' Charge It ': Keeping Up With Harry Part 5

"She left the article, and its t.i.tle was 'How to Manage a Husband.' It averred that too much petting, too much indulgence, made a man selfish and conceited; that affection should be administered with scientific reserve. Men should be taught to wait on themselves, and all that.

"They called on me for remarks, and I said:

"'I am glad to have become acquainted with the power of concentration.

I propose that we all quit work and begin to concentrate. Matter is only a creation of spirit. Let us exercise our several sovereign spirits and try to turn out a better line of matter. Let us have fewer rocks and stones and more comforts. Sweat and toil are a great mistake. Let us turn Delance's Hill into plum-pudding and the stones thereof into caramels and its pond into tomato-soup. Why not? They have no reality, no substance. They are nothing but thoughts--and our thoughts, at that--and why shouldn't we change 'em? But somehow we can't fetch it. According to the Professor, we have got into the habit of thinking in terms of rock, soil, and water, and we can't get over it. There are some few of us who stand for better things; but the majority keep thinking in the old rut, and we can't sway them. The Professor says that all we need is to get together and agree and then concentrate. But agreement doesn't seem to be necessary. You know that there was a time when everybody, after much concentration, agreed that the world was flat--everybody but one man. Now the world was stubborn.

It wouldn't give up. It hung on to its roundness, and let the people think what they pleased. They tried to flatten it with countless tons of concentration, but it held its shape. The one man had his way about it. So don't be discouraged by an adverse majority on this plum-pudding project. One lady has shown us a sample of concentrated hair, and it looks good to me. Why all this striving, all this trouble about the problems of life and death, when the straight, broad way of concentration is open to us? Why shouldn't we have concentrated bread and meat and shoes and socks and silks.

"'Now the subject of concentration is by no means new. It has been a success for centuries. The late Dr. Guph tells in his memoirs of a singular race of people known as the Flub Dubs who once dwelt on the lost isle of Atlantis. They were the greatest concentrators that ever lived. Every one thought that he was the greatest man in the world, and thought it so hard and so persistently that it came true--in a way. Naturally they aimed high, and every man thought himself the rightful king, and a strife arose over the crown, so that no one could wear it and many were slain in a great tussle. And when they were resting from their struggles one rose and said: "Kings of the realm, you are as the dust under my feet. I scorn you. A few minutes ago I decided to reverse my concentrator and aim at a higher goal. It was easy of attainment. I have suddenly become the biggest fool on this island and the humblest of all men."

"'The announcement was greeted with great applause, and within three minutes his popularity had so enhanced that they put him on the throne. Such was the power of truth. And all confessed and joined his party, and he was known as the wisest king of the Flub Dubs.

"'The moral that Dr. Guph adduces is this: You cannot make figs out of thistles, and unregulated concentration leads to trouble.'

"Harry and I started for home in a deep silence.

"'h.e.l.l!' I exclaimed, presently.

"'And that reminds me that I feel like the king of the Flub Dubs,'

said Harry.

"'Which indicates that you are likely to decline the office,' I remarked.

"'It's serious business--this matter of finding a wife,' he declared.

"'What's the matter with Marie Benson?' I asked. 'There's a real woman and the best-looking girl in Connecticut.'

"'Charming girl!' he exclaimed. 'But, dear boy! she talks too much.'

"'That is a fault that could be remedied; and, after all, it's a kind of generosity. It's the very opposite of concentration.'

"'Ah--if she would only reform!' he said.

"'Leave that to me,' I answered, as he dropped me at my door."

V

IN WHICH SOCRATES DISCUSSES THE OVER-PRODUCTION OF TALK

"Marie was my ward, and as pretty a girl as ever led a bulldog or ate a box of chocolates at a sitting. She was a charming fish-hook, baited with beauty and wealth and culture and remarkable innocence. She had dangled about on mama's rod and line for a year or so, but the fish wouldn't bite. For that reason I grabbed the rod from the old lady and put on a bait of silence and a sinker, and moved to deep water and began to do business.

"Marie had a failing, for which, I am sorry to say, she was in no way distinguished. She talked too much, as Harry had said. There are too many American women who talk too much. Marie's mother used to talk about six-thirds of the time. You had to hear it, and then you had to get over it. She had a way of spiking the shoes of Time so that every hour felt like a month while it was running over you. You ought to have seen her climb the family tree or the st.u.r.dy old chestnut of her own experience and shake down the fruit! Marie had one more tree in her orchard. She had added the spreading peach of a liberal education to the deadly upas of Benson genealogy and the st.u.r.dy old chestnut of mama's experience. The _vox Bensonorum_ was as familiar as the Congregational bell. The supply of it exceeded the demand, and after every one was loaded and ready to cast off, the barrels came rolling down the chute.

"The next time I saw Marie she was a bit cast down. She wished me to suggest something for her to do. Said she wanted a mission--a chance to do some good in the world. Thought she'd enjoy being a nurse. I felt sorry for the girl, and suddenly I saw the flicker of a brilliant thought.

"'Marie,' I said, 'as a member of The Society of Useful Women you are under a serious obligation, and you have taste for missionary work.

Well, what's the matter with beginning on Nancy Doolittle? You owe her a duty and ought to have the courage--nay, the kindness--to perform it. Nancy talks too much.'

"'Well, I should say so,' said Marie. 'Nancy is a scourge--I have often thought of it.'

"'She's downright wasteful,' I went on. 'She fills every hour with information, and then throws on some more. It keeps coming. Your seams open, and then it's every hand to the pumps! Dora Perkins and Rebecca Ford are just as extravagant. They toss out gems of thought and chunks of knowledge as if they were as common as caramels.

"'You should go to these girls and kindly but firmly remind them of this fault. Tell them that too much conversation has created more old maids and gra.s.s and parlor widows than any other cause. Give them a little lecture on the old law of supply and demand. Show them that it applies to conversation as well as to cabbages--that if one's talk is too plentiful, it becomes very cheap. Suggest that if Methuselah had lived until now and witnessed all the adventures of the human race, he couldn't afford to waste his knowledge. If he talked only half the time n.o.body would believe him. They'd think he was crazy, and they'd know why, in past ages, everybody had died but him, and they'd wonder how he had managed to survive the invention of gunpowder. These girls have overestimated the value of good-will. Their securities are not well secured. There are millions of watered stock in their treasuries, and it isn't worth five cents on the dollar. Marie, you can have a lot of fun. I almost envy you.

"'Tell these girls that the remedy is simple. They must be careful to regulate the supply to the demand. They could easily raise the price above par by denying now and then that they have any conversation in the treasury.'

"Marie promised to undertake this important work, and I knew that in connection with it she would also get some valuable advice.

"You see, this tendency to extravagant display has sunk in very deep.

Our young people really do know a lot, and they want others to know that they know it. They are plumed with culture, and it has become a charge instead of a credit.

"Well, things began to mend. Betsey and I went to dine with the Bensons one evening, and Marie was as quiet as a lamb. She answered modestly when we spoke to her. She told no stories; her jeweled crown of culture was not in sight; she listened with notable success, and delighted us with well-managed and illuminating silence. Neither she nor her mother nor Mrs. Bryson ventured to interrupt the talk of a noted professor who dined with us. Marie was charming.

"After dinner she led me into the library, where we sat down together.

"She seemed a little embarra.s.sed, and presently said, with a laugh, 'I had a talk with those girls, as you suggested.'

"'What did they say?' I asked.

"'What didn't they say?' she exclaimed. 'They flew at me like wildcats. They tore me to pieces--said I was the most dreaded talker in Pointview, that I had talked a steady stream ever since I was born, that n.o.body had a chance to get in a word with me, that I had made all the boys sick who ever came to see me. What do you think of that?'

[Ill.u.s.tration: "WHAT DIDN'T THEY SAY? THEY FLEW AT ME LIKE WILDCATS."]

"'It's a gross exaggeration!' I said.

"'Well, I thought it over, and made up my mind they were right,' she went on. 'We kissed and made up and organized the Listeners' Circle, and mama and Mrs. Bryson and Mrs. Doolittle have joined. Our purpose is to regulate our talk supply very strictly to the demand.'

"'It's a grand idea!' I exclaimed. 'The Ladies' Talk and Information Trust! Why, it will soon control the entire product of Pointview, and can fix the price. Marie, it's only a matter of time when the conversation of you girls is going to be in the nature of a luxury and as much desired as diamonds. It won't be long before some young fellow will offer his life for one word from you.'

"'Oh, _I'm_ hopeless! n.o.body cares for me--not a soul!' said Marie.

"'Wait and give 'em a chance,' I answered.

"'Do you think it's true that I've been such a pestilence?' she asked, as her fingers toyed with the upholstery. 'You know you've been a kind of father to me, and I want you to tell me frankly if I've really made the boys sick.'

"'Why, my dear child, if I were a young man I'd be kneeling at your feet,' I said; and no wonder, for they were a beautiful pair of feet, and none ever supported a n.o.bler girl. Then I went on: 'Marie, your talk is charming. The demand continues. I feel honored by your confidence. Please go on.'

"'I believe I've been foolish without knowing it,' she said, her smile beautiful with its sadness.

"'My dear child, if there were no folly in the world it would be a stupid place, and I for one should want to move,' I said. 'Some never discover their own follies, and they _are_ hopeless. You are as wise as you are dear. It's in your power to do a lot of good. Think what you've already accomplished. I wish you would continue to help us discourage foolish display in America.

"'Are there any more chestnuts in the fire?' she asked, with a laugh.

'Not that I'm afraid. I suppose the fire is good for me.'

"'Marie, I love your fingers too well to burn them unduly,' I said.