CHAPTER XXI
SYMPATHIES MISPLACED
The first time Mr. Smith saw Frank Blaisdell, after Miss Maggie's newsof the forty-thousand-dollar loss, he tried, somewhat awkwardly, toexpress his interest and sympathy. But Frank Blaisdell cut him short.
"That's all right, and I thank you," he cried heartily. "And I knowmost folks would think losing forty thousand dollars was about as badas it could be. Jane, now, is all worked up over it; can't sleepnights, and has gone back to turning down the gas and eating sour creamso's to save and help make it up. But me--I call it the best thing thatever happened."
"Well, really," laughed Mr. Smith; "I'm sure that's a very delightfulway to look at it--if you can."
"Well, I can; and I'll tell you why. It's put me back where Ibelong--behind the counter of a grocery store. I've bought out the oldstand. Oh, I had enough left for that, and more! Closed the deal lastnight. 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 enjoyyourself," stammered Mr. Smith.
Frank Blaisdell laughed.
"Tired of work--wanted to enjoy myself, indeed! Yes, I know I did saysomething like that. But, let me tell you this, Mr. Smith. Talk aboutwork!--I never worked so hard in my life as I have the last ten monthstrying to enjoy myself. How these folks can stand gadding 'round thecountry week in and week out, feeding their stomachs on a Frenchdictionary instead of good United States meat and potatoes and squash,and spending their days traipsing off to see things they ain't a miteinterested in, and their nights trying to get rested so they can go andsee some more the next day, I don't understand."
Mr. Smith chuckled.
"I'm afraid these touring agencies wouldn't like to have you writetheir ads for them, Mr. Blaisdell!"
"Well, they hadn't better ask me to," smiled the other grimly. "Butthat ain't all. Since I come back I've been working even harder tryingto enjoy myself here at home--knockin' silly little balls over aten-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?" banteredMr. Smith.
"Oh, yes, I enjoyed the riding well enough; but I didn't enjoy huntingfor punctures, putting on new tires, or burrowing into the inside ofthe critter to find out why she didn't go! And that's what I was doingmost 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 tolive over again, I'd do different, maybe. I'd see if I couldn't findout what there was in a picture to make folks stand and stare at it anhour at a time when you could see the whole thing in a minute--and itwa'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 anddirges 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 ifI 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, andnot know it!"
"Yes, I know," smiled Mr. Smith.
"And there's books, too," resumed the other, still wistfully. "I'd readbooks--if I could stay awake long enough to do it--and I'd find outwhat there was in 'em to make a good sensible man like Jim Blaisdelldaft over 'em--and Maggie Duff, too. Why, that little woman used to gohungry sometimes, when she was a girl, so she could buy a book shewanted. I know she did. Why, I'd 'a' given anything this last year if Icould '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 alot of 'em, too, an' tried it; but I expect I didn't begin youngenough. I tell ye, Mr. Smith, I've about come to the conclusion thatthere ain't a thing in the world so hard to kill as time. I've triedit, 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 fullstomach ain't in it with bein' hungry an' knowing a good dinner'scoming. Why, there was whole weeks at a time back there that I didn'tknow the meaning of the word 'hungry.' You'd oughter seen the jolt Igive one o' them waiter-chaps one day when he comes up with his paperand his pencil and asks me what I wanted. 'Want?' says I. 'There ain'tbut one thing on this earth I want, and you can't give it to me. I wantto WANT something. I'm tired of bein' so blamed satisfied all thetime!'"
"And what did--Alphonso say to that?" chuckled Mr. Smith appreciatively.
"Alphonso? Oh, the waiter-fellow, you mean? Oh, he just stared aminute, then mumbled his usual 'Yes, sir, very good, sir,' and shovedthat 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 Iwas trying to tell you why I'm actually glad we lost that money. It'sgive 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 meback 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 acivil 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 beendone and said to get a little money out of me. Of course, the opengold-brick schemes I knew enough to dodge, 'most of 'em (unless youcount in that darn Benson mining stock), and I spotted the blackmailersall right, most generally. But I WAS flabbergasted when a WOMAN tackledthe job and began to make love to me--actually make love to me!--oneday 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, noranybody after my money now, I guess," he finished with a sage wag ofhis head as he turned away.
To Miss Maggie that evening Mr. Smith said, after recounting theearlier portion of the conversation: "So you see you were right, afterall. I shall have to own it up. Mr. Frank Blaisdell had plenty toretire 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 hasdone a good turn to," nodded Miss Maggie. "Mellicent has just beenhere. 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 colorin her cheeks--Miss Maggie always flushed a little when she mentionedMellicent's name to Mr. Smith, in spite of her indignant efforts not todo 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 Carlaway from her--the loss of the money is known everywhere now, and hasbeen greatly exaggerated, I've heard. She said that even HibbardGaylord had the air of one trying to let her down easy. Mellicent wasimmensely amused."
"Where was Donald Gray?"
"Oh, he wasn't there. He doesn't move in the Pennock crowd much. ButMellicent sees him, and--and everything's all right there, now. That'swhy 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 shesaw Hibbard Gaylord. And she was furious. She told Mellicent thismorning that she had her opinion of fellows who would show so plainlyas Carl Pennock and Hibbard Gaylord did that it was the money they wereafter."
"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 DonaldGray. 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 Mellicentthis morning that he was a very estimable young man, and she liked himvery much. Perhaps you see now why Mellicent is--happy."
"Good! I'
m glad to know it," cried Mr. Smith heartily. "I'm glad--" Hisface changed suddenly. His eyes grew somber. "I'm glad the LOSS of themoney brought them some happiness--if the possession of it didn't," hefinished moodily, turning to go to his own room. At the hall door hepaused and looked back at Miss Maggie, standing by the table, gazingafter him with troubled eyes. "Did Mellicent say--whether Fred wasthere?" he asked.
"Yes. She said he wasn't there. He didn't come home for this vacationat all. She said she didn't know why. I suspect Mellicent doesn't knowanything 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'tgo to the Pennocks' either. Hattie has--has been very different sincethis affair of Fred's. I think it frightened her terribly--it was sonear a tragedy; the boy threatened to kill himself, you know, if hisfather 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 badmess--when he got there," sighed Miss Maggie. "It was a bad mess allaround."
"You are exactly right!" ejaculated Mr. Smith with sudden and peculiaremphasis. "It is, indeed, a bad mess all around," he growled as hedisappeared through the door.
Behind him, Miss Maggie still stood motionless, looking after him withtroubled eyes.
As the spring days grew warmer, Miss Maggie had occasion many times tolook after Mr. Smith with troubled eyes. She could not understand himat all. One day he would be the old delightful companion, genial,cheery, generously donating a box of chocolates to the center-tablebonbon dish or a dozen hothouse roses to the mantel vase. The next, hewould be nervous, abstracted, almost irritable. Yet she could see nopossible reason for the change.
Sometimes she wondered fearfully if Mellicent could have anything to dowith it. Was it possible that he had cared for Mellicent, and to seeher now so happy with Donald Gray was more than he could bear? It didnot seem credible. There was his own statement that he had devotedhimself to her solely and only to help keep the undesirable lovers awayand give Donald Gray a chance.
Besides, had he not said that he was not a marrying man, anyway? To besure, that seemed a pity--a man so kind and thoughtful and sodelightfully companionable! But then, it was nothing to her, ofcourse--only she did hope he was not feeling unhappy over Mellicent!
Miss Maggie wished, too, that Mr. Smith would not bring flowers andcandy so often. It worried her. She felt as if he were spending toomuch money--and she had got the impression in some way that he did nothave any too much money to spend. And there were the expensive motortrips, too--she feared Mr. Smith WAS extravagant. Yet she could nottell him so, of course. He never seemed to realize the value of adollar, anyway, and he very obviously did not know how to get the mostout of it. Look at his foolish generosity in regard to the board hepaid her!
Miss Maggie wondered sometimes if it might not be worry over moneymatters 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 wasnot getting so many letters on Blaisdell matters from away, either. Fora 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 thatpretense of being busy. For days at a time he would not touch hisrecords. That could mean but one thing, of course; his work was done.Yet he seemed to be making no move toward departure. Not that shewanted him to go. She should miss him very much when he went, ofcourse. But she did not like to feel that he was staying simply becausehe had nowhere to go and nothing to do. Miss Maggie did not believe inable-bodied men who had nowhere to go and nothing to do--and she wantedvery much to believe in Mr. Smith.
She had been under the impression that he was getting the Blaisdellmaterial together for a book, and that he was intending to publish ithimself. He had been very happy and interested. Now he was unhappy anduninterested. His book must be ready, but he was making no move topublish it. To Miss Maggie this could mean but one thing: somefinancial reverses had made it impossible for him to carry out hisplans, 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; buthe had not only scouted that idea, but had brought her more chocolatesand flowers than ever--for all the world as if he had divined hersuspicions and wished to disprove them.
That Mr. Smith was trying to keep something from her, Miss Maggie wassure. She was the more sure, perhaps, because she herself had somethingthat she was trying to keep from Mr. Smith--and she thought sherecognized the symptoms.
Meanwhile April budded into May, and May blossomed into June; and Junebrought all the Blaisdells together again in Hillerton.