Keeping up with Lizzie | Page 8

His generosity
surprised me. It was not like Sam.
"'What's the matter with you?' I asked. 'Is it possible that your profits
have all gone into gasoline an' rubber an' silk an' education an'

hardwood finish an' human fat?'
"'Well, it costs so much to live,' he says, 'an' the wholesalers have kept
liftin' the prices on me. Now there's the meat trust--their prices are up
thirty-five per cent.'
"'Of course,' I says, 'the directors have to have their luxuries. You taxed
us for yer new house an' yer automobile an' yer daughter's education,
an' they're taxin' you for their steam-yachts an' private cars an' racin'
stables. You can't expect to do all the taxin'. The wholesalers learnt
about the profits that you an' others like ye was makin', an' they
concluded that they needed a part of 'em. Of course they had to have
their luxuries, an' they're taxin' you--they couldn't afford to have 'em if
they didn't. Don't complain.'
"'I'll come out all right,' he says. 'I'm goin' to raise my whole schedule
fifteen per cent.'
"'The people won't stand it--they can't,' says I. 'You'll be drownin' the
miller. They'll leave you.'
"'It won't do 'em any good,' says he. 'Bill an' Eph will make their prices
agree with mine.'
"'Folks will go back to the land, as I have,' says I.
"'They don't know enough,' says Sam. 'Farmin' is a lost art here in the
East. You take my word for it--they'll pay our prices--they'll have
to--an' the rich folks, they don't worry about prices. I pay a commission
to every steward an' butler in this neighborhood.'
"'I won't help you,' says I. 'It's wicked. You ought to have saved your
money.'
"'In a year from now I'll have money to burn,' he says. 'For one thing,
my daughter's education is finished, an' that has cost heavy.'
"'How much would it cost to unlearn it?' I asked. 'That's goin' to cost

more than it did to get it, I'm 'fraid. In my opinion the first thing to do
with her is to uneducate her.'
"That was like a red-hot iron to Sam. It kind o' het him up.
"'Why, sir, you don't appreciate her,' says he. 'That girl is far above us
all here in Pointview. She's a queen.'
"'Well, Sam,' I says, 'if there's anything you don't need just now it's a
queen. If I were you I wouldn't graft that kind o' fruit on the
grocery-tree. Hams an' coronets don't flourish on the same bush. They
have a different kind of a bouquet. They don't harmonize. Then, Sam,
what do you want of a girl that's far above ye? Is it any comfort to you
to be despised in your own home?'
"'Mr. Potter, I haven't educated her for my own home or for this
community, but for higher things,' says Sam.
"'You hairy old ass! The first you know,' I says, 'they'll have your skin
off an' layin' on the front piaz' for a door-mat.'
"Sam started for the open air. I hated to be ha'sh with him, but he
needed some education himself, an' it took a beetle an' wedge to open
his mind for it. He lifted his chin so high that the fat swelled out on the
back of his neck an' unbuttoned his collar. Then he turned an' said: 'My
daughter is too good for this town, an' I don't intend that she shall stay
here. She has been asked to marry a man o' fortune in the old country.'
"'So I surmised, an' I suppose you find that the price o' husbands has
gone up,' I says.
"Sam didn't answer me.
"'They want you to settle some money on the girl--don't they?' I asked.
"'My wife says it's the custom in the old country,' says Sam.
"'Suppose he ain't worth the price?'

"'They say he's a splendid fellow,' says Sam.
"'You let me investigate him,' I says, 'an' if he's really worth the price
I'll help ye to pay it.'
"Sam said that was fair, an' thanked me for the offer, an' gave me the
young man's address. He was a Russian by the name of Alexander
Rolanoff, an' Sam insisted that he belonged to a very old family of
large means an' noble blood, an' said that the young man would be in
Pointview that summer. I wrote to the mayor of the city in which he
was said to live, but got no answer.
"Alexander came. He was a costly an' beautiful young man, about thirty
years old, with red cheeks an' curly hair an' polished finger-nails, an'
wrote poetry. Sometimes ye meet a man that excites yer worst
suspicions. Your right hand no sooner lets go o' his than it slides down
into your pocket to see if anything