Oh, Money! Money!

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Oh, Money! Money!, by Eleanor Hodgman Porter

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Title: Oh, Money! Money!
Author: Eleanor Hodgman Porter
Release Date: June, 2004 [EBook #5962] [Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] [This file was first posted on October 1, 2002]
Edition: 10
Language: English
Character set encoding: ASCII
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, OH, MONEY! MONEY! ***

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[Illustration by Helen Mason Grose with caption: "I was thinking--of Mr. Stanley G. Fulton"]
OH, MONEY! MONEY!
A NOVEL
BY
ELEANOR H. PORTER
Author of
The Road to Understanding, Just David, Etc.
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY HELEN MASON GROSE

To
My Friend
EVA BAKER

CONTENTS
I. EXIT MR. STANLEY G. FULTON
II. ENTER MR. JOHN SMITH
III. THE SMALL BOY AT THE KEYHOLE
IV. IN SEARCH OF SOME DATES
V. IN MISS FLORA'S ALBUM
VI. POOR MAGGIE
VII. POOR MAGGIE AND SOME OTHERS
VIII. A SANTA CLAUS HELD UP
IX. "DEAR COUSIN STANLEY"
X. WHAT DOES IT MATTER?
XI. SANTA CLAUS ARRIVES
XII. THE TOYS RATTLE OUT
XIII. THE DANCING BEGINS
XIV. FROM ME TO YOU WITH LOVE
XV. IN SEARCH OF REST
XVI. THE FLY IN THE OINTMENT
XVII. AN AMBASSADOR OF CUPID'S
XVIII. JUST A MATTER OF BEGGING
XIX. STILL OTHER FLIES
XX. FRANKENSTEIN: BEING A LETTEB FKOM JOHN SMITH TO EDWARD D. NORTON, ATTORNEY AT LAW
XXI. SYMPATHIES MISPLACED
XXII. WITH EVERY JIM A JAMES
XXIII. REFLECTIONS--MIRRORED AND OTHERWISE
XXIV. THAT MISERABLE MONEY
XXV. EXIT MR. JOHN SMITH
XXVI. REENTER MR. STANLEY G. FULTON

ILLUSTRATIONS
"I WAS THINKING--OF MR. STANLEY G. FULTON" Frontispiece
"I CAN'T HELP IT, AUNT MAGGIE. I'VE JUST GOT TO BE AWAY!"
"JIM, YOU'LL HAVE TO COME!"
"AND LOOK INTO THOSE BLESSED CHILDREN'S FACES"
From drawings by Mrs. Howard B. Grose, Jr.
CHAPTER I
EXIT MR. STANLEY G. FULTON
There was a thoughtful frown on the face of the man who was the possessor of twenty million dollars. He was a tall, spare man, with a fringe of reddish-brown hair encircling a bald spot. His blue eyes, fixed just now in a steady gaze upon a row of ponderous law books across the room, were friendly and benevolent in direct contradiction to the bulldog, never-let-go fighting qualities of the square jaw below the firm, rather thin lips.
The lawyer, a youthfully alert man of sixty years, trimly gray as to garb, hair, and mustache, sat idly watching him, yet with eyes that looked so intently that they seemed to listen.
For fully five minutes the two men had been pulling at their cigars in silence when the millionaire spoke.
"Ned, what am I going to do with my money?"
Into the lawyer's listening eyes flashed, for a moment, the keenly scrutinizing glance usually reserved for the witness on the other side. Then quietly came the answer.
"Spend it yourself, I hope--for some years to come, Stanley."
Mr. Stanley G. Fulton was guilty of a shrug and an uplifted eyebrow.
"Thanks. Very pretty, and I appreciate it, of course. But I can't wear but one suit of clothes at a time, nor eat but one dinner--which, by the way, just now consists of somebody's health biscuit and hot water. Twenty millions don't really what you might call melt away at that rate."
The lawyer frowned.
"Shucks, Fulton!" he expostulated, with an irritable twist of his hand. "I thought better of you than that. This poor rich man's 'one- suit, one-dinner, one-bed-at-a-time' hard-luck story doesn't suit your style. Better cut it out!"
"All right. Cut it is." The man smiled good-humoredly. "But you see I was nettled. You didn't get me at all. I asked you what was to become of my money after I'd done spending it myself--the little that is left, of course."
Once more from the lawyer's eyes flashed that keenly scrutinizing glance.
"What was it, Fulton? A midnight rabbit, or a wedge of mince pie NOT like mother used to make? Why, man alive, you're barely over fifty, yet. Cheer up! It's only a little matter of indigestion. There are a lot of good days and good dinners coming to you, yet."
The millionaire made a wry face.
"Very likely--if I survive the biscuits. But, seriously, Ned, I'm in earnest. No, I don't think I'm going to