Part 7 (1/2)
”Here--up-stairs, down-stairs, everywhere!” gasped the Little Woman, while the Precious Ones continued to insist that I guess and keep on guessing without rest or sustenance till the crack of doom.
Then suddenly I grew quite stern.
”Tell me,” I commanded, ”what is the matter with you people, and stop this nonsense! Who is it that's here?”
The Little Woman became calm for a brief instant, and emitted a single word. ”Thomas!”
I sank weakly into a chair. ”Thomas?”
”Yes, Thomas! Thomas!” shrieked the Precious Ones, and then they, too, went off into a fit of ridiculous mirth, while recalling now the sudden transfiguration of the halls I knew they had spoken truly. The Little Woman was wiping her eyes.
”And Mr. Griffin, too,” she said, calmly, as if that was quite a matter of course.
”And Mr. Griffin, too!” chorused the Precious Ones.
”Mr. Griffin?”
”Why, yes,” said the Little Woman. ”He bought this house yesterday, and put Thomas over here in charge. He will occupy the top floor himself.”
”Oh!”
”And you never saw anybody so glad of anything as Thomas was to see us here. It was the first time I ever saw him laugh!”
”Oh, he laughed, did he?”
”Yes; and he gave us each some candy!” chanted the Precious Ones. ”He said it was like meeting home folks.”
”Oh, he did?”
”Mine was chocolate,” declared our elder joy.
”Mine was marshmallows!” piped the echo.
”Little Woman,” I said, ”our dinner is getting cold; suppose we eat it.”
XI.
_Inheritance and Mania._
And now came one of these episodes which sometimes disturb the sequestered quiet of even the best regulated and most conventional of households. We were notified one day that my Aunt Jane, whom I believe I have once before mentioned having properly arranged her affairs had pa.s.sed serenely out of life at an age and in a manner that left nothing to be desired.
I was sorry, of course,--as sorry as it was possible to be, considering the fact that she had left me a Sum which though not large was absurdly welcome. I did not sleep very well until it came, fearing there might be some hitch in administrating the will, but there was no hitch (my Aunt Jane, heaven rest her spirit, had been too thoroughly business for that) and the Sum came along in due season.
We would keep this Sum, we decided, as a sinking fund; something to have in the savings bank, to be added to, from time to time, as a provision for the future and our Precious Ones. This seemed a good idea at the time, and it seems so yet, for that matter. I have never been able to discover that there is anything wrong with having money in a good savings bank.
I _put_ the Sum in a good savings bank, and we were briefly satisfied with our prudence. It gave us a sort of safe feeling to know that it was there, to be had almost instantly, in case of need.
It was this latter knowledge that destroyed us. When the novelty of feeling safe had worn off we began to need the Sum. Casually at first, coming as a mere suggestion, in fact, from one or the other of us, of what we could buy with it. It is wonderful how many things we were constantly seeing that the Sum would pay for.
Our furniture, for instance, had grown old without becoming antique, and was costly only when you reckon what we had paid for moving it. We had gradually acquired a taste (or it may have been only the need of a taste) for the real thing. Whatever it was it seemed expensive--too expensive to be gratified heretofore, but now that we had the Sum----