KEEPING UP
WITH
LIZZIE
BY
IRVING BACHELLER
ILLUSTRATED BY
W.H.D.KOERNER
HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS
NEW YORK AND LONDON
COPYRIGHT, 1910, 1911, BY HARPER & BROTHERS
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
PUBLISHED MARCH, 1911
C-N
TO
THE LOVING AND BELOVED
"MR. ONEDEAR"
I DEDICATE THIS LITTLE BOOK
CONTENTS
CHAP.
I. IN WHICH THE LEADING TRADESMEN OF POINTVIEW
BECOME A BOARD OF ASSESSORS
II. IN WHICH LIZZIE RETURNS TO HER HOME, HAVING MET A QUEEN
AND ACQUIRED AN ACCENT AND A FIANCE
III. IN WHICH LIZZIE DESCENDS PROM A GREAT HEIGHT
IV. IN WHICH THE HAM WAR HAS ITS BEGINNING
V. IN WHICH LIZZIE EXERTS AN INFLUENCE ON THE AFFAIRS
OF THE RICH AND GREAT
VI. IN WHICH THE PURSUIT OF LIZZIE BECOMES HIGHLY SERIOUS
VII. IN WHICH THE HONORABLE SOCRATES POTTER CATCHES UP
WITH LIZZIE
ILLUSTRATIONS
A DUEL WITH AUTOMOBILES
WITH HIS MIND ON THE SUBJECT OF EXTRAVAGANCE
"SEVEN DOLLARS A BARREL"
"I WANTED YE TO TELL MR. POTTER ABOUT YER TRAVELS," SAYS SAM
LIZZIE DROPPED INTO A CHAIR AND BEGAN TO CRY
BILL AN' I GOT TOGETHER OFTEN AN' TALKED OF THE OLD HAPPY DAYS
WE SET OUT FOR A TRAMP OVER THE BIG FARM
"I'M A CANDIDATE FOR NEW HONORS"
THREE DAYS LATER I DROVE TO THE VILLA
THE BOY EXERTED HIS CHARMS UPON MY LADY WARBURTON.
SHE LED US INTO THE BEDROOM
THEIR EYES WERE WIDE WITH WONDER
KEEPING UP WITH LIZZIE
KEEPING UP WITH LIZZIE
IN WHICH THE LEADING TRADESMEN OF POINTVIEW BECOME A BOARD OF
ASSESSORS
The Honorable Socrates Potter was the only "scientific man" in the
village of Pointview, Connecticut. In every point of manhood he
was far ahead of his neighbors. In a way he had outstripped
himself, for, while his ideas were highly modern, he clung to the
dress and manners that prevailed in his youth. He wore broadcloth
every day, and a choker, and chewed tobacco, and never permitted
his work to interfere with the even tenor of his conversation. He
loved the old times and fashions, and had a drawling tongue and
often spoke in the dialect of his fathers, loving the sound of it.
His satirical mood was sure to be flavored with clipped words and
changed tenses. The stranger often took him for a "hayseed," but
on further acquaintance opened his mouth in astonishment, for Soc.
Potter, as many called him, was a man of insight and learning and
of a quality of wit herein revealed. He used to call himself "an
attorney and peacemaker," but he was more than that. He was the
attorney and friend of all his clients, and the philosopher of his
community. If one man threatened another with the law in that
neighborhood, he was apt to do it in these terms, "We'll see what
Soc. Potter has to say about that."
"All right! We'll see," the other would answer, and both parties
would be sure to show up at the lawyer's office. Then, probably,
Socrates would try his famous lock-and-key expedient. He would sit
them down together, lock the door, and say, "Now, boys, I don't
believe in getting twelve men for a job that two can do better,"
and generally he would make them agree.
He had an office over the store of Samuel Henshaw, and made a
specialty of deeds, titles, epigrams, and witticisms.
He was a bachelor who called now and then at the home of Miss
Betsey Smead, a wealthy spinster of Pointview, but nothing had ever
come of it.
He sat with his feet on his desk and his mind on the subject of
extravagance. When he was doing business he sat like other men,
but when his thought assumed a degree of elevation his feet rose
with it. He began his story by explaining that it was all true but
the names.
[Illustration: With his mind on the subject of extravagance.]
"This is the balloon age," said he, with a merry twinkle in his
gray eyes. "The inventor has led us into the skies. The odor of
gasoline is in the path of the eagle. Our thoughts are between
earth and heaven; our prices have followed our aspirations in the
upward flight. Now here is Sam Henshaw. Sam? Why, he's a
merchant prince o' Pointview--grocery business--had a girl--name o'
Lizzie--smart and as purty as a wax doll. Dan Pettigrew, the
noblest flower o' the young manhood o' Pointview, fell in love with
her. No wonder. We were all fond o' Lizzie. They were a han'some
couple, an' together about half the time.
"Well, Sam began to aspire, an' nothing would do for Lizzie but the
Smythe school at Hardcastle at seven hundred dollars a year. So
they rigged her up splendid, an' away she went. Prom that day she
set the pace for this community. Dan had to keep up with Lizzie,
and so his father, Bill Pettigrew, sent him to Harvard. Other
girls started in the race, an' the first we knew there was a big
field in this maiden handicap.
"Well, Sam had been aspirin' for about three months, when he began
to perspire. The extras up at Hardcastle had exceeded his
expectations. He was goin' a hot pace to keep up with Lizzie, an'
it looked as if his morals was meltin' away.
"I was in the northern part o' the county one day, an' saw some
wonderful, big, red, tasty apples.
"'What ye doin' with yer apples?' says I to the grower.
"'I've sent the most of 'em to Samuel Henshaw, o' Pointview, an'
he's sold 'em on commission,' says he.
"'What do ye get for 'em ?' I asked.
"'Two dollars an' ten cents a barrel,' says he.
"The next time I went into Sam's store there were the same red
apples that came out o' that orchard in the northern part o' the
county.
"'How much are these apples?' I says.
"'Seven dollars a barrel,' says Sam.
[Illustration: Seven dollars a barrel.]
"'How is it that you get seven dollars a barrel an' only return two
dollars an' ten cents to the grower?' I says.
"Sam stuttered an' changed color. I'd been his lawyer for years,
an' I always talked plain to Sam.
"'Wal, the fact is,' says he, with a laugh an' a wink, 'I sold
these apples to my clerk.'
"'Sam, ye're wastin' yer talents,' I says. 'Go into the railroad
business.'
"Sam was kind o' shamefaced.
"'It costs so much to live I have to make a decent profit
somewhere,' says he. 'If you had a daughter to educate, you'd know
the reason.'
"I bought a bill o' goods, an' noticed that ham an' butter were up
two cents a pound, an' flour four cents a sack, an' other things in
proportion. I didn't say a word, but I see that Sam proposed to
tax the community for the education o' that Lizzie girl. Folks
began to complain, but the tax on each wasn't heavy, an' a good
many people owed Sam an' wasn't in shape to quit him. Then Sam had
the best store in the village, an' everybody was kind o' proud of
it. So we stood this assessment o' Sam's, an' by a general tax
paid for the education o' Lizzie. She made friends, an' sailed
around in automobiles, an' spent a part o' the Christmas holidays
with the daughter o' Mr. Beverly Gottrich on Fifth Avenue, an'
young Beverly Gottrich brought her home in his big red runabout.
Oh, that was a great day in Pointview!--that red-runabout day of
our history when the pitcher was broken at the fountain and they
that looked out of the windows trembled.
"Dan Pettigrew was home from Harvard for the holidays, an' he an'
Lizzie met at a church party. They held their heads very high, an'
seemed to despise each other an' everybody else. Word went around
that it was all off between 'em. It seems that they had riz--not
risen, but riz--far above each other.
"Now it often happens that when the young ascend the tower o' their
aspirations an' look down upon the earth its average inhabitant
seems no larger to them than a red ant. Sometimes there's nobody
in sight--that is, no real body--nothin' but clouds an' rainbows
an' kings an' queens an' their families. Now Lizzie an' Dan were
both up in their towers an' lookin' down, an' that was probably the
reason they didn't see each other.
"Right away a war began between the rival houses o' Henshaw an'
Pettigrew. The first we knew Sam was buildin' a new house with a
tower on it--by jingo!--an' hardwood finish inside an' half an acre
in the dooryard. The tower was for Lizzie. It signalized her rise
in the community. It put her one flight above anybody in Pointview.
"As the house rose, up went Sam's prices again. I went over to the
store an' bought a week's provisions, an' when I got the bill I see
that he'd taxed me twenty-nine cents for his improvements.
"I met one o' my friends, an' I says to him, 'Wal,' I says, 'Sam is
goin' to make us pay for his new house an' lot. Sam's ham an'
flour have jumped again. As an assessor Sam is likely to make his
mark.'
"'Wal, what do ye expect?' says he. 'Lizzie is in high society,
an' he's got to keep up with her. Lizzie must have a home proper
to one o' her station. Don't be hard on Sam.'
"'I ain't,' I says. 'But Sam's house ought to be proper to his
station instead o' hers.'
"I had just sat down in my office when Bill Pettigrew came
in--Sam's great rival in the grocery an' aspiration business. He'd
bought a new automobile, an' wanted me to draw a mortgage on his
house an' lot for two thousand dollars.
"'You'd better go slow,' I says. 'It looks like bad business to
mortgage your home for an automobile.'
"'It's for the benefit o' my customers,' says he.
"'Something purty for 'em to look at?' I asked.
"'It will quicken deliveries,' says he.
"'You can't afford it,' I says.
"'Yes, I can,' says he. 'I've put up prices twenty per cent., an'
it ain't agoin' to bother me to pay for it.'
"'Oh, then your customers are goin' to pay for it!' I says, 'an'
you're only a guarantor.'
"'I wouldn't put it that way,' says he. 'It costs more to live
these days. Everything is goin' up.'
"'Includin' taxes,' I says to Bill, an' went to work an' drew his
mortgage for him, an' he got his automobile.
"I'd intended to take my trade to his store, but when I saw that he
planned to tax the community for his luxuries I changed my mind and
went over to Eph Hill's. He kept the only other decent grocery
store in the village. His prices were just about on a level with
the others.
"'How do you explain it that prices have gone up so?' I asked.
"'Why, they say it's due to an overproduction o' gold,' says he.
"'Looks to me like an overproduction of argument,' I says. 'The
old Earth keeps shellin' out more gold ev'ry year, an' the more she
takes out o' her pockets the more I have to take out o' mine.'
"Wal, o' course I had to keep in line, so I put up the prices o' my
work a little to be in fashion. Everybody kicked good an' plenty,
an' nobody worse'n Sam an' Bill an' Ephraim, but I told 'em how I'd
read that there was so much gold in the world it kind o' set me
hankerin'.
"Ye know I had ten acres o' worn-out land in the edge o' the
village, an' while others bought automobiles an' such luxuries I
invested in fertilizers an' hired a young man out of an
agricultural school an' went to farmin'. Within a year I was
raisin' all the meat an' milk an' vegetables that I needed, an'
sellin' as much ag'in to my neighbors.
"Well, Pointview under Lizzie was like Rome under Theodora. The
immorals o' the people throve an' grew. As prices went up decency
went down, an' wisdom rose in value like meat an' flour. Seemed so
everybody that had a dollar in the bank an' some that didn't bought
automobiles. They kept me busy drawin' contracts an' deeds an'
mortgages an' searchin' titles, an' o' course I prospered. More
than half the population converted property into cash an' cash into
folly--automobiles, piano-players, foreign tours, vocal music,
modern languages, an' the aspirations of other people. They were
puffin' it on each other. Every man had a deep scheme for makin'
the other fellow pay for his fun. Reminds me o' that verse from
Zechariah, 'I will show them no mercy, saith the Lord, but I will
deliver every man into the hand of his neighbor.' Now the baron
business has generally been lucrative, but here in Pointview there
was too much competition. We were all barons. Everybody was
taxin' everybody else for his luxuries, an' nobody could save a
cent--nobody but me an' Eph Hill. He didn't buy any automobiles or
build a new house or send his girl to the seminary. He kept both
feet on the ground, but he put up his prices along with the rest.
By-an'-by Eph had a mortgage on about half the houses in the
village. That showed what was the matter with the other men.
"The merchants all got liver-comlaint. There were twenty men that
I used to see walkin' home to their dinner every day or down to the
postoffice every evenin'. But they didn't walk any more. They
scud along in their automobiles at twenty miles an hour, with the
whole family around 'em. They looked as if they thought that now
at last they were keepin' up with Lizzie. Their homes were empty
most o' the time. The reading-lamp was never lighted. There was
no season o' social converse. Every merchant but Eph Hill grew fat
an' round, an' complained of indigestion an' sick-headache. Sam
looked like a moored balloon. Seemed so their morals grew fat an'
flabby an' shif'less an' in need of exercise. Their morals
travelled too, but they travelled from mouth to mouth, as ye might
say, an' very fast. More'n half of 'em give up church an' went off
on the country roads every Sunday. All along the pike from
Pointview to Jerusalem Corners ye could see where they'd laid
humbly on their backs in the dust, prayin' to a new god an' tryin'
to soften his heart with oil or open the gates o' mercy with a
monkey-wrench.
"Bill came into my shop one day an' looked as if he hadn't a friend
in the world. He wanted to borrow some money.
"'Money!' I says. 'What makes ye think I've got money?'
"'Because ye ain't got any automobile,' he says, laughin'.
"'No,' I says. 'You bought one, an' that was all I could afford,'
"It never touched him. He went on as dry as a duck in a shower.
'You're one o' the few sensible men in this village. You live
within yer means, an' you ought to have money if ye ain't.'
"'I've got a little, but I don't see why you should have it,' I
says. 'You want me to do all the savin' for both of us.'
"'It costs so much to live I can't save a cent,' he says. 'You
know I've got a boy in college, an' it costs fearful. I told my
boy the other day how I worked my way through school an' lived on a
dollar a week in a little room an' did my own washin'. He says to
me, "Well, Governor, you forget that I have a social position to
maintain."'
"'He's right,' I says. 'You can't expect him to belong to the
varsity crew an' the Dickey an' the Hasty-Puddin' Club an' dress
an' behave like the son of an ordinary grocer in Pointview,
Connecticut. Ye can't live on nuts an' raisins an' be decent in
such a position. Looks to me as if it would require the combined
incomes o' the grocer an' his lawyer to maintain it. His position
is likely to be hard on your disposition. He's tryin' to keep up
with Lizzie--that's what's the matter,'
"For a moment Bill looked like a lost dog. I told him how Grant
an' Thomas stood on a hilltop one day an' saw their men bein' mowed
down like grass, an' by-an'-by Thomas says to Grant, 'Wal, General,
we'll have to move back a little; it's too hot for the boys here.'
"'I'm afraid your boy's position is kind of uncomf'table,' I says.
"'I'll win out,' he says. 'My boy will marry an' settle down in a
year or so, then he'll begin to help me.'
"'But you may be killed off before then,' I says.
"'If my friends 'll stand by me I'll pull through,' says he.
"'But your friends have their own families to stand by,' I says.
"'Look here, Mr. Potter,' says he. 'You've no such expense as I
have. You're able to help me, an' you ought to. I've got a note
comin' due tomorrow an' no money to pay it with.'
"'Renew it an' then retrench,' I says. 'Cut down your expenses an'
your prices.'
"'Can't,' says he. 'It costs too much to live. What 'll I do ?'
"'You ought to die,' I says, very mad.
"'I can't,' says he.
"'Why not?'
"'It costs so much to die,' he says. 'Why, it takes a thousan'
dollars to give a man a decent funeral these days.'
"'Wal,' I says, 'a man that can't afford either to live or die
excites my sympathy an' my caution. You've taxed the community for
yer luxuries, an' now ye want to tax me for yer notes. It's unjust
discrimination. It gives me a kind of a lonesome feelin'. You
tell your boy Dan to come an' see me. He needs advice more than
you need money, an' I've got a full line of it.'
"Bill went away richer by a check for a few hundred dollars. Oh, I
always know when I'm losin' money! I'm not like other citizens o'
Pointview.
"Dan came to see me the next Saturday night. He was a big,
blue-eyed, handsome, good-natured boy, an' dressed like the son of
a millionaire. I brought him here to the office, an' he sat down
beside me.
"'Dan,' I says, 'what are your plans for the future?'
"'I mean to be a lawyer,' says he.
"'Quit it,' I says.
"'Why?' says he.
"'There are too many lawyers. We don't need any more. They're
devourin' our substance.'
"'What do you suggest?'
"'Be a real man. We're on the verge of a social revolution. Boys
have been leaving the farms an' going into the cities to be grand
folks. The result is we have too many grand folks an' too few real
folks. The tide has turned. Get aboard.'
"'I don't understand you.'
"'America needs wheat an' corn an' potatoes more than it needs
arguments an' theories.'
"'Would you have me be a farmer?' he asked, in surprise.
"'A farmer!' I says. 'It's a new business--an exact science these
days. Think o' the high prices an' the cheap land with its
productiveness more than doubled by modern methods. The country is
longing for big, brainy men to work its idle land. Soon we shall
not produce enough for our own needs.'
"'But I'm too well educated to be a farmer,' says he.
"'Pardon me,' I says. 'The land 'll soak up all the education
you've got an' yell for more. Its great need is education. We've
been sending the smart boys to the city an' keeping the fools on
the farm. We've put everything on the farm but brains. That's
what's the matter with the farm.'
"'But farming isn't dignified,' says Dan.
"'Pardon me ag'in,' says I. 'It's more dignified to search for the
secrets o' God in the soil than to grope for the secrets o' Satan
in a lawsuit. Any fool can learn Blackstone an' Kent an'
Greenleaf, but the book o' law that's writ in the soil is only for
keen eyes.'
"'I want a business that fits a gentleman,' says Dan.
"'An' the future farmer can be as much of a gentleman as God 'll
let him,' says I. 'He'll have as many servants as his talents can
employ. His income will exceed the earnings o' forty lawyers taken
as they average. His position will be like that o' the rich
planter before the war.'
"'Well, how shall I go about it?' he says, half convinced.
"'First stop tryin' to keep up with Lizzie,' says I. 'The way to
beat Lizzie is to go toward the other end o' the road. Ye see,
you've dragged yer father into the race, an' he's about winded.
Turn around an' let Lizzie try to keep up with you. Second, change
yer base. Go to a school of agriculture an' learn the business
just as you'd go to a school o' law or medicine. Begin modest.
Live within yer means. If you do right I'll buy you all the land
ye want an' start ye goin'.'
"When he left I knew that I'd won my case. In a week or so he sent
me a letter saying that he'd decided to take my advice.
"He came to see me often after that. The first we knew he was
goin' with Marie Benson. Marie had a reputation for good sense,
but right away she began to take after Lizzie, an' struck a
tolerably good pace. Went to New York to study music an' perfect
herself in French.
"I declare it seemed as if about every girl in the village was
tryin' to be a kind of a princess with a full-jewelled brain.
Girls who didn't know an adjective from an adverb an' would have
been stuck by a simple sum in algebra could converse in French an'
sing in Italian. Not one in ten was willin', if she knew how, to
sweep a floor or cook a square meal. Their souls were above it.
Their feet were in Pointview an' their heads in Dreamland. They
talked o' the doin's o' the Four Hundred an' the successes o'
Lizzie. They trilled an' warbled; they pounded the family piano;
they golfed an' motored an' whisted; they engaged in the titivation
of toy dogs an' the cultivation o' general debility; they ate
caramels an' chocolates enough to fill up a well; they complained;
they dreamed o' sunbursts an' tiaras while their papas worried
about notes an' bills; they lay on downy beds of ease with the last
best seller, an' followed the fortunes of the bold youth until he
found his treasure at last in the unhidden chest of the heroine;
they created what we are pleased to call the servant problem, which
is really the drone problem, caused by the added number who toil
not, but have to be toiled for; they grew in fat an' folly. Some
were both ox-eyed an' peroxide. Homeliness was to them the only
misfortune, fat the only burden, and pimples the great enemy of
woman.
"Now the organs of the human body are just as shiftless as the one
that owns 'em. The systems o' these fair ladies couldn't do their
own work. The physician an' the surgeon were added to the list o'
their servants, an' became as necessary as the cook an' the
chambermaid. But they were keeping up with Lizzie. Poor things!
They weren't so much to blame. They thought their fathers were
rich, an' their fathers enjoyed an' clung to that reputation. They
hid their poverty an' flaunted the flag of opulence.
"It costs money, big money an' more, to produce a generation of
invalids. The fathers o' Pointview had paid for it with sweat an'
toil an' broken health an' borrowed money an' the usual tax added
to the price o' their goods or their labor. Then one night the
cashier o' the First National Bank blew out his brains. We found
that he had stolen eighteen thousand dollars in the effort to keep
up. That was a lesson to the Lizzie-chasers! Why, sir, we found
that each of his older girls had diamond rings an' could sing in
three languages, an' a boy was in college. Poor man! he didn't
steal for his own pleasure. Everything went at auction--house,
grounds, rings, automobile. Another man was caught sellin' under
weight with fixed scales, an' went to prison. Henry Brown failed,
an' we found that he had borrowed five hundred dollars from John
Bass, an' at the same time John Bass had borrowed six hundred from
Tom Rogers, an' Rogers had borrowed seven hundred an' fifty from
Sam Henshaw, an' Henshaw had borrowed the same amount from Percival
Smith, an' Smith had got it from me. The chain broke, the note
structure fell like a house o' cards, an' I was the only
loser--think o' that. There were five capitalists an' only one man
with real money.
II
IN WHICH LIZZIE RETURNS TO HER HOME, HAVING MET A QUEEN AND
ACQUIRED AN ACCENT AND A FIANCE
"Sam Henshaw's girl had graduated an' gone abroad with her mother.
One Sunday 'bout a year later, Sam flew up to the door o' my house
in his automobile. He lit on the sidewalk an' struggled up the
steps with two hundred an' forty-seven pounds o' meat on him. He
walked like a man carryin' a barrel o' pork. He acted as if he was
glad to see me an' the big arm-chair on the piaz'.
"'What's the news?' I asked.
"'Lizzie an' her mother got back this mornin',' he gasped.
'They've been six months in Europe. Lizzie is in love with it.
She's hobnobbed with kings an' queens. She talks art beautiful. I
wish you'd come over an' hear her hold a conversation. It's
wonderful. She's goin' to be a great addition to this community.
She's got me faded an' on the run. I ran down to the store for a
few minutes this mornin', an' when I got back she says to me:
"'"Father, you always smell o' ham an' mustard. Have you been in
that disgusting store? Go an' take a bahth at once." That's what
she called it--a "bahth." Talks just like the English
people--she's been among 'em so long. Get into my car an' I'll
take ye over an' fetch ye back.'
"Sam regarded his humiliation with pride an' joy. At last Lizzie
had convinced him that her education had paid. My curiosity was
excited. I got in an' we flew over to his house. Sam yelled up
the stairway kind o' joyful as we come in, an' his wife answered at
the top o' the stairs an' says:
"'Mr. Henshaw, I wish you wouldn't shout in this house like a boy
calling the cows.'
"I guess she didn't know I was there. Sam ran up-stairs an' back,
an' then we turned into that splendid parlor o' his an' set down.
Purty soon Liz an' her mother swung in an' smiled very pleasant an'
shook hands an' asked how was my family, etc., an' went right on
talkin'. I saw they didn't ask for the purpose of gettin'
information. Liz was dressed to kill an' purty as a
picture--cheeks red as a rooster's comb an' waist like a hornet's.
The cover was off her showcase, an' there was a diamond sunburst in
the middle of it, an' the jewels were surrounded by charms to which
I am not wholly insensible even now.
"'I wanted ye to tell Mr. Potter about yer travels,' says Sam.
[Illustration: "I wanted ye to tell Mr. Potter about yer travels."
says Sam.]
"Lizzie smiled an' looked out o' the window a minute an' fetched a
sigh an' struck out, lookin' like Deacon Bristow the day he give
ten dollars to the church. She told about the cities an' the folks
an' the weather in that queer, English way she had o' talking'>
"'Tell how ye hobnobbed with the Queen o' Italy,' Sam says.
"'Oh, father! Hobnobbed!' says she. 'Anybody would think that she
and I had manicured each other's hands. She only spoke a few words
of Italian and looked very gracious an' beautiful an' complimented
my color.'
"Then she lay back in her chair, kind o' weary, an' Sam asked me
how was business--just to fill in the gap, I guess. Liz woke up
an' showed how far she'd got ahead in the race.
"'Business!' says she, with animation. 'That's why I haven't any
patience with American men. They never sit down for ten minutes
without talking business. Their souls are steeped in
commercialism. Don't you see how absurd it is, father? There are
plenty of lovely things to talk about.'
"Sam looked guilty, an' I felt sorry for him. It had cost heavy to
educate his girl up to a p'int where she could give him so much
advice an' information. The result was natural. She was irritated
by the large cubic capacity--the length, breadth, and thickness of
his ignorance and unrefinement; he was dazed by the length,
breadth, an' thickness of her learning an' her charm. He didn't
say a word. He bowed his head before this pretty, perfumed casket
of erudition.
"'You like Europe,' I says.
"'I love it,' says she, 'It's the only place to live. There one
finds so much of the beautiful in art and music and so many
cultivated people.'
"Lizzie was a handsome girl, an' had more sense than any o' the
others that tried to keep up with her. After all, she was Sam's
fault, an' Sam was a sin conceived an' committed by his wife, as ye
might say. She had made him what he was.
"'Have you seen Dan Pettigrew lately?' Lizzie asked.
"'Yes.' I says. 'Dan is goin' to be a farmer.'
"'A farmer!" says she, an' covered her face with her handkerchief
an' shook with merriment.
"'Yes,' I says. 'Dan has come down out o' the air. He's abandoned
folly. He wants to do something to help along.'
"'Yes, of course,' says Lizzie, in a lofty manner. 'Dan is really
an excellent boy--isn't he?'
"'Yes, an' he's livin' within his means--that's the first
mile-stone in the road to success,' I says. 'I'm goin' to buy him
a thousand acres o' land, an' one o' these days he'll own it an' as
much more. You wait. He'll have a hundred men in his employ, an'
flocks an' herds an' a market of his own in New York. He'll
control prices in this county, an' they're goin' down. He'll be a
force in the State.'
"They were all sitting up. The faces o' the Lady Henshaw an' her
daughter turned red.
"'I'm very glad to hear it, I'm sure,' said her Ladyship.
"'I wasn't so sure o' that as she was, an' there, for me, was the
milk in the cocoanut. I was joyful.
"'Why, it's perfectly lovely!' says Lizzie, as she fetched her
pretty hands together in her lap.
"'Yes, you want to cultivate Dan,' I says. 'He's a man to be
reckoned with.'
"'Oh, indeed!' says her Ladyship.
"'Yes, indeed!' I says, 'an' the girls are all after him.'
"I just guessed that. I knew it was unscrupulous, but livin' here
in this atmosphere does affect the morals even of a lawyer. Lizzie
grew red in the face.
"'He could marry one o' the Four Hundred if he wanted to,' I says.
'The other evening he was seen in the big red tourin'-car o' the
Van Alstynes. What do you think o' that?'
"Now that was true, but the chauffeur had been a college friend o'
Dan's, an' I didn't mention that.
"Lizzie had a dreamy smile in her face.
"'Why, it's wonderful!' says she. 'I didn't know he'd improved so.'
"'I hear that his mother is doing her own work,' says the Lady
Henshaw, with a forced smile.
"'Yes, think of it,' I says. 'The woman is earning her daily
bread--actually helpin' her husband. Did you ever hear o' such a
thing! I'll have to scratch 'em off my list. It's too uncommon.
It ain't respectable.'
"Her Ladyship began to suspect me an' retreated with her chin in
the air. She'd had enough.
"I thought that would do an' drew out o' the game. Lizzie looked
confident. She seemed to have something up her sleeve besides that
lovely arm o' hers.
"I went home, an' two days later Sam looked me up again. Then the
secret came out o' the bag. He'd heard that I had some money in
the savings-banks over at Bridgeport payin' me only three and a
half per cent., an' he wanted to borrow it an' pay me six per cent.
His generosity surprised me. It was not like Sam.
"'What's the matter with you?' I asked. 'Is it possible that your
profits have all gone into gasoline an' rubber an' silk an'
education an' hardwood finish an' human fat?'
"'Well, it costs so much to live,' he says, 'an' the wholesalers
have kept liftin' the prices on me. Now there's the meat
trust--their prices are up thirty-five per cent.'
"'Of course,' I says, 'the directors have to have their luxuries.
You taxed us for yer new house an' yer automobile an' yer
daughter's education, an' they're taxin' you for their steam-yachts
an' private cars an' racin' stables. You can't expect to do all
the taxin'. The wholesalers learnt about the profits that you an'
others like ye was makin', an' they concluded that they needed a
part of 'em. Of course they had to have their luxuries, an'
they're taxin' you--they couldn't afford to have 'em if they
didn't. Don't complain.'
"'I'll come out all right,' he says. 'I'm goin' to raise my whole
schedule fifteen per cent.'
"'The people won't stand it--they can't,' says I. 'You'll be
drownin' the miller. They'll leave you.'
"'It won't do 'em any good,' says he. 'Bill an' Eph will make
their prices agree with mine.'
"'Folks will go back to the land, as I have,' says I.
"'They don't know enough,' says Sam. 'Farmin' is a lost art here
in the East. You take my word for it--they'll pay our
prices--they'll have to--an' the rich folks, they don't worry about
prices. I pay a commission to every steward an' butler in this
neighborhood.'
"'I won't help you,' says I. 'It's wicked. You ought to have
saved your money.'
"'In a year from now I'll have money to burn,' he says. 'For one
thing, my daughter's education is finished, an' that has cost
heavy.'
"'How much would it cost to unlearn it?' I asked. 'That's goin' to
cost more than it did to get it, I'm 'fraid. In my opinion the
first thing to do with her is to uneducate her.'
"That was like a red-hot iron to Sam. It kind o' het him up.
"'Why, sir, you don't appreciate her,' says he. 'That girl is far
above us all here in Pointview. She's a queen.'
"'Well, Sam,' I says, 'if there's anything you don't need just now
it's a queen. If I were you I wouldn't graft that kind o' fruit on
the grocery-tree. Hams an' coronets don't flourish on the same
bush. They have a different kind of a bouquet. They don't
harmonize. Then, Sam, what do you want of a girl that's far above
ye? Is it any comfort to you to be despised in your own home?'
"'Mr. Potter, I haven't educated her for my own home or for this
community, but for higher things,' says Sam.
"'You hairy old ass! The first you know,' I says, 'they'll have
your skin off an' layin' on the front piaz' for a door-mat.'
"Sam started for the open air. I hated to be ha'sh with him, but
he needed some education himself, an' it took a beetle an' wedge to
open his mind for it. He lifted his chin so high that the fat
swelled out on the back of his neck an' unbuttoned his collar.
Then he turned an' said: 'My daughter is too good for this town,
an' I don't intend that she shall stay here. She has been asked to
marry a man o' fortune in the old country.'
"'So I surmised, an' I suppose you find that the price o' husbands
has gone up,' I says.
"Sam didn't answer me.
"'They want you to settle some money on the girl--don't they?' I
asked.
"'My wife says it's the custom in the old country,' says Sam.
"'Suppose he ain't worth the price?'
"'They say he's a splendid fellow,' says Sam.
"'You let me investigate him,' I says, 'an' if he's really worth
the price I'll help ye to pay it.'
"Sam said that was fair, an' thanked me for the offer, an' gave me
the young man's address. He was a Russian by the name of Alexander
Rolanoff, an' Sam insisted that he belonged to a very old family of
large means an' noble blood, an' said that the young man would be
in Pointview that summer. I wrote to the mayor of the city in
which he was said to live, but got no answer.
"Alexander came. He was a costly an' beautiful young man, about
thirty years old, with red cheeks an' curly hair an' polished
finger-nails, an' wrote poetry. Sometimes ye meet a man that
excites yer worst suspicions. Your right hand no sooner lets go o'
his than it slides down into your pocket to see if anything has
happened; or maybe you take the arm o' yer wife or yer daughter an'
walk away. Aleck leaned a little in both directions. But, sir,
Sam didn't care to know my opinion of him. Never said another word
to me on the subject, but came again to ask about the money.
"'Look here, Sam,' I says. 'You tell Lizzie that I want to have a
talk with her at four o'clock in this office? If she really wants
to buy this man, I'll see what can be done about it.'
"'All right, you talk with her,' says he, an' went out.
"In a few minutes Dan showed up.
"'Have you seen Lizzie?' says I.
"'Not to speak to her,' says Dan. 'Looks fine, doesn't she?'
"'Beautiful!'I says. 'How is Marie Benson?'
"'Oh, the second time I went to see her she was trying to keep up
with Lizzie,' says he. 'She's changed her gait. Was going to New
York after a lot o' new frills. I suppose she thought that I
wanted a grand lady. That's the trouble with all the girls here.
A man might as well marry the real thing as an imitation. I wish
Lizzie would get down off her high horse.'
"'She's goin' to swap him for one with still longer legs,' I says.
'Lizzie is engaged to a gentleman o' fortune in the old country.'
"Dan's face began to stretch out long as if it was made of
injy-rubber.
"'It's too bad,' says he. 'Lizzie is a good-hearted girl, if she is
spoilt.'
"'Fine girl!' I says. 'An', Dan, I was in hopes that she would
discover her own folly before it was too late. But she saw that
others had begun to push her in the race an' that she had to let
out another link or fall behind.'
"'Well, I wish her happiness,' says Dan, with a sigh.
"'Go an' tell her so,' I says. 'Show her that you have some care
as to whether she lives or dies.'
"I could see that his feelin's had been honed 'til they were sharp
as a razor.
"'I've seen that fellow,' he says, 'an' he'll never marry Lizzie if
I can prevent it. I hate the looks of him. I shall improve the
first opportunity I have to insult him.'
"'That might be impossible,' I suggested.
"'But I'll make the effort,' says Dan.
"As an insulter I wouldn't wonder if Dan had large capacity when
properly stirred up.
"'Better let him alone. I have lines out that will bring
information. Be patient.'
"Dan rose and said he would see me soon, an' left with a rather
stern look in his face.
III
IN WHICH LIZZIE DESCENDS FROM A GREAT HEIGHT
"Lizzie was on hand at the hour appointed. We sat down here all by
ourselves.
"'Lizzie,' I says, 'why in the world did you go to Europe for a
husband? It's a slight to Pointview--a discouragement of home
industry.'
"'There was nobody here that seemed to want me,' she says, blushin'
very sweet.
"She had dropped her princess manner an' seemed to be ready for
straight talk.
"'If that's so, Lizzie, it's your fault,' I says.
"'I don't understand you,' says she.
"'Why, my dear child, it's this way,' I says. 'Your mother an'
father have meant well, but they've been foolish. They've educated
you for a millionairess, an' all that's lackin' is the millions.
You overawed the boys here in Pointview. They thought that you
felt above 'em, whether you did or not; an' the boys on Fifth
Avenue were glad to play with you, but they didn't care to marry
you. I say it kindly, Lizzie, an' I'm a friend o' yer father's,
an' you can afford to let me say what I mean. Those young fellows
wanted the millions as well as the millionairess. One of our boys
fell in love with ye an' tried to keep up, but your pace was too
hot for him. His father got in trouble, an' the boy had to drop
out. Every well-born girl in the village entered the race with ye.
An era of extravagance set in that threatened the solvency, the
honor, o' this sober old community. Their fathers had to borrow
money to keep agoin'. They worked overtime, they importuned their
creditors, they wallowed in low finance while their daughters
revelled in the higher walks o' life an' sang in different
languages. Even your father--I tell you in confidence, for I
suppose he wouldn't have the courage to do it--is in financial
difficulties. Now, Lizzie, I want to be kind to you, for I believe
you're a good girl at heart, but you ought to know that all this is
what your accomplishments have accomplished.'
"She rose an' walked across the room, with trembling lips. She had
seized her parachute an' jumped from her balloon and was slowly
approachin' the earth. I kept her comin', 'These clothes an'
jewels that you wear, Lizzie--these silks an' laces, these
sunbursts an' solitaires--don't seem to harmonize with your
father's desire to borrow money. Pardon me, but I can't make 'em
look honest. They are not paid for--or if they are they are paid
for with other men's money. They seem to accuse you. They'd
accuse me if I didn't speak out plain to ye.'
"All of a sudden Lizzie dropped into a chair an' began to cry. She
had lit safely on the ground.
[Illustration: Lizzie dropped into a chair an' began to cry.]
"It made me feel like a murderer, but it had to be. Poor girl! I
wanted to pick her up like a baby an' kiss her. It wasn't that I
loved Lizzie less but Rome more. She wasn't to blame. Every
spoilt woman stands for a fool-man. Most o' them need--not a
master--but a frank counsellor. I locked the door. She grew calm
an' leaned on my table, her face covered with her hands. My clock
shouted the seconds in the silence. Not a word was said for two or
three minutes.
"'I have been brutal,' I says, by-an'-by. 'Forgive me.'
"'Mr. Potter,' she says, 'you've done me a great kindness. I'll
never forget it. What shall I do?'
"'Well, for one thing,' says I, 'go back to your old simplicity an'
live within your means.'
"'I'll do it,' she says; 'but--I--I supposed my father was rich.
Oh, I wish we could have had this talk before!'
"'Did you know that Dan Pettigrew was in love with you?' I put it
straight from the shoulder. 'He wouldn't dare tell ye, but you
ought to know it. You are regarded as a kind of a queen here, an'
it's customary for queens to be approached by ambassadors.'
"Her face lighted up.
"'In love with me?' she whispered. 'Why, Mr. Potter, I never
dreamed of such a thing. Are you sure? How do you know? I
thought he felt above me.'
"'An' he thought you felt above him,' I says.
"'How absurd! how unfortunate!' she whispered. 'I couldn't marry
him now if he asked me. This thing has gone too far. I wouldn't
treat any man that way.'
"'You are engaged to Alexander, are you?' I says.
"'Well, there is a sort of understanding, and I think we are to be
married if--if--'
"She paused, and tears came to her eyes again.
"'You are thinking o' the money,' says I.
"'I am thinking o' the money,' says she. 'It has been promised to
him. He will expect it.'
"'Do you think he is an honest man? Will he treat you well?'
"'I suppose so.'
"'Then let me talk with him. Perhaps he would take you without
anything to boot.'
"'Please don't propose that,' says she. 'I think he's getting the
worst of it now. Mr. Potter, would you lend me the money? I ask
it because I don't want the family to be disgraced or Mr. Rolanoff
to be badly treated. He is to invest the money in my name in a
very promising venture. He says he can double it within three
months.'
"It would have been easy for me to laugh, but I didn't. Lizzie's
attitude in the whole matter pleased me. I saw that her heart was
sound. I promised to have a talk with her father and see her
again. I looked into his affairs carefully and put him on a new
financial basis with a loan of fifteen thousand dollars.
"One day he came around to my office with Alexander an' wanted me
to draw up a contract between him an' the young man. It was a
rather crude proposition, an' I laughed, an' Aleck sat with a bored
smile on his face.
"'Oh, if he's good enough for your daughter,' I said, 'his word
ought to be good enough for you.'
"'That's all right,' says Sam, 'but business is business. I want
it down in black an' white that the income from this money is to be
paid to my daughter, and that neither o' them shall make any
further demand on me.'
"Well, I drew that fool contract, an', after it was signed, Sam
delivered ten one-thousand-dollar bills to the young man, who was
to become his son-in-law the following month with the assistance of
a caterer and a florist and a string-band, all from New Haven.
"Within half an hour Dan Pettigrew came roarin' up in front o' my
office in the big red automobile of his father's. In a minute he
came in to see me. He out with his business soon as he lit in a
chair.
"'I've learned that this man Rolanoff is a scoundrel,' says he.
"'A scoundrel!' says I.
"'Of purest ray serene,' says he.
"I put a few questions, but he'd nothing in the way o' proof to
otter--it was only the statement of a newspaper.
"'Is that all you know against him?' I asked.
"'He won't fight,' says Dan. 'I've tried him--I've begged him to
fight.'
"'Well, I've got better evidence than you have,' I says. 'It came
a few minutes before you did.'
"I showed him a cablegram from a London barrister that said:
"'Inquiry complete. The man is a pure adventurer, character _nil_.'
"'We must act immediately,' says Dan.
"'I have telephoned all over the village for Sam,' I says. 'They
say he's out in his car with Aleck an' Lizzie. I asked them to
send him here as soon as he returns.'
"'They're down on the Post Road I met 'em on my way here,' says
Dan. 'We can overtake that car easy.'
"Well, the wedding-day was approaching an' Aleck had the money, an'
the thought occurred to me that he might give 'em the slip
somewhere on the road an' get away with it. I left word in the
store that if Sam got back before I saw him he was to wait with
Aleck in my office until I returned, an' off we started like a
baseball on its way from the box to the catcher.
"An officer on his motor-cycle overhauled us on the Post Road. He
knew me.
"'It's a case o' sickness,' I says, 'an' we're after Sam Henshaw.'
"'He's gone down the road an' hasn't come back yet,' says the
officer.
"I passed him a ten-dollar bill.
"'Keep within sight of us,' I says. 'We may need you any minute.'
"He nodded and smiled, an' away we went.
"'I'm wonderin' how we're agoin' to get the money,' I says, havin'
told Dan about it.
"'I'll take it away from him,' says Dan.
"'That wouldn't do,' says I.
"'Why not?'
"'Why not!' says I. 'You wouldn't want to be arrested for highway
robbery. Then, too, we must think o' Lizzie. Poor girl! It's
agoin' to be hard on her, anyhow. I'll try a bluff. It's probable
that he's worked this game before. If so, we can rob him without
violence an' let him go.'
"Dan grew joyful as we sped along.
"'Lizzie is mine,' he says. 'She wouldn't marry him now.'
"He told me how fond they had been of each other until they got
accomplishments an' began to put up the price o' themselves. He
said that in their own estimation they had riz in value like beef
an' ham, an' he confessed how foolish he had been. We were excited
an' movin' fast.
"'Something'll happen soon,' he says.
"An' it did, within ten minutes from date. We could see a blue car
half a mile ahead.
"'I'll go by that ol' freight-car o' the Henshaws',' says Dan.
'They'll take after me, for Sam is vain of his car. We can halt
them in that narrow cut on the hill beyond the Byron River.'
"We had rounded the turn at Chesterville, when we saw the Henshaw
car just ahead of us, with Aleck at the wheel an' Lizzie beside him
an' Sam on the back seat. I saw the peril in the situation.
"The long rivalry between the houses of Henshaw an' Pettigrew,
reinforced by that of the young men, was nearing its climax.
"'See me go by that old soap-box o' the Henshaws',' says Dan, as he
pulled out to pass 'em.
"Then Dan an' Aleck began a duel with automobiles. Each had a
forty-horse-power engine in his hands, with which he was resolved
to humble the other. Dan knew that he was goin' to bring down the
price o' Alecks an' Henshaws. First we got ahead; then they
scraped by us, crumpling our fender on the nigh side. Lizzie an' I
lost our hats in the scrimmage. We gathered speed an' ripped off a
section o' their bulwarks, an' roared along neck an' neck with 'em.
The broken fenders rattled like drums in a battle. A hen flew up
an' hit me in the face, an' came nigh unhorsin' me. I hung on. It
seemed as if Fate was tryin' to halt us, but our horse-power was
too high. A dog went under us. It began to rain a little. We
were a length ahead at the turn by the Byron River. We swung for
the bridge an' skidded an' struck a telephone pole, an' I went
right on over the stone fence an' the clay bank an' lit on my head
in the water. Dan Pettigrew lit beside me. Then came Lizzie an'
Sam--they fairly rained into the river. I looked up to see if
Aleck was comin', but he wasn't. Sam, bein' so heavy, had stopped
quicker an' hit in shallow water near the shore, but, as luck would
have it, the bottom was soft an' he had come down feet foremost,
an' a broken leg an' some bad bruises were all he could boast of.
Lizzie was in hysterics, but seemed to be unhurt. Dan an' I got
'em out on the shore, an' left 'em cryin' side by side, an'
scrambled up the bank to find Aleck. He had aimed too low an' hit
the wall, an' was stunned, an' apparently, for the time, dead as a
herrin' on the farther side of it. I removed the ten
one-thousand-dollar bills from his person to prevent complications
an' tenderly laid him down. Then he came to very sudden.
"'Stop!' he murmured. 'You're robbin' me.'
"'Well, you begun it,' I says. 'Don't judge me hastily. I'm a
philanthropist. I'm goin' to leave you yer liberty an' a hundred
dollars. You take it an' get. If you ever return to Connecticut
I'll arrest you at sight.'
"I gave him the money an' called the officer, who had just come up.
A traveller in a large tourin'-car had halted near us.
"'Put him into that car an' take him to Chesterville,' I said.
"He limped to the car an' left without a word.
"I returned to my friends an' gently broke the news.
"Sam blubbered 'Education done it,' says he, as he mournfully shook
his head.
"'Yes,' I says. 'Education is responsible for a damned lot of
ignorance.'
"'An' some foolishness,' says Sam, as he scraped the mud out of his
hair. 'Think of our goin' like that. We ought to have known
better.' "'We knew better,' I says, 'but we had to keep up with
Lizzie.'
"Sam turned toward Lizzie an' moaned in a broken voice, 'I wish it
had killed me.'
"'Why so?' I asked.
"'It costs so much to live,' Sam sobbed, in a half-hysterical way.
'I've got an expensive family on my hands.'
"'You needn't be afraid o' havin' Lizzie on your hands,' says Dan,
who held the girl in his arms.
"'What do you mean?^ Sam inquired.
"'She's on my hands an' she's goin' to stay there,' says the young
man. 'I'm in love with Lizzie myself. I've always been in love
with Lizzie.'
"'Your confession is ill-timed,' says Lizzie, as she pulled away
an' tried to smooth her hair. She began to cry again, an' added,
between sobs: 'My heart is about broken, and I must go home and get
help for my poor father.'
"'I'll attend to that,' says Dan; 'but I warn you that I'm goin' to
offer a Pettigrew for a Henshaw even. If I had a million dollars
I'd give it all to boot.'
"Sam turned toward me, his face red as a beet.
"'The money!' he shouted. 'Get it, quick!'
"'Here it is!' I said, as I put the roll o' bills in his hand.
"'Did you take it off him?'
"'I took it off him.'
"'Poor Aleck!' he says, mournfully, as he counted the money. 'It's
kind o' hard on him.'