Oh, Money! Money! Part 32

Honestly, Maggie, I don't believe Jane can look at the moon nowadays without wishing it was really gold, and she had it to put out to interest!"

"Oh, Flora!" remonstrated Miss Maggie faintly.

"Well, it's so," maintained Miss Flora, "So 't ain't any wonder, of course, that she's upset over this. That's why Frank give in to her, I think, and let her buy that Benson stock. Besides, he's feeling especially flush, because he's got the cash the stores brought, too. So he told her to go ahead."

"I'm sorry about that stock," frowned Miss Maggie.

"Oh, it's perfectly safe. Mis' Benson said 'twas," comforted Miss Flora. "You needn't worry about that. And 'twill pay splendid." "When did this happen--the sale of the store, I mean?" asked Mr. Smith. Mr.

Smith was not even pretending to work now.

"Yesterday--the finish of it. I'm waiting to see Hattie. She'll be tickled to death. She's ALWAYS hated it that Frank had a grocery store, you know; and since the money's come, and she's been going with the g.a.y.l.o.r.ds and the Pennocks, and all that crowd, she's felt worse than ever. She was saying to me only last week how ashamed she was to think that her friends might see her own brother-in-law any day wearing horrid white coat, and selling mola.s.ses over the counter. My, but Hattie'll be tickled all right--or 'Harriet,' I suppose I should say, but I never can remember it.

"But what is Frank going to--to do with himself?" demanded Miss Maggie.

"Why, Flora, he'll be lost without that grocery store!"

"Oh, he's going to travel, first. He says he always wanted to, and he's got a chance now, and he's going to. They're going to the Yellowstone Park and the Garden of the G.o.ds and to California. And that's another thing that worries Jane--spending all that money for them just to ride in the cars."

"Is she going, too?" queried Mr. Smith.

"Oh, yes, she's going, too. She says she's got to go to keep Frank from spending every cent he's got," laughed Miss Flora. "I was over there last night, and they told me all about it."

"When do they go?"

"Just as soon as they can get ready. Frank's got to help Donovan, the man that's bought the store, a week till he gets the run of things, he says. Then he's going. You wait till you see him." Miss Flora got to her feet, and smoothed out the folds of her skirt. "He's as tickled as a boy with a new jack-knife. And I'm glad. Frank has been a turrible hard worker all his life. I'm glad he's going to take some comfort, same as I am."

When Miss Flora had gone, Miss Maggie turned to Mr. Smith with eyes that still carried dazed unbelief.

"DID Flora say that Frank Blaisdell had sold his grocery stores?"

"She certainly did! You seem surprised."

"I'm more than surprised. I'm dumfounded."

"Why? You don't think, like Mrs. Jane, that he ought not to enjoy his money, certainly?"

"Oh, no. He's got money enough to retire, if he wants to, and he's certainly worked hard enough to earn a rest."

"Then what is it?"

Miss Maggie laughed a little.

"I'm not sure I can explain. But, to me, it's--just this: while he's got plenty to retire UPON, he hasn't got anything to--to retire TO."

"And, pray, what do you mean by that?"

"Why, Mr. Smith, I've known that man from the time he was trading jack-knives and marbles and selling paper boxes for five pins. I remember the whipping he got, too, for filching sugar and coffee and beans from the pantry and opening a grocery store in our barn. From that time to this, that boy has always been trading SOMETHING. He's been absolutely uninterested in anything else. I don't believe he's read a book or a magazine since his school days, unless it had something to do with business or groceries. He hasn't a sign of a fad--music, photography, collecting things--nothing. And he hates society. Jane has to fairly drag him out anywhere. Now, what I want to know is, what is the man going to do?"

"Oh, he'll find something," laughed Mr. Smith. "He's going to travel, first, anyhow."

"Yes, he's going to travel, first. And then--we'll see," smiled Miss Maggie enigmatically, as Mr. Smith picked up his hammer again.

By the middle of July the Blaisdells were all gone Hillerton and there remained only their letters for Miss Maggie--and for Mr. Smith. Miss Maggie was very generous with her letters. Perceiving Mr. Smith's genuine interest, she read him extracts from almost every one that came. And the letters were always interesting--and usually characteristic.

Benny wrote of swimming and tennis matches, and of "hikes" and the "bully eats." Hattie wrote of b.a.l.l.s and gowns and the attention "dear Elizabeth" was receiving from some really very nice families who were said to be fabulously rich. Neither James nor Bessie wrote at all.

Fred, too, remained unheard from.

Mellicent wrote frequently--gay, breezy letters full to the brim of the joy of living. She wrote of tennis, swimming, camp-fire stories, and mountain trails: they were like Benny's letters in petticoats, Miss Maggie said.

Long and frequent epistles came from Miss Flora. Miss Flora was having a beautiful time. Niagara was perfectly lovely--only what a terrible noise it made! She was glad she did not have to stay and hear it always. She liked New York, only that was noisy, too, though Mrs. Moore did not seem to mind it. Mrs. Moore liked Coney Island, too, but Miss Flora much preferred Grant's Tomb, she said. It was so much more quiet and ladylike. She thought some things at Coney Island were really not nice at all, and she was surprised that Mrs. Moore should enjoy them so much.

Between the lines it could be seen that in spite of all the good times, Miss Flora was becoming just the least bit homesick. She wrote Miss Maggie that it did seem queer to go everywhere, and not see a soul to bow to. It gave her such a lonesome feeling--such a lot of faces, and not one familiar one! She had tried to make the acquaintance of several people--real nice people; she knew they were by the way they looked.

But they wouldn't say hardly anything to her, nor answer her questions; and they always got up and moved away very soon.

To be sure, there was one nice young man. He was lovely to them, Miss Flora said. He spoke to them first, too. It was when they were down to Coney Island. He helped them through the crowds, and told them about lots of nice things they didn't want to miss seeing. He walked with them, too, quite awhile, showing them the sights. He was very kind--he seemed so especially kind, after all those other cold-hearted people, who didn't care! That was the day she and Mrs. Moore both lost their pocketbooks, and had such an awful time getting back to New York. It was right after they had said good-bye to the nice young gentleman that they discovered that they had lost them. They were so sorry that they hadn't found it out before, Miss Flora said, for he would have helped them, she was sure. But though they looked everywhere for him, they could not find him at all, and they had to appeal to strangers, who took them right up to a policeman the first thing, which was very embarra.s.sing, Miss Flora said. Why, she and Mrs. Moore felt as if they had been arrested, almost! Miss Maggie pursed her lips a little, when she read this letter to Mr. Smith, but she made no comment.

From Jane, also, came several letters, and from Frank Blaisdell one short scrawl.

Frank said he was having a bully time, but that he'd seen some of the most shiftless-looking grocery stores that he ever set eyes on. He asked if Maggie knew how trade was at his old store, and if Donovan was keeping it up to the mark. He said that Jane was well, only she was getting pretty tired because she WOULD try to see everything at once, for fear she'd lose something, and not get her money's worth, for all the world just as she used to eat things to save them.

Jane wrote that she was having a very nice time, of course,--she couldn't help it, with all those lovely things to see; but she said she never dreamed that just potatoes, meat, and vegetables could cost so much anywhere as they did in hotels, and as for the prices those dining-cars charged--it was robbery--sheer robbery! And why an able-bodied man should be given ten cents every time he handed you your own hat, she couldn't understand.

At Hillerton, Mr. Smith pa.s.sed a very quiet summer, but a very contented one. He kept enough work ahead to amuse him, but never enough to drive him. He took frequent day-trips to the surrounding towns, and when possible he persuaded Miss Maggie to go with him. Miss Maggie was wonderfully good company. As the summer advanced, however, he did not see so much of her as he wanted to, for Father Duff's increasing infirmities made more and more demands on her time.

The Martin girls were still there. Annabelle was learning the milliner's trade, and Florence had taken a clerkship for afternoons during the summer. They still helped about the work, and relieved Miss Maggie whenever possible. They were sensible, jolly girls, and Mr.

Smith liked them very much.

CHAPTER XVI

THE FLY IN THE OINTMENT

In August Father Duff died. Miss Flora came home at once. James Blaisdell was already in town. Hattie was at the mountains. She wrote that she could not think of coming down for the funeral, but she ordered an expensive wreath. Frank and Jane were in the Far West, and could not possibly have arrived in time, anyway. None of the young people came.

Mr. Smith helped in every way that he could help, and Miss Maggie told him that he was a great comfort, and that she did not know what she would have done without him. Miss Flora and Mr. James Blaisdell helped, too, in every way possible, and at last the first hard sad days were over, and the household had settled back into something like normal conditions again.

Miss Maggie had more time now, and she went often to drive or for motor rides with Mr. Smith. Together they explored cemeteries for miles around; and although Miss Maggie worried sometimes because they found so little Blaisdell data, Mr. Smith did not seem to mind it at all.

In September Miss Flora moved into an attractive house on the West Side, bought some new furniture, and installed a maid in the kitchen--all under Miss Maggie's kindly supervision. In September, too, Frank and Jane Blaisdell came home, and the young people began to prepare for the coming school year.

Mr. Smith met Mrs. Hattie one day, coming out of Miss Maggie's gate.

She smiled and greeted him cordially, but she looked so palpably upset over something that he exclaimed to Miss Maggie, as soon he entered the house: "What was it? IS anything the matter with Mrs. James Blaisdell?"

Miss Maggie smiled--but she frowned, too.

"No, oh, no--except that Hattie has discovered that a hundred thousand dollars isn't a million."