Sunny Slopes | Page 5

I don't
feel especially well acquainted on that account. But he calls me Connie
and acts very fatherly.
"He is still a member of the church, and they say around town that he is
not a bit slicker outside the church than he was when father was his
pastor. He hurt me spiritually at first. So I wrote to father about it.
Father wrote back that I must be charitable--must remember that
belonging to church couldn't possibly do Mr. Nesbitt any harm, and for
all we knew to the contrary, might be keeping him out of the electric
chair every day of his life. And Mr. Nesbitt couldn't do the Christians

any harm--the Lord is looking after them. And those outside who point
to the hypocrites inside for excuses would have to think up something
new and original if we eliminated the hypocrites on their account,--'so
be generous, Connie,' wrote father, 'and don't begrudge Mr. Nesbitt the
third seat to the left for he may never get any nearer Paradise than that.'
"Father is just splendid, Carol. I keep feeling that the rest of you don't
realize it as hard as I do, but you will laugh at that.
"Mr. Nesbitt likes me, but he has--well, he has what a minister should
call a 'bad disposition.' I'll tell you more about it in German when I
meet you. German is the only language I know that can do him justice.
"I have been in trouble of one kind or another ever since I got here. Mr.
Nesbitt owns a lot of houses around town, and we have charge of their
rental. One day he gave me the address of one of his most tumble down
shacks, and promised me a bonus of five dollars if I rented it for fifteen
dollars a month on a year's lease. About ten days later, sure enough I
rented it, family to take possession immediately. Mr. Nesbitt was out of
town, so I took the rent in advance, turned over the keys, and proceeded
to spend the five dollars. I learned that system of frenzied finance from
you twins in the old days in the parsonage.
"Next morning, full of pride, I told Mr. Nesbitt about it.
"'Rented 800 Stout,' he roared. 'Why, I rented it myself,--a three years'
lease at eighteen a month,--move in next Monday.'
"'Mercy,' says I. 'My family paid a month in advance.'
"'So did mine.'
"'My family is already in,' says I. That was a clincher.
"He raved and he roared, and said I got them in and I could get them
out. But when he grew rational and raised my bonus to ten dollars, I
said I would do my best. He agreed to refund the month's rent, to pay
the moving expenses both in and out, to take over their five dollar

deposit for electric lights, and to pay the electric and gas bill
outstanding, which wouldn't be much for two or three days.
"So off marches the business baby to the conflict.
"They didn't like it a bit, and talked very crossly indeed, and said
perfectly horrible, but quite true, things about Messrs. Nesbitt and
Orchard. But finally they said they would move out, only they must
have until Friday to find a new house. They would move out on
Saturday, and leave the keys at the office.
"Mr. Nesbitt was much pleased, and said I had done nicely, gave me
the ten dollars and a box of chocolates and we were as happy as cooing
doves the rest of the day.
"But my family must have been more indignant than I realized. On
Saturday, at one o'clock, Mr. Nesbitt told me to go around by the house
on my way home to make sure the front door was locked. It was locked
all right, but I noticed that the electric lights were burning. Mr. Nesbitt
had not sent the key with me, as it was an automatic lock, and it really
was none of my business if folks moved out and left the lights on. Still
it seemed irregular, and when I got home I tried to get Mr. Nesbitt on
the phone. But he and Mr. Orchard had left the office and gone out into
the country for the afternoon. Business,--they never go to the country
for pleasure. So I comfortably forgot all about the electric lights.
"But Monday afternoon, Mr. Nesbitt happened to remark that his
family would not move in until Wednesday. Then I remembered.
"I said, 'What is the idea in having the electric lights burning down
there?'
"'What?' he shouted. He always shouts unless he has a particular reason
for whispering.
"'Why, the electric lights were burning in the house when I went by
Saturday.'

"'All of them?'
"'Looked it from the outside.'