Oh, Money! Money! Part 38

But Mr. Frank Blaisdell was openly bored. He said he didn't care how many children his great-grandfather had, nor what they died of; and as for Mrs. Submit and Miss Thankful, the ladies might bury themselves in the "Transcript," or hide behind that wall of dates and names till doomsday, for all he cared. HE shouldn't disturb 'em. He never did like figures, he said, except figures that represented something worth while, like a day's sales or a year's profits.

And speaking of grocery stores, had Mr. Smith ever seen a store run down as his old one had since he sold out? For that matter, something must have got into all the grocery stores; for a poorer lot of goods than those delivered every day at his home he never saw. It was a disgrace to the trade.

He said a good deal more about his grocery store--hut nothing whatever more about his Blaisdell ancestors; so Mr. Smith felt justified in considering his efforts to interest Mr. Frank Blaisdell in the ancestor business a failure. Certainly he never tried it again.

It was in February that a certain metropolitan reporter, short for feature articles, ran up to Hillerton and contributed to his paper, the following Sunday, a write-up on "The Blaisdells One Year After,"

enlarging on the fine new homes, the motor cars, and the luxurious living of the three families. And it was three days after this article was printed that Miss Flora appeared at Miss Maggie's, breathless with excitement.

"Just see what I've got in the mail this morning!" she cried to Miss Maggie, and to Mr. Smith, who had opened the door for her.

With trembling fingers she took from her bag a letter, and a small picture evidently cut from a newspaper.

"There, see," she panted, holding them out. "It's a man in Boston, and these are his children. There are seven of them. He wrote me a beautiful letter. He said he knew I must have a real kind heart, and he's in terrible trouble. He said he saw in the paper about the wonderful legacy I'd had, and he told his wife he was going to write to me, to see if I wouldn't help them--if only a little, it would aid them that much."

"He wants money, then?" Miss Maggie had taken the letter and the picture rather gingerly in her hands. Mr. Smith had gone over to the stove suddenly--to turn a damper, apparently, though a close observer might have noticed that he turned it back to its former position almost at once.

"Yes," palpitated Miss Flora. "He's sick, and he lost his position, and his wife's sick, and two of the children, and one of 'em's lame, and another's blind. Oh, it was such a pitiful story, Maggie! Why, some days they haven't had enough to eat--and just look at me, with all my chickens and turkeys and more pudding every day than I can stuff down!"

"Did he give you any references?"

"References! What do you mean? He didn't ask me to HIRE him for anything."

"No, no, dear, but I mean--did he give you any references, to show that he was--was worthy and all right," explained Miss Maggie patiently.

"Of course he didn't! Why, he didn't need to. He told me himself how things were with him," rebuked Miss Flora indignantly. "It's all in the letter there. Read for yourself."

"But he really ought to have given you SOME reference, dear, if he asked you for money."

"Well, I don't want any reference. I believe him. I'd be ashamed to doubt a man like that! And YOU would, after you read that letter, and look into those blessed children's faces. Besides, he never thought of such a thing--I know he didn't. Why, he says right in the letter there that he never asked for help before, and he was so ashamed that he had to now."

[Ill.u.s.tration with caption: "AND LOOK INTO THOSE BLESSED CHILDREN'S FACES"]

Mr. Smith made a sudden odd little noise in his throat. Perhaps he got choked. At all events, he was seized with a fit of coughing just then.

Miss Maggie turned over the letter in her hand.

"Where does he tell you to send the money?"

"It's right there--Box four hundred and something; and I got a money order, just as he said."

"You GOT one! Do you mean that you've already sent this money?" cried Miss Maggie.

"Why, yes, of course. I stopped at the office on the way down here."

"And you sent--a money order?"

"Yes. He said he would rather have that than a check."

"I don't doubt it! You don't seem to have--delayed any."

"Of course I didn't delay! Why, Maggie, he said he HAD to have it at once. He was going to be turned out--TURNED OUT into the streets! Think of those seven little children in the streets! Wait, indeed! Why, Maggie, what can you be thinking of?"

"I'm thinking you've been the easy victim of a professional beggar, Flora," retorted Miss Maggie, with some spirit, handing back the letter and the picture.

"Why, Maggie, I never knew you to be so--so unkind," charged Miss Flora, her eyes tearful. "He can't be a professional beggar. He SAID he wasn't--that he never begged before in his life."

Miss Maggie, with a despairing gesture, averted her face.

Miss Flora turned to Mr. Smith.

"Mr. Smith, you--YOU don't think so, do you?" she pleaded.

Mr. Smith grew very red--perhaps because he had to stop to cough again.

"Well, Miss Flora, I--I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I shall have to agree with Miss Maggie here, to some extent."

"But you didn't read the letter. You don't know how beautifully he talked."

"You told me; and you say yourself that he gave you only a post-office box for an address. So you see you couldn't look him up very well."

"I don't need to!" Miss Flora threw back her head a little haughtily.

"And I'm glad I don't doubt my fellow men and women as you and Maggie Duff do! If either of you KNEW what you're talking about, I wouldn't say anything. But you don't. You CAN'T KNOW anything about this man, and you didn't ever get letters like this, either of you, of course.

But, anyhow, I don't care if he ain't worthy. I wouldn't let those children suffer; and I--I'm glad I sent it. I never in my life was so happy as I was on the way here from the post-office this morning."

Without waiting for a reply, she turned away majestically; but at the door she paused and looked back at Miss Maggie.

"And let me tell you that, however good or bad this particular man may be, it's given me an idea, anyway," she choked. The haughtiness was all gone now "I know now why it hasn't seemed right to be so happy. It's because there are so many other folks in the world that AREN'T happy.

Why, my chicken and turkey would choke me now if I didn't give some of it to--to all these others. And I'm going to--I'M GOING TO!" she reiterated, as she fled from the room.

As the door shut crisply, Miss Maggie turned and looked at Mr. Smith.

But Mr. Smith had crossed again to the stove and was fussing with the damper. Miss Maggie, after a moment's hesitation, turned and went out into the kitchen, without speaking.

Mr. Smith and Miss Maggie saw very little of Miss Flora after this for some time. But they heard a good deal about her. They heard of her generous gifts to families all over town.

A turkey was sent to every house on Mill Street, without exception, and so much candy given to the children that half of them were made ill, much to the distress of Miss Flora, who, it was said, promptly sent a physician to undo her work. The Dow family, hard-working and thrifty, and the Nolans, notorious for their laziness and shiftlessness, each received a hundred dollars outright. The Whalens, always with both hands metaphorically outstretched for alms, were loud in their praises of Miss Flora's great kindness of heart; but the Davises (Mrs. Jane Blaisdell's impecunious relatives) had very visible difficulty in making Miss Flora understand that gifts bestowed as she bestowed them were more welcome unmade.

Every day, from one quarter or another, came stories like these to the ears of Miss Maggie and Mr. Smith. But Miss Flora was seen very seldom.

Then one day, about a month later, she appeared as before at the Duff cottage, breathless and agitated; only this time, plainly, she had been crying.

"Why, Flora, what in the world is the matter?" cried Miss Maggie, as she hurried her visitor into a comfortable chair and began to unfasten her wraps.

"I'll tell you in a minute. I came on purpose to tell you. But I want Mr. Smith, too. Oh, he ain't here, is he?" she lamented, with a disappointed glance toward the vacant chair by the table in the corner.

"I thought maybe he could help me, some way. I won't go to Frank, or Jim. They've--they've said so many things. Oh, I did so hope Mr. Smith was here!"

"He is here, dear. He's in his room. He just came in. I'll call him,"

comforted Miss Maggie, taking off Miss Flora's veil and hat and smoothing back her hair. "But you don't want him to find you crying like this, Flora. What is it, dear?"

"Yes, yes, I know, but I'm not crying--I mean, I won't any more. And I'll tell you just as soon as you get Mr. Smith. It's only that I've been--so silly, I suppose. Please get Mr. Smith."