Chapters (30)
- OH, MONEY! MONEY!
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- Contents
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- Chapter I - Exit Mr. Stanley G. Fulton
- Chapter II - Enter Mr. John Smith
- Chapter III - The Small Boy at the Keyhole
- Chapter IV - In Search of Some Dates
- Chapter V - In Miss Flora's Album
- Chapter VI - Poor Maggie
- Chapter VII - Poor Maggie and Some Others
- Chapter VIII - A Santa Claus Held Up
- Chapter IX - "Dear Cousin Stanley"
- Chapter X - What Does it Matter?
- Chapter XI - Santa Claus Arrives
- Chapter XII - The Toys Rattle Out
- Chapter XIII - The Dancing Begins
- Chapter XIV - From Me to You with Love
- Chapter XV - In Search of Rest
- Chapter XVI - The Fly in the Ointment
- Chapter XVII - An Ambassador of Cupid's
- Chapter XVIII - Just a Matter of Begging
- Chapter XIX - Still Other Flies
- Chapter XX - Frankenstein: Being a Letter from John Smith to Edward D. Norton, Attorney at Law
- Chapter XXI - Sympathies Misplaced
- Chapter XXII - With Every Jim a James
- Chapter XXIII - Reflections—Mirrored and Otherwise
- Chapter XXIV - That Miserable Money
- Chapter XXV - Exit Mr. John Smith
- Chapter XXVI - Reenter Mr. Stanley G. Fulton
"You called to ask some questions?" Mrs. Blaisdell sank languidly into a chair.
"About the Blaisdell family—yes. But perhaps another day, when you are feeling better, Mrs. Blaisdell."
"Oh, no." She smiled a little more cordially. "I can answer to-day as well as any time—though I'm not sure I can tell you very much, ever. I think it's fine you are making the book, though. Some way it gives a family such a standing, to be written up like that. Don't you think so? And the Blaisdells are really a very nice family—one of the oldest in Hillerton, though, of course, they haven't much money."
"I ought to find a good deal of material here, then, if they have lived here so long."
"Yes, I suppose so. Now, what can I tell you? Of course I can tell you about my own family. My husband is in the real estate business. You knew that, didn't you? Perhaps you see 'The Real Estate Journal.' His picture was in it a year ago last June. There was a write-up on Hillerton. I was in it, too, though there wasn't much about me. But I've got other clippings with more, if you'd like to see them—where I've poured, and been hostess, and all that, you know."
Mr. Smith took out his notebook and pencil.
"Let me see, Mrs. Blaisdell, your husband's father's name was Rufus, I believe. What was his mother's maiden name, please?"
"His mother's maiden name? Oh, 'Elizabeth.' Our little girl is named for her—Bessie, you know—you saw her last night. Jim wanted to, so I let him. It's a pretty name—Elizabeth—still, it sounds a little old- fashioned now, don't you think? Of course we are anxious to have everything just right for our daughter. A young lady soon coming out, so,—you can't be too particular. That's one reason why I wanted to get over here—on the West Side, I mean. Everybody who is anybody lives on the West Side in Hillerton. You'll soon find that out."
"No doubt, no doubt! And your mother Blaisdell's surname?" Mr. Smith's pencil was poised over the open notebook.
"Surname? Mother Blaisdell's? Oh, before she was married. I see. But, dear me, I don't know. I suppose Jim will, or Flora, or maybe Frank— though I don't believe HE will, unless her folks kept groceries. Did you ever see anybody that didn't know anything but groceries like Frank Blaisdell?" The lady sighed and shrugged her somewhat heavy shoulders with an expressive glance.
Mr. Smith smiled understandingly.
"Oh, well, it's good—to be interested in one's business, you know."
"But such a business!" murmured the lady, with another shrug.
"Then you can't tell me Mrs. Rufus Blaisdell's surname?"