Oh, Money! Money! A Novel

  CHAPTER XIII

  THE DANCING BEGINS

  Christmas saw many changes in the Blaisdell families.

  The James Blaisdells had moved into the big house near the Gaylordplace. Mrs. Hattie had installed two maids in the kitchen, bought ahandsome touring car, and engaged an imposing-looking chauffeur. Fredhad entered college, and Bessie had been sent to a fashionable schoolon the Hudson. Benny, to his disgust, had also been sent away to anexpensive school. Christmas, however, found them all at home for theholidays, and for the big housewarming that their parents were planningto give on Christmas night.

  The Frank Blaisdells had also moved. They were occupying a new housenot 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 shewould really like it. Besides, it would save the interest on the moneyfor that much time, anyway. True, she had been a little disturbed whenher husband reminded her that they would be paying rent meanwhile. Butshe said that didn't matter; she was not going to put all that moneyinto a house just yet, anyway,--not till she was sure it was the bestthey could do for the price.

  They, too, were planning a housewarming. Theirs was to come the nightafter Christmas. Mrs. Jane told her husband that they should not wanttheirs the same night, of course, as Hattie's, and that if she had hersright away the next night, she could eat up any of the cakes or icecream that was left from Hattie's party, and thus save buying so muchnew for herself. But her husband was so indignant over the idea ofeating "Hattie's leavings" that she had to give up this part of herplan, though she still arranged to have her housewarming on the dayfollowing her sister-in-law's.

  Mellicent, like Bessie, was home from school, though not from the sameschool. Mrs. Jane had found another one that was just as good asBessie'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 MissMaggie Duff's.

  Miss Flora was living in the same little rented cottage she hadoccupied for many years. She said that she should move, of course, whenshe got through her mourning, but, until then she thought it moresuitable 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 didher own housework, in spite of Harriet Blaisdell's insistence that sheget a maid. She said that there was plenty of time for all those thingswhen she had finished her mourning. She went out very little, thoughshe did go to the housewarming at her brother James's--"being arelative, so," she decided that no criticism could be made.

  It seemed as if all Hillerton went to that house-warming. Those whowere not especially invited to attend went as far as the street or thegate, and looked on enviously. Mrs. Hattie had been very generous withher invitations, however. She said that she had asked everybody whoever pretended to go anywhere. She told Maggie Duff that, of course,after this, she should be more exclusive--very exclusive, in fact; butthat this time Jim wanted to ask everybody, and she didn't mind somuch--she was really rather glad to have all these people see thehouse, and all--they certainly never would have the chance again.

  Mr. Smith attended with Miss Maggie. Mrs. Hattie had very kindlyincluded him in the invitation. She had asked Father Duff, too,especially, though she said she knew, of course, that he would notgo--he never went anywhere. Father Duff bristled up at this, anddeclared that he guessed he would go, after all, just to show them thathe could, if he wanted to. Mrs. Hattie grew actually pale, but MissMaggie exclaimed joyfully that, of course, he would go--he ought to go,to show proper respect! Father Duff said no then, very decidedly; thatnothing could hire him to go, and that he had no respect to show. Hedeclared that he had no use for gossip and gabble and unwholesomeeating; and he said that he should not think Maggie would care to go,either,--unless she could be in the kitchen, where it would seemnatural to her!

  Mrs. Hattie, however, smiled kindly, and said, of course, now she couldafford to hire better help than Maggie (caterers from the city and allthat), so Maggie would not have to be in the kitchen, and that withpractice she would soon learn not to mind at all being 'round amongfolks 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 toforget his own wrath in his desire to make the situation easier forMiss Maggie.

  He had not supposed that Miss Maggie would go at all, after that. Hehad even determined not to go himself. But Miss Maggie, after a day'sthought, had laughed and had said, with her eyes twinkling: "Oh, well,it doesn't matter, you know,--it doesn't REALLY matter, does it?" Andthey had gone.

  It was a wonderful party. Mr. Smith enjoyed it hugely. He saw almosteverybody he knew in Hillerton, and many that he did not know. He heardthe Blaisdells and their new wealth discussed from all viewpoints, andhe heard some things about the missing millionaire benefactor that wereparticularly interesting--to him. The general opinion seemed to be thatthe man was dead; though a few admitted that there was a possibility,of course, that he was merely lost somewhere in darkest South Americaand would eventually get back to civilization, certainly long beforethe time came to open the second letter of instructions. Many professedto know the man well, through magazine and newspaper accounts (therewere times when Mr. Smith adjusted more carefully the smoked glasseswhich he was still wearing); and some had much to say of themillionaire's characteristics, habits, and eccentricities; all of whichMr. 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 withthem 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 shespent the time mourning for poor Mr. Fulton, and thinking how good hehad been to her. And THAT made it seem as if she was doing SOMETHINGfor him. She said, Yes, oh, yes, she was going to stop black mourningin 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 hesuggested. She said, too, that she had decided not to go to Niagara forthe present. And when he demurred at this, she told him that really shewould rather not. It would be warmer in the spring, and she would muchrather wait till she could enjoy every minute without feelingthat--well, that she was almost dancing over the poor man's grave, asit were.

  Mr. Smith did not urge her after that. He turned away, indeed, ratherprecipitately--so precipitately that Miss Flora wondered if she couldhave said anything to offend him.

  Mr. Smith talked next with Mrs. Jane Blaisdell. Mrs. Jane was lookingparticularly 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 thereason: she wore no apron. Mr. Smith had never seen her without anapron before. Even on the street she wore a black silk one. Hecomplimented her gallantly on her fine appearance. But Mrs. Jane didnot smile. She frowned.

  "Yes, I know. Thank you, of course," she answered worriedly. "But itcost an awful lot--this dress did; but Frank and Mellicent would haveit. That child!--have you seen her to-night?"

  "Miss Mellicent? Yes, in the distance. She, too is looking mostcharming, Mrs. Blaisdell."

  The woman tapped her foot impatiently.

  "Yes, I know she is--and some other folks so, too, I notice. Was shewith 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 thismoney 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 muchheadway--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'shappened."

  "I guess he won't," snapped the woman. "He isn't worth half what SHE isnow. As if I'd let her look at HIM!"

  "But I meant--" Mr. Smith stopped abruptly. There was an odd expressionon his face.

  Mrs. Blaisdell filled the pause.

  "But, really, Mr. Smith, I don't know what I am going to do--withMellicent," 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 happyhimself. "Youth is the time for joy and laughter; and I'm sure I'm gladshe 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 pinkdresses and sugar-plums. It is a serious business, and I have tried tobring her up to understand it. I have taught her to be thrifty andeconomical, and to realize the value of a dollar. But now--she doesn'tSEE 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 aquizzical 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 itwisely."

  "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 bewisely 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 awaywith 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 herin the music-room, which had been cleared for dancing. She wassurrounded by four young men. One held her fan, one carried her whitescarf on his arm, a third was handing her a glass of water. The fourthwas apparently writing his name on her dance card. The one with thescarf Mr. Smith recognized as Carl Pennock. The one writing on thedance programme he knew was young Hibbard Gaylord.

  Mr. Smith did not approach at once. Leaning against a window-casingnear by, he watched the kaleidoscopic throng, bestowing a not tooconspicuous attention upon the group about Miss Mellicent Blaisdell.

  Mellicent was the picture of radiant loveliness. The rose in her cheeksmatched the rose of her gown, and her eyes sparkled with happiness. Sofar as Mr. Smith could see, she dispensed her favors with rareimpartiality; though, as he came toward them finally, he realized atonce that there was a merry wrangle of some sort afoot. He had notquite reached them when, to his surprise, Mellicent turned to him invery evident relief.

  "There, here's Mr. Smith," she cried gayly. "I'm going to sit it outwith 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 isnothing more than you ought to expect."

  "But divide it, then. Please divide it," they begged. "We'll besatisfied."

  "_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 thetwo 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 exaggeratedgallantry. "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 tothink 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 sohappy!" 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 happyI--I want to cry all the time. And that's so silly--to want to cry! ButI do. So long--all my life--I've had to WAIT for things so. It wasalways by and by, in the future, that I was going to have--anythingthat I wanted. And now to have them like this, all at once, everythingI want--why, Mr. Smith, it doesn't seem as if it could be true. It justcan't be true!"

  "But it is true, dear child; and I'm so glad--you've got yourfive-pound box of candy all at once at last. And I HOPE you can treatyour friends to unlimited soda waters."

  "Oh, I can! But that isn't all. Listen!" A new eagerness came to hereyes. "I'm going to give mother a present--a frivolous, foolishpresent, such as I've always wanted to. I'm going to give her a goldbreast-pin with an amethyst in it. She's always wanted one. And I'mgoing to take my own money for it, too,--not the new money that fathergives me, but some money I've been saving up for years--dimes andquarters 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 thispin. She won't mind if I do spend it foolishly now--with all the restwe 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'mgoing to open the bank to-morrow and count it; and I'm so excited overit!" She laughed shamefacedly. "I don't believe Mr. Fulton himself evertook more joy counting his millions than I shall take in counting thosequarters 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 wedo!--since you went away. But I'm glad Aunt Maggie's got you. Poor AuntMaggie! 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 goingto give her some. She SAYS she is, and--"

  But Mellicent did not finish her sentence. A short, sandy-haired youthcame up and pointed an accusing finger at her dance card; and Mellicentsaid yes, the next dance was his. But she smiled brightly at Mr. Smithas she floated away, and Mr. Smith, well content, turned and walkedinto the adjoining room.

  He came face to face then with Mrs. Hattie and her daughter. These twoladies, also, were pictures of radiant loveliness--especially were theyradiant, for every beam of light found an answering flash in theshimmering 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?" Heturned to Miss Bessie.

  "Oh, it'll do--for Hillerton." Miss Bessie smiled mischievously intoher mother's eyes, shrugged her shoulders, and passed on into themusic-room.

  "As if it wasn't quite the finest thing Hillerton ever had--except theGaylord parties, of course," bridled Mrs. Hattie, turning to Mr. Smith."That's just daughter's way of teasing me--and, of course, now she ISwhere she sees the real thing in entertaining--she goes home with thoserich girls in her school, you know. But this is a nice pa
rty, isn't itMr. Smith?"

  "It certainly is."

  "Daughter says we should have wine; that everybody who is anybody haswine now--champagne, and cigarettes for the ladies. Think of it--inHillerton! Still, I've heard the Gaylords do. I've never been thereyet, though, of course, we shall be invited now. I'm crazy to see theinside of their house; but I don't believe it's MUCH handsomer thanthis. Do you? But there! You don't know, of course. You've never beenthere, any more than I have, and you're a man of simple tastes, Ijudge, Mr. Smith." She smiled graciously. "Benny says that AuntMaggie'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 notdispute it. Miss Maggie's house is indeed wonderfully delightful--tolive 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. Butshe'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 lookaround 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 roomthat didn't cost more than the Pennocks'--I know, because I've beenthere. And my curtains are nicer, too, and my pictures, they're so muchbrighter--some of her oil paintings are terribly dull-looking. And myBessie--did you notice her dress to-night? But, there! You didn't, ofcourse. And if you had, you wouldn't have realized how expensive itwas. What do you know about the cost of women's dresses?" she laughedarchly. "But I don't mind telling you. It was one hundred and fiftydollars, a HUNDRED AND FIFTY DOLLARS, and it came from New York. Idon'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. Hegoes 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 eyesfollowing the low-cut blue dress. "But, then, maybe I shall know, sometime,--from Cousin Stanley, I mean," she explained smilingly, in answerto 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, andif 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 shownhe remembered he'd got us. Do you?"

  "Well--er--as to that--" Mr. Smith hesitated. He had grown strangelyred.

  "Well, there aren't any other relations so near, anyway, so I can'thelp thinking about it, and wondering," she interposed. "And 'twould beMILLIONS, 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, turningaway as another guest came up to his hostess.

  Mr. Smith's smile had been rather forced, and his face was stillsomewhat red as he picked his way through the crowded rooms to theplace where he could see Frank Blaisdell standing alone, surveying thescene, his hands in his pockets.

  "Well, Mr. Smith, this is some show, ain't it?' greeted the grocer, asMr. 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 asFlo. 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. Poorchild! SHE'S been a potato-top in a cellar all right. But now--Have youseen 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 bethat right along now. She's GOIN' where she wants to go, and DO whatshe wants to do; and she's goin' to have all the fancy fluma-diddles towear 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, whenyou have to. But I've saved all my life and, by jingo, I'm goin' tospend 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--Youcouldn't talk my wife 'round to your way of thinkin', could you?" heshrugged, with a whimsical smile. "My wife's eaten sour cream to savethe sweet all her life, an' she hain't learned yet that if she'd eatthe sweet to begin with she wouldn't have no sour cream--'twouldn'thave time to get sour. An' there's apples, too. She eats the speckedones 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 ifshe'll only pick out the best there is every time, as I do she'll notonly enjoy every apple she eats, but she'll think they're the nicestapples that ever grew. Funny, ain't it? Here I am havin' to urge mywife to spend money, while my sister-in-law here--Talk about duckstakin' to the water! That ain't no name for the way she sails intoJim'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 downthat hall and turn to your left. In a little room at the end you'llfind him. That's his den. He told Hattie 'twas the only room in thehouse he'd ask for, but he wanted to fix it up himself. Hattie, shewanted to buy all sorts of truck and fix it up with cushions andcurtains and Japanese gimcracks like she see a den in a book, and makea showplace of it. But Jim held out and had his way. There ain'tnothin' in it but books and chairs and a couch and a big table; andthey're all old--except the books--so Hattie don't show it much, whenshe's showin' off the house. You'll find him there all right. You seeif you don't. Jim always would rather read than eat, and he hatesshindigs of this sort a little worse 'n I do." "All right. I'll lookhim up," nodded Mr. Smith, as he turned away.

  Deliberately, but with apparent carelessness, strolled Mr. Smiththrough the big drawing-rooms, and down the hall. Then to the left--thedirections were not hard to follow, and the door of the room at the endwas halfway open, giving a glimpse of James Blaisdell and Benny beforethe big fireplace.

  With a gentle tap and a cheerful "Do you allow intruders?" Mr. Smithpushed open the door.

  James Blaisdell sprang to his feet.

  "Er--I--oh, Mr. Smith, come in, come right in!" The frown on his facegave way to a smile. "I thought--Well, never mind what I thought. Sitdown, 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 ineven if my shoes are muddy, and bring the boys in, too."

  "It certainly is--great," agreed Mr. Smith, his admiring eyes sweepingthe 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 violinsseemed to sing of peace and quietness and rest.

  "Dad's been showin' me the books he used ter like when he was a littleboy like me," announced Benny. "Hain't he got a lot of 'em?--books, Imean."

  "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, Ijust 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 couldknow--how much I do thank him," he finished soberly, his eyes caressingthe rows of volumes on the shelves. "You see, when you've wantedsomething 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 twoparties," 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 littleboy? Ma says everybody does who is anybody. But if it's CousinStanley's money that's made us somebody, I wished he'd kept it athome--'fore I had ter go ter that old school."

  "Oh, come, come, my boy," remonstrated the father, drawing his son intothe circle of his arm. "That's neither kind nor grateful; besides, youdon't know what you're talking about. Come, suppose we show Mr. Smithsome of the new books."

  From case to case, then, they went, the host eagerly displaying andexplaining, the guest almost as eagerly watching and listening. And inthe kindling eye and reverent fingers of the man handling the volumes,Mr. Smith caught some inkling of what those books meant to JimBlaisdell.

  "You must be fond of--books, Mr. Blaisdell," he said somewhatawkwardly, after a time.

  "Ma says dad'd rather read than eat," giggled Benny; "but pa saysreadin' 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," smiledhis father. "You'll love them as well as I do, some day. And yourbrother--" 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 mybuying. He was in here--a little while ago. But he couldn't stay, ofcourse. He said he had to go and dance with the girls--his motherexpected it."

  "Ho! MOTHER! Just as if he didn't want ter go himself!" grinned Bennyderisively. "You couldn't HIRE him ter stay away--'specially if PearlGaylord'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 Pandoesn't always pipe, and he's ambitious--Fred is." The man turnedeagerly to Mr. Smith again. "He's going to be a lawyer--you see, he'sgot 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 isnow, too, without killing himself with work to get it. He's got a finemind, and--" The man stopped abruptly, with a shamed laugh."But--enough of this. You'll forgive 'the fond father,' I know. Ialways forget myself when I'm talking of that boy--or, rather perhapsit's that I'm REMEMBERING myself. You see, I want him to do all that Iwanted to do--and couldn't. And--"

  "Jim, JIM!" It was Mrs. Hattie in the doorway. "There, I might haveknown where I'd find you. Come, the guests are going, and are lookingfor you to say good-night. Jim, you'll have to come! Why, what'llpeople say? They'll think we don't know anything--how to behave, andall that. Mr. Smith, you'll excuse him, I know."

  "Most certainly," declared Mr. Smith. "I must be going myself, for thatmatter," 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 tospeak.

  "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 itpossible? Could Miss Maggie be showing at last a tinge of envy andjealousy? It was so unlike her! And yet--

  "Even Miss Flora seemed to be having a good time, in spite of thatfunereal black," he hazarded again.

  "Yes."

  "And I'm sure Mrs. James Blaisdell and Miss Bessie were very radiantand 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 hadquite a chat with him in his den."

  No answer.

  "He says Fred--"

  "Did you see that Gaylord girl?" Miss Maggie was galvanized into suddenlife. "He's perfectly bewitched with her. And she--that ridiculousdress--and for a young girl! Oh, I wish Hattie would let those peoplealone!"

  "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, ifanything. Why, he was drunk to-night, actually drunk, when he came! Idon'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 youngBlaisdell has a pretty level head on him. His father says--"

  "His father worships him," interrupted Miss Maggie. "He worships allthose children. But into Fred--into Fred he's pouring his whole lostyouth. You don't know. You don't understand, of course, Mr. Smith. Youhaven't known him all the way, as I have." Miss Maggie's voice shookwith suppressed feeling. "Jim was always the dreamer. He fairly livedin his books. They were food and drink to him. He planned for college,of course. From boyhood he was going to write--great plays, greatpoems, great novels. He was always scribbling--something. I think heeven tried to sell his things, in his 'teens; but of course nothingcame of that--but rejection slips.

  "At nineteen he entered college. He was going to work his way. Ofcourse, we couldn't send him. But he was too frail. He couldn't standthe double task, and he broke down completely. We sent him into thecountry to recuperate, and there he met Hattie Snow, fell head overheels in love with her blue eyes and golden hair, and married her onthe 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, whenhe first went there, he thought he was still going to write the greatpoem, the great play the great novel, that was to bring him fame andmoney. But he soon learned better. Hattie had little patience with hisscribbling, and had less with the constant necessity of scrimping andeconomizing. She was always ambitious to get ahead and be somebody,and, of course, as the babies came and the expenses increased, thedemand for more money became more and more insistent. But Jim, poorJim! He never was a money-maker. He worked, and worked hard, and thenhe got a job for evenings and worked harder. But I don't believe heever quite caught up. That's why I was so glad when this moneycame--for Jim. And now, don't you see? he's thrown his whole lost youthinto 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 ofthe Red Sea before they ever came to Hillerton," she fumed with suddenvehemence as she entered her own gate.