"Yes. I was wondering what he had done with them."
+
+"Had done with them!"
+
+"Yes, in the letter, I mean." She looked up now in faint surprise.
+"Don't you remember? There was a letter--a second letter to be opened
+in two years' time. They said that that was to dispose of the
+remainder of the property--his last will and testament."
+
+"Oh, yes, I remember," assented Mr. Smith, turning on his heel again.
+"Then you think--Mr. Fulton is--dead?" Mr. Smith was very carefully
+not meeting Miss Maggie's eyes.
+
+"Why, yes, I suppose so." Miss Maggie turned back to her meditative
+gazing at nothing. "The two years are nearly up, you know,--I was
+talking with Jane the other day--just next November."
+
+"Yes, I know." The words were very near a groan, but at once Mr. Smith
+hurriedly repeated, "I know--I know!" very lightly, indeed, with an
+apprehensive glance at Miss Maggie.
+
+"So it seems to me if he were alive that he'd be back by this time.
+And so I was wondering--about those millions," she went on musingly.
+"What do YOU suppose he has done with them?" she asked, with sudden
+animation, turning full upon him.
+
+"Why, I--I--How should I know?" stuttered Mr. Smith, a swift crimson
+dyeing his face.
+
+Miss Maggie laughed merrily.
+
+"You wouldn't, of course--but that needn't make you look as if I'd
+intimated that YOU had them! I was only asking for your opinion, Mr.
+Smith," she twinkled, with mischievous eyes.
+
+"Of course!" Mr. Smith laughed now, a little precipitately. "But,
+indeed, Miss Maggie, you turned so suddenly and the question was so
+unexpected that I felt like the small boy who, being always blamed for
+everything at home that went wrong, answered tremblingly, when the
+teacher sharply demanded, 'Who made the world?' 'Please, ma'am, I did;
+but I'll never do it again!'"
+
+"And now," said Mr. Smith, when Miss Maggie had done laughing at his
+little story, "suppose I turn the tables on you? What do YOU think Mr.
+Fulton has done--with that money?"
+
+"I don't know what to think." Miss Maggie shifted her position, her
+face growing intently interested again. "I've been trying to remember
+what I know of the man."
+
+"What you--KNOW of him!" cried Mr. Smith, with startled eyes.
+
+"Yes, from the newspaper and magazine accounts of him. Of course,
+there was quite a lot about him at the time the money came; and Flora
+let me read some things she'd saved, in years gone. Flora was always
+interested in him, you know."
+
+"Well, what did you find?"
+
+"Why, not much, really, about the man. Besides, very likely what I did
+find wasn't true. Oh, he was eccentric. Everything mentioned that. But
+I was trying to find out how he'd spent his money himself. I thought
+that might give me a clue--about the will, I mean."
+
+"Oh, I see."
+
+"Yes; but I didn't find much. In spite of his reported eccentricities,
+he seems to me to have done nothing very extraordinary."
+
+"Oh, indeed!" murmured Mr. Smith.
+
+"He doesn't seem to have been very bad."
+
+"No?" Mr. Smith's eyebrows went up.
+
+"Nor very good either, for that matter."
+
+"Sort of a--nonentity, perhaps." Mr. Smith's lips snapped tight shut.
+
+Miss Maggie laughed softly.
+
+"Perhaps--though I suppose he couldn't really be that--not very well--
+with twenty millions, could he? But I mean, he wasn't very bad, nor
+very good. He didn't seem to be dissipated, or mixed up in any
+scandal, or to be recklessly extravagant, like so many rich men. On
+the other hand, I couldn't find that he'd done any particular good in
+the world. Some charities were mentioned, but they were perfunctory,
+apparently, and I don't believe, from the accounts, that he ever
+really INTERESTED himself in any one--that he ever really cared for--
+any one."
+
+"Oh, you don't!" If Miss Maggie had looked up, she would have met a
+most disconcerting expression in the eyes bent upon her. But Miss
+Maggie did not look up.
+
+"No," she proceeded calmly. "Why, he didn't even have a wife and
+children to stir him from his selfishness. He had a secretary, of
+course, and he probably never saw half his begging letters. I can
+imagine his tossing them aside with a languid 'Fix them up, James,--
+give the creatures what they want, only don't bother me.'"
+
+"He NEVER did!" stormed Mr. Smith; then, hastily: "I'm sure he never
+did. You wrong him. I'm sure you wrong him."
+
+"Maybe I do," sighed Miss Maggie. "But when I think of what he might
+do--Twenty millions! I can't grasp it. Can you? But he didn't do--
+anything--worth while with them, so far as I can see, when he was
+living, so that's why I can't imagine what his will may be. Probably
+the same old perfunctory charities, however, with the Chicago law firm
+instead of 'James' as disburser--unless, of course, Hattie's
+expectations are fulfilled, and he divides them among the Blaisdells
+here."
+
+"You think--there's something worth while he MIGHT have done with
+those millions, then?" pleaded Mr. Smith, a sudden peculiar
+wistfulness in his eyes.
+
+"Something he MIGHT have done with them!" exclaimed Miss Maggie. "Why,
+it seems to me there's no end to what he might have done--with twenty
+millions."
+
+"What would YOU do?"
+
+"I?--do with twenty millions?" she breathed.
+
+"Yes, you." Mr. Smith came nearer, his face working with emotion.
+"Miss Maggie, if a man with twenty millions--that is, could you love a
+man with twenty millions, if--if Mr. Fulton should ask you--if _I_
+were Mr. Fulton--if--" His countenance changed suddenly. He drew
+himself up with a cry of dismay. "Oh, no--no--I've spoiled it all now.
+That isn't what I meant to say first. I was going to find out--I mean,
+I was going to tell--Oh, good Heavens, what a--That confounded money--
+again!"
+
+Miss Maggie sprang to her feet.
+
+"Why, Mr. Smith, w-what--" Only the crisp shutting of the door
+answered her. With a beseeching look and a despairing gesture Mr.
+Smith had gone.
+
+Once again Miss Maggie stood looking after Mr. Smith with dismayed
+eyes. Then, turning to sit down, she came face to face with her own
+image in the mirror.
+
+"Well, now you've done it, Maggie Duff," she whispered wrathfully to
+the reflection in the glass. "And you've broken his heart! He was--was
+going to say something--I know he was. And you? You've talked money,
+money, MONEY to him for an hour. You said you LOVED money; and you
+told what you'd do--if you had twenty millions of dollars. And you
+know--you KNOW he's as poor as Job's turkey, and that just now he's
+more than ever plagued over--money! And yet you--Twenty millions of
+dollars! As if that counted against--"
+
+With a little sobbing cry Miss Maggie covered her face with her hands
+and sat down, helplessly, angrily.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+REFLECTIONS--MIRRORED AND OTHERWISE
+
+
+Miss Maggie was still sitting in the big chair with her face in her
+hands when the door opened and Mr. Smith came in. He was very white.
+
+Miss Maggie, dropping her hands and starting up at his entrance,
+caught a glimpse of his face in the mirror in front of her. With a
+furtive, angry dab of her fingers at her wet eyes, she fell to
+rearranging the vases and photographs on the mantel.
+
+"Oh, back again, Mr. Smith?" she greeted him, with studied unconcern.
+
+Mr. Smith shut the door and advanced determinedly.
+
+"Miss Maggie, I've got to face this thing out, of course. Even if I
+had--made a botch of things at the very start, it didn't help any to--
+to run away, as I did. And I was a coward to do it. It was only
+because I--I--But never mind that. I'm coming now straight to the
+point. Miss Maggie, will you--marry me?"
+
+The photograph in Miss Maggie's hand fell face down on the shelf. Miss
+Maggie's fingers caught the edge of the mantel in a convulsive grip. A
+swift glance in the mirror before her disclosed Mr. Smith's face just
+over her shoulder, earnest, pleading, and still very white. She
+dropped her gaze, and turned half away. She did not want to meet Mr.
+Smith's eyes just then. She tried to speak, but only a half-choking
+little breath came.
+
+Then Mr. Smith spoke again.
+
+"Miss Maggie, please don't say no--yet. Let me--explain--about how I
+came here, and all that. But first, before I do that, let me tell you
+how--how I love you--how I have loved you all these long months. I
+THINK I loved you from the first time I saw you. Whatever comes, I
+want you to know that. And if you could care for me a little--just a
+little, I'm sure I could make it more--in time, so you would marry me.
+And we would be so happy! Don't you believe I'd try to make you happy-
+-dear?"
+
+"Yes, oh, yes," murmured Miss Maggie, still with her head turned away.
+
+"Good! Then all you've got to say is that you'll let me try. And we
+will be happy, dear! Why, until I came here to this little house, I
+didn't know what living, real living, was. And I HAVE been, just as
+you. said, a selfish old thing."
+
+Miss Maggie, with a start of surprise, faced the image in the mirror;
+but Mr. Smith was looking at her, not at her reflection, so she did
+not meet his ayes.
+
+"Why, I never--" she stammered.
+
+"Yes, you did, a minute ago. Don't you remember? Oh, of course you
+didn't realize--everything, and perhaps you wouldn't have said it if
+you'd known. But you said it--and you meant it, and I'm glad you said
+it. And, dear little woman, don't you see? That's only another reason
+why you should say yes. You can show me how not to be selfish."
+
+"But, Mr. Smith, I--I-" stammered Miss Maggie, still with puzzled
+eyes.
+
+"Yes, you can. You can show me how to make life really worth while,
+for me, and for--for lots of others And NOW I have some one to care
+for. And, oh, little woman, I--I care so much, it can't be that you--.
+you don't care--any!"
+
+Miss Maggie caught her breath and turned away again.
+
+"Don't you care--a little?"
+
+The red crept up Miss Maggie's neck to her forehead but still she was
+silent.
+
+"If I could only see your eyes," pleaded the man. Then, suddenly, he
+saw Miss Maggie's face in the mirror. The next moment Miss Maggie
+herself turned a little, and in the mirror their eyes met--and in the
+mirror Mr. Smith found his answer. "You DO care--a LITTLE!" he
+breathed, as he took her in his arms.
+
+"But I don't!" Miss Maggie shook her head vigorously against his coat-
+collar.
+
+"What?" Mr. Smith's clasp loosened a little.
+
+"I care--a GREAT DEAL," whispered Miss Maggie to the coat-collar, with
+shameless emphasis.
+
+"You--darling!" triumphed the man, bestowing a rapturous kiss on the
+tip of a small pink ear--the nearest point to Miss Maggie's lips that
+was available, until, with tender determination, he turned her face to
+his.
+
+A moment later, blushing rosily, Miss Maggie drew herself away.
+
+"There, we've been quite silly enough--old folks like us."
+
+"We're not silly. Love is never silly-not real love like ours.
+Besides, we're only as old as we feel. Do you feel old? I don't. I've
+lost--YEARS since this morning. And you know I'm just beginning to
+live--really live, anyway! I feel--twenty-one."
+
+"I'm afraid you act it," said Miss Maggie, with mock severity.
+
+"YOU would--if you'd been through what _I_ have," retorted Mr. Smith,
+drawing a long breath. "And when I think what a botch I made of it, to
+begin with--You see, I didn't mean to start off with that, first
+thing; and I was so afraid that--that even if you did care for John
+Smith, you wouldn't for me--just at first. But you do, dear!" At arms'
+length he held her off, his hands on her shoulders. His happy eyes
+searching her face saw the dawn of the dazed, question.
+
+"Wouldn't care for YOU if I did for John Smith! Why, you ARE John
+Smith. What do you mean?" she demanded, her eyes slowly sweeping him
+from head to foot and back again. "What DO you mean?"
+
+"MISS MAGGIE!" Instinctively his tongue went back to the old manner of
+address, but his hands still held her shoulders. "You don't mean--you
+can't mean that--that you didn't understand--that you DON'T understand
+that I am--Oh, good Heavens! Well, I have made a mess of it this
+time," he groaned. Releasing his hold on her shoulders, he turned and
+began to tramp up and down the room. "Nice little John-Alden-Miles-
+Standish affair this is now, upon my word! Miss Maggie, have I got to-
+-to propose to you all over again for--for another man, now?"
+
+"For--ANOTHER MAN! I--I don't think I understand you." Miss Maggie had
+grown a little white.
+
+"Then you don't know--you didn't understand a few minutes ago, when I-
+-I spoke first, when I asked you about--about those twenty millions--"
+
+She lifted her hand quickly, pleadingly.
+
+"Mr. Smith, please, don't let's bring money into it at all. I don't
+care--I don't care a bit if you haven't got any money."
+
+Mr. Smith's jaw dropped.
+
+"If I HAVEN'T got any money!" he ejaculated stupidly.
+
+"No! Oh, yes, I know, I said I loved money." The rich red came back to
+her face in a flood. "But I didn't mean--And it's just as much of a
+test and an opportunity when you DON'T have money--more so, if
+anything. I didn't mean it--that way. I never thought of--of how you
+might take it--as if I WANTED it. I don't. Indeed, I don't! Oh, can't
+you-understand?"
+
+"Understand! Good Heavens!" Mr. Smith threw up both his hands. "And I
+thought I'd given myself away! Miss Maggie." He came to her and stood
+close, but he did not offer to touch her. "I thought, after I'd said
+what I did about--about those twenty millions that you understood--
+that you knew I was--Stanley Fulton himself."
+
+"That you were--who?" Miss Maggie stood motionless, her eyes looking
+straight into his, amazed incredulous.
+
+"Stanley Fulton. I am Stanley Fulton. My God! Maggie, don't look at me
+like that. I thought--told you. Indeed, I did!"
+
+She was backing away now, slowly, step by step. Anger, almost
+loathing, had taken the place of the amazement and incredulity in her
+eyes.
+
+"And YOU are Mr. Fulton?"
+
+"Yes, yes! But--" "And you've been here all these months--yes, years--
+under a false name, pretending to be what you weren't--talking to us,
+eating at our tables, winning our confidence, letting us talk to you
+about yourself, even pretending that--Oh, how could you?" Her voice
+broke.
+
+"Maggie, dearest," he begged, springing toward her, "if you'll only
+let me--"
+
+But she stopped him peremptorily, drawing herself to her full height.
+
+"I am NOT your dearest," she flamed angrily. "I did not give my love--
+to YOU."
+
+"Maggie!" he implored.
+
+But she drew back still farther.
+
+"No! I gave it to John Smith--gentleman, I supposed. A man--poor, yes,
+I believed him poor; but a man who at least had a right to his NAME! I
+didn't give it to Mr. Stanley G. Fulton, spy, trickster, who makes
+life itself a masquerade for SPORT! I do not know Mr. Stanley G.
+Fulton, and--I do not wish to." The words ended in a sound very like a
+sob; but Miss Maggie, with her head still high, turned her back and
+walked to the window.
+
+The man, apparently stunned for a moment, stood watching her, his eyes
+grieved, dismayed, hopeless. Then, white-faced, he turned and walked
+toward the door. With his hand almost on the knob he slowly wheeled
+about and faced the woman again. He hesitated visibly, then in a dull,
+lifeless voice he began to speak.
+
+"Miss Maggie, before John Smith steps entirely out of your life, he
+would like to say just this, please, not on justification, but in
+explanation of----of Stanley G. Fulton. Fulton did not intend to be a
+spy, or a trickster, or to make life a masquerade for--sport. He was a
+lonely old man--he felt old. He had no wife or child. True, he had no
+one to care for, but--he had no one to care for HIM, either. Remember
+that, please. He did have a great deal of money--more than he knew
+what to do with. Oh, he tried--various ways of spending it. Never mind
+what they were. They are not worth speaking of here. They resulted,
+chiefly, in showing him that he wasn't--as wise as he might be in that
+line, perhaps."
+
+The man paused and wet his lips. At the window Miss Maggie still
+stood, with her back turned as before.
+
+"The time came, finally," resumed the man, "when Fulton began to
+wonder what would become of his millions when he was done with them.
+He had a feeling that he would like to will a good share of them to
+some of his own kin; but he had no nearer relatives than some cousins
+back East, in--Hillerton."
+
+Miss Maggie at the window drew in her breath, and held it suspended,
+letting it out slowly.
+
+"He didn't know anything about these cousins," went on the man dully,
+wearily, "and he got to wondering what they would do with the money. I
+think he felt, as you said to-day that you feel, that one must know
+how to spend five dollars if one would get the best out of five
+thousand. So Fulton felt that, before he gave a man fifteen or twenty
+millions, he would like to know--what he would probably do with them.
+He had seen so many cases where sudden great wealth had brought--great
+sorrow.
+
+"And so then he fixed up a little scheme; he would give each one of
+these three cousins of his a hundred thousand dollars apiece, and
+then, unknown to them, he would get acquainted with them, and see
+which of them would be likely to make the best use of those twenty
+millions. It was a silly scheme, of course,--a silly, absurd
+foolishness from beginning to end. It--"
+
+He did not finish his sentence. There was a rush of swift feet, a
+swish of skirts, then full upon him there fell a whirlwind of sobs,
+clinging arms, and incoherent ejaculations.
+
+"It wasn't silly--it wasn't silly. It was perfectly splendid! I see it
+all now. I see it all! I understand. Oh, I think it was--WONDERFUL!
+And I--I'm so ASHAMED!"
+
+Later--very much later, when something like lucid coherence had become
+an attribute of their conversation, as they sat together upon the old
+sofa, the man drew a long breath and said:--
+
+"Then I'm quite forgiven?"
+
+"There is nothing to forgive."
+
+"And you consider yourself engaged to BOTH John Smith and Stanley G.
+Fulton?"
+
+"It sounds pretty bad, but--yes," blushed Miss Maggie.
+
+"And you must love Stanley G. Fulton just exactly as well--no, a
+little better, than you did John Smith."
+
+"I'll--try to--if he's as lovable." Miss Maggie's head was at a saucy
+tilt.
+
+"He'll try to be; but--it won't be all play, you know, for you. You've
+got to tell him what to do with those twenty millions. By the way,
+what WILL you do with them?" he demanded interestedly.
+
+Miss Maggie looked up, plainly startled.
+
+"Why, yes, that's so. You--you--if you're Mr. Fulton, you HAVE got--
+And I forgot all about--those twenty millions. And they're YOURS, Mr.
+Smith!"
+
+"No, they're not Mr. Smith's," objected the man. "They belong to
+Fulton, if you please. Furthermore, CAN'T you call me anything but
+that abominable 'Mr. Smith'? My name is Stanley. You might--er--
+abbreviate it to--er--' Stan,' now."
+
+"Perhaps so--but I shan't," laughed Miss Maggie,--"not yet. You may be
+thankful I have wits enough left to call you anything--after becoming
+engaged to two men all at once."
+
+"And with having the responsibility of spending twenty millions, too."
+
+"Oh, yes, the money!" Her eyes began to shine. She drew another long
+breath. "Oh, we can do so much with that money! Why, only think what
+is needed right HERE--better milk for the babies, and a community
+house, and the streets cleaner, and a new carpet for the church, and a
+new hospital with--"
+
+"But, see here, aren't you going to spend some of that money on
+yourself?" he demanded. "Isn't there something YOU want?"
+
+She gave him a merry glance.
+
+"Myself? Dear me, I guess I am! I'm going to Egypt, and China, and
+Japan--with you, of course; and books--oh, you never saw such a lot of
+books as I shall buy. And--oh, I'll spend heaps on just my selfish
+self--you see if I don't! But, first,--oh, there are so many things
+that I've so wanted to do, and it's just come over me this minute that
+NOW I can do them! And you KNOW how Hillerton needs a new hospital."
+Her eyes grew luminous and earnest again. "And I want to build a store
+and run it so the girls can LIVE, and a factory, too, and decent homes
+for the workmen, and a big market, where they can get their food at
+cost; and there's the playground for the children, and--"
+
+But Mr. Smith was laughing, and lifting both hands in mock despair.
+
+"Look here," he challenged, "I THOUGHT you were marrying ME, but--ARE
+you marrying me or that confounded money?"
+
+Miss Maggie laughed merrily.
+
+"Yes, I know; but you see--" She stopped short. An odd expression came
+to her eyes.
+
+Suddenly she laughed again, and threw into his eyes a look so merry,
+so whimsical, so altogether challenging, that he demanded:--
+
+"Well, what is it now?"
+
+'Oh, it's so good, I have--half a mind to tell you."
+
+"Of course you'll tell me. Where are you going?" he asked
+discontentedly.
+
+Miss Maggie had left the sofa, and was standing, as if half-poised for
+flight, midway to the door.
+
+"I think--yes, I will tell you," she nodded, her cheeks very pink;
+"but I wanted to be--over here to tell it."
+
+"'Way over there?"
+
+"Yes, 'way over here. Do you remember those letters I got awhile ago,
+and the call from the Boston; lawyer, that I--I wouldn't tell you
+about?"
+
+"I should say I did!"
+
+"Well; you know you--you thought they--they had something to do with--
+my money; that I--I'd lost some."
+
+"I did, dear."
+
+"Well, they--they did have something to do--with money."
+
+"I knew they did!" triumphed the man. "Oh, why wouldn't you tell me
+then--and let me help you some way?"
+
+She shook her head nervously and backed nearer the door. He had half
+started from his seat.
+
+"No, stay there. If you don't--I won't tell you."
+
+He fell back, but with obvious reluctance.
+
+"Well, as I said, it did have something to do--with my money; but just
+now, when you asked me if I--I was marrying you or your money--"
+
+"But I was in fun--you know I was in fun!" defended the man hotly.
+
+"Oh, yes, I knew that," nodded Miss Maggie. "But it--it made me laugh
+and remember--the letters. You see, they weren't as you thought. They
+didn't tell me of--of money lost. They told me of money--gained."
+
+"Gained?"
+
+"Yes. That father's Cousin George in Alaska had died and left me--
+fifty thousand dollars."
+
+"But, my dear woman, why in Heaven's name wouldn't you tell me that?"
+
+"Because." Miss Maggie took a step nearer the door. "You see, I
+thought you were poor--very poor, and I--I wouldn't even own up to it
+myself, but I knew, in my heart, that I was afraid, if you heard I had
+this money, you wouldn't--you wouldn't--ask me to--to--"
+
+She was blushing so adorably now that the man understood and leaped to
+his feet.
+
+"Maggie, you--darling!"
+
+But the door had shut--Miss Maggie had fled.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+THAT MISERABLE MONEY
+
+
+In the evening, after the Martin girls had gone to their rooms, Miss
+Maggie and Mr. Smith faced the thing squarely.
+
+"Of course," he began with a sigh, "I'm really not out of the woods at
+all. Blissfully happy as I am, I'm really deeper in the woods than
+ever, for now I've got you there with me, to look out for. However
+successfully John Smith might dematerialize into nothingness--Maggie
+Duff can't."
+
+"No, I know she can't," admitted Miss Maggie soberly.
+
+"Yet if she marries John Smith she'll have to--and if she doesn't
+marry him, how's Stanley G. Fulton going to do his courting? He can't
+come here."
+
+"But he must!" Miss Maggie looked up with startled eyes. "Why, Mr.
+Smith, you'll HAVE to tell them--who you are. You'll have to tell them
+right away."
+
+The man made a playfully wry face.
+
+"I shall be glad," he observed, "when I shan't have to be held off at
+the end of a 'Mr.'! However, we'll let that pass--until we settle the
+other matter. Have you given any thought as to HOW I'm going to tell
+Cousin Frank and Cousin James and Cousin Flora that I am Stanley G.
+Fulton?"
+
+"No--except that you must do it," she answered decidedly. "I don't
+think you ought to deceive them another minute--not another minute."
+
+"Hm-m." Mr. Smith's eyes grew reflective. "And had you thought-as to
+what would happen when I did tell them?"
+
+"Why, n-no, not particularly, except that--that they naturally
+wouldn't like it, at first, and that you'd have to explain--just as
+you did to me--why you did it."
+
+"And do you think they'll like it any better--when I do explain?
+Think!"
+
+Miss Maggie meditated; then, a little tremulously she drew in her
+breath. She lifted startled eyes to his face.
+
+"Why, you'd have to tell them that--that you did it for a test,
+wouldn't you?"
+
+"If I told the truth--yes."
+
+"And they'd know--they couldn't help knowing--that they had failed to
+meet it adequately."
+
+"Yes. And would that help matters any--make things any happier, all
+around?"
+
+"No--oh, no," she frowned despairingly.
+
+"Would it do anybody any REAL good, now? Think of that."
+
+"N-no," she admitted reluctantly, "except that--that you'd be doing
+right."
+
+"But WOULD I be doing right? And another thing--aside from the
+mortification, dismay, and anger of my good cousins, have you thought
+what I'd be bringing on you?"
+
+"ME!"
+
+"Yes. In less than half a dozen hours after the Blaisdells knew that
+Mr. John Smith was Stanley G. Fulton, Hillerton would know it. And in
+less than half a dozen more hours, Boston, New York, Chicago,--to say
+nothing of a dozen lesser cities,--would know it--if there didn't
+happen to be anything bigger on foot. Headlines an inch high would
+proclaim the discovery of the missing Stanley G. Fulton, and the fine
+print below would tell everything that happened, and a great deal that
+didn't happen, in the carrying-out of the eccentric multi-
+millionaire's extraordinary scheme of testing his relatives with a
+hundred thousand dollars apiece to find a suitable heir. Your picture
+would adorn the front page of the yellowest of yellow journals, and--"
+
+"MY picture! Oh, no, no!" gasped Miss Maggie.
+
+"Oh, yes, yes," smiled the man imperturbably. "You'll be in it, too.
+Aren't you the affianced bride of Mr. Stanley G. Fulton? I can see
+them now: 'In Search of an Heir and Finds a Wife.'--'Charming Miss
+Maggie Duff Falls in Love with Plain John Smith,' and--"
+
+"Oh, no, no," moaned Miss Maggie, shrinking back as if already the
+lurid headlines were staring her in the face.
+
+Mr. Smith laughed.
+
+"Oh, well, it might not be so bad as that, of course. But you never
+can tell. Undoubtedly there are elements for a pretty good story in
+the case, and some man, with nothing more important to write up, is
+bound to make the most of it somewhere. Then other papers will copy.
+There's sure to be unpleasant publicity, my dear, if the truth once
+leaks out."
+
+"But what--what HAD you planned to do?" she faltered, shuddering
+again.
+
+"Well, I HAD planned something like this: pretty quick, now, Mr. Smith
+was to announce the completion of his Blaisdell data, and, with
+properly grateful farewells, take his departure from Hillerton. He
+would go to South America. There he would go inland on some sort of a
+simple expedition with a few native guides and carriers, but no other
+companion. Somewhere in the wilderness he would shed his beard and his
+name, and would emerge in his proper person of Stanley G. Fulton and
+promptly take passage for the States. Of course, upon the arrival in
+Chicago of Mr. Stanley G. Fulton, there would be a slight flurry at
+his appearance, and a few references to the hundred-thousand-dollar
+gifts to the Eastern relatives, and sundry speculations as to the why
+and how of the exploring trip. There would be various rumors and
+alleged interviews; but Mr. Stanley G. Fulton never was noted for his
+communicativeness, and, after a very short time, the whole thing would
+be dismissed as probably another of the gentleman's well-known
+eccentricities. And there it would end."
+
+"Oh, I see," murmured Miss Maggie, in very evident relief. "That would
+be better--in some ways; only it does seem terrible not to--to tell
+them who you are."
+
+"But we have just proved that to do that wouldn't bring happiness
+anywhere, and would bring misery everywhere, haven't we?"
+
+"Y-yes."
+
+"Then why do it?--particularly as by not doing it I am not defrauding
+anybody in the least. No; that part isn't worrying me a bit now--but
+there is one point that does worry me very much."
+
+"What do you mean? What is it?"
+
+"Yourself. My scheme gets Stanley G. Fulton back to life and Chicago
+very nicely; but it doesn't get Maggie Duff there worth a cent! Maggie
+Duff can't marry Mr. John Smith in Hillerton and arrive in Chicago as
+the wife of Stanley G. Fulton, can she?"
+
+"N-no, but he--he can come back and get her--if he wants her." Miss
+Maggie blushed.
+
+"If he wants her, indeed!" (Miss Maggie blushed all the more at the
+method and the fervor of Mr. Smith's answer to this.) "Come back as
+Mr. Stanley G. Fulton, you mean?" went on Mr. Smith, smiling at Miss
+Maggie's hurried efforts to smooth her ruffled hair. "Too risky, my
+dear! He'd look altogether too much like--like Mr. John Smith."
+
+"But your beard will be gone--I wonder how I shall like you without a
+beard." She eyed him critically.
+
+Mr. Smith laughed and threw up his hands with a doleful shrug.
+
+"That's what comes of courting as one man and marrying as another," he
+groaned. Then, sternly: "I'll warn you right now, Maggie Duff, that
+Stanley G. Fulton is going to be awfully jealous of John Smith if you
+don't look out."
+
+"He should have thought of that before," retorted Miss Maggie, her
+eyes mischievous. "But, tell me, wouldn't you EVER dare to come--in
+your proper person?"
+
+"Never!--or, at least, not for some time. The beard would be gone, to
+be sure; but there'd be all the rest to tattle--eyes, voice, size,
+manner, walk--everything; and smoked glasses couldn't cover all that,
+you know. Besides, glasses would be taboo, anyway. They'd only result
+in making me look more like John Smith than ever. John Smith, you
+remember, wore smoked glasses for some time to hide Mr. Stanley G.
+Fulton from the ubiquitous reporter. No, Mr. Stanley G. Fulton can't
+come to Hillerton. So, as Mahomet can't go to the mountain, the
+mountain must come to Mahomet."
+
+"Meaning--?" Miss Maggie's eyes were growing dangerously mutinous.
+
+"That you will have to come to Chicago--yes."
+
+"And court you? No, sir--thank you!"
+
+Mr. Smith chuckled softly.
+
+"I love you with your head tilted that way." (Miss Maggie promptly
+tilted it the other.) "Or that, either, for that matter," continued
+Mr. Smith genially. "However, speaking of courting--Mr. Fulton will do
+that, all right, and endeavor to leave nothing lacking, either as to
+quantity or quality. Think, now. Don't you know any one in Chicago?
+Haven't you got some friend that you can visit?"
+
+"No!" Miss Maggie's answer was prompt and emphatic--too prompt and too
+emphatic for unquestioning acceptance.
+
+"Oh, yes, you have," asserted the man cheerfully. "I don't know her
+name--but she's there. She's Waving a red flag from your face this
+minute! Now, listen. Well, turn your head away, if you like--if you
+can listen better that way," he went on tranquilly paying no attention
+to her little gasp. "Well, all you have to do is to write the lady
+you're coming, and go. Never mind who she is--Mr. Stanley G. Fulton
+will find a way to meet her. Trust him for that! Then he'll call and
+meet you--and be so pleased to see you! The rest will be easy.
+There'll be a regular whirlwind courtship then--calls, dinners,
+theaters, candy, books, flowers! Then Mr. Stanley G. Fulton will
+propose marriage. You'll be immensely surprised, of course, but you'll
+accept. Then we'll get married," he finished with a deep sigh of
+satisfaction.
+
+"MR. SMITH!" ejaculated Miss Maggie faintly.
+
+"Say, CAN'T you call me anything--" he began wrathfully, but
+interrupted himself. "However, it's better that you don't, after all.
+Because I've got to be 'Mr. Smith' as long as I stay here. But you
+wait till you meet Mr. Stanley G. Fulton in Chicago! Now, what's her
+name, and where does she live?"
+
+Miss Maggie laughed in spite of herself, as she said severely: "Her
+name, indeed! I'm afraid Mr. Stanley G. Fulton is so in the habit of
+having his own way that he forgets he is still Mr. John Smith.
+However, there IS an old schoolmate," she acknowledged demurely.
+
+"Of course there is! Now, write her at once, and tell her you're
+coming."
+
+"But she--she may not be there."
+
+"Then get her there. She's GOT to be there. And, listen. I think you'd
+better plan to go pretty soon after I go to South America. Then you
+can be there when Mr. Stanley G. Fulton arrives in Chicago and can
+write the news back here to Hillerton. Oh, they'll get it in the
+papers, in time, of course; but I think it had better come from you
+first. You see--the reappearance on this earth of Mr. Stanley G.
+Fulton is going to be of--of some moment to them, you know. There is
+Mrs. Hattie, for instance, who is counting on the rest of the money
+next November."
+
+"Yes, I know, it will mean a good deal to them, of course. Still, I
+don't believe Hattie is really expecting the money. At any rate, she
+hasn't said anything about it very lately--perhaps because she's been
+too busy bemoaning the pass the present money has brought them to."
+
+"Yes, I know," frowned Mr. Smith, with a gloomy sigh. "That miserable
+money!"
+
+"No, no--I didn't mean to bring that up," apologized Miss Maggie
+quickly, with an apprehensive glance into his face. "And it wasn't
+miserable money a bit! Besides, Hattie has--has learned her lesson,
+I'm sure, and she'll do altogether differently in the new home. But,
+Mr. Smith, am I never to--to come back here? Can't we come back--
+ever?"
+
+"Indeed we can--some time, by and by, when all this has blown over,
+and they've forgotten how Mr. Smith looks. We can come back then.
+Meanwhile, you can come alone--a VERY little. I shan't let you leave
+me very much. But I understand; you'll have to come to see your
+friends. Besides, there are all those playgrounds for the babies and
+cleaner milk for the streets, and--"
+
+"Cleaner milk for the streets, indeed!"
+
+"Eh? What? Oh, yes, it WAS the milk for the babies, wasn't it?" he
+teased. "Well, however that may be you'll have to come back to
+superintend all those things you've been wanting to do so long. But"--
+his face grew a little wistful--"you don't want to spend too much time
+here. You know--Chicago has a few babies that need cleaner milk."
+
+"Yes, I know, I know!" Her face grew softly luminous as it had grown
+earlier in the afternoon.
+
+"So you can bestow some of your charity there; and--"
+
+"It isn't charity," she interrupted with suddenly flashing eyes. "Oh,
+how I hate that word--the way it's used, I mean. Of course, the real
+charity means love. Love, indeed! I suppose it was LOVE that made John
+Daly give one hundred dollars to the Pension Fund Fair--after he'd
+jewed it out of those poor girls behind his counters! And Mrs. Morse
+went around everywhere telling how kind dear Mr. Daly was to give so
+much to charity! CHARITY! Nobody wants charity--except a few lazy
+rascals like those beggars of Flora's! But we all want our RIGHTS. And
+if half the world gave the other half its rights there wouldn't BE any
+charity, I believe."
+
+"Dear, dear! What have we here? A rabid little Socialist?" Mr. Smith
+held up both hands in mock terror. "I shall be petitioning her for my
+bread and butter, yet!"
+
+"Nonsense! But, honestly, Mr. Smith, when I think of all that money"--
+her eyes began to shine again--"and of what we can do with it, I--I
+just can't believe it's so!"
+
+"But you aren't expecting that twenty millions are going to right all
+the wrongs in the world, are you?" Mr. Smith's eyes were quizzical.
+
+"No, oh, no; but we can help SOME that we know about. But it isn't
+that I just want to GIVE, you know. We must get behind things--to the
+causes. We must--"
+
+"We must make the Mr. Dalys pay more to their girls before they pay
+anything to pension funds, eh?" laughed Mr. Smith, as Miss Maggie came
+to a breathless pause.
+
+"Exactly!" nodded Miss Maggie earnestly. "Oh, can't you SEE what we
+can do--with that twenty million dollars?"
+
+Mr. Smith, his gaze on Miss Maggie's flushed cheeks and shining eyes,
+smiled tenderly. Then with mock severity he frowned.
+
+"I see--that I'm being married for my money--after all!" he scolded.
+
+"Pooh!" sniffed Miss Maggie, so altogether bewitchingly that Mr. Smith
+gave her a rapturous kiss.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+EXIT MR. JOHN SMITH
+
+
+Early in July Mr. Smith took his departure from Hillerton. He made a
+farewell call upon each of the Blaisdell families, and thanked them
+heartily for all their kindness in assisting him with his Blaisdell
+book.
+
+The Blaisdells, one and all, said they were very sorry to have him go.
+Miss Flora frankly wiped her eyes, and told Mr. Smith she could never,
+never thank him enough for what he had done for her. Mellicent, too,
+with shy eyes averted, told him she should never forget what he had
+done for her--and for Donald.
+
+James and Flora and Frank--and even Jane!--said that they would like
+to have one of the Blaisdell books, when they were published, to hand
+down in the family. Flora took out her purse and said that she would
+pay for hers now; but Mr. Smith hastily, and with some evident
+embarrassment, refused the money, saying that he could not tell yet
+what the price of the book would be.
+
+All the Blaisdells, except Frank, Fred, and Bessie, went to the
+station to see Mr. Smith off. They said they wanted to. They told him
+he was just like one of the family, anyway, and they declared they
+hoped he would come back soon. Frank telephoned him that he would have
+gone, too, if he had not had so much to do at the store.
+
+Mr. Smith seemed pleased at all this attention--he seemed, indeed,
+quite touched; but he seemed also embarrassed--in fact, he seemed
+often embarrassed during those last few days at Hillerton.
+
+Miss Maggie Duff did not go to the station to see Mr. Smith off. Miss
+Flora, on her way home, stopped at the Duff cottage and reproached
+Miss Maggie for the delinquency.
+
+"Nonsense! Why should I go?" laughed Miss Maggie.
+
+"Why SHOULDN'T you?" retorted Miss Flora. "All the rest of us did,
+'most."
+
+"Well, that's all right. You're Blaisdells--but I'm not, you know."
+
+"You're just as good as one, Maggie Duff! Besides, hasn't that man
+boarded here for over a year, and paid you good money, too?"
+
+"Why, y-yes, of course."
+
+"Well, then, I don't think it would have hurt you any to show him this
+last little attention. He'll think you don't like him, or--or are mad
+about something, when all the rest of us went."
+
+"Nonsense, Flora!"
+
+"Well, then, if--Why, Maggie Duff, you're BLUSHING!" she broke off,
+peering into Miss Maggie's face in a way that did not tend to lessen
+the unmistakable color that was creeping to her forehead. "You ARE
+blushing! I declare, if you were twenty years younger, and I didn't
+know better, I should say that--" She stopped abruptly, then plunged
+on, her countenance suddenly alight with a new idea. "NOW I know why
+you didn't go to the station, Maggie Duff! That man proposed to you,
+and you refused him!" she triumphed.
+
+"Flora!" gasped Miss Maggie, her face scarlet.
+
+"He did, I know he did! Hattie always said it would be a match--from
+the very first, when he came here to your house."
+
+"FLORA!" gasped Miss Maggie again, looking about her very much as if
+she were meditating flight.
+
+"Well, she did--but I didn't believe it. Now I know. You refused him--
+now, didn't you?"
+
+"Certainly not!" Miss Maggie caught her breath a little convulsively.
+
+"Honest?"
+
+"Flora! Stop this silly talk right now. I have answered you once. I
+shan't again."
+
+"Hm-m." Miss Flora fell back in her chair. "Well, I suppose you
+didn't, then, if you say so. And I don't need to ask if you accepted
+him. You didn't, of course, or you'd have been there to see him off.
+And he wouldn't have gone then, anyway, probably. So he didn't ask
+you, I suppose. Well, I never did believe, like Hattie did, that--"
+
+"Flora," interrupted Miss Maggie desperately, "WILL you stop talking
+in that absurd way? Listen, I did not care to go to the station to-
+day. I am very busy. I am going away next week. I am going--to
+Chicago."
+
+"To CHICAGO--you!" Miss Flora came erect in her chair.
+
+"Yes, for a visit. I'm going to see my old classmate, Nellie Maynard--
+Mrs. Tyndall."
+
+"Maggie!"
+
+"What's the matter?"
+
+"Why, n-nothing. It's lovely, of course, only--only I--I'm so
+surprised! You never go anywhere."
+
+"All the more reason why I should, then. It's time I did," smiled Miss
+Maggie. Miss Maggie was looking more at ease now.
+
+"When are you going?"
+
+"Next Wednesday. I heard from Nellie last night. She is expecting me
+then."
+
+"How perfectly splendid! I'm so glad! And I do hope you can DO it, and
+that it won't peter out at the last minute, same's most of your good
+times do. Poor Maggie! And you've had such a hard life--and your
+boarder leaving, too! That'll make a lot of difference in your
+pocketbook, won't it? But, Maggie, you'll have to have some new
+clothes."
+
+"Of course. I've been shopping this afternoon. I've got to have--oh,
+lots of things."
+
+"Of course you have. And, Maggie,"--Miss Flora's face grew eager,--
+"please, PLEASE, won't you let me help you a little--about those
+clothes? And get some nice ones--some real nice ones, for once. You
+KNOW how I'd love to! Please, Maggie, there's a good girl!"
+
+"Thank you, no, dear," refused Miss Maggie, shaking her head with a
+smile. "But I appreciate your kindness just the same--indeed, I do!"
+
+"If you wouldn't be so horrid proud," pouted Miss Flora.
+
+But Miss Maggie stopped her with a gesture.
+
+"No, no,--listen! I--I have something to tell you. I was going to tell
+you soon, anyway, and I'll tell it now. I HAVE money, dear,--lots of
+it now."
+
+"You HAVE money!"
+
+"Yes. Father's Cousin George died two months ago."
+
+"The rich one, in Alaska?"
+
+"Yes; and to father's daughter he left--fifty thousand dollars."
+
+"MAG-gie!"
+
+"And I never even SAW him! But he loved father, you know, years ago,
+and father loved him."
+
+"But had you ever heard from him--late years?"
+
+"Not much. Father was very angry because he went to Alaska in the
+first place, you know, and they haven't ever written very often."
+
+"Fifty thousand! And you've got it now?"
+
+"Not yet--all of it. They sent me a thousand--just for pin money, they
+said. The lawyer's written several times, and he's been here once. I
+believe it's all to come next month."
+
+"Oh, I'm so glad, Maggie," breathed Flora. "I'm so glad! I don't know
+of anybody I'd rather see take a little comfort in life than you!"
+
+At the door, fifteen minutes later, Miss Flora said again how glad she
+was; but she added wistfully:--
+
+"I'm sure I don't know, though, what I'm going to do all summer
+without you. Just think how lonesome we'll be--you gone to Chicago,
+Hattie and Jim and all their family moved to Plainville, and even Mr.
+Smith gone, too! And I think we're going to miss Mr. Smith a whole
+lot, too. He was a real nice man. Don't you think so, Maggie?"
+
+"Indeed, I do think he was a very nice man!" declared Miss Maggie.
+"Now, Flora, I shall want you to go shopping with me lots. Can you?"
+
+And Miss Flora, eagerly entering into Miss Maggie's discussion of
+frills and flounces, failed to notice that Miss Maggie had dropped the
+subject of Mr. Smith somewhat hastily.
+
+Hillerton had much to talk about during those summer days. Mr. Smith's
+going had created a mild discussion--the "ancestor feller" was well
+known and well liked in the town. But even his departure did not
+arouse the interest that was bestowed upon the removal of the James
+Blaisdells to Plainville; and this, in turn, did not cause so great an
+excitement as did the news that Miss Maggie Duff had inherited fifty
+thousand dollars and had gone to Chicago to spend it. And the fact
+that nearly all who heard this promptly declared that they hoped she
+WOULD spend a good share of it--in Chicago, or elsewhere--on herself,
+showed pretty well just where Miss Maggie Duff stood in the hearts of
+Hillerton.
+
+ .         .           .              .             .       .
+ 
+It was early in September that Miss Flora had the letter from Miss
+Maggie. Not but that she had received letters from Miss Maggie before,
+but that the contents of this one made it at once, to all the
+Blaisdells, "the letter."
+
+Miss Flora began to read it, gave a little cry, and sprang to her
+feet. Standing, her breath suspended, she finished it. Five minutes
+later, gloves half on and hat askew, she was hurrying across the
+common to her brother Frank's home.
+
+"Jane, Jane," she panted, as soon as she found her sister-in-law.
+"I've had a letter from Maggie. Mr. Stanley G. Fulton has come back.
+HE'S COME BACK!"
+
+"Come back! Alive, you mean? Oh, my goodness gracious! What'll Hattie
+do? She's just been living on having that money. And us, with all
+we've lost, too! But, then, maybe we wouldn't have got it, anyway. My
+stars! And Maggie wrote you? Where's the letter?"
+
+"There! And I never thought to bring it," ejaculated Miss Flora
+vexedly. "But, never mind! I can tell you all she said. She didn't
+write much. She said it would be in all the Eastern papers right away,
+of course, but she wanted to tell us first, so we wouldn't be so
+surprised. He's just come. Walked into his lawyer's office without a
+telegram, or anything. Said he didn't want any fuss made. Mr. Tyndall
+brought home the news that night in an 'Extra'; but that's all it
+told--just that Mr. Stanley G. Fulton, the multi-millionaire who
+disappeared nearly two years ago on an exploring trip to South
+America, had come back alive and well. Then it told all about the two
+letters he left, and the money he left to us, and all that, Maggie
+said; and it talked a lot about how lucky it was that he got back just
+in time before the other letter had to be opened next November. But it
+didn't say any more about his trip, or anything. The morning papers
+will have more, Maggie said, probably."
+
+"Yes, of course, of course," nodded Jane, rolling the corner of her
+upper apron nervously. (Since the forty-thousand-dollar loss Jane had
+gone back to her old habit of wearing two aprons.) "Where DO you
+suppose he's been all this time? Was he lost or just exploring?"
+
+"Maggie said it wasn't known--that the paper didn't say. It was an
+'Extra' anyway, and it just got in the bare news of his return. But
+we'll know, of course. The papers here will tell us. Besides,
+Maggie'll write again about it, I'm sure. Poor Maggie! I'm so glad
+she's having such a good time!"
+
+"Yes, of course, of course," nodded Jane again nervously. "Say, Flora,
+I wonder--do you suppose WE'LL ever hear from him? He left us all that
+money--he knows that, of course. He can't ask for it back--the lawyer
+said he couldn't do that! Don't you remember? But, I wonder--do you
+suppose we ought to write him and--and thank him?"
+
+"Oh, mercy!" exclaimed Miss Flora, aghast. "Mercy me, Jane! I'd be
+scared to death to do such a thing as that. Oh, you don't think we've
+got to do THAT?" Miss Flora had grown actually pale.
+
+Jane frowned.
+
+"I don't know. We'd want to do what was right and proper, of course.
+But I don't see--" She paused helplessly.
+
+Miss Flora gave a sudden hysterical little laugh.
+
+"Well, I don't see how we're going to find out what's proper, in this
+case," she giggled. "We can't write to a magazine, same as I did when
+I wanted to know how to answer invitations and fix my knives and forks
+on the table. We CAN'T write to them, 'cause nothing like this ever
+happened before, and they Wouldn't know what to say. How'd we look
+writing, 'Please, dear Editor, when a man wills you a hundred thousand
+dollars and then comes to life again, is it proper or not proper to
+write and thank him?' They'd think we was crazy, and they'd have
+reason to! For my part, I--"
+
+The telephone bell rang sharply, and Jane rose to answer it. She was
+gone some time. When she came back she was even more excited.
+
+"It was Frank. He's heard it. It was in the papers to-night."
+
+"Did it tell anything more?"
+
+"Not much, I guess. Still, there was some. He's going to bring it
+home. It's 'most supper-time. Why don't you wait?" she questioned, as
+Miss Flora got hastily to her feet.
+
+Miss Flora shook her head.
+
+"I can't. I left everything just as it was and ran, when I got the
+letter. I'll get a paper myself on the way home. I'm going to call up
+Hattie, too, on the long distance. My, it's 'most as exciting as it
+was when it first came,--the money, I mean,--isn't it?" panted Miss
+Flora as she hurried away.
+
+The Blaisdells bought many papers during the next few days. But even
+by the time that the Stanley G. Fulton sensation had dwindled to a
+short paragraph in an obscure corner of a middle page, they (and the
+public in general) were really little the wiser, except for these bare
+facts:--
+
+Stanley G. Fulton had arrived at a South American hotel, from the
+interior, had registered as S. Fulton, frankly to avoid publicity, and
+had taken immediate passage to New York. Arriving at New York, still
+to avoid publicity, he had not telegraphed his attorneys, but had
+taken the sleeper for Chicago, and had fortunately not met any one who
+recognized him until his arrival in that city. He had brought home
+several fine specimens of Incan textiles and potteries: and he
+declared that he had had a very enjoyable and profitable trip. Beyond
+that he would say nothing, He did not care to talk of his experiences,
+he said.
+
+For a time, of course, his return was made much of. Fake interviews
+and rumors of threatened death and disaster in impenetrable jungles
+made frequent appearance; but in an incredibly short time the flame of
+interest died from want of fuel to feed upon; and, as Mr. Stanley G.
+Fulton himself had once predicted, the matter was soon dismissed as
+merely another of the multi-millionaire's well-known eccentricities.
+
+All of this the Blaisdells heard from Miss Maggie in addition to
+seeing it in the newspapers. But very soon, from Miss Maggie, they
+began to learn more. Before a fortnight had passed, Miss Flora
+received another letter from Chicago that sent her flying as before to
+her sister-in-law.
+
+"Jane, Jane, Maggie's MET HIM!" she cried, breathlessly bursting into
+the kitchen where Jane was paring the apples that she would not trust
+to the maid's more wasteful knife.
+
+"Met him! Met who?"
+
+"Mr. Fulton. She's TALKED with him! She wrote me all about it."
+
+"OUR Mr. Fulton?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"FLORA!" With a hasty twirl of a now reckless knife, Jane finished the
+last apple, set the pan on the before the maid, and hurried her
+visitor into the living-room. "Now, tell me quick--what did she say?
+Is he nice? Did she like him? Did he know she belonged to us?"
+
+"Yes--yes--everything," nodded Miss Flora, sinking into a chair. "She
+liked him real well, she said and he knows all about that she belongs
+to us. She said he was real interested in us. Oh, I hope she didn't
+tell him about--Fred!"
+
+"And that awful gold-mine stock," moaned Jane. "But she wouldn't--I
+know she wouldn't!"
+
+"Of course she wouldn't," cried Miss Flora. "'Tisn't like Maggie one
+bit! She'd only tell the nice things, I'm sure. And, of course, she'd
+tell him how pleased we were with the money!"
+
+"Yes, of course, of course. And to think she's met him--really met
+him!" breathed Jane. "Mellicent!" She turned an excited face to her
+daughter, who had just entered the room. "What do you think? Aunt
+Flora's just had a letter from Aunt Maggie, and she's met Mr. Fulton--
+actually TALKED with him!"
+
+"Really? Oh, how perfectly splendid! Is he nice? Did she like him?"
+
+Miss Flora laughed.
+
+"That's just what your mother asked. Yes, he's real nice, your Aunt
+Maggie says, and she likes him very much."
+
+"But how'd she do it? How'd she happen to meet him?" demanded Jane.
+
+"Well, it seems he knew Mr. Tyndall, and Mr. Tyndall brought him home
+one night and introduced him to his wife and Maggie; and since then
+he's been very nice to them. He's taken them out in his automobile,
+and taken them to the theater twice."
+
+"That's because she belongs to us, of course," nodded Jane wisely.
+
+"Yes, I suppose so," agreed Flora. "And I think it's very kind of
+him."
+
+"Pooh!" sniffed Mellicent airily. "_I_ think he does it because he
+WANTS to. You never did appreciate Aunt Maggie. I'll warrant she's
+nicer and sweeter and--and, yes, PRETTIER than lots of those old
+Chicago women. Aunt Maggie looked positively HANDSOME that day she
+left here last July. She looked so--so absolutely happy! Probably he
+LIKES to take her to places. Anyhow, I'm glad she's having one good
+time before she dies."
+
+"Yes, so am I, my dear. "We all are," sighed Miss Flora." Poor
+Maggie!"
+
+"I only wish he'd marry her and--and give her a good time all her
+life," avowed Mellicent, lifting her chin.
+
+"Marry her!" exclaimed two scornful voices.
+
+"Well, why not? She's good enough for him," bridled Mellicent. "Aunt
+Maggie's good enough for anybody!"
+
+"Of course she is, child!" laughed Miss Flora. "Maggie's a saint--if
+ever there was one."
+
+"Yes, but I shouldn't call her a MARRYING saint," smiled Jane.
+
+"Well, I don't know about that," frowned Miss Flora thoughtfully.
+"Hattie always declared there'd be a match between her and Mr. Smith,
+you know."
+
+"Yes. But there wasn't one, was there?" twitted Jane. "Well, then, I
+shall stick to my original statement that Maggie Duff is a saint, all
+right, but not a marrying one--unless some one marries her now for her
+money, of course."
+
+"As if Aunt Maggie'd stand for that!" scoffed Mellicent. "Besides, she
+wouldn't have to! Aunt Maggie's good enough to be married for
+herself."
+
+"There, there, child, just because you are a love-sick little piece of
+romance just now, you needn't think everybody else is," her mother
+reproved her a little sharply.
+
+But Mellicent only laughed merrily as she disappeared into her own
+room.
+
+"Speaking of Mr. Smith, I wonder where he is, and if he'll ever come
+back here," mused Miss Flora, aloud. "I wish he would. He was a very
+nice man, and I liked him."
+
+"Goodness, Flora, YOU aren't, getting romantic, too, are you?" teased
+her sister-in-law.
+
+"Nonsense, Jane!" ejaculated Miss Flora sharply, buttoning up her
+coat. "I'm no more romantic than--than poor Maggie herself is!"
+
+Two weeks later, to a day, came Miss Maggie's letter announcing her
+engagement to Mr. Stanley G. Fulton, and saying that she was to be
+married in Chicago before Christmas.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+REENTER MR. STANLEY G. FULTON
+
+
+In the library of Mrs. Thomas Tyndall's Chicago home Mr. Stanley G.
+Fulton was impatiently awaiting the appearance of Miss Maggie Duff. In
+a minute she came in, looking charmingly youthful in her new, well-
+fitting frock.
+
+The man, quickly on his feet at her entrance, gave her a lover's
+ardent kiss; but almost instantly he held her off at arms' length.
+
+"Why, dearest, what's the matter?" he demanded.
+
+"W-what do you mean?"
+
+"You look as if--if something had happened--not exactly a bad
+something, but--What is it?"
+
+Miss Maggie laughed softly.
+
+"That's one of the very nicest things about you, Mr. Stanley-G.-
+Fulton-John-Smith," she sighed, nestling comfortably into the curve of
+his arm, as they sat down on the divan;--"that you NOTICE things so..
+And it seems so good to me to have somebody--NOTICE."
+
+"Poor lonely little woman! And to think of all these years I've
+wasted!"
+
+"Oh, but I shan't be lonely any more now. And, listen--I'll tell you
+what made me look so funny. I've had a letter from Flora. You know I
+wrote them--about my coming marriage."
+
+"Yes, yes," eagerly. "Well, what did they say?"
+
+Miss Maggie laughed again.
+
+"I believe--I'll let you read the letter for yourself, Stanley. It
+tells some things, toward the end that I think you'll like to know,"
+she said, a little hesitatingly, as she held out the letter she had
+brought into the room with her.
+
+"Good! I'd like to read it," cried Fulton, whisking the closely
+written sheets from the envelope.
+
+MY DEAR MAGGIE (Flora had written): Well, mercy me, you have given us
+a surprise this time, and no mistake! Yet we're all real glad, Maggie,
+and we hope you'll be awfully happy. You deserve it, all right. Poor
+Maggie! You've had such an awfully hard time all your life!
+
+Well, when your letter came, we were just going out to Jim's for an
+old-fashioned Thanksgiving dinner, so I took it along with me and read
+it to them all. I kept it till we were all together, too, though I
+most bursted with the news all the way out.
+
+Well, you ought to have heard their tongues wag! They were all struck
+dumb first, for a minute, all except Mellicent. She spoke up the very
+first thing, and clapped her hands.
+
+"There." she cried. "What did I tell you? I knew Aunt Maggie was good
+enough for anybody!"
+
+To explain that I'll have to go back a little. We were talking one day
+about you--Jane and Mellicent and me--and we said you were a saint,
+only not a marrying saint. But Mellicent thought you were, and it
+seems she was right. Oh, of course, we'd all thought once Mr. Smith
+might take a fancy to you, but we never dreamed of such a thing as
+this--Mr. Stanley G. Fulton! Sakes alive--I can hardly sense it yet!
+
+Jane, for a minute, forgot how rich he was, and spoke right up real
+quick--"It's for her money, of course. I KNEW some one would marry her
+for that fifty thousand dollars!" But she laughed then, right off,
+with the rest of us, at the idea of a man worth twenty millions
+marrying ANYBODY for fifty thousand dollars.
+
+Benny says there ain't any man alive good enough for his Aunt Maggie,
+so if Mr. Fulton gets to being too highheaded sometimes, you can tell
+him what Benny says.
+
+But we're all real pleased, honestly, Maggie, and of course we're
+terribly excited. We're so sorry you're going to be married out there
+in Chicago. Why can't you make him come to Hillerton? Jane says she'd
+be glad to make a real nice wedding for you--and when Jane says a
+thing like that, you can know how much she's really saying, for Jane's
+feeling awfully poor these days, since they lost all that money, you
+know.
+
+And we'd all like to see Mr. Fulton, too--"Cousin Stanley," as Hattie
+always calls him. Please give him our congratulations--but there, that
+sounds funny, doesn't it? (But the etiquette editors in the magazines
+say we must always give best wishes to the bride and congratulations
+to the groom.) Only it seems funny here, to congratulate that rich Mr.
+Fulton on marrying you. Oh, dear! I didn't mean it that way, Maggie. I
+declare, if that sentence wasn't 'way in the middle of this third
+page, and so awfully hard for me to write, anyway, I'd tear up this
+sheet and begin another. But, after all, you'll understand, I'm sure.
+You KNOW we all think the world of you, Maggie, and that I didn't mean
+anything against YOU. It's just that--that Mr. Fulton is--is such a
+big man, and all--But you know what I meant.
+
+Well, anyway, if you can't come here to be married, we hope you'll
+bring him here soon so we can see him, and see you, too. We miss you
+awfully, Maggie,--truly we do, especially since Jim's folks went, and
+with Mr. Smith gone, too, Jane and I are real lonesome.
+
+Jim and Hattie like real well where they are. They've got a real
+pretty home, and they're the biggest folks in town, so Hattie doesn't
+have to worry for fear she won't live quite so fine as her neighbors--
+though really I think Hattie's got over that now a good deal. That
+awful thing of Fred's sobered her a lot, and taught her who her real
+friends were, and that money ain't everything.
+
+Fred is doing splendidly now, just as steady as a clock. It does my
+soul good to see him and his father together. They are just like
+chums. And Bessie--she isn't near so disagreeable and airy as she was.
+Hattie took her out of that school and put her into another where
+she's getting some real learning and less society and frills and
+dancing. Jim is doing well, and I think Hattie's real happy. Oh, of
+course, when we first heard that Mr. Fulton had got back, I think she
+was kind of disappointed. You know she always did insist we were going
+to have the rest of that money if he didn't show up. But she told me
+just Thanksgiving Day that she didn't know but 't was just as well,
+after all, that they didn't have the money, for maybe Fred'd go wrong
+again, or it would strike Benny this time. Anyhow, however much money
+she had, she said, she'd never let her children spend so much again,
+and she'd found out money didn't bring happiness, always, anyway,
+
+Mellicent and Donald are going to be married next summer. Donald don't
+get a very big salary yet, but Mellicent says she won't mind a bit
+going back to economizing again, now that for once she's had all the
+chocolates and pink dresses she wanted. What a funny girl she is--but
+she's a dear girl, just the same, and she's settled down real sensible
+now. She and Donald are as happy as can be, and even Jane likes Donald
+real well now.
+
+Jane's gone back to her tidies and aprons and skimping on everything.
+She says she's got to, to make up that forty thousand dollars. But she
+enjoys it, I believe. Honestly, she acts 'most as happy trying to save
+five cents as Frank does earning it in his old place behind the
+counter. And that's saying a whole lot, as you know. Jane knows very
+well she doesn't have to pinch that way. They've got lots of the money
+left, and Frank's business is better than ever. But she just likes to.
+
+You complain because I don't tell you anything about myself in my
+letters, but there isn't anything to tell. I am well and happy, and
+I've just thought up the nicest thing to do. Mary Hicks came home from
+Boston sick last September, and she's been here at my house ever
+since. Her own home ain't no place for a sick person, you know, with
+all those children, and they're awfully poor, too. So I took her here
+with me. She's a real nice girl. She works in a department store and
+was all played out, but she's picked up wonderfully here and is going
+back next week.
+
+Well, she was telling me about a girl that works with her at the same
+counter, and saying how she wished she had a place like this to go to
+for a rest and change, so I'm going to do it--give them one, I mean,
+she and the other girls. Mary says there are a dozen girls that she
+knows right there that are half-sick, but would get well in a minute
+if they only had a few weeks of rest and quiet and good food. So I'm
+going to take them, two at a time, so they'll be company for each
+other. Mary is going to fix it up for me down there, and pick out the
+girls, and she says she knows the man who owns the store will be glad
+to let them off, for they are all good help, and he's been afraid he'd
+lose them. He'd offered them a month off, besides their vacation, but
+they couldn't take it, because they didn't have any place to go or
+money to pay. Of course, that part will be all right now. And I'm so
+glad and excited I don't know what to do. Oh, I do hope you'll tell
+Mr. Fulton some time how happy he's made me, and how perfectly
+splendid that money's been for me.
+
+Well, Maggie, this is a long letter, and I must close. Tell me all
+about the new clothes you are getting, and I hope you will get a lot.
+Lovingly yours,
+
+FLORA.
+
+P.S. Does Mr. Fulton look like his pictures? You know I've got one. F.
+
+P.S. again. Maggie Duff, for pity's sake, never, never tell that man
+that I ever went into mourning for him and put flowers before his
+picture. I'd be mortified to death!
+
+"Bless her heart!" With a smile Mr. Fulton folded the letter and
+handed it back to Miss Maggie.
+
+"I didn't feel that I was betraying confidences--under the
+circumstances," murmured Miss Maggie.
+
+"Hardly!"
+
+"And there was a good deal in the letter that I DID want you to see,"
+added Miss Maggie.
+
+"Hm-m; the congratulations, for one thing, of course," twinkled the
+man. "Poor Maggie!"
+
+"I wanted you to see how really, in the end, that money was not doing
+so much harm, after all," asserted Miss Maggie, with some dignity,
+shaking her head at him reprovingly. "I thought you'd be GLAD, sir!"
+
+"I am glad. I'm so glad that, when I come to make my will now, I
+shouldn't wonder if I remembered them all again--a little--that is, if
+I have anything left to will," he teased shamelessly. "Oh, by the way,
+that makes me think. I've just been putting up a monument to John
+Smith."
+
+"Stanley!" Miss Maggie's voice carried genuine shocked distress.
+
+"But, my dear Maggie, something was due the man," maintained Fulton,
+reaching for a small flat parcel near him and placing it in Miss
+Maggie's hands.
+
+"But--oh, Stanley, how could you?" she shivered, her eyes on the words
+the millionaire had penciled on the brown paper covering of the
+parcel.
+
+     Sacred to the memory of John Smith.
+
+"Open it," directed the man.
+
+With obvious reluctance Miss Maggie loosened the paper covers and
+peered within. The next moment she gave a glad cry.
+
+In her hands lay a handsome brown leather volume with gold letters,
+reading:--
+
+     The Blaisdell Family
+           By
+        John Smith
+
+"And you--did that?" she asked, her eyes luminous.
+
+"Yes. I shall send a copy each to Frank and Jim and Miss Flora, of
+course. That's the monument. I thought it due--Mr. John Smith. Poor
+man, it's the least I can do for him--and the most--unless--" He
+hesitated with an unmistakable look of embarrassment.
+
+"Yes," prompted Miss Maggie eagerly. "Yes!"
+
+"Well, unless--I let you take me to Hillerton one of these days and
+see if--if Stanley G. Fulton, with your gracious help, can make peace
+for John Smith with those--er--cousins of mine. You see, I still feel
+confoundedly like that small boy at the keyhole, and I'd like--to open
+that door! Could we do it, do you think?"
+
+"Do it? Of course we could! And, oh, Stanley, it's the one thing
+needed to make me perfectly happy," she sighed blissfully.
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
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