Keeping up with Lizzie by Irving Bacheller
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Irving Bacheller >> Keeping up with Lizzie
KEEPING UP
WITH
LIZZIE
BY
IRVING BACHELLER
ILLUSTRATED BY
W.H.D.KOERNER
HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS
NEW YORK AND LONDON
COPYRIGHT, 1910, 1911, BY HARPER & BROTHERS
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
PUBLISHED MARCH, 1911
C-N
TO
THE LOVING AND BELOVED
"MR. ONEDEAR"
I DEDICATE THIS LITTLE BOOK
CONTENTS
CHAP.
I. IN WHICH THE LEADING TRADESMEN OF POINTVIEW
BECOME A BOARD OF ASSESSORS
II. IN WHICH LIZZIE RETURNS TO HER HOME, HAVING MET A QUEEN
AND ACQUIRED AN ACCENT AND A FIANCE
III. IN WHICH LIZZIE DESCENDS PROM A GREAT HEIGHT
IV. IN WHICH THE HAM WAR HAS ITS BEGINNING
V. IN WHICH LIZZIE EXERTS AN INFLUENCE ON THE AFFAIRS
OF THE RICH AND GREAT
VI. IN WHICH THE PURSUIT OF LIZZIE BECOMES HIGHLY SERIOUS
VII. IN WHICH THE HONORABLE SOCRATES POTTER CATCHES UP
WITH LIZZIE
ILLUSTRATIONS
A DUEL WITH AUTOMOBILES
WITH HIS MIND ON THE SUBJECT OF EXTRAVAGANCE
"SEVEN DOLLARS A BARREL"
"I WANTED YE TO TELL MR. POTTER ABOUT YER TRAVELS," SAYS SAM
LIZZIE DROPPED INTO A CHAIR AND BEGAN TO CRY
BILL AN' I GOT TOGETHER OFTEN AN' TALKED OF THE OLD HAPPY DAYS
WE SET OUT FOR A TRAMP OVER THE BIG FARM
"I'M A CANDIDATE FOR NEW HONORS"
THREE DAYS LATER I DROVE TO THE VILLA
THE BOY EXERTED HIS CHARMS UPON MY LADY WARBURTON.
SHE LED US INTO THE BEDROOM
THEIR EYES WERE WIDE WITH WONDER
KEEPING UP WITH LIZZIE
KEEPING UP WITH LIZZIE
IN WHICH THE LEADING TRADESMEN OF POINTVIEW BECOME A BOARD OF
ASSESSORS
The Honorable Socrates Potter was the only "scientific man" in the
village of Pointview, Connecticut. In every point of manhood he
was far ahead of his neighbors. In a way he had outstripped
himself, for, while his ideas were highly modern, he clung to the
dress and manners that prevailed in his youth. He wore broadcloth
every day, and a choker, and chewed tobacco, and never permitted
his work to interfere with the even tenor of his conversation. He
loved the old times and fashions, and had a drawling tongue and
often spoke in the dialect of his fathers, loving the sound of it.
His satirical mood was sure to be flavored with clipped words and
changed tenses. The stranger often took him for a "hayseed," but
on further acquaintance opened his mouth in astonishment, for Soc.
Potter, as many called him, was a man of insight and learning and
of a quality of wit herein revealed. He used to call himself "an
attorney and peacemaker," but he was more than that. He was the
attorney and friend of all his clients, and the philosopher of his
community. If one man threatened another with the law in that
neighborhood, he was apt to do it in these terms, "We'll see what
Soc. Potter has to say about that."
"All right! We'll see," the other would answer, and both parties
would be sure to show up at the lawyer's office. Then, probably,
Socrates would try his famous lock-and-key expedient. He would sit
them down together, lock the door, and say, "Now, boys, I don't
believe in getting twelve men for a job that two can do better,"
and generally he would make them agree.
He had an office over the store of Samuel Henshaw, and made a
specialty of deeds, titles, epigrams, and witticisms.
He was a bachelor who called now and then at the home of Miss
Betsey Smead, a wealthy spinster of Pointview, but nothing had ever
come of it.
He sat with his feet on his desk and his mind on the subject of
extravagance. When he was doing business he sat like other men,
but when his thought assumed a degree of elevation his feet rose
with it. He began his story by explaining that it was all true but
the names.
[Illustration: With his mind on the subject of extravagance.]
"This is the balloon age," said he, with a merry twinkle in his
gray eyes. "The inventor has led us into the skies. The odor of
gasoline is in the path of the eagle. Our thoughts are between
earth and heaven; our prices have followed our aspirations in the
upward flight. Now here is Sam Henshaw. Sam? Why, he's a
merchant prince o' Pointview--grocery business--had a girl--name o'
Lizzie--smart and as purty as a wax doll. Dan Pettigrew, the
noblest flower o' the young manhood o' Pointview, fell in love with
her. No wonder. We were all fond o' Lizzie. They were a han'some
couple, an' together about half the time.
"Well, Sam began to aspire, an' nothing would do for Lizzie but the
Smythe school at Hardcastle at seven hundred dollars a year. So
they rigged her up splendid, an' away she went. Prom that day she
set the pace for this community. Dan had to keep up with Lizzie,
and so his father, Bill Pettigrew, sent him to Harvard. Other
girls started in the race, an' the first we knew there was a big
field in this maiden handicap.
"Well, Sam had been aspirin' for about three months, when he began
to perspire. The extras up at Hardcastle had exceeded his
expectations. He was goin' a hot pace to keep up with Lizzie, an'
it looked as if his morals was meltin' away.
"I was in the northern part o' the county one day, an' saw some
wonderful, big, red, tasty apples.
"'What ye doin' with yer apples?' says I to the grower.
"'I've sent the most of 'em to Samuel Henshaw, o' Pointview, an'
he's sold 'em on commission,' says he.
"'What do ye get for 'em ?' I asked.
"'Two dollars an' ten cents a barrel,' says he.
"The next time I went into Sam's store there were the same red
apples that came out o' that orchard in the northern part o' the
county.
"'How much are these apples?' I says.
"'Seven dollars a barrel,' says Sam.
[Illustration: Seven dollars a barrel.]
"'How is it that you get seven dollars a barrel an' only return two
dollars an' ten cents to the grower?' I says.
"Sam stuttered an' changed color. I'd been his lawyer for years,
an' I always talked plain to Sam.
"'Wal, the fact is,' says he, with a laugh an' a wink, 'I sold
these apples to my clerk.'
"'Sam, ye're wastin' yer talents,' I says. 'Go into the railroad
business.'
"Sam was kind o' shamefaced.
"'It costs so much to live I have to make a decent profit
somewhere,' says he. 'If you had a daughter to educate, you'd know
the reason.'
"I bought a bill o' goods, an' noticed that ham an' butter were up
two cents a pound, an' flour four cents a sack, an' other things in
proportion. I didn't say a word, but I see that Sam proposed to
tax the community for the education o' that Lizzie girl. Folks
began to complain, but the tax on each wasn't heavy, an' a good
many people owed Sam an' wasn't in shape to quit him. Then Sam had
the best store in the village, an' everybody was kind o' proud of
it. So we stood this assessment o' Sam's, an' by a general tax
paid for the education o' Lizzie. She made friends, an' sailed
around in automobiles, an' spent a part o' the Christmas holidays
with the daughter o' Mr. Beverly Gottrich on Fifth Avenue, an'
young Beverly Gottrich brought her home in his big red runabout.
Oh, that was a great day in Pointview!--that red-runabout day of
our history when the pitcher was broken at the fountain and they
that looked out of the windows trembled.
"Dan Pettigrew was home from Harvard for the holidays, an' he an'
Lizzie met at a church party. They held their heads very high, an'
seemed to despise each other an' everybody else. Word went around
that it was all off between 'em. It seems that they had riz--not
risen, but riz--far above each other.
"Now it often happens that when the young ascend the tower o' their
aspirations an' look down upon the earth its average inhabitant
seems no larger to them than a red ant. Sometimes there's nobody
in sight--that is, no real body--nothin' but clouds an' rainbows
an' kings an' queens an' their families. Now Lizzie an' Dan were
both up in their towers an' lookin' down, an' that was probably the
reason they didn't see each other.
"Right away a war began between the rival houses o' Henshaw an'
Pettigrew. The first we knew Sam was buildin' a new house with a
tower on it--by jingo!--an' hardwood finish inside an' half an acre
in the dooryard. The tower was for Lizzie. It signalized her rise
in the community. It put her one flight above anybody in Pointview.
"As the house rose, up went Sam's prices again. I went over to the
store an' bought a week's provisions, an' when I got the bill I see
that he'd taxed me twenty-nine cents for his improvements.
"I met one o' my friends, an' I says to him, 'Wal,' I says, 'Sam is
goin' to make us pay for his new house an' lot. Sam's ham an'
flour have jumped again. As an assessor Sam is likely to make his
mark.'
"'Wal, what do ye expect?' says he. 'Lizzie is in high society,
an' he's got to keep up with her. Lizzie must have a home proper
to one o' her station. Don't be hard on Sam.'
"'I ain't,' I says. 'But Sam's house ought to be proper to his
station instead o' hers.'
"I had just sat down in my office when Bill Pettigrew came
in--Sam's great rival in the grocery an' aspiration business. He'd
bought a new automobile, an' wanted me to draw a mortgage on his
house an' lot for two thousand dollars.
"'You'd better go slow,' I says. 'It looks like bad business to
mortgage your home for an automobile.'
"'It's for the benefit o' my customers,' says he.
"'Something purty for 'em to look at?' I asked.
"'It will quicken deliveries,' says he.
"'You can't afford it,' I says.
"'Yes, I can,' says he. 'I've put up prices twenty per cent., an'
it ain't agoin' to bother me to pay for it.'
"'Oh, then your customers are goin' to pay for it!' I says, 'an'
you're only a guarantor.'
"'I wouldn't put it that way,' says he. 'It costs more to live
these days. Everything is goin' up.'
"'Includin' taxes,' I says to Bill, an' went to work an' drew his
mortgage for him, an' he got his automobile.
"I'd intended to take my trade to his store, but when I saw that he
planned to tax the community for his luxuries I changed my mind and
went over to Eph Hill's. He kept the only other decent grocery
store in the village. His prices were just about on a level with
the others.
"'How do you explain it that prices have gone up so?' I asked.
"'Why, they say it's due to an overproduction o' gold,' says he.
"'Looks to me like an overproduction of argument,' I says. 'The
old Earth keeps shellin' out more gold ev'ry year, an' the more she
takes out o' her pockets the more I have to take out o' mine.'
"Wal, o' course I had to keep in line, so I put up the prices o' my
work a little to be in fashion. Everybody kicked good an' plenty,
an' nobody worse'n Sam an' Bill an' Ephraim, but I told 'em how I'd
read that there was so much gold in the world it kind o' set me
hankerin'.
"Ye know I had ten acres o' worn-out land in the edge o' the
village, an' while others bought automobiles an' such luxuries I
invested in fertilizers an' hired a young man out of an
agricultural school an' went to farmin'. Within a year I was
raisin' all the meat an' milk an' vegetables that I needed, an'
sellin' as much ag'in to my neighbors.
"Well, Pointview under Lizzie was like Rome under Theodora. The
immorals o' the people throve an' grew. As prices went up decency
went down, an' wisdom rose in value like meat an' flour. Seemed so
everybody that had a dollar in the bank an' some that didn't bought
automobiles. They kept me busy drawin' contracts an' deeds an'
mortgages an' searchin' titles, an' o' course I prospered. More
than half the population converted property into cash an' cash into
folly--automobiles, piano-players, foreign tours, vocal music,
modern languages, an' the aspirations of other people. They were
puffin' it on each other. Every man had a deep scheme for makin'
the other fellow pay for his fun. Reminds me o' that verse from
Zechariah, 'I will show them no mercy, saith the Lord, but I will
deliver every man into the hand of his neighbor.' Now the baron
business has generally been lucrative, but here in Pointview there
was too much competition. We were all barons. Everybody was
taxin' everybody else for his luxuries, an' nobody could save a
cent--nobody but me an' Eph Hill. He didn't buy any automobiles or
build a new house or send his girl to the seminary. He kept both
feet on the ground, but he put up his prices along with the rest.
By-an'-by Eph had a mortgage on about half the houses in the
village. That showed what was the matter with the other men.
"The merchants all got liver-comlaint. There were twenty men that
I used to see walkin' home to their dinner every day or down to the
postoffice every evenin'. But they didn't walk any more. They
scud along in their automobiles at twenty miles an hour, with the
whole family around 'em. They looked as if they thought that now
at last they were keepin' up with Lizzie. Their homes were empty
most o' the time. The reading-lamp was never lighted. There was
no season o' social converse. Every merchant but Eph Hill grew fat
an' round, an' complained of indigestion an' sick-headache. Sam
looked like a moored balloon. Seemed so their morals grew fat an'
flabby an' shif'less an' in need of exercise. Their morals
travelled too, but they travelled from mouth to mouth, as ye might
say, an' very fast. More'n half of 'em give up church an' went off
on the country roads every Sunday. All along the pike from
Pointview to Jerusalem Corners ye could see where they'd laid
humbly on their backs in the dust, prayin' to a new god an' tryin'
to soften his heart with oil or open the gates o' mercy with a
monkey-wrench.
"Bill came into my shop one day an' looked as if he hadn't a friend
in the world. He wanted to borrow some money.
"'Money!' I says. 'What makes ye think I've got money?'
"'Because ye ain't got any automobile,' he says, laughin'.
"'No,' I says. 'You bought one, an' that was all I could afford,'
"It never touched him. He went on as dry as a duck in a shower.
'You're one o' the few sensible men in this village. You live
within yer means, an' you ought to have money if ye ain't.'
"'I've got a little, but I don't see why you should have it,' I
says. 'You want me to do all the savin' for both of us.'
"'It costs so much to live I can't save a cent,' he says. 'You
know I've got a boy in college, an' it costs fearful. I told my
boy the other day how I worked my way through school an' lived on a
dollar a week in a little room an' did my own washin'. He says to
me, "Well, Governor, you forget that I have a social position to
maintain."'
"'He's right,' I says. 'You can't expect him to belong to the
varsity crew an' the Dickey an' the Hasty-Puddin' Club an' dress
an' behave like the son of an ordinary grocer in Pointview,
Connecticut. Ye can't live on nuts an' raisins an' be decent in
such a position. Looks to me as if it would require the combined
incomes o' the grocer an' his lawyer to maintain it. His position
is likely to be hard on your disposition. He's tryin' to keep up
with Lizzie--that's what's the matter,'
"For a moment Bill looked like a lost dog. I told him how Grant
an' Thomas stood on a hilltop one day an' saw their men bein' mowed
down like grass, an' by-an'-by Thomas says to Grant, 'Wal, General,
we'll have to move back a little; it's too hot for the boys here.'
"'I'm afraid your boy's position is kind of uncomf'table,' I says.
"'I'll win out,' he says. 'My boy will marry an' settle down in a
year or so, then he'll begin to help me.'
"'But you may be killed off before then,' I says.
"'If my friends 'll stand by me I'll pull through,' says he.
"'But your friends have their own families to stand by,' I says.
"'Look here, Mr. Potter,' says he. 'You've no such expense as I
have. You're able to help me, an' you ought to. I've got a note
comin' due tomorrow an' no money to pay it with.'
"'Renew it an' then retrench,' I says. 'Cut down your expenses an'
your prices.'
"'Can't,' says he. 'It costs too much to live. What 'll I do ?'
"'You ought to die,' I says, very mad.
"'I can't,' says he.
"'Why not?'
"'It costs so much to die,' he says. 'Why, it takes a thousan'
dollars to give a man a decent funeral these days.'
"'Wal,' I says, 'a man that can't afford either to live or die
excites my sympathy an' my caution. You've taxed the community for
yer luxuries, an' now ye want to tax me for yer notes. It's unjust
discrimination. It gives me a kind of a lonesome feelin'. You
tell your boy Dan to come an' see me. He needs advice more than
you need money, an' I've got a full line of it.'
"Bill went away richer by a check for a few hundred dollars. Oh, I
always know when I'm losin' money! I'm not like other citizens o'
Pointview.
"Dan came to see me the next Saturday night. He was a big,
blue-eyed, handsome, good-natured boy, an' dressed like the son of
a millionaire. I brought him here to the office, an' he sat down
beside me.
"'Dan,' I says, 'what are your plans for the future?'
"'I mean to be a lawyer,' says he.
"'Quit it,' I says.
"'Why?' says he.
"'There are too many lawyers. We don't need any more. They're
devourin' our substance.'
"'What do you suggest?'
"'Be a real man. We're on the verge of a social revolution. Boys
have been leaving the farms an' going into the cities to be grand
folks. The result is we have too many grand folks an' too few real
folks. The tide has turned. Get aboard.'
"'I don't understand you.'
"'America needs wheat an' corn an' potatoes more than it needs
arguments an' theories.'
"'Would you have me be a farmer?' he asked, in surprise.
"'A farmer!' I says. 'It's a new business--an exact science these
days. Think o' the high prices an' the cheap land with its
productiveness more than doubled by modern methods. The country is
longing for big, brainy men to work its idle land. Soon we shall
not produce enough for our own needs.'
"'But I'm too well educated to be a farmer,' says he.
"'Pardon me,' I says. 'The land 'll soak up all the education
you've got an' yell for more. Its great need is education. We've
been sending the smart boys to the city an' keeping the fools on
the farm. We've put everything on the farm but brains. That's
what's the matter with the farm.'
"'But farming isn't dignified,' says Dan.
"'Pardon me ag'in,' says I. 'It's more dignified to search for the
secrets o' God in the soil than to grope for the secrets o' Satan
in a lawsuit. Any fool can learn Blackstone an' Kent an'
Greenleaf, but the book o' law that's writ in the soil is only for
keen eyes.'
"'I want a business that fits a gentleman,' says Dan.
"'An' the future farmer can be as much of a gentleman as God 'll
let him,' says I. 'He'll have as many servants as his talents can
employ. His income will exceed the earnings o' forty lawyers taken
as they average. His position will be like that o' the rich
planter before the war.'
"'Well, how shall I go about it?' he says, half convinced.
"'First stop tryin' to keep up with Lizzie,' says I. 'The way to
beat Lizzie is to go toward the other end o' the road. Ye see,
you've dragged yer father into the race, an' he's about winded.
Turn around an' let Lizzie try to keep up with you. Second, change
yer base. Go to a school of agriculture an' learn the business
just as you'd go to a school o' law or medicine. Begin modest.
Live within yer means. If you do right I'll buy you all the land
ye want an' start ye goin'.'
"When he left I knew that I'd won my case. In a week or so he sent
me a letter saying that he'd decided to take my advice.
"He came to see me often after that. The first we knew he was
goin' with Marie Benson. Marie had a reputation for good sense,
but right away she began to take after Lizzie, an' struck a
tolerably good pace. Went to New York to study music an' perfect
herself in French.
"I declare it seemed as if about every girl in the village was
tryin' to be a kind of a princess with a full-jewelled brain.
Girls who didn't know an adjective from an adverb an' would have
been stuck by a simple sum in algebra could converse in French an'
sing in Italian. Not one in ten was willin', if she knew how, to
sweep a floor or cook a square meal. Their souls were above it.
Their feet were in Pointview an' their heads in Dreamland. They
talked o' the doin's o' the Four Hundred an' the successes o'
Lizzie. They trilled an' warbled; they pounded the family piano;
they golfed an' motored an' whisted; they engaged in the titivation
of toy dogs an' the cultivation o' general debility; they ate
caramels an' chocolates enough to fill up a well; they complained;
they dreamed o' sunbursts an' tiaras while their papas worried
about notes an' bills; they lay on downy beds of ease with the last
best seller, an' followed the fortunes of the bold youth until he
found his treasure at last in the unhidden chest of the heroine;
they created what we are pleased to call the servant problem, which
is really the drone problem, caused by the added number who toil
not, but have to be toiled for; they grew in fat an' folly. Some
were both ox-eyed an' peroxide. Homeliness was to them the only
misfortune, fat the only burden, and pimples the great enemy of
woman.
"Now the organs of the human body are just as shiftless as the one
that owns 'em. The systems o' these fair ladies couldn't do their
own work. The physician an' the surgeon were added to the list o'
their servants, an' became as necessary as the cook an' the
chambermaid. But they were keeping up with Lizzie. Poor things!
They weren't so much to blame. They thought their fathers were
rich, an' their fathers enjoyed an' clung to that reputation. They
hid their poverty an' flaunted the flag of opulence.
"It costs money, big money an' more, to produce a generation of
invalids. The fathers o' Pointview had paid for it with sweat an'
toil an' broken health an' borrowed money an' the usual tax added
to the price o' their goods or their labor. Then one night the
cashier o' the First National Bank blew out his brains. We found
that he had stolen eighteen thousand dollars in the effort to keep
up. That was a lesson to the Lizzie-chasers! Why, sir, we found
that each of his older girls had diamond rings an' could sing in
three languages, an' a boy was in college. Poor man! he didn't
steal for his own pleasure. Everything went at auction--house,
grounds, rings, automobile. Another man was caught sellin' under
weight with fixed scales, an' went to prison. Henry Brown failed,
an' we found that he had borrowed five hundred dollars from John
Bass, an' at the same time John Bass had borrowed six hundred from
Tom Rogers, an' Rogers had borrowed seven hundred an' fifty from
Sam Henshaw, an' Henshaw had borrowed the same amount from Percival
Smith, an' Smith had got it from me. The chain broke, the note
structure fell like a house o' cards, an' I was the only
loser--think o' that. There were five capitalists an' only one man
with real money.
II
IN WHICH LIZZIE RETURNS TO HER HOME, HAVING MET A QUEEN AND
ACQUIRED AN ACCENT AND A FIANCE
"Sam Henshaw's girl had graduated an' gone abroad with her mother.
One Sunday 'bout a year later, Sam flew up to the door o' my house
in his automobile. He lit on the sidewalk an' struggled up the
steps with two hundred an' forty-seven pounds o' meat on him. He
walked like a man carryin' a barrel o' pork. He acted as if he was
glad to see me an' the big arm-chair on the piaz'.
"'What's the news?' I asked.
"'Lizzie an' her mother got back this mornin',' he gasped.
'They've been six months in Europe. Lizzie is in love with it.
She's hobnobbed with kings an' queens. She talks art beautiful. I
wish you'd come over an' hear her hold a conversation. It's
wonderful. She's goin' to be a great addition to this community.
She's got me faded an' on the run. I ran down to the store for a
few minutes this mornin', an' when I got back she says to me:
"'"Father, you always smell o' ham an' mustard. Have you been in
that disgusting store? Go an' take a bahth at once." That's what
she called it--a "bahth." Talks just like the English
people--she's been among 'em so long. Get into my car an' I'll
take ye over an' fetch ye back.'
"Sam regarded his humiliation with pride an' joy. At last Lizzie
had convinced him that her education had paid. My curiosity was
excited. I got in an' we flew over to his house. Sam yelled up
the stairway kind o' joyful as we come in, an' his wife answered at
the top o' the stairs an' says:
"'Mr. Henshaw, I wish you wouldn't shout in this house like a boy
calling the cows.'
"I guess she didn't know I was there. Sam ran up-stairs an' back,
an' then we turned into that splendid parlor o' his an' set down.
Purty soon Liz an' her mother swung in an' smiled very pleasant an'
shook hands an' asked how was my family, etc., an' went right on
talkin'. I saw they didn't ask for the purpose of gettin'
information. Liz was dressed to kill an' purty as a
picture--cheeks red as a rooster's comb an' waist like a hornet's.
The cover was off her showcase, an' there was a diamond sunburst in
the middle of it, an' the jewels were surrounded by charms to which
I am not wholly insensible even now.