Chapter 3

"'Now the subject of concentration is by no means new. It has been a success for centuries. The late Dr. Guph tells in his memoirs of a singular race of people known as the Flub Dubs who once dwelt on the lost isle of Atlantis. They were the greatest concentrators that ever lived. Every one thought that he was the greatest man in the world, and thought it so hard and so persistently that it came true--in a way. Naturally they aimed high, and every man thought himself the rightful king, and a strife arose over the crown, so that no one could wear it and many were slain in a great tussle. And when they were resting from their struggles one rose and said: "Kings of the realm, you are as the dust under my feet. I scorn you. A few minutes ago I decided to reverse my concentrator and aim at a higher goal. It was easy of attainment. I have suddenly become the biggest fool on this island and the humblest of all men."

"'The announcement was greeted with great applause, and within three minutes his popularity had so enhanced that they put him on the throne. Such was the power of truth. And all confessed and joined his party, and he was known as the wisest king of the Flub Dubs.

"'The moral that Dr. Guph adduces is this: You cannot make figs out of thistles, and unregulated concentration leads to trouble.'

"Harry and I started for home in a deep silence.

"'Hell!' I exclaimed, presently.

"'And that reminds me that I feel like the king of the Flub Dubs,' said Harry.

"'Which indicates that you are likely to decline the office,' I remarked.

"'It's serious business--this matter of finding a wife,' he declared.

"'What's the matter with Marie Benson?' I asked. 'There's a real woman and the best-looking girl in Connecticut.'

"'Charming girl!' he exclaimed. 'But, dear boy! she talks too much.'

"'That is a fault that could be remedied; and, after all, it's a kind of generosity. It's the very opposite of concentration.'

"'Ah--if she would only reform!' he said.

"'Leave that to me,' I answered, as he dropped me at my door."

V

IN WHICH SOCRATES DISCUSSES THE OVER-PRODUCTION OF TALK

"Marie was my ward, and as pretty a girl as ever led a bulldog or ate a box of chocolates at a sitting. She was a charming fish-hook, baited with beauty and wealth and culture and remarkable innocence. She had dangled about on mama's rod and line for a year or so, but the fish wouldn't bite. For that reason I grabbed the rod from the old lady and put on a bait of silence and a sinker, and moved to deep water and began to do business.

"Marie had a failing, for which, I am sorry to say, she was in no way distinguished. She talked too much, as Harry had said. There are too many American women who talk too much. Marie's mother used to talk about six-thirds of the time. You had to hear it, and then you had to get over it. She had a way of spiking the shoes of Time so that every hour felt like a month while it was running over you. You ought to have seen her climb the family tree or the sturdy old chestnut of her own experience and shake down the fruit! Marie had one more tree in her orchard. She had added the spreading peach of a liberal education to the deadly upas of Benson genealogy and the sturdy old chestnut of mama's experience. The _vox Bensonorum_ was as familiar as the Congregational bell. The supply of it exceeded the demand, and after every one was loaded and ready to cast off, the barrels came rolling down the chute.

"The next time I saw Marie she was a bit cast down. She wished me to suggest something for her to do. Said she wanted a mission--a chance to do some good in the world. Thought she'd enjoy being a nurse. I felt sorry for the girl, and suddenly I saw the flicker of a brilliant thought.

"'Marie,' I said, 'as a member of The Society of Useful Women you are under a serious obligation, and you have taste for missionary work. Well, what's the matter with beginning on Nancy Doolittle? You owe her a duty and ought to have the courage--nay, the kindness--to perform it. Nancy talks too much.'

"'Well, I should say so,' said Marie. 'Nancy is a scourge--I have often thought of it.'

"'She's downright wasteful,' I went on. 'She fills every hour with information, and then throws on some more. It keeps coming. Your seams open, and then it's every hand to the pumps! Dora Perkins and Rebecca Ford are just as extravagant. They toss out gems of thought and chunks of knowledge as if they were as common as caramels.

"'You should go to these girls and kindly but firmly remind them of this fault. Tell them that too much conversation has created more old maids and grass and parlor widows than any other cause. Give them a little lecture on the old law of supply and demand. Show them that it applies to conversation as well as to cabbages--that if one's talk is too plentiful, it becomes very cheap. Suggest that if Methuselah had lived until now and witnessed all the adventures of the human race, he couldn't afford to waste his knowledge. If he talked only half the time nobody would believe him. They'd think he was crazy, and they'd know why, in past ages, everybody had died but him, and they'd wonder how he had managed to survive the invention of gunpowder. These girls have overestimated the value of good-will. Their securities are not well secured. There are millions of watered stock in their treasuries, and it isn't worth five cents on the dollar. Marie, you can have a lot of fun. I almost envy you.

"'Tell these girls that the remedy is simple. They must be careful to regulate the supply to the demand. They could easily raise the price above par by denying now and then that they have any conversation in the treasury.'

"Marie promised to undertake this important work, and I knew that in connection with it she would also get some valuable advice.

"You see, this tendency to extravagant display has sunk in very deep. Our young people really do know a lot, and they want others to know that they know it. They are plumed with culture, and it has become a charge instead of a credit.

"Well, things began to mend. Betsey and I went to dine with the Bensons one evening, and Marie was as quiet as a lamb. She answered modestly when we spoke to her. She told no stories; her jeweled crown of culture was not in sight; she listened with notable success, and delighted us with well-managed and illuminating silence. Neither she nor her mother nor Mrs. Bryson ventured to interrupt the talk of a noted professor who dined with us. Marie was charming.

"After dinner she led me into the library, where we sat down together.

"She seemed a little embarrassed, and presently said, with a laugh, 'I had a talk with those girls, as you suggested.'

"'What did they say?' I asked.

"'What didn't they say?' she exclaimed. 'They flew at me like wildcats. They tore me to pieces--said I was the most dreaded talker in Pointview, that I had talked a steady stream ever since I was born, that nobody had a chance to get in a word with me, that I had made all the boys sick who ever came to see me. What do you think of that?'

"'It's a gross exaggeration!' I said.

"'Well, I thought it over, and made up my mind they were right,' she went on. 'We kissed and made up and organized the Listeners' Circle, and mama and Mrs. Bryson and Mrs. Doolittle have joined. Our purpose is to regulate our talk supply very strictly to the demand.'

"'It's a grand idea!' I exclaimed. 'The Ladies' Talk and Information Trust! Why, it will soon control the entire product of Pointview, and can fix the price. Marie, it's only a matter of time when the conversation of you girls is going to be in the nature of a luxury and as much desired as diamonds. It won't be long before some young fellow will offer his life for one word from you.'

"'Oh, _I'm_ hopeless! Nobody cares for me--not a soul!' said Marie.

"'Wait and give 'em a chance,' I answered.

"'Do you think it's true that I've been such a pestilence?' she asked, as her fingers toyed with the upholstery. 'You know you've been a kind of father to me, and I want you to tell me frankly if I've really made the boys sick.'

"'Why, my dear child, if I were a young man I'd be kneeling at your feet,' I said; and no wonder, for they were a beautiful pair of feet, and none ever supported a nobler girl. Then I went on: 'Marie, your talk is charming. The demand continues. I feel honored by your confidence. Please go on.'

"'I believe I've been foolish without knowing it,' she said, her smile beautiful with its sadness.

"'My dear child, if there were no folly in the world it would be a stupid place, and I for one should want to move,' I said. 'Some never discover their own follies, and they _are_ hopeless. You are as wise as you are dear. It's in your power to do a lot of good. Think what you've already accomplished. I wish you would continue to help us discourage foolish display in America.

"'Are there any more chestnuts in the fire?' she asked, with a laugh. 'Not that I'm afraid. I suppose the fire is good for me.'

"'Marie, I love your fingers too well to burn them unduly,' I said. 'By the way, I expect that Harry Delance will be wanting to marry you soon.'

"'Harry!' she exclaimed. 'I talked him to death--and out of the notion--long ago, and I'm not sorry. He isn't my kind.'

"'Harry's a good fellow,' I insisted.

"'But he's so dreadfully nice--such a hopeless aristocrat! Grandfather would have a fit. I want a big, full-blooded, brawny chap, who isn't a slave to his coat and trousers--the kind of man you've talked so much about--one who could get his hands dirty and be a gentleman. I'm longing for the outdoor life--and the outdoor man to live it with me.'

"'Give Harry a chance--his uneducation had only just begun,' I urged.

"I left Marie with a rather serious look in her face, and began to wonder how I should accomplish the uneducation of Harry.

"That young man came to see me, in a day or two, at our home. My new set of Smollett lay on the piano, and he greatly admired it. Above all things Harry loved books, and his specialty was Smollett; he had read every tale in the series, at college, and made a mark with his thesis on 'The Fathers of English Fiction.' He spent an hour of delight with those books of mine. Then he said to me:

"'Only fifty copies printed?'

"'Only fifty,' I said.

"'Could I get a set?'

"'All sold,' I assured him, 'but I shall be glad to give these books to you on two conditions.'

"He turned in astonishment.

"'They can do you no further harm, and my first request is that you do not lend them. My second is that you take them home in my wheelbarrow by daylight with your own hands.'

"He silently demurred.

"'At last those books have a chance to do some little good in the world, and I don't want them to lose it,' I urged. 'The hands, feet, and legs of the high and low born are slowly being deprived of their rights in this community. Pride is robbing them of their ancient and proper offices. How many of the young men and women of our acquaintance would be seen on the street with a package in their hands, to say nothing of a wheelbarrow? Their souls are above it!'

"'Why should they carry packages and roll wheelbarrows?' Harry asked. 'Stores deliver goods these days.'

"'That's one reason why it costs so much to live. We have to pay for our pride and our indolence and the delivery of the goods. It's all charged in the bill. Some member of the family used to go to market every morning with his basket and carry the goods home with him.'

"'It would be ridiculous for me to do that,' said Harry. 'We're able to pay the bills.'

"'But you're doing a great injustice to those who are not. You make the delivery system a necessary thing, and those who can't afford it have to help you stand the expense--a gross injustice. I want you to help me in this cause of the hand and foot. Your example would be full of inspiration. Excuse me a moment.'

"I went for the wheelbarrow and rolled it up to the front door. Then we brought out the books and loaded them. That done, I seized the handles of the barrow.

"'Come on,' I said. 'I'll do the work--you share the disgrace with me.'

"My gray hairs were too much for him.

"'No; give me the handles,' he insisted. 'If it won't hurt you, it won't hurt me--that's sure.'

"So, in his silk hat and frock-coat and spats, with a carnation in his buttonhole, he seized the wheelbarrow like a man, and away we went. I steered him up the Main Street, and people began to hail us with laughter from automobiles, and to jest with us on the sidewalk, and Marie came along with two other pretty girls, and the barrow halted in a gale of merriment.

"'What in the world are you doing?' one of them asked.

"'It's the remains of the late Mr. Smollett,' I explained.

"'I'm setting an example to the young,' said Harry, as he mopped his forehead. 'Couldn't help it. I had to do this thing.'

"'Great!' Marie exclaimed. 'Simply great! I'm going to get me a wheelbarrow.'

"She would take hold of the handles and try it, and went on half a block in spite of our protests, creating much excitement.

"That was the first rude beginning of The Basket and Wheelbarrow Brigade in Pointview, of which I shall tell you later. And now I shall explain my generosity--it can generally be explained--and how I came by the Smollett."

VI

IN WHICH BETSEY COMMITS AN INDISCRETION

"Christmas was approaching, and Betsey said to me one day that she had been guilty of a great extravagance.

"'I know you will forgive me just this once,' she went on. 'My love for you is so extravagant that I had to keep pace with it. You've simply got to accept something very grand.'

"'I can't think of anything that I need unless it's a new jack-knife,' I said.

"'Nonsense!' she exclaimed. 'You've got to let me spend some money for you. I've been held down in the expression of my affections as long as I can stand it. I've doubled my charities since we were married, as a token of my gratitude, and now I've a right to do something to please myself.'

"'All right! We'll lift the lid,' I said. 'We can lie about it, I suppose, and cover up our folly.'

"'Well, of course we don't have to tell what it cost,' said Betsey; 'and, Socrates, you can't expect to reform me in a year. It's taken half a lifetime to acquire my follies.'

"That's one trouble with the whole problem. You can't tear down a structure which has been slowly rising for half a century in a day, or in many days.

"Christmas arrived, and Betsey went down-stairs with me and covered my eyes in the hall and led me to the grand piano. Then I was permitted to look, and there was the most gorgeous set of books that my eyes ever beheld--a set of Smollett, in lovely brown calf, decorated with magnificent gold tooling! Yes, I love such things--who doesn't?--and I gave Betsey a great hug, and we sat down with tears in our eyes to look at the pages of vellum and the wonderful etchings which adorned so many of them. They were charming. I knew that the books had cost at least a thousand dollars. Grandpa Smead looked awfully stern in his gold frame on the wall.

"'Now don't think too badly of me,' she urged. 'Every poor family within twenty miles is eating dinner at my expense this Christmas Day.'

"'You are the dearest girl in all the land!' I said. 'There's nobody like you.'

"'I knew that you were fond of the classics,' said Betsey, 'so I consulted Harry Delance, and he suggested that I should give you a set of Smollett; said it would renew your youth. You know he's devoted to Smollett.'

"'And why shouldn't we keep up with Harry?' I said.

"'Well, you know he took the first prize in literature, and ought to have excellent taste. Then the young man who sold the set to me is working his way through Yale. I was glad to help him, too; he recommended these books--said they were moral and uplifting--not at all like the modern trash. He knew that we enjoyed home reading. Mary will read them aloud to us, and we'll enjoy them together.'

"This father of romance was not unknown to me, and I did not share her confidence in the joys ahead of us, but said nothing.

"After a fine dinner Betsey wanted to start in at once. We sat down by the fireside while her secretary began to read aloud from one of the treasured volumes. I had not read the story, and chose it as being the least likely to make trouble. In a short time we came to rough going and the young woman began to falter.

"'That will do,' said Betsey, suddenly, as I tried to conceal my emotions.

"She took the book from the hands of her secretary and read on in silence for a minute or so.

"'My land!' she exclaimed, with a look of horror. 'That book would corrupt the morals of John Bunyan.'

"'Never mind; John never lived in Pointview,' I argued. 'He didn't have a chance to get hardened.'

"Betsey had a determined look in her face, and rang for the coachman.

"'I'll have them stored in the stable,' said she, firmly.

"'If you don't keep it locked, all the women in the neighborhood'll be in there,' I warned her, knowing that she couldn't help telling her friends of what had happened.

"'That's no reason why the men should be unduly exposed,' said Betsey. 'Poor things! It's my duty to protect _you_ as long as I can, Socrates.'

"I promised to get rid of the books somehow, and persuaded her to let them stay where they were until I had had time to think about it. Then she said:

"'Socrates, forgive me. I didn't mean it, and I wanted to be so nice to you. I guess it's a just punishment for my extravagance. I thought the modern novels were bad enough. What can I do for you now?'

"'Always, when you're in doubt, do nothing,' I suggested.

"'Oh, I know what I'll do!' she exclaimed, joyfully. 'I'll knit you a pair of socks with my own hands.'

"'Eureka!' I shouted. 'Those socks shall make footprints on the sands of time.'"

VII

IN WHICH SOCRATES ATTACKS THE WORST DOERS AND BEST SELLERS

"One evening, soon after that, Betsey and I went to a party at Deacon Benson's. The Deacon is Marie's grandfather--a strict, old-line Congregationalist. The old gentleman owned some two hundred acres in the very heart of Pointview and about a mile of shore-front. In all the buying and selling, he had refused to part with an acre of his land, now worth at least a million dollars. He had willed it all to Marie.

"Deacon Joe was a relic of Puritan days, with shrewd eyes under heavy gray tufts, and a mouth bent like a sickle, and whiskers under a strong chin, and lines in his face that suggested the heart of a lion. In his walks he was always accompanied by a hickory cane and a bulldog whose countenance and philosophy were like unto those of the Deacon.

"He was a perfectly honest man who had joined the church with mental reservations. He had reserved the right to employ certain adjectives and nouns which had been useful in Pointview since the days of the pioneer, and which had grown more and more indispensable to the opinions of an honest man. The verb 'to damn' in all its parts and relations had been one of them. The word 'hell' was another. It represented a thing of great conversational value, and he recommended it with perfect frankness to certain people. He loved hell and hard cider, and hated Episcopalians. He loved to tell how one Episcopalian had cheated him in a horse trade, and how another had never paid for a bushel of onions. That was enough for him. He had always thought them a loose, unprincipled lot with no adequate respect for fire and brimstone. But Deacon Joe was honest, and his word was worth a hundred cents on the dollar.

"Now the Delances were Episcopalians from away back--High-Church Episcopalians, at that. The old man had sniffed a good deal when Harry began to pay attention to Marie, and had come to see me about it.

"I eased his fears and appealed to his avarice. Harry had too much money and some follies, I confessed, but he was sound at heart, and I had hope of making a strong man of him, and of course his money might be a great lever in his hands.

"'Very well--we'll keep an eye on him,' he snapped, and left me without another word.

"After that Marie was allowed to go out with the young man in his drag and tandem.

"Harry and his sister came to the party at Deacon Joe's, and brought with them a late volume of D'Annunzio for Marie to read. Harry wished to know if I had read it, and gave us a talk on the realism of this modern Italian author.

"Again I drew on the memoirs of Dr. Godfrey Vogeldam Guph, and this time I explained that the learned doctor had all the talents but one. He never told a lie--never but once, and that was on his death-bed. Yes, it was a little late, but still it was in time to save his reputation, and, possibly, even his soul. To a man of his parts the truth had always been good enough, and lying unnecessary. If he had told a lie it wouldn't have amounted to anything--everybody would have believed it. He wouldn't have got any credit--poor man! He had no more use for a lie than a fish has for a mackintosh--until he came to his last touching words, which were delivered to a minister and his sister Sophia, who had been reading to him from a book of D'Annunzio.

"'My chance has arrived at last,' he said to Sophia, 'and in order that I may make the most of it, you will please send for a minister.'

"The latter came, and, seeing the book, asked the good man if he had read it.

"'Alas! my friend, that it should be necessary for me to tell a lie on my death-bed,' said the Doctor. 'But now, at last, I tell it proudly and promptly. I have not read that book.'

"'And therein I do clearly see the truth,' said the wise old minister.

"'Which is this,' the learned Doctor confessed. 'I have come to an hour when a lie, and nothing but a lie, can show my sense of shame. I solemnly swear that I have not read it!'

"'Well, at least you're a noble liar,' said the man of God. 'I absolve you.'

"'I claim no credit--I am only doing my duty,' said the good Doctor, with a sign of ineffable peace.

"As soon as I could get his attention, I called Harry aside and whispered: 'In Heaven's name, boy, get hold of that book and hang on to it.'

"'Why?' he asked.

"'You don't know the old man as I do--that's why,' I said. 'If he should happen to read it, he'd go after you with his grandfather's sword the next time you showed up here.'

"Marie stood near us, and I beckoned to her, and she came to my side.

"'The book,' said Harry--'would you let me take it?'

"'I took it to my grandfather, and he is reading it in his room,' she answered. 'Shall I go and get it?'

"Harry hesitated.

"'He won't mind,' said Marie; 'I'll go and get it.'

"And away she went.

"She came back to us soon, a bit embarrassed.

"'He seems to be very much interested and--and a little cross,' said she. 'I think he will bring it out to you soon.'

"Harry turned pale.

"'You look sick, old man,' I said.

"'I'm not feeling very well,' said he, 'and I think I shall excuse myself and go home.'

"There was danger of a scene, but he got away unharmed. By and by the lionhearted deacon came out of his room, asked severely for 'young Delance,' wandered through the crowd, answered indignantly a few inquiries about his health, and returned to his lair.

"I saw that the Deacon was mad. New New England had imprudently bumped into old New England, and it was too soon to estimate the damage."

The Honorable Socrates Potter laughed as he filled his pipe, and resumed with an attitude of ease and comfort;