III

“Harry’s specialty were lies of adventure in court and palace, and, as Dr. Guph had known all the crowned heads, he became an ever-present help in time of trouble.

“Every lie of Harry’s I outdid with another of ampler proportions. He put on a little more steam, but I kept abreast or a length ahead of him. By and by he broke down and begged for quarter.

“‘On my word as a gentleman,’ said he, ‘that last story I told was true. It really happened, don’t you know?’

“‘Well, Harry, if you will only notify me when you propose to tell the truth, I shall be glad to take your word for it,’ was my answer.

“‘And keep Dr. Guph chained,’ said he.

“‘Exactly, and give you like warning when I have a lie ready to launch.’

“‘That’s a fair treaty,’ he agreed.

“‘And a good idea,’ I said. ‘As a liar of long experience I have found it best to notify all comers what to expect of me when I see a useful lie in the offing. That has32enabled me to give my fancy full play without impairing my reputation. My noblest faculties have had ample exercise while my word has remained at par.’

“We made an agreement along that line, and Harry ceased to be a liar, and became a story-teller of much humor and ingenuity.”

33IIIWHICH IS THE STORY OF THE PIMPLED QUEEN AND THE BLACK SPOT

“Well, on our return, Mrs. Delance had a helmet and a battle-ax, with sundry accessories, emblazoned on her letter-heads and the doors of her limousine. Here was another case of charge it, but this time it was charged against her slender capital of good sense. Mrs. Delance was a stout lady of the Dreadnought type. Harry settled down in the home of his father and began to study the ‘middle clahsses’ with a drag and tandem and garments for every kind of leisure. The girls went to ride with him, and naturally began to smarten their dress and accents and to change their estimates. His ‘aristocratic’ friends and manners34were much in their company and ever in their dreams.

“Of course, all that began to react on the young men: if that was the kind of thing the girls liked, they must try to be in it. Slowly but surely a Pointview aristocracy began its line of cleavage and a process of integration. Crests appeared on the letter-heads and limousine doors of the newly rich. In a month or so people of brain and substance degenerated into a condition of hardened shameless idiocy.

“Some of our best citizens went abroad, each to find his place among the descendants of William the Conqueror. Suddenly I discovered that the clerk in my office was ashamed to be seen on the street with a package in his hands.

“Our young men began to long for wealth and leisure. They grew impatient of the old process of thrift and industry. It was too slow. Many of them opened accounts in Wall Street.

“Young Roger Daniels had some luck there and began to advertise the fact with a small steam-yacht and a cruise. We were going as hard as ever to keep up, but on higher levels of aspiration. The girls were engaged in a strenuous contest for the prize of Harry’s favor, with that handsome youngdivorcéewell in the lead.

“Roger and his party were about to return from their cruise, and Harry was to give them a ball at the Yacht Club.

“The day before the ball our best known physician came to see Mrs. Potter, who was ill, and cheered us up with a story. The Doctor was young, attractive, and able. He had threatened every appendix in Pointview, and had a lot of inside information about our men and women––especially the latter. He looked weary.

“‘Yesterday was a little hard on me,’ he said. ‘It began at four in the morning with a confinement case and ended at oneA.M.There were two operations at the36hospital, a steady stream at the office, and a twenty-mile ride over the hills. Got back in the evening pretty well worn out. Tumbled into bed at two minutes of eleven, and was asleep before the clock struck. The ’phone-bell at my bedside awoke me. I let it go on for a minute. Hadn’t energy enough to get up. It rang and rang. Out I tumbled.

“‘Hello!’ I said.

“‘A voice answered. “I am Mrs. So-and-So’s butler,” it said. “She wishes to see you as soon as you can get here. It’s very urgent.”

“‘“What’s the matter?”

“‘“Don’t know, sir, but it is serious.”

“‘“All right,” I said.

“‘My chauffeur was off for the night, so I ’phoned to the stable and got Patrick and told him to hitch up the black mare at once, dressed, and took everything that I was likely to need in an emergency, got into the wagon, and hurried away in the37darkness. After all, I thought, it is something to have one’s skill so much in request by the rich and the powerful. It was a long ride with one horse-power, but we got there.

“‘Many windows of the great house were aglow. The first butler met me in the hall and took me to my lady’s chamber––an immense room finished in the style of the First Empire. She was half reclining and playing solitaire as she smoked a cigarette on a divan that occupied a dais overhung with rare tapestries on a side of the room. The effect of the whole thing was queenly––à laRécamier. She greeted me wearily and without rising.

“‘“Sit down,” said she, and I did so.

“‘She turned to a good-looking maid who timidly stood near the divan.

“‘“My dear little woman, you weary me––please go,” she said.

“‘The maid went.

“‘“Dawctah,” the lady said to me, “I38have a nahsty little pimple on my right cheek, and I really cahn’t go to the ball, you know, unless it is cuahed. Won’t you kindly––ah––see what can be done?”

“‘“A pimple! God prosper it!” I said to myself. “Has the great M.D. become a P.D.––a mere doctor of pimples?”

“‘I inspected the pimple––a very slight affair.

“‘“Why, if I were you, I’d just cover the pimple with a little square of court-plaster,” I said. “It would become you.”

“‘“What a pretty idea! That’s just what I will do,” she exclaimed.

“‘“Please charge it, Dawctah,” she said, wearily, as she resumed her solitaire.

“‘I charged a hundred dollars, but nothing could pay me for the humiliation I suffered. Going home, I pounded the mare shamefully.’

“‘You charged a good price,’ I said.

“‘Yes; but it’s like pulling teeth to get any money out of her. One has to earn it39twice. Worth a million, and hangs everybody up. Some have to sue.’

“‘Does nothing to-day that can be done to-morrow,’ I said.

“‘True,’ said he; ‘she don’t look after her business, and thinks that every one is trying to cheat her.’

“‘Same old story,’ was my remark. I was her husband’s lawyer. ‘Well, dear, how much do you suppose McCrory’s bill is for the last month?’ he would ask her. She would look thoughtful and say: ‘Oh, about fifteen hundred dollars.’ ‘My dear,’ he would go on, ‘it is ten thousand six hundred and forty-three dollars and twenty-four cents.’ ‘Oh, that’s impossible,’ she would answer. ‘There’s some mistake about it. I’ll never O.K. such a bill. It’s an outrage!’ But the bill was always right.

“‘I didn’t suppose you would know the lady––I haven’t mentioned her name,’ said the Doctor.

“‘I know her, but don’t worry––I shall not betray your confidence. I knew her husband. It wore him out looking after the charge-it department. Now she’s trying to get Harry Delance for his job.’

“‘She’s badly in need of a clerk,’ said the Doctor, ‘and I hope she gets one. He could look after the pimples as well as I can.’

“Many were getting ready for the ball, but this lady was the only one I knew of who had spent a hundred dollars for facial improvement. Harry, however, was about to spend a thousand dollars for the improvement of his conscience. It was one of the necessary expenses and it came about in this way:

“The day of the ball had arrived. Harry came to see me about noon. He said that he had been busy all the morning with preparations for the ball, but––

“He showed me a telegram. It was from Roger Daniels, and it said:

“‘The recent slump in the market has put41me in hell’s hole. Please wire one thousand dollars to Bridgeport, where I am hung up. If you do, I shall give you good collateral and eternal gratitude. If you don’t, we shall have to miss the ball. Please remember that I am waiting at the other end of the wire like a hungry cat at a mouse-hole.’

“Harry looked worried. The ball must come off, and, without Roger, it would be like Hamlet minus the melancholy Dane. It was a special compliment to Roger.

“‘What do you advise me to do?’ he asked.

“‘Pay it.’

“‘It will probably be a dead loss.’

“‘Probably, but it’s plainly up to you. He’s got in trouble keeping your pace. To tell the honest truth, you’re responsible for it, and the public will charge it to your account. You must pay the bill or suffer moral bankruptcy.’

“Harry was taken by surprise.

“‘But I can pay formyfolly,’ he said.

“‘Yes; but when it becomes another man’s42folly it’s stolen property, and as much yours as ever. The goods have your mark on ’em, and, by and by, they’re dumped at your door. They may be damaged by dirt and vermin, but you’ve got to take ’em.

“‘After all, Harry, why should a young man whose education has cost a hundred thousand dollars, if a cent, be giving up his life to folly? You’re too smart to spend the most of your time looking beautiful––trying to excite the admiration of women and the envy of men. That might do in some of the old countries where the people are as dumb as cattle and are capable only of the emotion of awe and need professional gentlemen to excite it, and to feed upon their substance. Here the people have their moments of weakness, but mostly they are pretty level-headed. They judge men by what they do, not by what they look like. The professional gentleman is first an object of curiosity and then an object of scorn. He’s not for us. Young man, I knew your43father and your grandfather. I like you and want you to know that I am speaking kindly, but you ought to go to work.’

“‘Mr. Potter, he said, ‘upon my word, sir, I’m going to work one of these days––at something––I don’t know what.’

“‘The sooner the better,’ I said. ‘Work is the thing that makes men––nothing else. In Pointview everybody used to work. Now here are some facts for your genealogy that you haven’t discovered. Your grandfather and grandmother raised a family of nine children and never had a servant––think of that. Your grandmother made clothes for the family and did all the work of the house. She was a doctor, a nurse, a teacher, a spinner, a weaver, a knitter, a sewer, a cook, a washerwoman, a gentle and tender mother. Now we are beginning to rot with idleness.

“‘Let me tell you a story of a modern lady of Pointview.’

“Then I told him of the Doctor’s call44on the pimpled queen at midnight, and added:

“‘Think of that! Think of the fathomless depths of vanity and selfishness that lie under that pimple. It’s a monument more sublime than the Matterhorn. Think of the poor fellow that has to marry that human millstone, and be the clerk of her charge-it department.’

“‘I can think of no worse luck, really,’ said he. ‘I wonder who it is!’

“‘Doctors never give names,’ I said. ‘But you might look for the little black square of court-plaster.”

“‘By Jove!’ he exclaimed. ‘I shall look with interest.’

“The ball came off, and Roger got there, and so did the lady and the square of black court-plaster; and that night Harry began a new stage in his career.

“After all, Harry was no dunce, but he was not yet convinced.”

45IVIN WHICH SOCRATES ENCOUNTERS “NEW THOUGHT” AND PSYCHOLOGICAL HAIR

“When people have little to do they go back to childishness. They long for novelty––new playthings, new adventures, new sensations, new friends. So our upper classes are utterly restless. Every old pleasure is a slough of despond. The ladies have tried jewels, laces, crests, titled husbands, divorces, gambling, cocktails, cigarettes, and other branches of exhilaration. They have passed through the slums of literature and of the East Side of Gotham. The gentlemen have shown them the way and smiled with amusement and gone on to greater triumphs. To these people46every old idea is ‘bromide.’ It bores them. They scoff at men ‘who take themselves seriously.’ In a word, Moses and the Prophets are so much ‘dope.’ And they are excellent people who really want to make the world better, but the childish craze for novelty is upon them. Mrs. Revere-Chalmers was one of this kind. Harry came to me next day at my house and said:

“‘By Jove! you know, it was my friend Mrs. R.-C. who wore the black square. But she is really a charming woman––not at all a bad sort. I want you to know her better. She made me promise to bring you over to-morrow afternoon if you would come.’

“We went. It was a ‘new-thought’ tea––a deep, brain-racking, forefinger-on-the-brow function. You could see the thoughts of the ladies and sometimes hear them as a ‘professor’ with long hair and smiles of fathomless inspiration wrapped47himself in obscurity and called unto them out of the depths. He was all depth. They gazed at his soulful eyes and plunged into deep thought, catching at straws, and he returned to New York by the next train and probably made another payment, on account, to his landlady. Tea and conversation followed his departure.

“I had observed that Mrs. Revere-Chalmers had undergone a singular change of aspect, but failed to locate the point of difference until a sister had said to her in a tone of honeyed deviltry:

“‘My dear, you are growing younger––quite surely younger, and your hair is so lovely and so––different! You know what I mean––it has the luster of youth, and the shade is adorable without a trace of gray in it.’

“This last phrase was the point of the dagger, and Mrs. Chalmers felt it. Sure enough, her hair had changed its hue, and was undeniably fuller and younger.

“Then our hostess gave out a confession which has made some history and is fully qualified to make more. It is a curious fact that one who is abnormal enough to commit a crime is apt to have poor caution.

“‘I have been taking lessons of the Professor, and have produced this hair by concentration,’ said she. ‘It is a creation of the new thought and so wonderful I could almost forgive one for not believing me.’

“‘A gem of thought––a hair poem!’ I could not help exclaiming. ‘Did it come all at once, in a flood of inspiration, or hair by hair?’

“‘All at once,’ she answered.

“I charged it and went on as if nothing great had happened.

“‘Considered as a work of the imagination, it is wonderful, and should rank with the best of Shakespeare’s,’ I assured her. ‘But it will subject you to unsuspected perils, for your footstool will be the shrine49of the hairless and you shall see the top of every bald head in America.’

“Another lady sprang to her assistance by telling how she had extracted a pearl necklace from an unwilling husband who had said that he couldn’t afford it, by concentration. The new thought had fetched him.

“The noble unselfishness with which they had used this miraculous gift of the spirit appealed to Harry and to me.

“In that brilliant company was a slim woman of the armored cruiser type, who had come to Betsey one day and said:

“‘You’re spoiling your husband. You make too much of him. You don’t seem to know how to manage a husband, and the husbands of Pointview are being ruined by your example. They expect too much of us. We women have got to stand together. Don’t you read theFemale Gazette?’

“‘No––I have been waiting till I could get a rubber-plant and other accessories,’ said Betsey.

“‘Well, it may not been règle, but it is full of good sense,’ said the lady. ‘I’ve brought an article with me that I wish you would read.’

“She left the article, and its title 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 and51the 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 it52held 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, and53a 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.

“‘Hell!’ 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.”

55VIN 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 Harry56had 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 sturdy 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 sturdy old chestnut of mama’s experience. Thevox Bensonorumwas 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 wanted57a 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 chunks58of 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 grass 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 nobody 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 well59secured. 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 a60lamb. 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 embarrassed, 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 nobody 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?’

“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’mhopeless! Nobody cares for me––not a soul!’ said Marie.

“‘Wait and give ’em a chance,’ I answered.

“‘Do you think it’s true that I’ve62been 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 nobler 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 theyarehopeless. 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.63I 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. ‘By the way, I expect that Harry Delance will be wanting to marry you soon.’

“‘Harry!’ she exclaimed. ‘I talked him to death––and out of the notion––long ago, and I’m not sorry. He isn’t my kind.’

“‘Harry’s a good fellow,’ I insisted.

“‘But he’s so dreadfully nice––such a hopeless aristocrat! Grandfather would have a fit. I want a big, full-blooded, brawny chap, who isn’t a slave to his coat and trousers––the kind of man you’ve talked so much about––one who could get his hands dirty and be a gentleman. I’m64longing for the outdoor life––and the outdoor man to live it with me.’

“‘Give Harry a chance––his uneducation had only just begun,’ I urged.

“I left Marie with a rather serious look in her face, and began to wonder how I should accomplish the uneducation of Harry.

“That young man came to see me, in a day or two, at our home. My new set of Smollett lay on the piano, and he greatly admired it. Above all things Harry loved books, and his specialty was Smollett; he had read every tale in the series, at college, and made a mark with his thesis on ‘The Fathers of English Fiction.’ He spent an hour of delight with those books of mine. Then he said to me:

“‘Only fifty copies printed?’

“‘Only fifty,’ I said.

“‘Could I get a set?’

“‘All sold,’ I assured him, ‘but I shall be glad to give these books to you on two conditions.’

“He turned in astonishment.

“‘They can do you no further harm, and my first request is that you do not lend them. My second is that you take them home in my wheelbarrow by daylight with your own hands.’

“He silently demurred.

“‘At last those books have a chance to do some little good in the world, and I don’t want them to lose it,’ I urged. ‘The hands, feet, and legs of the high and low born are slowly being deprived of their rights in this community. Pride is robbing them of their ancient and proper offices. How many of the young men and women of our acquaintance would be seen on the street with a package in their hands, to say nothing of a wheelbarrow? Their souls are above it!’

“‘Why should they carry packages and roll wheelbarrows?’ Harry asked. ‘Stores deliver goods these days.’

“‘That’s one reason why it costs so much66to live. We have to pay for our pride and our indolence and the delivery of the goods. It’s all charged in the bill. Some member of the family used to go to market every morning with his basket and carry the goods home with him.’

“‘It would be ridiculous for me to do that,’ said Harry. ‘We’re able to pay the bills.’

“‘But you’re doing a great injustice to those who are not. You make the delivery system a necessary thing, and those who can’t afford it have to help you stand the expense––a gross injustice. I want you to help me in this cause of the hand and foot. Your example would be full of inspiration. Excuse me a moment.’

“I went for the wheelbarrow and rolled it up to the front door. Then we brought out the books and loaded them. That done, I seized the handles of the barrow.

“‘Come on,’ I said. ‘I’ll do the work––you share the disgrace with me.’

“My gray hairs were too much for him.

“‘No; give me the handles,’ he insisted. ‘If it won’t hurt you, it won’t hurt me––that’s sure.’

“So, in his silk hat and frock-coat and spats, with a carnation in his buttonhole, he seized the wheelbarrow like a man, and away we went. I steered him up the Main Street, and people began to hail us with laughter from automobiles, and to jest with us on the sidewalk, and Marie came along with two other pretty girls, and the barrow halted in a gale of merriment.

“‘What in the world are you doing?’ one of them asked.

“‘It’s the remains of the late Mr. Smollett,’ I explained.

“‘I’m setting an example to the young,’ said Harry, as he mopped his forehead. ‘Couldn’t help it. I had to do this thing.’

“‘Great!’ Marie exclaimed. ‘Simply68great! I’m going to get me a wheelbarrow.’

“She would take hold of the handles and try it, and went on half a block in spite of our protests, creating much excitement.

“That was the first rude beginning of The Basket and Wheelbarrow Brigade in Pointview, of which I shall tell you later. And now I shall explain my generosity––it can generally be explained––and how I came by the Smollett.”

69VIIN WHICH BETSEY COMMITS AN INDISCRETION

“Christmas was approaching, and Betsey said to me one day that she had been guilty of a great extravagance.

“‘I know you will forgive me just this once,’ she went on. ‘My love for you is so extravagant that I had to keep pace with it. You’ve simply got to accept something very grand.’

“‘I can’t think of anything that I need unless it’s a new jack-knife,’ I said.

“‘Nonsense!’ she exclaimed. ‘You’ve got to let me spend some money for you. I’ve been held down in the expression of my affections as long as I can stand it. I’ve doubled my charities since we were70married, as a token of my gratitude, and now I’ve a right to do something to please myself.’

“‘All right! We’ll lift the lid,’ I said. ‘We can lie about it, I suppose, and cover up our folly.’

“‘Well, of course we don’t have to tell what it cost,’ said Betsey; ‘and, Socrates, you can’t expect to reform me in a year. It’s taken half a lifetime to acquire my follies.’

“That’s one trouble with the whole problem. You can’t tear down a structure which has been slowly rising for half a century in a day, or in many days.

“Christmas arrived, and Betsey went down-stairs with me and covered my eyes in the hall and led me to the grand piano. Then I was permitted to look, and there was the most gorgeous set of books that my eyes ever beheld––a set of Smollett, in lovely brown calf, decorated with magnificent gold tooling! Yes, I love such71things––who doesn’t?––and I gave Betsey a great hug, and we sat down with tears in our eyes to look at the pages of vellum and the wonderful etchings which adorned so many of them. They were charming. I knew that the books had cost at least a thousand dollars. Grandpa Smead looked awfully stern in his gold frame on the wall.

“‘Now don’t think too badly of me,’ she urged. ‘Every poor family within twenty miles is eating dinner at my expense this Christmas Day.’

“‘You are the dearest girl in all the land!’ I said. ‘There’s nobody like you.’

“‘I knew that you were fond of the classics,’ said Betsey, ‘so I consulted Harry Delance, and he suggested that I should give you a set of Smollett; said it would renew your youth. You know he’s devoted to Smollett.’

“‘And why shouldn’t we keep up with Harry?’ I said.

“‘Well, you know he took the first72prize in literature, and ought to have excellent taste. Then the young man who sold the set to me is working his way through Yale. I was glad to help him, too; he recommended these books––said they were moral and uplifting––not at all like the modern trash. He knew that we enjoyed home reading. Mary will read them aloud to us, and we’ll enjoy them together.’

“This father of romance was not unknown to me, and I did not share her confidence in the joys ahead of us, but said nothing.

“After a fine dinner Betsey wanted to start in at once. We sat down by the fireside while her secretary began to read aloud from one of the treasured volumes. I had not read the story, and chose it as being the least likely to make trouble. In a short time we came to rough going and the young woman began to falter.

“‘That will do,’ said Betsey, suddenly, as I tried to conceal my emotions.

“She took the book from the hands of her secretary and read on in silence for a minute or so.

“‘My land!’ she exclaimed, with a look of horror. ‘That book would corrupt the morals of John Bunyan.’

“‘Never mind; John never lived in Pointview,’ I argued. ‘He didn’t have a chance to get hardened.’

“Betsey had a determined look in her face, and rang for the coachman.

“‘I’ll have them stored in the stable,’ said she, firmly.

“‘If you don’t keep it locked, all the women in the neighborhood’ll be in there,’ I warned her, knowing that she couldn’t help telling her friends of what had happened.

“‘That’s no reason why the men should be unduly exposed,’ said Betsey. ‘Poor things! It’s my duty to protectyouas long as I can, Socrates.’

“I promised to get rid of the books74somehow, and persuaded her to let them stay where they were until I had had time to think about it. Then she said:

“‘Socrates, forgive me. I didn’t mean it, and I wanted to be so nice to you. I guess it’s a just punishment for my extravagance. I thought the modern novels were bad enough. What can I do for you now?’

“‘Always, when you’re in doubt, do nothing,’ I suggested.

“‘Oh, I know what I’ll do!’ she exclaimed, joyfully. ‘I’ll knit you a pair of socks with my own hands.’

“‘Eureka!’ I shouted. ‘Those socks shall make footprints on the sands of time.’”

75VIIIN WHICH SOCRATES ATTACKS THE WORST DOERS AND BEST SELLERS

“One evening, soon after that, Betsey and I went to a party at Deacon Benson’s. The Deacon is Marie’s grandfather––a strict, old-line Congregationalist. The old gentleman owned some two hundred acres in the very heart of Pointview and about a mile of shore-front. In all the buying and selling, he had refused to part with an acre of his land, now worth at least a million dollars. He had willed it all to Marie.

“Deacon Joe was a relic of Puritan days, with shrewd eyes under heavy gray tufts, and a mouth bent like a sickle, and whiskers76under a strong chin, and lines in his face that suggested the heart of a lion. In his walks he was always accompanied by a hickory cane and a bulldog whose countenance and philosophy were like unto those of the Deacon.

“He was a perfectly honest man who had joined the church with mental reservations. He had reserved the right to employ certain adjectives and nouns which had been useful in Pointview since the days of the pioneer, and which had grown more and more indispensable to the opinions of an honest man. The verb ‘to damn’ in all its parts and relations had been one of them. The word ‘hell’ was another. It represented a thing of great conversational value, and he recommended it with perfect frankness to certain people. He loved hell and hard cider, and hated Episcopalians. He loved to tell how one Episcopalian had cheated him in a horse trade, and how another had never paid for a bushel of onions. That77was enough for him. He had always thought them a loose, unprincipled lot with no adequate respect for fire and brimstone. But Deacon Joe was honest, and his word was worth a hundred cents on the dollar.

“Now the Delances were Episcopalians from away back––High-Church Episcopalians, at that. The old man had sniffed a good deal when Harry began to pay attention to Marie, and had come to see me about it.

“I eased his fears and appealed to his avarice. Harry had too much money and some follies, I confessed, but he was sound at heart, and I had hope of making a strong man of him, and of course his money might be a great lever in his hands.

“‘Very well––we’ll keep an eye on him,’ he snapped, and left me without another word.

“After that Marie was allowed to go out with the young man in his drag and tandem.

Back to Index Next