Oh, Money! Money! A Novel

  CHAPTER XXII

  WITH EVERY JIM A JAMES

  Two days after Fred Blaisdell had returned from college, his mothercame to see Miss Maggie. Mr. Smith was rearranging the books on MissMaggie's shelves and trying to make room for the new ones he hadbrought her through the winter. When Mrs. Hattie came in, red-eyed andflushed-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 youknew the rest. So you can keep right to work. I just came down to talkthings over with Maggie. I--I'm sure I don't know w-what I'm going todo--when I can't."

  "But you always can, dear," soothed Miss Maggie cheerily, handing hervisitor a fan and taking a chair near her.

  Mr. Smith, after a moment's hesitation, turned quietly back to hisbookshelves.

  "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. Iguess we can still see each other. Now, tell me, what does all thismean?"

  "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 athing about it. But there were--other things. Fred told us some of themnight before last. He says he's ashamed of himself, but that hebelieves there's enough left in him to make a man of him yet. But hesays he can't do it--there."

  "You mean--he doesn't want to go back to college?" Miss Maggie's voiceshowed 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 easynot to spend it--if he was back there, in the old crowd. So he wants togo 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 Iguess I am."

  "Of course you are! But now, what is this about Plainville?" "Oh, thatgrew out of it--all this. Mr. Hammond is going to open a new office inPlainville and he's offered Jim--James--no, JIM--I'm not going to callhim '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 likeHillerton 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'shappened,--that boy getting my boy to drink and gamble, and--andeverything. And yet--YOU know how I've strained every nerve for years,and worked and worked to get where my children could--COULD be withthem!"

  "It didn't pay, did it, Hattie?"

  "I guess it didn't! They're perfectly horrid--every one of them, and Ihate them!"

  "Oh, Hattie, Hattie!"

  "Well, I do. Look at what they've done to Fred, and Bessie, too! Ishan't let HER be with them any more, either. There aren't any folkshere we can be with now. That's why I don't mind going away. All ourfriends that we used to know don't like us any more, they're so jealouson account of the money. Oh, yes, I know you think I'm to blame forthat," she went on aggrievedly. "I can see you do, by your face. Jimsays so, too. And maybe I am. But it was just so I could get ahead. Idid so want to BE somebody!"

  "I know, Hattie." Miss Maggie looked as if she would like to saysomething more--but she did not say it.

  Over at the bookcase Mr. Smith was abstractedly opening and shuttingthe book in his hand. His gaze was out the window near him. He had nottouched the books on the shelves for some time.

  "And look at how I've tried and see what it has come to--Bessie sohigh-headed and airy she makes fun of us, and Fred a gambler and adrunkard, and 'most a thief. And it's all that horrid hundred thousanddollars!"

  The book in Mr. Smith's hand slipped to the floor with a bang; but noone was noticing Mr. Smith.

  "Oh, Hattie, don't blame the hundred thousand dollars," cried MissMaggie.

  "Jim says it was, and Fred does, too. They talked awfully. Fred said itwas all just the same kind of a way that I'd tried to make folks callJim 'James.' He said I'd been trying to make every single 'Jim' we hadinto a 'James,' until I'd taken away all the fun of living. And Isuppose 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, Ialways found somebody else a little 'aheader' as Benny calls it. Sowhat'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 thatthey 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 havebeen something like that. But I don't see as I'm any worse than otherfolks. Everybody goes for money; but I'm sure I don't see why--if itdoesn'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 themonth. It looks like a mountain to me, but Jim and Fred say they'llhelp, and--"

  Mr. Smith did not hear any more, for Miss Maggie and her guest hadreached the hall and had closed the door behind them. But when MissMaggie 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 thatconfounded 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 thatthose three people received. Has it ever brought any good orhappiness--anywhere?"

  "Oh, yes, I know," smiled Miss Maggie, a little sadly. "But--" Hercountenance changed abruptly. A passionate earnestness came to hereyes. "Don't blame the money--blame the SPENDING of it! The money isn'tto blame. The dollar that will buy tickets to the movies will just asquickly buy a good book; and if you're hungry, it's up to you whetheryou put your money into chocolate eclairs or roast beef. Is the MONEYto blame that goes for a whiskey bill or a gambling debt instead of forshoes and stockings for the family?"

  "Why, n-no." Mr. Smith had apparently lost his own irritation in hisamazement at hers. "Why, Miss Maggie, you--you seem worked up over thismatter."

  "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 weall want it, and we strain every nerve to get it. We think it's goingto bring us happiness. But it won't--unless we do our part. And thereare some things that even money can't buy. Besides, it isn't the moneythat does the things, anyway,--it's the man behind the money. What doyou think money is good for, Mr. Smith?"

  Mr. Smith, now thoroughly dazed, actually blinked his eyes at thequestion, 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 wewant, is it?"

  "Why, I--I suppose we can GIVE it--"

  "But even then we're exchanging it for something we want, aren't we? Wewant to make the other fellow happy, don't we?"

  "Well, yes, we do." Mr. Smith spoke with sudden fervor. "But it doesn'talways work that way. Look at the case right here. Now, very likelythis--er--Mr. Fulton thought those three hundred thousand dollars weregoing to make these people happy. Personification of happiness--thatwoman was, a few minutes ago, wasn't she?" Mr. Smith had regained hisair of aggrieved irritation.

  "No, she wasn't. But that wasn't the money's fault. It was her own. Shedidn't know how to spend it. And that's just what I mean when I saywe've got to do our part--money won't buy
happiness, unless we exchangeit for the things that will bring happiness. If we don't know how toget any happiness out of five dollars, we won't know how to get it outof 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, ofcourse,--though I've seen even that happen sometimes!--but I mean thatwe've got to know how to spend five dollars--and to make the most ofit."

  "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 thelove of money is the root of all evil. But I don't think it should beso--necessarily. I think money's one of the most wonderful things inthe world. It's more than a trust and a gift--it's an opportunity, anda test. It brings out what's strongest in us, every time. And it doesthat whether it's five dollars or five hundred thousand dollars. If--ifwe love chocolate eclairs and the movies better than roast beef andgood books, we're going to buy them, whether they're chocolate eclairsand movies on five dollars, or or--champagne suppers and Paris gowns onfive 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," shesighed. "But I've felt so bad over this--this money business right hereunder my eyes. I love them all, every one of them. And YOU know howit'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 beentrying to make every one of her 'Jims' a 'James,' ever since the moneycame. 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; sowhen she got the hundred thousand, it wasn't six months before she wastrying 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 cheapchairs 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 ofcovers for everything! It brought me to such a pass that I went to theother extreme. I wouldn't protect ANYTHING--which was veryreprehensible, of course. Well, now she has pretty dishes and solidsilver--but she hides them in bags and boxes, and never uses themexcept for company. She doesn't take any more comfort with them thanshe did with the ingrain carpets and cheap chairs. Of course, that's alittle thing. I only mentioned it to illustrate my meaning. Janedoesn't know how to play. She never did. When you can't spend fivecents out of a hundred dollars for pleasure without wincing, youneedn't expect you're going to spend five dollars out of a hundredthousand without feeling the pinch," laughed Miss Maggie.

  "And Miss Flora? You haven't mentioned her," observed Mr. Smith, alittle grimly.

  Miss Maggie smiled; then she sighed.

  "Poor Flora--and when she tried so hard to quiet her conscience becauseshe had so much money! But YOU know how that was. YOU helped her out ofthat scrape. And she's so grateful! She told me yesterday that shehardly ever gets a begging letter now."

  "No; and those she does get she investigates," asserted Mr. Smith. "Sothe fakes don't bother her much these days. And she's doing a lot ofgood, too, in a small way."

  "She is, and she's happy now," declared Miss Maggie, "except that shestill worries a little because she is so happy. She's dismissed themaid and does her own work--I'm afraid Miss Flora never was cut out fora 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 companymanners all the time, and not to have that horrid girl spying 'roundall 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 hundredthousand," 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 twentymillions?"

  "Mercy!" laughed Miss Maggie, throwing up both hands. "She'd faint deadaway at the mere thought of it."

  "Humph! Yes, I suppose so." Mr. Smith turned on his heel and resumedhis restless pacing up and down the room. From time to time he glancedfurtively at Miss Maggie. Miss Maggie, her hands idly resting in herlap, palms upward, was gazing fixedly at nothing.

  "Of just what--are you thinking?" he demanded at last, coming to apause at her side.

  "I was thinking--of Mr. Stanley G. Fulton," she answered, not lookingup.

  "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 eyeswere 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 openedin two years' time. They said that that was to dispose of the remainderof 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 notmeeting Miss Maggie's eyes.

  "Why, yes, I suppose so." Miss Maggie turned back to her meditativegazing at nothing. "The two years are nearly up, you know,--I wastalking with Jane the other day--just next November."

  "Yes, I know." The words were very near a groan, but at once Mr. Smithhurriedly repeated, "I know--I know!" very lightly, indeed, with anapprehensive glance at Miss Maggie.

  "So it seems to me if he were alive that he'd be back by this time. Andso I was wondering--about those millions," she went on musingly. "Whatdo YOU suppose he has done with them?" she asked, with suddenanimation, turning full upon him.

  "Why, I--I--How should I know?" stuttered Mr. Smith, a swift crimsondyeing his face.

  Miss Maggie laughed merrily.

  "You wouldn't, of course--but that needn't make you look as if I'dintimated 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 sounexpected that I felt like the small boy who, being always blamed foreverything at home that went wrong, answered tremblingly, when theteacher 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 hislittle 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, herface growing intently interested again. "I've been trying to rememberwhat 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, therewas quite a lot about him at the time the money came; and Flora let meread some things she'd saved, in years gone. Flora was alwaysinterested in him, you know."

  "Well, what did you find?"

  "Why, not much, really, about the man. Besides, very likely what I didfind wasn't true. Oh, he was eccentric. Everything mentioned that. ButI was trying to find out how he'd spent his money himself. I thoughtthat 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 verywell--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 anyscandal, or to be recklessly extravagant, like so many rich men. On theother hand, I couldn't find that he'd done any particular good in theworld. Some charities were mentioned, but they were perfunctory,apparently, and I don't believe, from the accounts, that he ever reallyINTERESTED 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 amost disconcerting expression in the eyes bent upon her. But MissMaggie did not look up.

  "No," she proceeded calmly. "Why, he didn't even have a wife andchildren to stir him from his selfishness. He had a secretary, ofcourse, and he probably never saw half his begging letters. I canimagine 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 neverdid. You wrong him. I'm sure you wrong him."

  "Maybe I do," sighed Miss Maggie. "But when I think of what he mightdo--Twenty millions! I can't grasp it. Can you? But he didn'tdo--anything--worth while with them, so far as I can see, when he wasliving, so that's why I can't imagine what his will may be. Probablythe same old perfunctory charities, however, with the Chicago law firminstead of 'James' as disburser--unless, of course, Hattie'sexpectations are fulfilled, and he divides them among the Blaisdellshere."

  "You think--there's something worth while he MIGHT have done with thosemillions, then?" pleaded Mr. Smith, a sudden peculiar wistfulness inhis 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 twentymillions."

  "What would YOU do?"

  "I?--do with twenty millions?" she breathed.

  "Yes, you." Mr. Smith came nearer, his face working with emotion. "MissMaggie, if a man with twenty millions--that is, could you love a manwith twenty millions, if--if Mr. Fulton should ask you--if _I_ were Mr.Fulton--if--" His countenance changed suddenly. He drew himself up witha cry of dismay. "Oh, no--no--I've spoiled it all now. That isn't whatI meant to say first. I was going to find out--I mean, I was going totell--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 answeredher. With a beseeching look and a despairing gesture Mr. Smith had gone.

  Once again Miss Maggie stood looking after Mr. Smith with dismayedeyes. Then, turning to sit down, she came face to face with her ownimage in the mirror.

  "Well, now you've done it, Maggie Duff," she whispered wrathfully tothe reflection in the glass. "And you've broken his heart! He was--wasgoing 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 toldwhat you'd do--if you had twenty millions of dollars. And you know--youKNOW he's as poor as Job's turkey, and that just now he's more thanever plagued over--money! And yet you--Twenty millions of dollars! Asif that counted against--"

  With a little sobbing cry Miss Maggie covered her face with her handsand sat down, helplessly, angrily.