Mr. Taggard frowned as he observed the pile of bills by his plate,
placed there by his prudent, economical wife, not without an anxious
flutter at the heart, in anticipation of the scene that invariably
followed. He actually groaned as he read the sum total.
"There must be some mistake, Mary" he said, pushing back his plate,
with a desperate air: "it is _absolutely impossible_ for us to have
used all these things in one month!"
"The bills are correct, John," was the meek response; "I looked them
over myself."
"Then one thing is certain, provisions are either wasted, thrown out
the window, as it were, or stolen. Jane has relatives in the place,
and I haven't the least doubt but that she supports them out of what
she steals."
Mrs. Taggard's temper was evidently rising; there were two round
crimson spots upon her cheeks, and she tapped her foot nervously upon
the floor.
"I am neither wasteful, nor extravagant, John. And as for Jane, I know
her to be perfectly honest and trustworthy."
"It is evident that there is a leak somewhere, Mary; and it is your
duty as a wife, to find out where it is, and stop it. Our bills are
perfectly enormous; and if this sort of thing goes on much longer, I
shall be a bankrupt."
Mrs. Taggard remained silent, trying to choke down the indignant
feelings that struggled for utterance.
"You will have to order some coal," she said, at last; "we have hardly
sufficient for the day."
"Is there anything more, Mrs. Taggard?" inquired her husband;
ironically.
"Yes; neither I nor the children are decently or comfortably clothed;
all need an entire new outfit."
"Go on, madam. As I am a man of unlimited means, if you have any other
wants, I hope you won't be at all backward about mentioning them."
"I don't intend to be," was the quiet, but spirited reply. "I wouldn't
do for another what I do for you, for double my board and clothing.
Both the parlor and sitting-room need refurnishing; everything looks
so faded and shabby, that I am ashamed to have any one call. And the
stairs need recarpeting, the blinds and gate need repairing, and the
fence needs painting."
"That can't be all, Mrs. Taggard. Are you sure that there isn't
something else?"
"I don't think of anything else just now, Mr. Taggard; though if there
should be a few dollars over and above what these will cost, they
won't come amiss. I should like to have a little change in my pocket,
if only for the novelty of the thing. You needn't fear its being
wasted."
Mr. Taggard was evidently not a little astonished at this sudden
outbreak in his usually quiet and patient wife, but who, like most
women of that stamp, had considerable spirit when it was aroused.
"Now that you are through, Mrs. Taggard, perhaps you will let me say a
word. Here is all the money I can spare you this month; so you can
make the most of it."
Laying a roll of bills on the table, Mr. Taggard walked to the door;
remarking, just before he closed it, that he should leave town on the
next train, to be absent about a week.
The reverie into which Mrs. Taggard fell, as she listened to the sound
of his retreating steps, was far from being a pleasant one. Aside from
her natural vexation, she felt grieved and saddened by the change that
had come over her once kind, indulgent husband. He seemed to be
entirely filled with the greed of gain, the desire to amass
money--not for the sake of the good that it might enable him to
enjoy, or confer, but for the mere pleasure of hoarding it. And this
miserly feeling grew upon him daily, until he seemed to grudge his
family the common comforts of life. And yet Mrs. Taggard knew that he
was not only in receipt of a comfortable income from his business, but
had laid by a surplus, yearly, ever since their marriage.
She had taxed her ingenuity to save in every possible way, but when
the monthly bills were presented the same scene was enacted, only it
grew worse and worse.
And this penuriousness extended to himself. He grudged himself, as
well as wife and children, clothing suitable to his means and station,
and went about looking so rusty and shabby that Mrs. Taggard often
felt ashamed of him, inwardly wondering if he could be the same man
who had wooed and won her.
With a heavy sigh Mrs. Taggard took up the roll of bills upon the
table, hoping to find enough to pay what was already due--she did not
look for more.
An ejaculation of astonishment burst from her lips as she unrolled the
paper in which it was folded. It contained $500 in bills, and a check
for $500 more.
With a look of quiet determination in her eyes, Mrs. Taggard arose to
her feet. "The family should now have some of the comforts to which
they were entitled, if they never did again."
First, she settled every bill; a heavy weight being lifted from her
heart as she did so; besides getting a fresh supply of fuel and other
comforts. Her next move was to order new furniture for the
sitting-room and parlor, have the hall recarpeted and papered, the
broken door-step mended, and the fence and blinds repaired and
painted. She then took the children out, and got them new garments
from hats to shoes. She bought herself three new dresses; a neat
gingham for morning wear, a delaine for afternoons, and something
nicer for best. And before going home she took the children into a
toy-shop; delighting the boy with the skates he had so often asked
for, and giving the girl the chief wish of her heart, a doll and
doll's wardrobe--not forgetting some blocks for the baby. For, like a
wise, as well as kind, mother, Mrs. Taggard desired to make their
childhood a happy one; something to look back upon with pleasure
through their whole life. Neither was John forgotten; by the aid of
some old garments, for a pattern, she got him an entire new suit,
together with stuff for dressing-gown and slippers.
The day on which Mrs. Taggard expected her husband's return was a very
busy one; but at last the carpets were down, the paper hung, and
everything in the best of order.
He was expected on the five o'clock train, and Mrs. Taggard set the
children, attired in their pretty new dresses, at the window to watch
for papa, while she went below to assist Jane in preparing something
extra for supper. She had just returned when Mr. Taggard was seen
approaching the house.
It looked so different from what it did when he left, that he stared
at it in amazement, and would have hesitated about entering, had it
not been for the name on the newly burnished door-plate. But he was
still more astonished when he entered.
"Am I in my own house, or somebody else's?" he ejaculated, as he
looked around the bright and pleasant room.
"It is the new furniture I have been buying," said his wife, smiling.
"How do you like it?"
"Have you been running me in debt, Mary?"
"Not in the least, John, it was all bought with the money you so
generously left me when you went away."
Mr. Taggard clapped his hand into one of his pockets.
"My goodness!" he exclaimed, in an agitated tone and manner, "I gave
it to you out of the wrong pocket!"
Mrs. Taggard did not look at all astonished or disturbed at this
announcement; on the contrary, her countenance wore a very smiling and
tranquil aspect.
"You don't mean to say that you've spent it?" inquired Mr. Taggard,
desperately.
"Why, what else should I do with it, John? You told me to make the
most of it; and I rather think I have."
"I am a ruined man!" groaned Mr. Taggard.
"Not a bit of it, my dear husband," said his wife, cheerfully, "you
wouldn't be ruined if you had given me twice that amount. Besides, I
have saved enough for our housekeeping expenses, for three months, at
least. I think you had better give me an allowance for that purpose in
future; it will save us both much annoyance."
The children, who had been led to consider what their mother had
bought them as "presents from papa," now crowded eagerly around him.
Mr. Taggard loved his children, and it would be difficult for any one
having the kind and tender heart that he really possessed, to turn
away from the innocent smiles and caresses that were lavished upon
him.
It was a smiling group that gathered round the cheerful supper-table.
And as Mr. Taggard glanced from the gleeful children to the smiling
face of his wife, who certainly looked ten years younger, attired in
her new and becoming dress, he came to the conclusion that though it
might cost something to make his family comfortable, on the whole, it
paid.
We do not mean to say that Mr. Taggard was entirely cured; a passion
so strong is not so easily eradicated. But when the old miserly
feeling came over him, and he began to dole out grudgingly the means
with which to make his family comfortable, his wife would pleasantly
say: "You are taking it out of the wrong pocket, John!"--words which
seemed to have a magical effect upon both heart and purse-strings.
"Let us not deprive ourselves of the comforts of life," she would
often say, "nor grudge our children the innocent pleasures natural to
youth, for the purpose of laying up for them the wealth that is, too
often, a curse rather than a blessing."