acquaintanceship in confidence thatthey were thinking the matter over and thought they should give it--"andif we do, you will be invited, of course." People were surprised, andsaid, one to another, "Why, they are crazy, those poor Wilsons, theycan't afford it." Several among the nineteen said privately to theirhusbands, "It is a good idea, we will keep still till their cheap thingis over, then _we_ will give one that will make it sick."
The days drifted along, and the bill of future squanderings rose higherand higher, wilder and wilder, more and more foolish and reckless. Itbegan to look as if every member of the nineteen would not only spend hiswhole forty thousand dollars before receiving-day, but be actually indebt by the time he got the money. In some cases light-headed people didnot stop with planning to spend, they really spent--on credit. Theybought land, mortgages, farms, speculative stocks, fine clothes, horses,and various other things, paid down the bonus, and made themselves liablefor the rest--at ten days. Presently the sober second thought came, andHalliday noticed that a ghastly anxiety was beginning to show up in agood many faces. Again he was puzzled, and didn't know what to make ofit. "The Wilcox kittens aren't dead, for they weren't born; nobody'sbroken a leg; there's no shrinkage in mother-in-laws; _nothing_ hashappened--it is an insolvable mystery."
There was another puzzled man, too--the Rev. Mr. Burgess. For days,wherever he went, people seemed to follow him or to be watching out forhim; and if he ever found himself in a retired spot, a member of thenineteen would be sure to appear, thrust an envelope privately into hishand, whisper "To be opened at the town-hall Friday evening," then vanishaway like a guilty thing. He was expecting that there might be oneclaimant for the sack--doubtful, however, Goodson being dead--but itnever occurred to him that all this crowd might be claimants. When thegreat Friday came at last, he found that he had nineteen envelopes.