MONEY HUNGER
During the latter part of their sojourn in the city, Willy went about a
good deal with Miss Barbara because she thought this quiet, soft-spoken
lady was not happy and did not take the interest in handsome and costly
articles which was shown by her sister. She had been afraid that this
noisy bustling place would be too much for Miss Barbara, and now she was
sure she had been right.
The younger Miss Thorpedyke was unhappy, and with reason. For some
months a little house in Boston which had been their principal source of
income had not been rented. It needed repairs, and there was no money
with which to repair it. The agent had written that some one might
appear who would be willing to take it as it stood, but that this was
doubtful, and the heart of Miss Barbara sank very low. She was the
business woman of the family. She it was who had always balanced the
income and the expenditures. This adjustment had now become very
difficult indeed, and was only accomplished by adding a little debt to
the weight on the income scale.
She had said nothing to her sister about this sad change in their
affairs because she hoped against hope that soon they might have a
tenant, and she knew that her sister Eleanor was a woman of such strict
and punctilious honor that she would insist upon living upon plain
bread, if their supply of ready money was insufficient to buy anything
else. To see this sister insufficiently nourished was something which
Miss Barbara could not endure, and so, sorely against her disposition
and her conscience, she made some little debts; and these grew and grew
until at last they weighed her down until she felt as if she must always
look upon the earth and could never raise her head to the sky. And she
was so plump, and so white, and gentle, and quiet, and peaceful looking
that no one thought she had a care in the world until Willy Croup began
to suspect in New York that something was the matter with her, but did
not in the least attribute her friend's low spirits to the proper cause.
When Miss Barbara had favored so willingly and promptly the invitation
of Mrs. Cliff, she had done so because she saw in the New York visit a
temporary abolition of expense, and a consequent opportunity to lay up a
little money by which she might be able to satisfy for a time one of her
creditors who was beginning to suspect that she was not able to pay his
bill, and was therefore pressing her very hard. Even while she had been
in New York, this many-times rendered bill had been forwarded to her
with an urgent request that it be settled.
It was not strange, therefore, that a tear should sometimes come to the
eye of Miss Barbara when she stood by the side of her sister and Mrs.
Cliff and listened to them discussing the merits of some rich rugs or
pieces of furniture, and when she reflected that the difference in price
between two articles, one apparently as desirable as the other, which
was discussed so lightly by Mrs. Cliff and Eleanor, would pay that bill
which was eating into her soul, and settle, moreover, every other claim
against herself and her sister. But the tears were always wiped away
very quickly, and neither Mrs. Cliff nor the elder Miss Thorpedyke ever
noticed them.
But although Willy Croup was not at all a woman of acute perceptions,
she began to think that perhaps it was something more than the bustle
and noise of New York which was troubling Miss Barbara. And once, when
she saw her gazing with an earnest eager glare--and whoever would have
thought of any sort of a glare in Miss Barbara's eyes--upon some
bank-notes which Mrs. Cliff was paying out for a carved cabinet for
which it was a little doubtful if a suitable place could be found, but
which was bought because Miss Eleanor thought it would give an air of
distinction in whatever room it might be placed, Willy began to suspect
the meaning of that unusual exhibition of emotion.
"She's money hungry," she said to herself, "that's what's the matter
with her!" Willy had seen the signs of such hunger before, and she
understood what they meant.
That night Willy lay in her bed, having the very unusual experience of
thinking so much that she could not sleep. Her room adjoined Miss
Barbara's, and the door between them was partly open, for the latter
lady was timid. Perhaps it was because this door was not closed that
Willy was so wakeful and thoughtful, for there was a bright light in the
other room, and she could not imagine why Miss Barbara should be sitting
up so late. It was a proceeding entirely at variance with her usual
habits. She was in some sort of trouble, it was easy to see that, but it
would be a great deal better to go to sleep and try to forget it.
So after a time Willy rose, and, softly stepping over the thick carpet,
looked into the other room. There was Miss Barbara in her day dress,
sitting at a table, her arms upon the table, her head upon her arms,
fast asleep. Upon her pale face there were a great many tear marks, and
Willy knew that she must have cried herself to sleep. A paper was spread
out near her.
Willy was sure that it would be a very mean and contemptible thing for
her to go and look at that paper, and so, perhaps, find out what was
troubling Miss Barbara, but, without the slightest hesitation, she did
it. Her bare feet made no sound upon the carpet, and as she had very
good eyes, it was not necessary for her to approach close to the
sleeper.
It was a bill from William Bullock, a grocer and provision dealer of
Plainton. It contained but one item,--'To bill rendered,' and at the
bottom was a statement in Mr. Bullock's own handwriting to the effect
that if the bill was not immediately paid he would be obliged to put it
into the hands of a collector.
Willy turned and slipped back into her room. Then, after sitting down
upon her bed and getting up again, she stepped boldly to the door and
knocked upon it. Instantly she heard Miss Barbara start and push back
her chair.
"What are you doing up so late?" cried Willy, cheerfully. "Don't you
feel well?"
"Oh, yes," replied the other, "I accidentally fell asleep while reading,
but I will go to bed instantly."
The mind of Willy Croup was a very small one and had room in it for but
one idea at a time. For a good while she lay putting ideas into this
mind, and then taking them out again. Having given place to the
conviction that the Thorpedykes were in a very bad way indeed,--for if
that bill should be collected, they would not have much left but
themselves, and Mr. Bullock was a man who did collect when he said he
would,--she was obliged to remove this conviction, which made her cry,
in order to consider plans of relief; and while she was considering
these plans, one at a time, she dropped asleep.
The first thing she thought of when she opened her eyes in the morning
was poor Miss Barbara in the next room, and that dreadful bill; and
then, like a flash of lightning, she thought of a good thing to do for
the Thorpedykes. The project which now laid itself out, detail after
detail, before her seemed so simple, so sensible, so absolutely wise and
desirable in every way, that she got up, dressed herself with great
rapidity, and went in to see Mrs. Cliff.
That lady was still asleep, but Willy awakened her, and sat on the side
of the bed. "Do you know what I think?" said Willy.
"How in the world should I!" said Mrs. Cliff. "Is it after
breakfast-time?"
"No," said Willy; "but it's this! What are you going to do in that big
house, with all the bedrooms, parlor, library, and so forth? You say
that you are going to have one room, and that I'm to have another, and
that we'll go into the old house to feel at home whenever we want to;
but I believe we'll be like a couple of flies in a barrel! You're going
to furnish your new house with everything but people! You ought to have
more people! You ought to have a family! That house will look funny
without people! You can't ask Mr. Burke, because it would be too queer
to have him come and live with us, and besides, he'll want a house of
his own. Why don't you ask the Thorpedykes to come and live with us?
Their roof is dreadfully out of repairs. I know to my certain knowledge
that they have to put tin wash-basins on every bed in the second story
when it rains, on account of the holes in the shingles! If they had
money to mend those holes, they'd mend them, but as they don't mend
them, of course they haven't the money. And it strikes me that they
aren't as well off as they used to be, and they'll have a hard time
gettin' through this winter. Now, there isn't any piece of furniture
that you can put in your house that will give it 'such an air of
distinction,' as Miss Eleanor calls it, as she herself will give it if
you put her there! If you could persuade Miss Eleanor to come and sit in
your parlor when you are having company to see you, it would set you up
in Plainton a good deal higher than any money can set you up."
"They would never agree to anything of the kind," said Mrs. Cliff, "and
you know it, Willy!"
"I don't believe it," said Willy. "I believe they'd come! Just see how
willing they were to come here with you! I tell you, Sarah, that the
older and older those Thorpedyke ladies get, the more timid they get,
and the more unwilling to live by themselves!
"If you make Miss Eleanor understand that it would be the greatest
comfort and happiness to both of us if she would come and spend the
winter with you, and so help you to get used to your great big new
house; and more than that, if they'd bring with them some of their
candle-sticks and pictures on ivory and that sort of thing, which
everybody knows can't be bought for money, it would be the great
accommodation to you and make your house look something like what you
would like to have it. I believe that old-family lady would come and
stay with you this winter, and think all the time that she was giving
you something that you ought to have and which nobody in Plainton could
give you but herself. And as to Miss Barbara, she'd come along as quick
as lightning!"
"Willy," said Mrs. Cliff, very earnestly, "have you any good reason to
believe that the Thorpedykes are in money trouble?"
"Yes, I have," said Willy, "I'm positive of it, and what's more, it's
only Miss Barbara who knows it!"
Mrs. Cliff sat for some minutes without answering, and then she said,
"Willy, you do sometimes get into your head an idea that absolutely
sparkles!"