Part 47 (1/2)

As it turned out we began our wedded life quite luxuriously We had a whole house to ourselves--and sometimes even a maid! In those days there were no flats in our town and certain small but shrewd local capitalists had built rows of tiny fras which they leased to assistant professors, assistant plumbers, and other respectable people of the same financial status, at rates which enabled theion

They were all alike--I refer to the houses now, not to all landlords necessarily--with a steep stoop in front and a drying yard for Monday es of great cities--except that ours were cleaner and were occupied by nicer people

One of our next-door neighbors was a rising young butcher with his bride and the house on the other side of us was occupied by a post notes of his whistle--presumably a cast-off one--on which all of his nue, were a, as waswall, which supplied visual privacy but did not prevent our knohen they took their baths or in what ter so It beca speculation to us what Willie would say the next Saturday night; and if we had quarreled they, in turn, could have--and would have--told what it was all about

”Not every economist,” Carl remarked whimsically, ”can learn at first hand how the proletariat lives”

I, too, was learning at first hand inal research in domestic science was sound in theory, but I soon discovered that raood cuts of beef I had to select second or third quality fro butcher, who, by the way, has since risen to the dignity of a touring car Instead of poultry we had pork, for this was before pork also rose

My courses in bookkeeping, however, proved quite practical; and I er fro one later through bitter experience, like so eneral houseworkers

Frequently I had a urrul”--and quite frequently I had none; for we could afford only young beginners, who, as soon as I had trained them well, left me for other mistresses who could afford to pay them well

”Oh, we should not accuse the poor creatures of ingratitude,” I told Carl one day ”Not every economist can learn at first hand the law of supply and demand”

If, however, as my fashi+onable aunt in town remarked, ere picturesquely impecunious--which, to that soft lady, probablywithout motor cars--ere just as desperately happy as ere poor; for we had each other at least Every other deprivation see

Nor e the only ones who had each other--and therefore poverty

Scholarshi+p reed that it was the ideal life

To be sure, some members of the Faculty--or their wives--had independent means and could better afford the ideal life They were considered noble for choosing it Soraduating exercises were enorave the interest of their incomes--sometimes a whole handful of bonds at a time--to the support of the ideal life

Was there any law coive their money to their Al ive their lives and sacrifice their wives These reater sacrifices They could have kept in comfort a dozen wives apiece--modest ones--on what they voluntarily preferred to turn over to the dear old college Professors, being is in their true proportions

We, moreover, in return for our interest in education, did we not shamelessly accept monthly checks from the university treasurer's office? It was quite materialistic in us Whereas these disinterested donors, instead of receiving checks, gave them, which is more blessed

And were they not checks of a denoer than those we selfishly cashed for ourselves? Invariably Therefore our princely benefactors were regarded not only as nobler but as the nobility

Indeed, the social stratification ofand plain living were highly recommended for all who could not reverse the precept, struck me, a neophyte, as for all the world like that of a cathedral town in England, except that these visiting patrons of religion and learning were treated with a reverence and respect found only in America Surely it must have amused them, had they not been so used to it; for they were quite the simplest, kindest, sweetest overrich people I had ever met in my own country--and they often took pains to tell us broad-s than money Their tactful atte--occasionally rather coence, it was so palpable and so unnecessary

”There, there!” I alanted to say--until I, too, becaht You can't help it”

It was dear of therateful for their kind consideration After all, how different froance of wealth seen in our best--selling--fiction, though seldoentlefolk, with the low voices and si; and I liked them, for the most part, very much--especially certain old friends of our parents, who, I learned later, illing to show their true friendshi+p in more ways than Carl and I could perreat coe professor is in the leisure to live--_otiurads call it when they can reh as most of them cannot they call it a snap

Carl, by the way, happened to be the secretary of his class, and his popularity with dear old classmates became a nuisance in our tiny home