Helping Himself | Page 3

dryly.
"I should think they might be, with the small salaries they get," said
Grant, indignantly.
"Some of 'em do get poorly paid," replied the deacon; "but I call six
hundred dollars a pooty fair income."
"It might be for a single man; but when a minister has a wife and three
children, like my father, it's pretty hard scratching."
"Some folks ain't got faculty," said the deacon, adding, complacently,
"it never cost me nigh on to six hundred dollars a year to live."
The deacon had the reputation of living very penuriously, and Abram
Fish, who once worked for him and boarded in the family, said he was
half starved there.
"You get your milk and vegetables off the farm," said Grant, who felt
the comparison was not a fair one. "That makes a great deal of
difference."
"It makes some difference," the deacon admitted, "but not as much as
the difference in our expenses. I didn't spend more'n a hundred dollars
cash last year."
This excessive frugality may have been the reason why Mrs. Deacon
Gridley was always so shabbily dressed. The poor woman had not had
a new bonnet for five years, as every lady in the parish well knew.

"Ministers have some expenses that other people don't," persisted
Grant.
"What kind of expenses, I'd like to know?"
"They have to buy books and magazines, and entertain missionaries,
and hire teams to go on exchanges."
"That's something," admitted the deacon. "Maybe it amounts to twenty
or thirty dollars a year."
"More likely a hundred," said Grant.
"That would be awful extravagant sinful waste. If I was a minister, I'd
be more keerful."
"Well, Deacon Gridley, I don't want to argue with you. I came to see if
you hadn't collected some money for father. Mr. Tudor has sent in his
bill, and he wants to be paid."
"How much is it?"
"Sixty-seven dollars and thirty-four cents."
"You don't tell me!" said the deacon, scandalized. "You folks must be
terrible extravagant."
Grant hardly knew whether to be more vexed or amused.
"If wanting to have enough to eat is extravagant," he said, "then we
are."
"You must live on the fat of the land, Grant."
"We haven't any of us got the gout, nor are likely to have," answered
Grant, provoked. "But let us come back to business. Have you got any
money for father?"
Now it so happened that Deacon Gridley had fifty dollars collected, but
he thought he knew where he could let it out for one per cent, for a
month, and he did not like to lose the opportunity.
"I'm sorry to disappoint you, Grant," he answered, "but folks are slow
about payin' up, and--"
"Haven't you got any money collected?" asked Grant, desperately.
"I'll tell you what I'll do," said the deacon, with a bright idea. "I've got
fifty dollars of my own--say for a month, till I can make collections."
"That would be very kind," said Grant, feeling that he had done the
deacon an injustice.
"Of course," the deacon resumed, hastily, "I should have to charge
interest. In fact, I was goin' to lend out the money to a neighbor for a
month at one per cent; but I'd just as lieve let your father have it at that

price."
"Isn't that more than legal interest?" asked Grant.
"Well, you see, money is worth good interest nowadays. Ef your father
don't want it, no matter. I can let the other man have it."
Grant rapidly calculated that the interest would only amount to fifty
cents, and money must be had.
"I think father'll agree to your terms," he said. "I'll let you know this
afternoon."
"All right, Grant. It don't make a mite of difference to me, but if your
father wants the money he'll have to speak for it to-day."
"I'll see that the matter is attended to," said Grant, and he went on his
way, pleased with the prospect of obtaining money for their
impoverished household, even on such hard terms.
Next he made his way to Mr. Tudor's store.
It was one of those country variety stores where almost everything in
the way of house supplies can be obtained, from groceries to dry goods.
Mr. Tudor was a small man, with a parchment skin and insignificant
features. He was in the act of weighing out a quantity of sugar for a
customer when Grant entered.
Grant waited till the shopkeeper was at leisure.
"Did you want to see me, Grant?" said Tudor.
"Yes, Mr. Tudor. You sent over a bill to our house this morning."
"And you've come to pay it. That's right. Money's tight, and I've got
bills to pay in the city."
"I've got a little money for you on account," said Grant, watching
Tudor's face anxiously.
"How