Oh, Money! Money! Part 41

At the mention of her husband, Mrs. Blaisdell fell to weeping afresh.

"No, no! He's gone--to Fred, you know."

"To--Fred?"

"Yes, yes, that's what's the matter. Oh, Fred, Fred, my boy!"

"Fred! Oh, Mrs. Blaisdell, I'm so sorry! But what--IS it?"

The woman dropped her hands from her face and looked up wildly, half defiantly.

"Mr. Smith, YOU know Fred. You liked him, didn't you? He isn't bad and wicked, is he? And they can't shut him up if--if we pay it back--all of it that he took? They won't take my boy--to PRISON?"

"To PRISON--FRED!"

At the look of horror on Mr. Smith's face, she began to wring her hands again.

"You don't know, of course. I'll have to tell you--I'll have to," she moaned.

"But, my dear woman,--not unless you want to."

"I do want to--I do want to! I've GOT to talk--to somebody. It's this way." With a visible effort she calmed herself a little and forced herself to talk more coherently. "We got a letter from Fred. It came this morning. He wanted, some money--quick. He wanted seven hundred dollars and forty-two cents. He said he'd got to have it--if he didn't, he'd go and KILL himself. He said he'd spent all of his allowance, every cent, and that's what made him take it--this other money, in the first place."

"You mean--money that didn't belong to him?" Mr. Smith's voice was a little stern.

"Yes; but you mustn't blame him, you mustn't blame him, Mr. Smith. He said he owed it. It was a--a debt of honor. Those were his very words."

"Oh! A debt of honor, was it?" Mr. Smith's lips came together grimly.

"Yes; and--Oh, Maggie, Maggie, what shall I do? What shall I do?" she broke off wildly, leaping to her feet as Miss Maggie pushed open the door and hurried in.

"Yes, I know. Don't worry. We'll find something to do." Miss Maggie, white-faced, but with a cheery smile, was throwing off her heavy coat and her hat. A moment later she came over and took Mrs. Hattie's trembling hands in both her own. "Now, first, tell me all about it, dear."

"You KNOW, then?"

"Only a little," answered Miss Maggie, gently pus.h.i.+ng the other back into her chair. "I met Frank. Jim telephoned him something, just before he left. But I want the whole story. Now, what is it?"

"I was just telling Mr. Smith." She began to wring her hands again, but Miss Maggie caught and held them firmly. "You see, Fred, he was treasurer of some club, or society, or something; and--and he--he needed some money to--to pay a man, and he took that--the money that belonged to the club, you know, and he thought he could pay it back, little by little. But something happened--I don't know what--a new treasurer, or something: anyhow, it was going to be found out--that he'd taken it. It was going to be found out to-morrow, and so he wrote the letter to his father. And Jim's gone. But he looked so--oh, I never saw him look so white and terrible. And I'm so afraid--of what he'll do--to Fred. My boy--my boy!"

"Is Jim going to give him the money?" asked Miss Maggie.

"Yes, oh, yes. Jim drew it out of the bank. Fred said he must have cash. And he's going to give it to him. Oh, they can't shut him up--they CAN'T send him to prison NOW, can they?"

"Hush, dear! No, they won't send him to prison. If Jim has gone with the money, Fred will pay it back and n.o.body will know it. But, Hattie, Fred DID it, just the same."

"I--I know it."

"And, Hattie, don't you see? Something will have to be done. Don't you see where all this is leading? Fred has been gambling, hasn't he?"

"I--I'm afraid so."

"And you know he drinks."

"Y-yes. But he isn't going to, any more. He said he wasn't. He wrote a beautiful letter. He said if his father would help him out of this sc.r.a.pe, he'd never get into another one, and he'd SHOW him how much he appreciated it."

"Good! I'm glad to hear that," cried Miss Maggie. "He'll come out all right, yet."

"Of course he will!" Mr. Smith, over at the window, blew his nose vigorously. Mr. Smith had not sat down since Miss Maggie's entrance. He had crossed to the window, and had stood looking out--at nothing--all through Mrs. Hattie's story.

"You do think he will, don't you?" choked Mrs. Hattie, turning from one to the other piteously. "He said he was ashamed of himself; that this thing had been an awful lesson to him, and he promised--oh, he promised lots of things, if Jim would only go up and help him out of this. He'd never, never have to again. But he will, I know he will, if that g.a.y.l.o.r.d fellow stays there. The whole thing was his fault--I know it was. I hate him! I hate the whole family!"

"Why, Hattie, I thought you liked them!"

"I don't. They're mean, stuck-up things, and they snub me awfully.

Don't you suppose I know when I'm being snubbed? And that g.a.y.l.o.r.d girl--she's just as bad, and she's making my Bessie just like her. I got Bess into the same school with her, you know, and I was so proud and happy. But I'm not--any longer. Why, my Bess, my own daughter, actually looks down on us. She's ashamed of her own father and mother--and she shows it. And it's that g.a.y.l.o.r.d girl that's done it, too, I believe. I thought I--I was training my daughter to be a lady--a real lady; but I never meant to train her to look down on--on her own mother!"

"I'm afraid Bessie--needs something of a lesson," commented Miss Maggie tersely. "But Bessie will be older, one of these days, Hattie, and then she'll--know more."

"But that's what I've been trying to teach her--'more,' something more all the time, Maggie," sighed Mrs. Hattie, wiping her eyes. "And I've tried to remember and call her Elizabeth, too.--but I can't. But, somehow, to-day, nothing seems of any use, any way. And even if she learns more and more, I don't see as it's going to do any good. I haven't got ANY friends now. I'm not fine enough yet, it seems, for Mrs. g.a.y.l.o.r.d and all that crowd. They don't want me among them, and they show it. And all my old friends are so envious and jealous since the money came that THEY don't want me, and THEY show it; so I don't feel comfortable anywhere."

"Never mind, dear, just stop trying to live as you think other folks want you to live, and live as YOU want to, for a while."

Mrs. Hattie smiled faintly, wiped her eyes again, and got to her feet.

"You talk just like Jim. He's always saying that."

"Well, just try it," smiled Miss Maggie, helping her visitor into the luxurious fur coat. "You've no idea how much more comfort you'll take."

"Would I?" Mrs. Hattie's eyes were wistful, but almost instantly they showed an alert gleam of anger.

"Well, anyhow, I'm not going to try to do what those g.a.y.l.o.r.ds do any longer. And--and you're SURE Fred won't have to go to prison?"

"I'm very sure," nodded Miss Maggie.

"All right, then. I can go home now with some comfort. You always make me feel better, Maggie, and you, too, Mr. Smith. I'm much obliged to you. Good-bye."

"Good-bye," said Mr. Smith.

"Good-bye," said Miss Maggie. "Now, go home and go to bed, and don't worry any more or you'll have one of your headaches."

As the door closed behind her visitor, Miss Maggie turned and sank into a chair. She looked worn and white, and utterly weary.

"I hope she won't meet Frank or Jane anywhere." She sighed profoundly.

"Why? What do you mean? Do you think they'd blame her--about this unfortunate affair of Fred's?"

Miss Maggie sighed again.