Oh, Money! Money! | Page 9

could she," plunged in Benny, "if she took this man ter feed?"
"That will do, Benny," admonished his mother, with nettled dignity. "You forget that children should be seen and not heard."
"Yes'm. But, please, can't I be heard just a minute for this? Why don't ye send the man ter Uncle Frank an' Aunt Jane? Maybe they'd take him."
"The very thing!" cried Miss Flora Blaisdell. "I wouldn't wonder a mite if they did."
"Yes, I was thinking of them," nodded her sister-in-law. "And they're always glad of a little help,--especially Jane."
"Anybody should be," observed Mr. James Blaisdell quietly.
Only the heightened color in his wife's cheeks showed that she had heard--and understood.
"Here, Benny," she directed, "go and show the gentleman where Uncle Frank lives."
"All right!" With a spring the boy leaped to the lawn and pranced to the sidewalk, dancing there on his toes. "I'll show ye, Mr. Smith."
The gentleman addressed rose to his feet.
"I thank you, Mr. Blaisdell," he said, "and you, ladies. I shall hope to see you again soon. I am sure you can help me, if you will, in my work. I shall want to ask--some questions."
"Certainly, sir, certainly! We shall be glad to see you," promised his host. "Come any time, and ask all the questions you want to."
"And we shall be so interested," fluttered Miss Flora. "I've always wanted to know about father's folks. And are you a Blaisdell, too?"
There was the briefest of pauses. Mr. Smith coughed again twice behind his hand.
"Er--ah--oh, yes, I may say that I am. Through my mother I am descended from the original immigrant, Ebenezer Blaisdell."
"Immigrant!" exclaimed Miss Flora.
"An IMMIGRANT!" Mrs. James Blaisdell spoke the word as if her tongue were a pair of tongs that had picked up a noxious viper.
"Yes, but not exactly as we commonly regard the term nowadays," smiled Mr. Smith. "Mr. Ebenezer Blaisdell was a man of means and distinction. He was the founder of the family in this country. He came over in 1647."
"My, how interesting!" murmured the little dressmaker, as the visitor descended the steps.
"Good-night--good-night! And thank you again," bowed Mr. John Smith to the assembled group on the veranda. "And now, young man, I'm at your service," he smiled, as he joined Benny, still prancing on the sidewalk.
"Now he's what I call a real nice pleasant-spoken gentleman," avowed Miss Flora, when she thought speech was safe. "I do hope Jane'll take him."
"Oh, yes, he's well enough," condescended Mrs. Hattie Blaisdell, with a yawn.
"Hattie, why wouldn't you take him in?" reproached her husband. "Just think how the pay would help! And it wouldn't be a bit of work, hardly, for you. Certainly it would be a lot easier than the way we are doing."
The woman frowned impatiently.
"Jim, don't, please! Do you suppose I got over here on the West Side to open a boarding-house? I guess not--yet!"
"But what shall we do?"
"Oh, we'll get along somehow. Don't worry!"
"Perhaps if you'd worry a little more, I wouldn't worry so much," sighed the man deeply.
"Well, mercy me, I must be going," interposed the little dressmaker, springing to her feet with a nervous glance at her brother and his wife. "I'm forgetting it ain't so near as it used to be. Good-night!"
"Good-night, good-night! Come again," called the three on the veranda. Then the door closed behind them, as they entered the house.
Meanwhile, walking across the common, Benny was entertaining Mr. Smith.
"Yep, they'll take ye, I bet ye--Aunt Jane an' Uncle Frank will!"
"Well, that's good, I'm sure."
"Yep. An' it'll be easy, too. Why, Aunt Jane'll just tumble over herself ter get ye, if ye just mention first what yer'll PAY. She'll begin ter reckon up right away then what she'll save. An' in a minute she'll say, 'Yes, I'll take ye.'"
"Indeed!"
The uncertainty in Mr. Smith's voice was palpable even to eight-year- old Benny.
"Oh, you don't need ter worry," he hastened to explain. "She won't starve ye; only she won't let ye waste anythin'. You'll have ter eat all the crusts to yer pie, and finish 'taters before you can get any puddin', an' all that, ye know. Ye see, she's great on savin'--Aunt Jane is. She says waste is a sinful extravagance before the Lord."
"Indeed!" Mr. Smith laughed outright this time. "But are you sure, my boy, that you ought to talk--just like this, about your aunt?"
Benny's eyes widened.
"Why, that's all right, Mr. Smith. Ev'rybody in town knows Aunt Jane. Why, Ma says folks say she'd save ter-day for ter-morrer, if she could. But she couldn't do that, could she? So that's just silly talk. But you wait till you see Aunt Jane."
"All right. I'll wait, Benny."
"Well, ye won't have ter wait long, Mr. Smith, 'cause here's her house. She lives over the groc'ry store, ter save rent, ye know. It's Uncle Frank's store. An' here we are," he