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
And, really, never have I seen a bunch of people whom I thought a little money would do more good to than the Blaisdells here in Hillerton. My only regret is that I didn't know about Miss Maggie Duff, so that she could have had some, too. (Oh, yes, I've found out all about "Poor Maggie" now, and she's a dear—the typical self- sacrificing, self-effacing bearer of everybody's burdens, including a huge share of her own!) However, she isn't a Blaisdell, of course, so I couldn't have worked her into my scheme very well, I suppose, even if I had known about her. They are all fond of her—though they impose on her time and her sympathies abominably. But I reckon she'll get some of the benefits of the others' thousands. Mrs. Jane, in particular, is always wishing she could do something for "Poor Maggie," so I dare say she'll be looked out for all right.
As to who will prove to be the wisest handler of the hundred thousand, and thus my eventual heir, I haven't the least idea. As I said before, they all need money, and need it badly—need it to be comfortable and happy, I mean. They aren't really poor, any of them, except, perhaps, Miss Flora. She is a little hard up, poor soul. Bless her heart! I wonder what she'll get first, Niagara, the phonograph, or something to eat without looking at the price. Did I ever write you about those "three wishes" of hers?
I can't see that any of the family are really extravagant unless, perhaps, it's Mrs. James—"Hattie." She IS ambitious, and is inclined to live on a scale a little beyond her means, I judge. But that will be all right, of course, when she has the money to gratify her tastes. Jim—poor fellow, I shall be glad to see him take it easy, for once. He reminds me of the old horse I saw the other day running one of those infernal treadmill threshing machines—always going, but never getting there. He works, and works hard, and then he gets a job nights and works harder; but he never quite catches up with his bills, I fancy. What a world of solid comfort he'll take with that hundred thousand! I can hear him draw the long breath now—for once every bill paid!