Early in December Mrs. Hattie, after an extended search, found a satisfactory home. It was a somewhat house, not far from the Gaylord place. Mrs. Hattie had it repapered and repainted throughout and two new bathrooms put in. (She said that everybody who was anybody always had lots of bathrooms.) Then she set herself to furnishing it. She said that, of course, very little of their old furniture would do at all. She was talking to Maggie Duff about it one day when Mr. Smith chanced to come in. She was radiant that afternoon in a handsome silk dress and a new fur coat.
"You're looking very well—and happy, Mrs. Blaisdell," smiled Mr. Smith as he greeted her.
"I am well, and I'm happy, Mr. Smith," she beamed. "How could I help it? You know about the new home, of course. Well, it's all ready, and I'm ordering the furnishings. Oh, you don't know what it means to me to be able at last to surround myself with all the beautiful things I've so longed for all my life!"
"I'm very glad, I'm sure." Mr. Smith said the words as if he meant them.
"Yes, of course; and poor Maggie here, she says she's glad, too,—though
I don't see how she can be, when she never got a cent, do you, Mr.
Smith? But, poor Maggie, she's got so used to being left out—"
", hush!" begged Miss Maggie.
"You'll find money isn't everything in this world, Hattie Blaisdell," Mr. Duff, who, to-day, for some unknown reason, had the kitchen cookstove for the living-room base-burner. "And when I see what a little money does for some folks I'm glad I'm poor. I wouldn't be rich if I could. Furthermore, I'll thank you to keep your sympathy at home. It ain't needed nor wanted—here."
"Why, Father Duff," Mrs. Hattie indignantly, "you know how poor
Maggie has had to—"
"Er—but tell us about the new home," interrupted Mr. Smith quickly, "and the fine new furnishings."
"Why, there isn't much to tell yet—about the furnishings, I mean. I haven't got them yet. But I can tell you what I'm GOING to have." Mrs. Hattie settled herself more comfortably, and began to look happy again. "As I was saying to Maggie, when you came in, I shall get almost everything new—for the rooms that show, I mean,—for, of course, my old things won't do at all. And I'm thinking of the pictures. I want oil paintings, of course, in frames." She glanced a little disdainfully at the oak-framed prints on Miss Maggie's walls.
"Going in for old masters, maybe," suggested Mr. Duff, with a that fell pointless at Mrs. Hattie's feet.
"Old masters?"
"Yes—oil paintings."
"Certainly not." Her chin came up a little. "I'm going to have anything old in my house—where it can be seen—For once I'm going to have NEW things—all new things. You have to make a show or you won't be recognized by the best people."
"But, Hattie, my dear," began Miss Maggie, flushing a little, and carefully avoiding Mr. Smith's eyes, "old masters are—are very valuable, and—"
"I don't care if they are," retorted Mrs. Hattie, with decision. "If they're old, I don't want them, and that settles it. I'm going to have carpets and the handsomest lace curtains that I can find; and I'm going to have some of those gold chairs, like the Pennocks have, only nicer. Theirs are dull, some of them. And I'm going to buy—"
"Humph! Pity you can't buy a little common sense—somewhere!" old man Duff, getting stiffly to his feet. "You'll need it, to swing all that style."
"Oh, father!" murmured Miss Maggie.
"Oh, I don't mind what Father Duff says," laughed Mrs. Hattie. But there was a to her chin and an angry sparkle in her eyes as she, too, arose. "I'm just going, anyway, so you don't need to disturb yourself, Father Duff."
But Father Duff, with another "Humph!" and a muttered something about having all he wanted already of "silly chatter," stamped out into the kitchen, with the usual emphasis of his at every other step.
It was just as well, perhaps, that he went, for Mrs. Hattie Blaisdell had been gone barely five minutes when her sister-in-law, Mrs. Jane, came in.
"I've come to see you about a very important matter, Maggie," she announced, as she threw off her furs—not new ones—and unbuttoned her coat—which also was not new.
"Then certainly I will take myself out of the way," said Mr. Smith, with a smile, making a move to go.
"No, please don't." Mrs. Jane held up a detaining hand. "Part of it concerns you, and I'm glad you're here, anyway. I should like your advice."
"Concerns me?" puzzled the man.
"Yes. I'm afraid I shall have to give up boarding you, and one thing I came to-day for was to ask Maggie if she'd take you. I wanted to give poor Maggie the first chance at you, of course."
"CHANCE at me!" Mr. Smith laughed,—but unmistakably he blushed. "The first—But, my dear woman, it is just possible that Miss Maggie may wish to—er—decline this great honor which is being conferred upon her, and she may hesitate, for the sake of my feelings, to do it before me. NOW I'm very sure I ought to have left at once."
"Nonsense!" (Was Miss Maggie blushing the least bit, too?) "I shall be very glad to take Mr. Smith as a boarder if he wants to come—but HE'S got something to say about it, remember. But tell me, why are you letting him go, Jane?" "Now this surely WILL be embarrassing," laughed Mr. Smith again . "Do I eat too much, or am I merely noisy, and a nuisance generally?"
But Mrs. Jane did not appear to have heard him. She was looking at Miss
Maggie, her eyes , intent.
"Well, I'll tell you. It's Hattie." "Hattie!" exclaimed two amazed voices.
"Yes. She says it's perfectly absurd for me to take boarders, with all our money; and she's making a terrible fuss about where we live. She says she's ashamed—positively ashamed of us—that we haven't moved into a decent place yet."
Miss Maggie's lips a little.
"Do you want to go?"
"Y-yes, only it will cost so much. I've always wanted a house—with a yard, I mean; and 'twould be nice for Mellicent, of course."
"Well, why don't you go? You have the money."
"Y-yes, I know I have; but it'll cost so much, Maggie. Don't you see? It costs not only the money itself, but all the interest that the money could be earning. Why, Maggie, I never saw anything like it." Her face grew suddenly alert and happy. "I never knew before how much money, just MONEY, could earn, while you didn't have to do a thing but sit back and watch it do it. It's the most fascinating thing I ever saw. I counted up the other day how much we'd have if we didn't spend a cent of it for ten years—the , I mean."
"But, great Scott, madam!" expostulated Mr. Smith. "Aren't you going to spend any of that money before ten years' time?"
Mrs. Jane fell back in her chair. The anxious frown came again to her face.
"Oh, yes, of course. We have spent a lot of it, already. Frank has bought out that grocery across the street, and he's put a lot in the bank, and he spends from that every day, I know. And I'm WILLING to spend some, of course. But we had to pay so much inheritance tax and all that it would be my way not to spend much till the interest had sort of made that up, you know; but Frank and Mellicent—they won't hear to it a minute. They want to move, too, and they're teasing me all the time to get new clothes, both for me and for her. But Hattie's the worst. I can't do a thing with Hattie. Now what shall I do?"
"I should move. You say yourself you'd like to," answered Miss Maggie .
"What do you say, Mr. Smith?"
Mr. Smith leaped to his feet and thrust his hands into his pockets as he took a nervous turn about the room, before he .
"Good Heavens, woman, that money was given you to—that is, it was probably given you to use. Now, why don't you use it?"
"But I am using it," argued Mrs. Jane earnestly. "I think I'm making the very best possible use of it when I put it where it will earn more. Don't you see? Besides, what does the Bible say about that man with one talent that didn't make it earn more?"
With a jerk Mr. Smith turned on his heel and renewed his march.
"I think the only thing money is good for is to exchange it for something you want," observed Miss Maggie sententiously.
"There, that's it!" triumphed Mr. Smith, wheeling about. "That's exactly it!"
Mrs. Jane sighed and shook her head. She gazed at Miss Maggie with fondly reproving eyes.
"Yes, we all know your ideas of money, Maggie. You're very sweet and dear, and we love you; but you ARE ."
"Extravagant!" Miss Maggie.
"Yes. You use everything you have every day; and you never protect a thing. Actually, I don't believe there's a tidy or a slip in this house." (DID Mr. Smith breathe a "Thank the Lord!" Miss Maggie wondered.) "And that brings me right up to something else I was going to say. I want you to know that I'm going to help you."
Miss Maggie looked and raised a protesting hand; but Mrs.
Jane smilingly shook her head and went on.
"Yes, I am. I always said I should, if I had money, and I shall—though I must confess that I'd have a good deal more heart to do it if you weren't quite so extravagant. I've already given you Mr. Smith to............