“Oh, Mother! Imagine me occupying a seat in the Heart Exchange! Why, I’d have to wear a ticker ribbon instead of my blue sash. No, I never could learn their language. Why, they talk like this: ‘Coquettes’ hearts, Common stock; a declining movement shows a hardening tendency, but the stock is unsteady, with exciting effects.’ And not only our own people are concerned, but they quote prices on Foreign Hearts, and, Mother, the rates are almost prohibitive. Then one report said, ‘Fiancées’ Hearts; do not fear local pressure!’ Now what can such talk mean? Then it said: ‘Boston. (See Ice Trust.)’ No, Mother, it’s no use; I can’t understand their jargon.”
“But, Cupid, you can learn. The age is progressive and you must keep up with it. You know yourself that for some time your methods of dealing in hearts have been considered old-fashioned. Now you must try more up-to-date ways.”
“But, Mother, some reports are so sad. Their paper said today that there were many heart failures reported. Why, one heart broke at sixty—during a period of depression! And then they quoted ‘Hearts Bowed Down.’ That seemed to be a falling market, with heavy sales. Several hearts were lost or stolen, and altogether it made me feel panic-stricken. And what do you think, they quoted ‘Husbands’ as inclined to firmness, but showing bearish indications! No, it’s all out of my line. I know my business, I’ve practised it many, many years, and I’m too old to learn new tricks.”
Venus looked at her son in much the same way that any mother looks at her child when she knows she can help him out of his difficulty.
“You dear, silly child,” she said, “you’re needlessly alarmed. Every trust must have its day, but they all fail sooner or later. Bide your time, and after a while you’ll find that the trust is all over, and you can carry on the game in your own sweet way. I have heard of some kind of a queer machine,—I think it’s called a ‘trust buster,’—invented just on purpose to break up these trusts. I’ll get you one. Now kiss me and run away and play.”
Venus picked up her mirror again and sat gazing at her beautiful nose in rapt admiration of that classic member.
Cupid cheered up considerably. “Mother, you’re a blessing,” he said, as he kissed the tip of her ear. “But,” he added, as he ran away to chase butterflies, “after this trust-buster thing has done its smashing, won’t I have a time mending all the broken hearts!”
CALAMITOUS CATASTROPHE
DIRE DESTRUCTION AND DEPLORABLE DISASTER
DESOLATION AND DEVASTATION CAUSED BY AN APPALLING AIRQUAKE