Oh, Money! Money! A Novel. Элинор Портер

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СКАЧАТЬ Don't you see?"

      "Oh, yes, I know—Case number twenty-three thousand seven hundred and forty-one! And that's all right, of course. Relief of some sort is absolutely necessary. But I'd like to see a little warm sympathy injected into it, some way. Give the machine a heart, say, as well as hands and a head."

      "Then why don't you try it yourself?"

      "Not I!" His gesture of dissent was emphatic. "I have tried it, in a way, and failed. That's why I'd like some one else to tackle the job. And that brings me right back to my original question. I'm wondering what my money will do, when I'm done with it. I'd like to have one of my own kin have it—if I was sure of him. Money is a queer proposition, Ned, and it's capable of—'most anything."

      "It is. You're right."

      "What I can do with it, and what some one else can do with it, are two quite different matters. I don't consider my efforts to circulate it wisely, or even harmlessly, exactly what you'd call a howling success. Whatever I've done, I've always been criticized for not doing something else. If I gave a costly entertainment, I was accused of showy ostentation. If I didn't give it, I was accused of not putting money into honest circulation. If I donated to a church, it was called conscience money; and if I didn't donate to it, they said I was mean and miserly. So much for what I've done. I was just wondering—what the other fellow'd do with it."

      "Why worry? 'T won't be your fault."

      "But it will—if I give it to him. Great Scott, Ned! what money does for folks, sometimes—folks that aren't used to it! Look at Bixby; and look at that poor little Marston girl, throwing herself away on that worthless scamp of a Gowing who's only after her money, as everybody (but herself) knows! And if it doesn't make knaves and martyrs of them, ten to one it does make fools of 'em. They're worse than a kid with a dollar on circus day; and they use just about as much sense spending their pile, too. You should have heard dad tell about his pals in the eighties that struck it rich in the gold mines. One bought up every grocery store in town and instituted a huge free grab-bag for the populace; and another dropped his hundred thousand in the dice box before it was a week old. I wonder what those cousins of mine back East are like!"

      "If you're fearful, better take Case number twenty-three thousand seven hundred and forty-one," smiled the lawyer.

      "Hm-m; I suppose so," ejaculated the other grimly, getting to his feet.

       "Well, I must be off. It's biscuit time, I see."

      A moment later the door of the lawyer's sumptuously appointed office closed behind him. Not twenty-four hours afterward, however, it opened to admit him again. He was alert, eager-eyed, and smiling. He looked ten years younger. Even the office boy who ushered him in cocked a curious eye at him.

      The man at the great flat-topped desk gave a surprised ejaculation.

      "Hullo, Fulton! Those biscuits must be agreeing with you," he laughed.

       "Mind telling me their name?"

      "Ned, I've got a scheme. I think I can carry it out." Mr. Stanley G. Fulton strode across the room and dropped himself into the waiting chair. "Remember those cousins back East? Well, I'm going to find out which of 'em I want for my heir."

      "Another case of investigating before investing, eh?"

      "Exactly."

      "Well, that's like you. What is it, a little detective work? Going to get acquainted with them, I suppose, and see how they treat you. Then you can size them up as to hearts and habits, and drop the golden plum into the lap of the worthy man, eh?"

      "Yes, and no. But not the way you say. I'm going to give 'em say fifty or a hundred thousand apiece, and—"

      "GIVE it to them—NOW?"

      "Sure! How'm I going to know how they'll spend money till they have it to spend?"

      "I know; but—"

      "Oh, I've planned all that. Don't worry. Of course you'll have to fix it up for me. I shall leave instructions with you, and when the time comes all you have to do is to carry them out."

      The lawyer came erect in his chair.

      "LEAVE instructions! But you, yourself—?"

      "Oh, I'm going to be there, in Hillerton."

      "There? Hillerton?"

      "Yes, where the cousins live, you know. Of course I want to see how it works."

      "Humph! I suppose you think you'll find out—with you watching their every move!" The lawyer had settled back in his chair, an ironical smile on his lips.

      "Oh, they won't know me, of course, except as John Smith."

      "John Smith!" The lawyer was sitting erect again.

      "Yes. I'm going to take that name—for a time."

      "Nonsense, Fulton! Have you lost your senses?"

      "No." The millionaire still smiled imperturbably. "Really, my dear Ned, I'm disappointed in you. You don't seem to realize the possibilities of this thing."

      "Oh, yes, I do—perhaps better than you, old man," retorted the other with an expressive glance.

      "Oh, come, Ned, listen! I've got three cousins in Hillerton. I never saw them, and they never saw me. I'm going to give them a tidy little sum of money apiece, and then have the fun of watching them spend it. Any harm in that, especially as it's no one's business what I do with my money?"

      "N—no, I suppose not—if you can carry such a wild scheme through."

      "I can, I think. I'm going to be John Smith."

      "Nice distinctive name!"

      "I chose a colorless one on purpose. I'm going to be a colorless person, you see."

      "Oh! And—er—do you think Mr. Stanley G. Fulton, multi-millionaire,

       with his pictured face in half the papers and magazines from the

       Atlantic to the Pacific, CAN hide that face behind a colorless John

       Smith?"

      "Maybe not. But he can hide it behind a nice little close-cropped beard." The millionaire stroked his smooth chin reflectively.

      "Humph! How large is Hillerton?"

      "Eight or ten thousand. Nice little New England town, I'm told."

      "Hm-m. And your—er—business in Hillerton, that will enable you to be the observing fly on your cousins' walls?"

      "Yes, I've thought that all out, too; and that's another brilliant stroke. I'm going to be a genealogist. I'm going to be at work tracing the Blaisdell family—their name is Blaisdell. I'm writing a book which necessitates the collection of an endless amount of data. Now how about that fly's chances of observation. Eh?"

      "Mighty poor, if he's swatted—and that's what he will be! New England housewives are death on flies, I understand."

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