CHAPTER XVIII
JUST A MATTER OF BEGGING
True to his promise, Mr. Smith "tried" Mr. Frank Blaisdell on "theancestor business" very soon. Laboriously he got out his tabulateddates and names and carefully he traced for him several lines ofdescent from remote ancestors. Painstakingly he pointed out a "Submit,"who had no history but the bare fact of her marriage to one ThomasBlaisdell, and a "Thankful Marsh," who had eluded his every attempt tosupply her with parents. He let it be understood how important thesemissing links were, and he tried to inspire his possible pupil with afrenzied desire to go out and dig them up. He showed some of theinteresting letters he had received from various Blaisdells far andnear, and he spread before him the genealogical page of his latest"Transcript," and explained how one might there stumble upon the verymissing link he was looking for.
But Mr. Frank Blaisdell was openly bored. He said he didn't care howmany children his great-grandfather had, nor what they died of; and asfor Mrs. Submit and Miss Thankful, the ladies might bury themselves inthe "Transcript," or hide behind that wall of dates and names tilldoomsday, for all he cared. HE shouldn't disturb 'em. He never did likefigures, he said, except figures that represented something worthwhile, like a day's sales or a year's profits.
And speaking of grocery stores, had Mr. Smith ever seen a store rundown as his old one had since he sold out? For that matter, somethingmust have got into all the grocery stores; for a poorer lot of goodsthan those delivered every day at his home he never saw. It was adisgrace to the trade.
He said a good deal more about his grocery store--but nothing whatevermore about his Blaisdell ancestors; so Mr. Smith felt justified inconsidering his efforts to interest Mr. Frank Blaisdell in the ancestorbusiness a failure. Certainly he never tried it again.
It was in February that a certain metropolitan reporter, short forfeature articles, ran up to Hillerton and contributed to his paper, thefollowing Sunday, a write-up on "The Blaisdells One Year After,"enlarging on the fine new homes, the motor cars, and the luxuriousliving of the three families. And it was three days after this articlewas printed that Miss Flora appeared at Miss Maggie's, breathless withexcitement.
"Just see what I've got in the mail this morning!" she cried to MissMaggie, and to Mr. Smith, who had opened the door for her.
With trembling fingers she took from her bag a letter, and a smallpicture evidently cut from a newspaper.
"There, see," she panted, holding them out. "It's a man in Boston, andthese are his children. There are seven of them. He wrote me abeautiful letter. He said he knew I must have a real kind heart, andhe's in terrible trouble. He said he saw in the paper about thewonderful legacy I'd had, and he told his wife he was going to write tome, to see if I wouldn't help them--if only a little, it would aid themthat much."
"He wants money, then?" Miss Maggie had taken the letter and thepicture rather gingerly in her hands. Mr. Smith had gone over to thestove suddenly--to turn a damper, apparently, though a close observermight have noticed that he turned it back to its former position almostat once.
"Yes," palpitated Miss Flora. "He's sick, and he lost his position, andhis wife's sick, and two of the children, and one of 'em's lame, andanother's blind. Oh, it was such a pitiful story, Maggie! Why, somedays they haven't had enough to eat--and just look at me, with all mychickens and turkeys and more pudding every day than I can stuff down!"
"Did he give you any references?"
"References! What do you mean? He didn't ask me to HIRE him foranything."
"No, no, dear, but I mean--did he give you any references, to show thathe was--was worthy and all right," explained Miss Maggie patiently.
"Of course he didn't! Why, he didn't need to. He told me himself howthings were with him," rebuked Miss Flora indignantly. "It's all in theletter there. Read for yourself."
"But he really ought to have given you SOME reference, dear, if heasked you for money."
"Well, I don't want any reference. I believe him. I'd be ashamed todoubt a man like that! And YOU would, after you read that letter, andlook into those blessed children's faces. Besides, he never thought ofsuch a thing--I know he didn't. Why, he says right in the letter therethat he never asked for help before, and he was so ashamed that he hadto now."
[Illustration with caption: "AND LOOK INTO THOSE BLESSED CHILDREN'SFACES"]
Mr. Smith made a sudden odd little noise in his throat. Perhaps he gotchoked. At all events, he was seized with a fit of coughing just then.
Miss Maggie turned over the letter in her hand.
"Where does he tell you to send the money?"
"It's right there--Box four hundred and something; and I got a moneyorder, just as he said."
"You GOT one! Do you mean that you've already sent this money?" criedMiss Maggie.
"Why, yes, of course. I stopped at the office on the way down here."
"And you sent--a money order?"
"Yes. He said he would rather have that than a check."
"I don't doubt it! You don't seem to have--delayed any."
"Of course I didn't delay! Why, Maggie, he said he HAD to have it atonce. He was going to be turned out--TURNED OUT into the streets! Thinkof those seven little children in the streets! Wait, indeed! Why,Maggie, what can you be thinking of?"
"I'm thinking you've been the easy victim of a professional beggar,Flora," retorted Miss Maggie, with some spirit, handing back the letterand the picture.
"Why, Maggie, I never knew you to be so--so unkind," charged MissFlora, her eyes tearful. "He can't be a professional beggar. He SAID hewasn't--that he never begged before in his life."
Miss Maggie, with a despairing gesture, averted her face.
Miss Flora turned to Mr. Smith.
"Mr. Smith, you--YOU don't think so, do you?" she pleaded.
Mr. Smith grew very red--perhaps because he had to stop to cough again.
"Well, Miss Flora, I--I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I shall have to agreewith Miss Maggie here, to some extent."
"But you didn't read the letter. You don't know how beautifully hetalked."
"You told me; and you say yourself that he gave you only a post-officebox for an address. So you see you couldn't look him up very well."
"I don't need to!" Miss Flora threw back her head a little haughtily."And I'm glad I don't doubt my fellow men and women as you and MaggieDuff do! If either of you KNEW what you're talking about, I wouldn'tsay anything. But you don't. You CAN'T KNOW anything about this man,and you didn't ever get letters like this, either of you, of course.But, anyhow, I don't care if he ain't worthy. I wouldn't let thosechildren suffer; and I--I'm glad I sent it. I never in my life was sohappy as I was on the way here from the post-office this morning."
Without waiting for a reply, she turned away majestically; but at thedoor she paused and looked back at Miss Maggie.
"And let me tell you that, however good or bad this particular man maybe, it's given me an idea, anyway," she choked. The haughtiness was allgone now "I know now why it hasn't seemed right to be so happy. It'sbecause there are so many other folks in the world that AREN'T happy.Why, my chicken and turkey would choke me now if I didn't give some ofit to--to all these others. And I'm going to--I'M GOING TO!" shereiterated, as she fled from the room.
As the door shut crisply, Miss Maggie turned and looked at Mr. Smith.But Mr. Smith had crossed again to the stove and was fussing with thedamper. Miss Maggie, after a moment's hesitation, turned and went outinto the kitchen, without speaking.
Mr. Smith and Miss Maggie saw very little of Miss Flora after this forsome time. But they heard a good deal about her. They heard of hergenerous gifts to families all over town.
A turkey was sent to every house on Mill Street, without exception, andso much candy given to the children that half of them were made ill,much to the distress of Miss Flora, who, it was said, promptly sent aphysician to undo her work. The Dow family, hard-working and thrifty,and the Nolans, notorious for their laziness and shiftlessness, eachreceived a hund
red dollars outright. The Whalens, always with bothhands metaphorically outstretched for alms, were loud in their praisesof Miss Flora's great kindness of heart; but the Davises (Mrs. JaneBlaisdell's impecunious relatives) had very visible difficulty inmaking Miss Flora understand that gifts bestowed as she bestowed themwere more welcome unmade.
Every day, from one quarter or another, came stories like these to theears of Miss Maggie and Mr. Smith. But Miss Flora was seen very seldom.Then one day, about a month later, she appeared as before at the Duffcottage, breathless and agitated; only this time, plainly, she had beencrying.
"Why, Flora, what in the world is the matter?" cried Miss Maggie, asshe hurried her visitor into a comfortable chair and began to unfastenher wraps.
"I'll tell you in a minute. I came on purpose to tell you. But I wantMr. Smith, too. Oh, he ain't here, is he?" she lamented, with adisappointed glance toward the vacant chair by the table in the corner."I thought maybe he could help me, some way. I won't go to Frank, orJim. They've--they've said so many things. Oh, I did so hope Mr. Smithwas here!"
"He is here, dear. He's in his room. He just came in. I'll call him,"comforted Miss Maggie, taking off Miss Flora's veil and hat andsmoothing back her hair. "But you don't want him to find you cryinglike this, Flora. What is it, dear?"
"Yes, yes, I know, but I'm not crying--I mean, I won't any more. AndI'll tell you just as soon as you get Mr. Smith. It's only that I'vebeen--so silly, I suppose. Please get Mr. Smith."
"All right, dear."
Miss Maggie, still with the disturbed frown between her eyebrows,summoned Mr. Smith. Then together they sat down to hear Miss Flora'sstory.
"It all started, of course, from--from that day I brought the letterhere--from that man in Boston with seven children, you know."
"Yes, I remember," encouraged Miss Maggie.
"Well, I--I did quite a lot of things after that. I was so glad andhappy to discover I could do things for folks. It seemed to--to takeaway the wickedness of my having so much, you know; and so I gave foodand money, oh, lots of places here in town--everywhere, 'most, that Icould find that anybody needed it."
"Yes, I know. We heard of the many kind things you did, dear." MissMaggie had the air of one trying to soothe a grieved child.
"But they didn't turn out to be kind--all of 'em," quavered Miss Flora."Some of 'em went wrong. I don't know why. I TRIED to do 'em all right!"
"Of course you did!"
"I know; but 'tain't those I came to talk about. It's the others--theletters."
"Letters?"
"Yes. I got 'em--lots of 'em--after the first one--the one you saw.First I got one, then another and another, till lately I've beengetting 'em every day, 'most, and some days two or three at a time."
"And they all wanted--money, I suppose," observed Mr. Smith, "for theirsick wives and children, I suppose."
"Oh, not for children always--though it was them a good deal. But itwas for different things--and such a lot of them! I never knew therecould be so many kinds of such things. And I was real pleased, atfirst,--that I could help, you know, in so many places."
"Then you always sent it--the money?" asked Mr. Smith.
"Oh, yes. Why, I just had to, the way they wrote; I wanted to, too.They wrote lovely letters, and real interesting ones, too. One manwanted a warm coat for his little girl, and he told me all about whathard times they'd had. Another wanted a brace for his poor littlecrippled boy, and HE told me things. Why, I never s'posed folks couldhave such awful things, and live! One woman just wanted to borrowtwenty dollars while she was so sick. She didn't ask me to give it toher. She wasn't a beggar. Don't you suppose I'd send her that money? Ofcourse I would! And there was a poor blind man--he wanted money to buya Bible in raised letters; and of COURSE I wouldn't refuse that! Somedidn't beg; they just wanted to sell things. I bought a diamond ring tohelp put a boy through school, and a ruby pin of a man who needed themoney for bread for his children. And there was--oh, there was lots of'em--too many to tell."
"And all from Boston, I presume," murmured Mr. Smith.
"Oh, no,--why, yes, they were, too, most of 'em, when you come to thinkof it. But how did you know?"
"Oh, I--guessed it. But go on. You haven't finished."
"No, I haven't finished," moaned Miss Flora, almost crying again. "Andnow comes the worst of it. As I said, at first I liked it--all theseletters--and I was so glad to help. But they're coming so fast now Idon't know what to do with 'em. And I never saw such a lot of things asthey want--pensions and mortgages, and pianos, and educations, andwedding dresses, and clothes to be buried in, and--and there were somany, and--and so queer, some of 'em, that I began to be afraid maybethey weren't quite honest, all of 'em, and of course I CAN'T send tosuch a lot as there are now, anyway, and I was getting so worried.Besides, I got another one of those awful proposals from those dreadfulmen that want to marry me. As if I didn't know THAT was for my money!Then to-day, this morning, I--I got the worst of all." From her bag shetook an envelope and drew out a small picture of several children, cutapparently from a newspaper. "Look at that. Did you ever see thatbefore?" she demanded.
Miss Maggie scrutinized the picture.
"Why, no,--yes, it's the one you brought us a month ago, isn't it?"
Miss Flora's eyes flashed angrily.
"Indeed, it ain't! The one I showed you before is in my bureau drawerat home. But I got it out this morning, when this one came, andcompared them; and they're just exactly alike--EXACTLY!"
"Oh, he wrote again, then,--wants more money, I suppose," frowned MissMaggie.
"No, he didn't. It ain't the same man. This man's name is Haley, andthat one was Fay. But Mr. Haley says this is a picture of his children,and he says that the little girl in the corner is Katy, and she's deafand dumb; but Mr. Fay said her name was Rosie, and that she was LAME.And all the others--their names ain't the same, either, and there ain'tany of 'em blind. And, of course, I know now that--that one of thosemen is lying to me. Why, they cut them out of the same newspaper;they've got the same reading on the back! And I--I don't know what tobelieve now. And there are all those letters at home that I haven'tanswered yet; and they keep coming--why, I just dread to see thepostman turn down our street. And one man--he wrote twice. I didn'tlike his first letter and didn't answer it; and now he says if I don'tsend him the money he'll tell everybody everywhere what a stingyt-tight-wad I am. And another man said he'd come and TAKE it if Ididn't send it; and you KNOW how afraid of burglars I am! Oh what shallI do, what shall I do?" she begged piteously.
Mr. Smith said a sharp word behind his teeth.
"Do?" he cried then wrathfully. "First, don't you worry another bit,Miss Flora. Second, just hand those letters over to me--every one ofthem. I'll attend to 'em!"
"To YOU?" gasped Miss Flora. "But--how can you?"
"Oh, I'll be your secretary. Most rich people have to have secretaries,you know."
"But how'll you know how to answer MY letters?" demanded Miss Floradubiously. "Have you ever been--a secretary?"
"N-no, not exactly a secretary. But--I've had some experience withsimilar letters," observed Mr. Smith dryly.
Miss Flora drew a long sigh.
"Oh, dear! I wish you could. Do you think you can? I hoped maybe youcould help me some way, but I never thought of that--your answering'em, I mean. I supposed everybody had to answer their own letters.How'll you know what I want to say?"
Mr. Smith laughed a little.
"I shan't be answering what YOU want to say--but what _I_ want to say.In this case, Miss Flora, I exceed the prerogatives of the ordinarysecretary just a bit, you see. But you can count on one thing--I shan'tbe spending any money for you."
"You won't send them anything, then?"
"Not a red cent."
Miss Flora looked distressed.
"But, Mr. Smith, I want to send some of 'em something! I want to bekind and charitable."
"Of course you do, dear," spoke up Miss Maggie. "But you aren't beingeither kind or chari
table to foster rascally fakes like that," pointingto the picture in Miss Flora's lap.
"Are they ALL fakes, then?"
"I'd stake my life on most of 'em," declared Mr. Smith. "They have allthe earmarks of fakes, all right."
Miss Flora stirred restlessly.
"But I was having a beautiful time giving until these horrid lettersbegan to come."
"Flora, do you give because YOU like the sensation of giving, and ofreceiving thanks, or because you really want to help somebody?" askedMiss Maggie, a bit wearily.
"Why, Maggie Duff, I want to help people, of course," almost wept MissFlora.
"Well, then, suppose you try and give so it will help them, then," saidMiss Maggie. "One of the most risky things in the world, to my way ofthinking, is a present of--cash. Don't you think so, Mr. Smith?"
"Er--ah--w-what? Y-yes, of course," stammered Mr. Smith, growingsuddenly, for some unapparent reason, very much confused. "Yes--yes, Ido." As Mr. Smith finished speaking, he threw an oddly nervous glanceinto Miss Maggie's face.
But Miss Maggie had turned back to Miss Flora.
"There, dear," she admonished her, "now, you do just as Mr. Smith says.Just hand over your letters to him for a while, and forget all aboutthem. He'll tell you how he answers them, of course. But you won't haveto worry about them any more. Besides they'll soon stop coming,--won'tthey, Mr. Smith?"
"I think they will. They'll dwindle to a few scattering ones,anyway,--after I've handled them for a while."
"Well, I should like that," sighed Miss Flora. "But--can't I giveanything anywhere?" she besought plaintively.
"Of course you can!" cried Miss Maggie. "But I would investigate alittle, first, dear. Wouldn't you, Mr. Smith? Don't you believe ininvestigation?"
Once again, before he answered, Mr. Smith threw a swiftly questioningglance into Miss Maggie's face.
"Yes, oh, yes; I believe in--investigation," he said then. "And now,Miss Flora," he added briskly, as Miss Flora reached for her wraps,"with your kind permission I'll walk home with you and have a lookat--my new job of secretarying."