over the wall. It was like movin' a piano with somebody playin' on
it, but we managed to seat him on the front floor o' the car, which
took us all home.
"So the affair ended without disgrace to any one, if not without
violence, and no one knows of the cablegram save the few persons
directly concerned. But the price of Alecks took a big slump in
Pointview. No han'some foreign gent could marry any one in this
village, unless it was a chambermaid in a hotel.
"That was the end of the first heat of the race with Lizzie in
Pointview. Aleck had folded up his bluff an' silently sneaked
away. I heard no more of him save from a lady with blond, curly
hair an' a face done in water-colors, who called at my office one
day to ask about him, an' who proved to my satisfaction that she
was his wife, an' who remarked with real, patrician accent when I
told her the truth about him: 'Ah, g'wan, yer kiddin' me.'
"I began to explore the mind of Lizzie, an' she acted as my guide
in the matter. For her troubles the girl was about equally
indebted to her parents an' the Smythe school. Now the Smythe
school had been founded by the Reverend Hopkins Smythe, an
Englishman who for years had been pastor of the First
Congregational Church--a soothin' man an' a favorite of the rich
New-Yorkers. People who hadn't slept for weeks found repose in the
First Congregational Church an' Sanitarium of Pointview. They
slept an' snored while the Reverend Hopkins wept an' roared. His
rhetoric was better than bromide or sulphonal. In grateful
recollection of their slumbers, they set him up in business.
"Now I'm agoin' to talk as mean as I feel. Sometimes I get tired
o' bein' a gentleman an' knock off for a season o' rest an'
refreshment. Here goes! The school has some good girls in it, but
most of 'em are indolent candy-eaters. Their life is one long,
sweet dream broken by nightmares of indigestion. Their study is
mainly a bluff; their books a merry jest; their teachers a butt of
ridicule. They're the veriest little pagans. Their religion is,
in fact, a kind of Smythology. Its High Priest is the Reverend
Hopkins. Its Jupiter is self. Its lesser gods are princes, dukes,
earls, counts, an' barons. Its angels are actors an' tenors. Its
baptism is flattery. Poverty an' work are its twin hells.
Matrimony is its heaven, an' a slippery place it is. They revel in
the best sellers an' the worst smellers. They gossip of intrigue
an' scandal. They get their lessons if they have time. They cheat
in their examinations. If the teacher objects she is promptly an'
generally insulted. She has to submit or go--for the girls stand
together. It's a sort of school-girls' union. They'd quit in a
body if their fun were seriously interrupted, an' Mr. Smythe
couldn't afford that, you know. He wouldn't admit it, but they've
got him buffaloed.
"Lizzie no sooner got through than she set out with her mother to
find the prince. She struck Aleck in Italy."
Socrates leaned back and laughed.
"Now, if you please, I'll climb back on my pedestal," he said.
"Thank God! Lizzie began to rise above her education. She went to
work in her father's store, an' the whole gang o' Lizzie-chasers
had to change their gait again. She organized our prosperous young
ladies' club--a model of its kind--the purpose of which is the
promotion of simple livin' an' a taste for useful work. They have
fairs in the churches, an' I distribute a hundred dollars in cash
prizes--five dollars each for the best exhibits o' pumpkin-pie,
chicken-pie, bread, rolls, coffee, roast turkey, plain an' fancy
sewin', an' so on. One by one the girls are takin' hold with us
an' lettin' go o' the grand life. They've begun to take hold o'
the broom an' the dish-cloth, an' the boys seem to be takin' hold
o' them with more vigor an' determination. The boys are concluding
that it's cheaper to buy a piano-player than to marry one, that
canned prima-donnas are better than the home-grown article, that
women are more to be desired than playthings.
IV
IN WHICH THE HAM WAR HAS ITS BEGINNING
"One day in the old time a couple of industrious Yankees were hard
at work in a field," Socrates continued. "Suddenly one said to the
other:
"'I wish I was worth ten thousand dollars.'
"An' the other asked:
"'What would ye do with it?'
"The wisher rested on his shovel an' gave his friend a look of
utter contempt.
"'What would I do with it?' he said. 'Why, you cussed fool, I'd
set down--an' without blamin' myself.'
"By-and-by the Yankee got to settin' down without blamin' himself,
an' also without the ten thousand. Here in Pointview we're
learnin' how to stand up again, an' Lizzie is responsible. You
shall hear how it happened.
"First I must tell you that Dan had been makin' little progress in
the wooin' o' Lizzie. Now she was inclined to go slow. Lizzie was
fond o' Dan. She put on her best clothes when he came to see her
of a Sunday. She sang to him, she walked him about the place with
her arm in his, but she tenderly refused to agree to marry him.
When he grew sentimental she took him out among the cucumbers in
the garden. She permitted no sudden rise in his temperature.
"'I will not marry,' she said, 'until I have done what I can to
repay my father for all that he has tried to do for me. I must be
uneducated and re-educated. It may take a long time. Meanwhile
you may meet some one you like better. I'm not going to pledge you
to wait for me. Of course I shall be awfully proud and pleased if
you do wait, but, Dan, I want you to be free. Let's both be free
until we're ready.'
"It was bully. Dan pleaded with the eloquence of an old-fashioned
lawyer. Lizzie stood firm behind this high fence, an' she was
right. With Dan in debt an' babies comin', what could she have
done for her father? Suddenly it seemed as if all the young men
had begun to take an interest in Lizzie, an', to tell the truth,
she was about the neatest, sweetest little myrmidon of commerce
that ever wore a white apron. The light of true womanhood had
begun to shine in her face. She kept the store in apple-pie order,
an' everybody was well treated. The business grew. Sam bought a
small farm outside the village with crops in, an' moved there for
the summer. Soon he began to let down his prices. The combine was
broken. It was the thing we had been waitin' for. People flocked
to his store. The others came down, but too late. Sam held his
gain, an' Lizzie was the power behind the fat. Dan finished his
course in agriculture an' I bought him a farm, an' he went to work
there, but he spent half his time in the store of his father tryin'
to keep up with Lizzie. Suddenly Dan started a ham war. He cut
the price of hams five cents a pound. Ham was one of our great
staples, an' excitement ran high. Lizzie cut below him two cents a
pound. Dan cut the price again. Lizzie made no effort to meet
this competition. The price had gone below the wholesale rate by
quite a margin. People thronged to Dan's emporium. Women stood on
the battle-field, their necks blanched with powder, their cheeks
bearin' the red badge o' courage, an' every man you met had a ham
in his hand. The Pettigrew wagon hurried hither an' thither loaded
with hams. Even the best friends of Sam an' Lizzie were seen in
Dan's store buyin' hams. They laid in a stock for all winter.
Suddenly Dan quit an' restored his price to the old figure. Lizzie
continued to sell at the same price, an' was just as cheerful as
ever. She had won the fight, an' ye wouldn't think that anything
unusual had happened; but wait an' see.
"Every day boys an' girls were droppin' out o' the clouds an' goin'
to work tryin' to keep up with Lizzie. The hammocks swung limp in
the breeze. The candy stores were almost deserted, an' those that
sat by the fountains were few. We were learnin' how to stand up.
"One day Dan came into my office all out o' gear. He looked sore
an' discouraged. I didn't wonder.
"'What's the matter now?' I says.
"'I don't believe Lizzie cares for me.'
"'How's that?' I says.
"'Last Sunday she was out riding with Tom Bryson, an' every Sunday
afternoon I find half-a-dozen young fellows up there.'
"'Well, ye know, Lizzie is attractive, an' she ain't our'n yit--not
just yit,' I says. 'If young men come to see her she's got to be
polite to 'em. You wouldn't expect her to take a broom an' shoo
'em off?'
"'But I don't have anything to do with other girls.'
"'An' you're jealous as a hornet,' I says. 'Lizzie wants you to
meet other girls. When Lizzie marries it will be for life. She'll
want to know that you love her an' only her. You keep right on
tryin' to catch up with Lizzie, an' don't be worried.'
"He stopped strappin' the razor of his discontent, but left me with
unhappy looks. That very week I saw him ridin' about with Marie
Benson in his father's motor-car.
"Soon a beautiful thing happened. I have told you of the
melancholy end of the cashier of one of our local banks. Well, in
time his wife followed him to the cemetery. She was a distant
relative of Sam's wife, an' a friend of Lizzie. We found easy
employment for the older children, an' Lizzie induced her parents
to adopt two that were just out of their mother's arms--a girl of
one an' a boy of three years. I suggested to Lizzie that it seemed
to me a serious undertaking, but she felt that she ought to be
awfully good by way of atonement for the folly of her past life.
It was near the end of the year, an' I happen to know that when
Christmas came a little sack containing five hundred dollars in
gold was delivered at Sam Henshaw's door for Lizzie from a source
unknown to her. That paid for the nurse, an' eased the situation."
V
IN WHICH LIZZIE EXERTS AN INFLUENCE ON THE AFFAIRS OF THE RICH AND
GREAT
A year after Socrates Potter had told of the descent of Lizzie, and
the successful beginning of her new life, I called again at his
office.
"How is Pointview?" I asked.
"Did ye ever learn how it happened to be called Pointview?" he
inquired.
"No."
"Well, it began with a little tavern with a tap-room called the
Pointview House, a great many years ago. Travellers used to stop
an' look around for the Point, an', of course, they couldn't see
it, for there's none here; at least, no point of land. They'd go
in an' order drinks an' say:
"'Landlord, where's the point?'
"An' the landlord would say: 'Well, boys, if you ain't in a hurry
you'll probably see it purty soon.'
"All at once it would appear to 'em, an' it was apt to be an'
amusin' bit o' scenery.
"We've always been quick to see a point here, an' anxious to show
it to other people."
He leaned back and laughed as one foot sought the top of his desk.
"Our balloons rise from every walk o' life an' come down out o'
ballast," he went on. "Many of 'em touch ground in the great
financial aviation park that surrounds Wall Street. In our stages
of recovery the power of Lizzie has been widely felt."
Up went his other foot. I saw that the historical mood was upon
him.
"Talk about tryin' to cross the Atlantic in an air-ship--why,
that's conservative," he continued. "Right here in the eastern
part o' Connecticut lives a man who set out for the vicinity of the
moon with a large company--a joint-stock company--in his life-boat.
First he made the journey with the hot-air-ship of his mind, an'
came back with millions in the hold of his imagination. Then he
thought he'd experiment with a corporation of his friends--his
surplus friends. They got in on the ground floor, an' got out in
the sky. Most of 'em were thrown over for ballast. The Wellman of
this enterprise escaped with his life an' a little wreckage. He
was Mr. Thomas Robinson Barrow, an' he came to consult me about
his affairs. They were in bad shape.
"'Sell your big house an' your motor-cars,' I urged.
"'That would have been easy,' he answered, 'but Lizzie has spoilt
the market for luxuries. You remember how she got high notions up
at the Smythe school, an' began a life of extravagance, an' how we
all tried to keep up with her, an' how the rococo architecture
broke out like pimples on the face of Connecticut?'
"I smiled an' nodded.
"'Well, it was you, I hear, that helped her back to earth and
started her in the simpleton life. Since then she has been going
just as fast, but in the opposite direction, and we're still tryin'
to keep up with her. Now I found a man who was going to buy my
property, but suddenly his wife decided that they would get along
with a more modest outfit. She's trying to keep up with Lizzie.
Folks are getting wise.'
"'Why don't you?'
"'Can't.'
"'Why not?'
"'Because I'm a born fool. We're fettered; we're prisoners of
luxury.'
"Only a night or two before I had seen his wife at a reception with
a rope of pearls in her riggin' an' a search-light o' diamonds on
her forward deck an' a tiara-boom-de-ay at her masthead an' the
flags of opulence flyin' fore an' aft.
"'If I were you,' I said, 'I'd sell everything--even the jewels.'
"'My poor wife!' he exclaimed. 'I haven't the heart to tell her
all. She don't know how hard up we are!'
"'I wouldn't neglect her education if I were you,' I said.
'There's a kindness, you know, that's most unkind. Some day I
shall write an article on the use an' abuse of tiaras--poor things!
It isn't fair to overwork the family tiara. I suggest that you get
a good-sized trunk an' lock it up with the other jewels for a
vacation. If necessary your house could be visited by a
burglar--that is, if you wanted to save the feelin's of your wife.'
"He turned with a puzzled look at me.
"'Is it possible that you haven't heard of that trick?' I asked--'a
man of your talents!'
"He shook his head.
"'Why, these days, if a man wishes to divorce the family jewels an'
is afraid of his wife, the house is always entered by a burglar.
My dear sir, the burglar is an ever-present help in time of
trouble. It's a pity that we have no Gentleman's Home Journal in
which poor but deservin' husbands could find encouragement an'
inspiration.'
"He looked at me an' laughed.
"'Suppose you engage a trusty and reliable burglar?' he proposed.
"'There's only one in the world.' I said.
"'Who is it?'
"'Thomas Robinson Barrow. Of course, I'm not sayin' that if I
needed a burglar he's just the man I should choose, but for this
job he's the only reliable burglar. Try him.'
"He seemed to be highly amused.
"'But it might be difficult to fool the police,' he said, in a
minute.
"'Well, it isn't absolutely necessary, you know,' I suggested.
'The Chief of Police is a friend of mine.'
"'Good! I'm engaged for this job, and will sell the jewels and
turn the money over to you.'
"'I do not advise that--not just that,' I said. 'We'll retire them
from active life. A tiara in the safe is worth two in the Titian
bush. We'll use them for collateral an' go to doin' business.
When we've paid the debts in full we'll redeem the goods an' return
them to your overjoyed wife. We'll launch our tiara on the Marcel
waves.'
"Tom was delighted with this plan--not the best, perhaps--but,
anyhow, it would save his wife from reproach, an' I don't know what
would have happened if she had continued to dazzle an' enrage his
creditors with the pearls an' the tiara.
"'It will not be so easy to sell the house,' Tom went on. 'That's
our worst millstone. It was built for large hospitality, and we
have a good many friends, and they come every week and jump on to
the millstone.'
"'If one has to have a millstone he should choose it with
discretion,' I said. 'It doesn't pay to get one that is too
inviting. You'll have to swim around with yours for a while, and
watch your chance to slip it on to some other fellow's neck. You
don't want your son to be a millstonaire. Some day a man of
millions may find it a comfortable fit, an' relieve you. They're
buyin' places all about here.'
"Tom left an' began work on our programme. The burglary was well
executed an' advertised. It achieved a fair amount of
publicity--not too much, you know, but enough. The place was
photographed by the reporters with the placard 'For Sale' showin'
plainly on the front lawn. The advertisin' was worth almost as
much as the diamonds. Tom said that his wife had lost weight since
the sad event.
"'Of course,' I said. 'You can't take ten pounds of jewelry from a
woman without reducin' her weight. She must have had a pint o'
diamonds.'
"'Pictures an' glowin' accounts of the villa were printed in all
the papers, an' soon a millionaire wrote that it was just the place
he was lookin' for. I closed the deal with him. It was Bill
Warburton, who used to go to school with me up there on the hills.
He had long been dreamin' of a home in Pointview.
"They used to say that Bill was a fool, but he proved an alibi.
Went West years ago an' made a fortune, an' thought it would be
nice to come back an' finish his life where it began, near the
greatest American city. I drew the papers, an' Bill an' I got
together often an' talked of the old happy days, now glimmering in
the far past--some thirty-five years away,
[Illustration: Bill an' I got together often an' talked of the old
happy days.]
"Well, they enlarged the house--that was already big enough for a
hotel--an' built stables an' kennels an' pheasant yards an' houses
for ducks an' geese an' peacocks. They stocked up with fourteen
horses, twelve hounds, nine collies, four setters, nineteen
servants, innumerable fowls, an' four motor-cars, an' started in
pursuit o' happiness.
"You see, they had no children, an' all these beasts an' birds were
intended to supply the deficiency in human life, an' assist in the
campaign. Well, somehow, it didn't succeed, an' one day Bill came
into my office with a worried look. He confided to me the
well-known fact that his wife was nervous and unhappy.
"'The doctors don't do her any good, an' I thought I'd try a
lawyer,' said he.
"'Do you want to sue Fate for damages or indict her for malicious
persecution?' I asked.
"'Neither,' he said, 'but you know the laws of nature as well as
the laws of men. I appeal to you to tell me what law my wife has
broken, and how she can make amends.'
"'You surprise me,' I said. 'You an' the madame can have
everything you want, an' still you're unhappy.'
"'What can we have that you can't? You can eat as much, an' sleep
better, an' wear as many clothes, an' see an' hear as well as we
can.'
"'Ah, but in the matter of quality I'm way behind the flag, Bill.
You can wear cloth o' gold, an Russian sables, an' have champagne
an' terrapin every meal, an' fiddlers to play while ye eat it, an'
a brass band to march around the place with ye, an' splendid horses
to ride, an' dogs to roar on ahead an' attract the attention of the
populace. You can have a lot of bankrupt noblemen to rub an'
manicure an' adulate an' chiropodize ye, an' people who'd have to
laugh at your wit or look for another job, an' authors to read from
their own works--'
"Bill interrupted with a gentle protest: 'Soc, how comforting you
are!'
"'Well, if all that is losin' its charm, what's the matter with
travel?'
"'Don't talk to me about travel,' said Bill. 'We've worn ruts in
the earth now. Our feet have touched every land.'
"'How many meals do you eat a day?'
"'Three.'
"'Try six,' I suggested.
"He laughed, an' I thought I was makin' progress, so I kept on.
"'How many motor-cars have ye ?'
"'Four.'
"'Get eight,' I advised, as Bill put on the loud pedal. 'You've
got nineteen servants, I believe, try thirty-eight. You
have--twenty-one dogs--get forty-two. You can afford it.'
"'Come, be serious,' said Bill. 'Don't poke fun at me.'
"'Ah! but your wife must be able to prove that she has more dogs
an' horses an' servants an' motor-cars, an' that she eats more
meals in a day than any other woman in Connecticut. Then, maybe,
she'll be happy. You know it's a woman's ambition to excel.'
"'We have too many fool things now,' said Bill, mournfully. 'She's
had enough of them--God knows!'
"Something in Bill's manner made me sit up and stare at him.
"'Of course, you don't mean that she wants another husband!' I
exclaimed.
"'I'm not so sure of that,' said Bill, sadly. 'Sometimes I'm
almost inclined to think she does.'
"'Well, that's one direction in which I should advise strict
economy,' said I. 'You can multiply the dogs an' the horses, an'
the servants an' the motor-cars, but in the matter o' wives an'
husbands we ought to stick to the simple life. Don't let her go to
competing with those Fifth Avenue ladies.'
"'I don't know what's the matter,' Bill went on. 'She's had
everything that her heart could wish. But, of course, she has had
only one husband, and most of her friends have had two or three.
They've outmarried her. It may be that, secretly, she's just a
little annoyed about that. Many of her old friends are consumed
with envy; their bones are rotten with it. They smile upon her;
they accept her hospitality; they declare their love, and they long
for her downfall. Now, my wife has a certain pride and joy in all
this, but, naturally, it breeds a sense of loneliness--the bitter
loneliness that one may find only in a crowd. She turns more and
more to me, and, between ourselves, she seems to have made up her
mind that I don't love her, and I can't convince her that I do.'
"'Well, Bill, I should guess that you have always been fond of your
wife--and--true to her.'
"'And you are right,' said Bill. 'I've loved with all my heart and
with a conscience. It's my only pride, for, of course, I might
have been gay. In society I enjoy a reputation for firmness. It
is no idle boast.'
"'Well, Bill, you can't do anything more for her in the matter of
food, raiment, beasts, or birds, an' as to jewelry she carries a
pretty heavy stock. I often feel the need of smoked glasses when I
look at her. You'll have to make up your mind as to whether she
needs more or less. I'll study the situation myself. It may be
that I can suggest something by-and-by--just as a matter of
friendship.'
"'Your common sense may discern what is needed,' said Bill. 'I
wish you'd come at least once a week to dinner. My wife would be
delighted, to have you, Soc. You are one of the few men who
interest her.'
"She was a pretty woman, distinguished for a look of weariness and
a mortal fear of fat. She had done nothing so hard an' so long,
that, to her, nothing was all there was in the world--save fat.
She was so busy about it that she couldn't sit still an' rest. She
wandered from one chair to another, smokin' a cigarette, an' now
and then glancin' at her image in a mirror an' slyly feelin' her
ribs to see if she had gained flesh that day. She liked me because
I was unlike any other man she had met. I poked fun at her folly
an' all the grandeur of the place. I amused her as much as she
amused me, perhaps. Anyhow, we got to be good friends, an' the
next Sunday we all drove out in a motor-car to see Lizzie. Mrs.
Bill wanted to meet her. Lizzie had become famous. She was
walkin' up an' down the lawn with the infant in a perambulator, an'
the small boy toddling along behind her. We left Mrs. Bill with
Lizzie an' the kids, an' set out for a tramp over the big farm.
When we returned we found the ladies talkin' earnestly in the house.
[Illustration: We set out for a tramp over the big farm.]
"Before we left I called Lizzie aside for a minute.
"'How do you get along with these babies?' I asked.
"'They're the life of our home. My father and mother think they
couldn't live without them.'
"'An' they're good practice for you,' I suggested. 'It's time you
were plannin' for yourself, Lizzie.'
"'I've no prospects,' said she.
"'How is that?'
"'Why, there's only one boy that I care for, an' he has had enough
of me.'
"'You don't mean Dan?'
"'Yes,' she whispered with trembling lips, an' turned away.
"'What's the matter?'
"She pulled herself together an' answered in half a moment: 'Oh, I
don't know! He doesn't come often. He goes around with other
girls.'
"'Well,' I said, 'it's the same ol' story. He's only tryin' to
keep up with Lizzie. You've done some goin' around yourself.'
"'I know, but I couldn't help it.'
"'He knows, an' he couldn't help it,' I says. 'The boys have
flocked around you, an' the girls have flocked around Dan. They
were afraid he'd get lonesome. If I were you I'd put a mortgage on
him an' foreclose it as soon as possible.'
"'It's too late,' says she. 'I hear he's mortgaged.'
"'You'd better search the records,' I says, 'an' if it ain't so,
stop bein' careless. You've put yer father on his feet. Now look
out for yerself.'
"'I think he's angry on account of the ham war,' says she.
"'Why do you think that?'
"She told me the facts, an' I laughed 'til the tears came to my
eyes.
"'Nonsense,' I says, 'Dan will like that. You wait 'til I tell
him, an' he'll be up here with his throttle wide open.'