Oh, Money! Money! A Novel

  CHAPTER VII

  POOR MAGGIE AND SOME OTHERS

  It was half an hour later, when Mr. Smith and Benny were walking acrossthe 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 whomarried the Widow Blaisdell, probably. Why?"

  "Nothin'. I was only thinkin'. I hoped she was. Aunt Maggie don't havenothin' much, yer know, except her father an' housework--houseworkeither for him or some of us. An' I guess she's had quite a lot ofthings ter bother her, an' make her feel bad, so I hoped she'd be inthe book. Though if she wasn't, she'd just laugh an' say it doesn'tmatter, 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 ithelps 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 thinkabout it--this thing that's plaguin' ye--you'll see how really smallan' no-account it is, an' how, when you put it beside really big thingsit doesn't matter at all--it doesn't REALLY matter, ye know. AuntMaggie says she's done it years an' years, ever since she was just agirl, 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. AuntMaggie says that, too; an' she says we must be very careful an' not getit wrong. It's only the little things that bother us, an' that we wishwere different, that we must say 'It doesn't matter' about. It DOESmatter whether we're good an' kind an' tell the truth an' shame thedevil; but it DOESN'T matter whether we have ter live on the West Sidean' eat dinner nights instead of noons, an' not eat cookies any of thetime in the house,--see?"

  "Good for you, Benny,--and good for Aunt Maggie!" laughed Mr. Smithsuddenly.

  "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 wasleft to go on alone.

  Very often, in the days that followed, Mr. Smith thought of this speechof Benny's. He had opportunity to verify it, for he was seeing a gooddeal of Miss Maggie, and it seemed, indeed, to him that half the townwas coming to her to learn that something "didn't matter"--though veryseldom, except to Benny, did he hear her say the words themselves. Itwas merely that to her would come men, women, and children, each with asorry tale of discontent or disappointment. And it was always as ifthey left with her their burden, for when they turned away, head andshoulders were erect once more, eyes were bright, and the step wasalert and eager.

  He used to wonder how she did it. For that matter, he wondered how shedid--a great many things.

  Mr. Smith was, indeed, seeing a good deal of Miss Maggie these days. Hetold himself that it was the records that attracted him. But he did notalways copy records. Sometimes he just sat in one of the comfortablechairs and watched Miss Maggie, content if she gave him a word now andthen.

  He liked the way she carried her head, and the way her hair waved awayfrom her shapely forehead. He liked the quiet strength of the way hercapable hands lay motionless in her lap when their services were notrequired. He liked to watch for the twinkle in her eye, and for thedimple in her cheek that told a smile was coming. He liked to hear hertalk to Benny. He even liked to hear her talk to her father--when hecould control his temper sufficiently. Best of all he liked his owncomfortable feeling of being quite at home, and at peace with all theworld--the feeling that always came to him now whenever he entered thehouse, in spite of the fact that the welcome accorded him by Mr. Duffwas hardly more friendly than at the first.

  To Mr. Smith it was a matter of small moment whether Mr. Duff welcomedhim cordially or not. He even indulged now and then in a bout of hisown with the gentleman, chuckling inordinately when results showed thathe had pitched his remark at just the right note of contrariety to getwhat he wanted.

  For the most part, however, Mr. Smith, at least nominally, spent histime at his legitimate task of studying and copying the Blaisdellfamily records, of which he was finding a great number. Rufus Blaisdellapparently 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 beof any help to him, and she told him to come whenever he liked. Shearranged the Bible and the big box of papers on a little table in thecorner, and told him to make himself quite at home; and she showed soplainly 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 ofMiss Maggie's daily life, and of her visitors.

  Although many of these visitors were strangers to him, some of them heknew.

  One day it was Mrs. Hattie Blaisdell, with a countenance even moreflorid than usual. She was breathless and excited, and her eyes wereworried. She was going to give a luncheon, she said. She wanted MissMaggie's silver spoons, and her forks, and her hand paintedsugar-and-creamer, and Mother Blaisdell's cut-glass dish.

  Mr. Smith, supposing that Miss Maggie herself was to be at theluncheon, was just rejoicing within him that she was to have thispleasant little outing, when he heard Mrs. Blaisdell telling her to besure to come at eleven to be in the kitchen, and asking where could sheget a maid to serve in the dining-room, and what should she do withBenny. He'd have to be put somewhere, or else he'd be sure to upseteverything.

  Mr. Smith did not hear Miss Maggie's answer to all this, for shehurried her visitor to the kitchen at once to look up the spoons, shesaid. But indirectly he obtained a very conclusive reply; for he foundMiss 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 hadmade for the company to eat.

  Another day it was Mrs. Jane Blaisdell who came. Mrs. Jane had a tiredfrown between her brows and a despairing droop to her lips. She carrieda 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 gotto help me," she finished, sinking into a chair.

  "Why, of course, if I can. But what is it?" Miss Maggie's deft fingerswere 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. Janedecidedly; "and I've bought new velvet and new lace, and some buttonsand a new lining. I THOUGHT I could do it alone, but I've reached apoint where I just have got to have help. So I came right over."

  "Yes, of course, but"--Miss Maggie was lifting a half-finished sleevedoubtfully--"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. "Ihave to pay Flora, and you know it. If I had the money I should be gladto 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--! Ofcourse, if you don't WANT to help me--"

  "Oh, but I do," plunged in Miss Maggie hurriedly. "Come out into thekitchen where we'll have more room," she exclaimed, gathering thebundle into her arms and springing to her feet.

  "I've got some other lace at home--yards and yards. I got a lot, it wasso cheap," recounted Mrs. Jane, rising with alacrity. "But I'm afraidit won't do for this, and I don't know as it will do for anything, it'sso--"

  The kitchen door slammed sharply, and Mr. Smith heard no more. Half anhour later, however, he saw Mrs. Jane go down the walk. The frown wasgone from her face and the droop from the corners of her mouth. Herstep was alert and confide
nt. She carried no bundle.

  The next day it was Miss Flora. Miss Flora's thin little face lookedmore pinched than ever, and her eyes more anxious, Mr. Smith thought.Even her smile, as she acknowledged Mr. Smith's greeting, was so wan hewished 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 Idon't. Business is so turrible dull! Why, I don't earn enough to pay myrent, hardly, now, ter say nothin' of my feed."

  Miss Maggie frowned.

  "But I thought that Hattie--ISN'T Hattie having some new dresses--andBessie, too?"

  A sigh passed Miss Flora's lips.

  "Yes, oh, yes; they are having three or four. But they don't come to MEany 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 thatwas not merriment.) "You're up to date enough for me. I've got just thejob for you, too. Come out into the kitchen." She was already almost atthe door. "Why, Maggie, you haven't, either!" (In spite of theincredulity of voice and manner, Miss Flora sprang joyfully to herfeet.) "You never had me make you a--" Again the kitchen door slammedshut, and Mr. Smith was left to finish the sentence for himself.

  But Mr. Smith was not finishing sentences. Neither was his faceexpressing just then the sympathy which might be supposed to beshowing, after so sorry a tale as Miss Flora had been telling. On thecontrary, Mr. Smith, with an actual elation of countenance, wasscribbling on the edge of his notebook words that certainly he hadnever 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 ametamorphosed woman hurrying down the little path to the street. Butthe woman to-day was carrying a bundle--and it was the same bundle thatthe woman the day before had brought.

  But not always, as Mr. Smith soon learned, were Miss Maggie's visitorswomen. Besides Benny, with his grievances, young Fred Blaisdell camesometimes, and poured into Miss Maggie's sympathetic ears the story ofGussie Pennock's really remarkable personality, or of what he was goingto do when he went to college--and afterwards.

  Mr. Jim Blaisdell drifted in quite frequently Sunday afternoons, thoughapparently all he came for was to smoke and read in one of the bigcomfortable chairs. Mr. Smith himself had fallen into the way ofstrolling down to Miss Maggie's almost every Sunday after dinner.

  One Saturday afternoon Mr. Frank Blaisdell rattled up to the door inhis grocery wagon. His face was very red, and his mutton-chop whiskerswere standing straight out at each side.

  Jane had collapsed, he said, utterly collapsed. All the week she hadbeen house-cleaning and doing up curtains; and now this morning,expressly against his wishes, to save hiring a man, she had put downthe parlor carpet herself. Now she was flat on her back, and supper tobe got for the boarder, and the Saturday baking yet to be done. Andcould Maggie come and help them out?

  Before Miss Maggie could answer, Mr. Smith hurried out from his cornerand insisted that "the boarder" did not want any supper anyway--andcould they not live on crackers and milk for the coming few days?

  But Miss Maggie laughed and said, "Nonsense!" And in an incrediblyshort 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 thebest suppers he had eaten since his arrival in Hillerton. She cameevery day after that, for a week, for Mrs. Jane remained "flat on herback" seven days, with a doctor in daily attendance, supplemented by atrained nurse peremptorily ordered by that same doctor from the nearestcity.

  Miss Maggie, with the assistance of Mellicent, attended to thehousework. But in spite of the excellence of the cuisine, meal time wasa most unhappy period to everybody concerned, owing to the sarcasticcomments of Mr. Frank Blaisdell as to how much his wife had "saved" bynot having a man to put down that carpet.

  Mellicent had little time now to go walking or auto-riding with CarlPennock. Her daily life was, indeed, more pleasure-starved thanever--all of which was not lost on Mr. Smith. Mr. Smith and Mellicentwere fast friends now. Given a man with a sympathetic understanding onone side, and a girl hungry for that same sympathy and understanding,and it could hardly be otherwise. From Mellicent's own lips Mr. Smithknew 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 thankfulfor them," she stormed hotly to him one day. "And I AM thankful forthem. But sometimes it seems as if I'd actually be willing to go hungryfor meat and potato, if for once--just once--I could buy a five-poundbox of candy, and eat it up all at once, if I wanted to! But now, whynow I can't even treat a friend to an ice-cream soda without seeingmother's shocked, reproachful eyes over the rim of the glass!"

  It was not easy then (nor many times subsequently) for Mr. Smith tokeep from asking Mellicent the utterly absurd question of how manyfive-pound boxes of candy she supposed one hundred thousand dollarswould buy. But he did keep from it--by heroic self-sacrifice and thecomforting recollection that she would know some day, if she cared totake the trouble to reckon it up.

  In Mellicent's love affair with young Pennock Mr. Smith was enormouslyinterested. Not that he regarded it as really serious, but because itappeared to bring into Mellicent's life something of the youth andgayety to which he thought she was entitled. He was almost as concernedas was Miss Maggie, therefore, when one afternoon, soon after Mrs. JaneBlaisdell's complete recovery from her "carpet tax" (as Frank Blaisdelltermed his wife's recent illness), Mellicent rushed into the Duffliving-room with rose-red cheeks and blazing eyes, and anexplosive:--"Aunt Maggie, Aunt Maggie, can't you get mother to let mego away somewhere--anywhere, right off?"

  [Illustration caption: "I CAN'T HELP IT, AUNT MAGGIE. I'VE JUST GOT TOBE 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'twant to be at the dance--and I don't want to be in town, and NOT at thedance."

  Mr. Smith, at his table in the corner, glanced nervously toward thedoor, then bent assiduously over his work, as being less conspicuousthan the flight he had been tempted for a moment to essay. But eventhis was not to be, for the next moment, to his surprise, the girlappealed 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'svoice was tragic.

  "But, my dear, to ASK a gentleman--" reproved Miss Maggie. She came toan indeterminate pause. Mr. Smith had crossed the room and dropped intoa chair near them.

  "See here, little girl, suppose you tell us just what is behind--allthis," 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 firstthe kindly questioning face of the man, then the no less kindly butrather grave face of the woman. Then in a little breathless burst itcame.

  "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 withme any more--anywhere, or come to see me, because I--I didn't belong totheir 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--moneyenough."

  "That you haven't got--got--Oh, ye gods!" For no apparent reasonwhatever Mr. Smith threw back his head suddenly and laughed. Almostinstantly, however, he sobered: he had caught the expression of the twofaces opposite.

  "I beg your pardon," he apologized promptly. "It was only that tome--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 turnedwith 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 doesit 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 goto that dance to-morrow night!"

  "And you shan't, if you don't want to," Mr. Smith assured her. "Righthere and now I invite you and your Aunt Maggie to drive with meto-morrow to Hubbardville. There are some records there that I want tolook up. We'll get dinner at the hotel. It will take all day, and weshan'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 nowand telephone to somebody--everybody--that I shan't be there; that I'mgoing to be OUT OF TOWN!" She sprang joyously to her feet--but MissMaggie held out a restraining hand.

  "Just a minute, dear. You don't care--you SAID you didn't care--thatCarl 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, youaccepted 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 shedid."

  "Of course. But--just what do you think these people are going to sayto-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 thewindow. For a long minute she stood, her back toward the two watchingher. Then, with equal abruptness, she turned and came back. Her cheekswere very pink now, her eyes very bright. She carried her head with aproud 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.