Oh, Money! Money! Part 39

"All right, dear."

Miss Maggie, still with the disturbed frown between her eyebrows, summoned Mr. Smith. Then together they sat down to hear Miss Flora's story.

"It all started, of course, from--from that day I brought the letter here--from that man in Boston with seven children, you know."

"Yes, I remember," encouraged Miss Maggie.

"Well, I--I did quite a lot of things after that. I was so glad and happy to discover I could do things for folks. It seemed to--to take away the wickedness of my having so much, you know; and so I gave food and money, oh, lots of places here in town--everywhere, 'most, that I could find that anybody needed it."

"Yes, I know. We heard of the many kind things you did, dear." Miss Maggie had the air of one trying to soothe a grieved child.

"But they didn't turn out to be kind--all of 'em," quavered Miss Flora.

"Some of 'em went wrong. I don't know why. I TRIED to do 'em all right!"

"Of course you did!"

"I know; but 'tain't those I came to talk about. It's the others--the letters."

"Letters?"

"Yes. I got 'em--lots of 'em--after the first one--the one you saw.

First I got one, then another and another, till lately I've been getting 'em every day, 'most, and some days two or three at a time."

"And they all wanted--money, I suppose," observed Mr. Smith, "for their sick wives and children, I suppose."

"Oh, not for children always--though it was them a good deal. But it was for different things--and such a lot of them! I never knew there could be so many kinds of such things. And I was real pleased, at first,--that I could help, you know, in so many places."

"Then you always sent it--the money?" asked Mr. Smith.

"Oh, yes. Why, I just had to, the way they wrote; I wanted to, too.

They wrote lovely letters, and real interesting ones, too. One man wanted a warm coat for his little girl, and he told me all about what hard times they'd had. Another wanted a brace for his poor little crippled boy, and HE told me things. Why, I never s'posed folks could have such awful things, and live! One woman just wanted to borrow twenty dollars while she was so sick. She didn't ask me to give it to her. She wasn't a beggar. Don't you suppose I'd send her that money? Of course I would! And there was a poor blind man--he wanted money to buy a Bible in raised letters; and of COURSE I wouldn't refuse that! Some didn't beg; they just wanted to sell things. I bought a diamond ring to help put a boy through school, and a ruby pin of a man who needed the money for bread for his children. And there was--oh, there was lots of 'em--too many to tell."

"And all from Boston, I presume," murmured Mr. Smith.

"Oh, no,--why, yes, they were, too, most of 'em, when you come to think of it. But how did you know?"

"Oh, I--guessed it. But go on. You haven't finished."

"No, I haven't finished," moaned Miss Flora, almost crying again. "And now comes the worst of it. As I said, at first I liked it--all these letters--and I was so glad to help. But they're coming so fast now I don't know what to do with 'em. And I never saw such a lot of things as they want--pensions and mortgages, and pianos, and educations, and wedding dresses, and clothes to be buried in, and--and there were so many, and--and so queer, some of 'em, that I began to be afraid maybe they weren't quite honest, all of 'em, and of course I CAN'T send to such a lot as there are now, anyway, and I was getting so worried.

Besides, I got another one of those awful proposals from those dreadful men that want to marry me. As if I didn't know THAT was for my money!

Then to-day, this morning, I--I got the worst of all." From her bag she took an envelope and drew out a small picture of several children, cut apparently from a newspaper. "Look at that. Did you ever see that before?" she demanded.

Miss Maggie scrutinized the picture.

"Why, no,--yes, it's the one you brought us a month ago, isn't it?"

Miss Flora's eyes flashed angrily.

"Indeed, it ain't! The one I showed you before is in my bureau drawer at home. But I got it out this morning, when this one came, and compared them; and they're just exactly alike--EXACTLY!"

"Oh, he wrote again, then,--wants more money, I suppose," frowned Miss Maggie.

"No, he didn't. It ain't the same man. This man's name is Haley, and that one was Fay. But Mr. Haley says this is a picture of his children, and he says that the little girl in the corner is Katy, and she's deaf and dumb; but Mr. Fay said her name was Rosie, and that she was LAME.

And all the others--their names ain't the same, either, and there ain't any of 'em blind. And, of course, I know now that--that one of those men is lying to me. Why, they cut them out of the same newspaper; they've got the same reading on the back! And I--I don't know what to believe now. And there are all those letters at home that I haven't answered yet; and they keep coming--why, I just dread to see the postman turn down our street. And one man--he wrote twice. I didn't like his first letter and didn't answer it; and now he says if I don't send him the money he'll tell everybody everywhere what a stingy t-tight-wad I am. And another man said he'd come and TAKE it if I didn't send it; and you KNOW how afraid of burglars I am! Oh what shall I do, what shall I do?" she begged piteously.

Mr. Smith said a sharp word behind his teeth.

"Do?" he cried then wrathfully. "First, don't you worry another bit, Miss Flora. Second, just hand those letters over to me--every one of them. I'll attend to 'em!"

"To YOU?" gasped Miss Flora. "But--how can you?"

"Oh, I'll be your secretary. Most rich people have to have secretaries, you know."

"But how'll you know how to answer MY letters?" demanded Miss Flora dubiously. "Have you ever been--a secretary?"

"N-no, not exactly a secretary. But--I've had some experience with similar letters," observed Mr. Smith dryly.

Miss Flora drew a long sigh.

"Oh, dear! I wish you could. Do you think you can? I hoped maybe you could help me some way, but I never thought of that--your answering 'em, I mean. I supposed everybody had to answer their own letters.

How'll you know what I want to say?"

Mr. Smith laughed a little.

"I shan't be answering what YOU want to say--but what _I_ want to say.

In this case, Miss Flora, I exceed the prerogatives of the ordinary secretary just a bit, you see. But you can count on one thing--I shan't be spending any money for you."

"You won't send them anything, then?"

"Not a red cent."

Miss Flora looked distressed.

"But, Mr. Smith, I want to send some of 'em something! I want to be kind and charitable."

"Of course you do, dear," spoke up Miss Maggie. "But you aren't being either kind or charitable to foster rascally fakes like that," pointing to the picture in Miss Flora's lap.

"Are they ALL fakes, then?"

"I'd stake my life on most of 'em," declared Mr. Smith. "They have all the earmarks of fakes, all right."

Miss Flora stirred restlessly.

"But I was having a beautiful time giving until these horrid letters began to come."

"Flora, do you give because YOU like the sensation of giving, and of receiving thanks, or because you really want to help somebody?" asked Miss Maggie, a bit wearily.

"Why, Maggie Duff, I want to help people, of course," almost wept Miss Flora.