Oh, Money! Money! Part 14

"Because I can't afford to go to Flora," she interrupted coldly. "I have to pay Flora, and you know it. If I had the money I should be glad to 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--! Of course, if you don't WANT to help me--"

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

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

The kitchen door slammed sharply, and Mr. Smith heard no more. Half an hour later, however, he saw Mrs. Jane go down the walk. The frown was gone from her face and the droop from the corners of her mouth. Her step was alert and confident. She carried no bundle.

The next day it was Miss Flora. Miss Flora's thin little face looked more pinched than ever, and her eyes more anxious, Mr. Smith thought.

Even her smile, as she acknowledged Mr. Smith's greeting, was so wan he wished 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 I don't. Business is so turrible dull! Why, I don't earn enough to pay my rent, hardly, now, ter say nothin' of my feed."

Miss Maggie frowned.

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

A sigh pa.s.sed Miss Flora's lips.

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

But Mr. Smith was not finis.h.i.+ng sentences. Neither was his face expressing just then the sympathy which might be supposed to be showing, after so sorry a tale as Miss Flora had been telling. On the contrary, Mr. Smith, with an actual elation of countenance, was scribbling on the edge of his notebook words that certainly he had never 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 a metamorphosed woman hurrying down the little path to the street. But the woman to-day was carrying a bundle--and it was the same bundle that the woman the day before had brought.

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

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

One Sat.u.r.day afternoon Mr. Frank Blaisdell rattled up to the door in his grocery wagon. His face was very red, and his mutton-chop whiskers were standing straight out at each side.

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

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

But Miss Maggie laughed and said, "Nonsense!" And in an incredibly short 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 the best suppers he had eaten since his arrival in Hillerton. She came every day after that, for a week, for Mrs. Jane remained "flat on her back" seven days, with a doctor in daily attendance, supplemented by a trained nurse peremptorily ordered by that same doctor from the nearest city.

Miss Maggie, with the a.s.sistance of Mellicent, attended to the housework. But in spite of the excellence of the cuisine, meal time was a most unhappy period to everybody concerned, owing to the sarcastic comments of Mr. Frank Blaisdell as to how much his wife had "saved" by not having a man to put down that carpet.

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

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

In Mellicent's love affair with young Pennock Mr. Smith was enormously interested. Not that he regarded it as really serious, but because it appeared to bring into Mellicent's life something of the youth and gayety to which he thought she was ent.i.tled. He was almost as concerned as was Miss Maggie, therefore, when one afternoon, soon after Mrs. Jane Blaisdell's complete recovery from her "carpet tax" (as Frank Blaisdell termed his wife's recent illness), Mellicent rushed into the Duff living-room with rose-red cheeks and blazing eyes, and an explosive:--"Aunt Maggie, Aunt Maggie, can't you get mother to let me go away somewhere--anywhere, right off?"

[Ill.u.s.tration caption: "I CAN'T HELP IT, AUNT MAGGIE. I'VE JUST GOT TO BE 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't want to be at the dance--and I don't want to be in town, and NOT at the dance."

Mr. Smith, at his table in the corner, glanced nervously toward the door, then bent a.s.siduously over his work, as being less conspicuous than the flight he had been tempted for a moment to essay. But even this was not to be, for the next moment, to his surprise, the girl appealed 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's voice was tragic.

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

"See here, little girl, suppose you tell us just what is behind--all this," 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 first the kindly questioning face of the man, then the no less kindly but rather grave face of the woman. Then in a little breathless burst it came.

"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 with me any more--anywhere, or come to see me, because I--I didn't belong to their 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--money enough."

"That you haven't got--got--Oh, ye G.o.ds!" For no apparent reason whatever Mr. Smith threw back his head suddenly and laughed. Almost instantly, however, he sobered: he had caught the expression of the two faces opposite.

"I beg your pardon," he apologized promptly. "It was only that to me--there was something very funny about that."