“Fifteen dollars with a day out, that leaves—let me see—oh, say in round numbers, thirteen, maybe a few cents out. Well, now, let me see, out of that comes, first of all, forty cents for union money, if he pays it this week; two and a half for rent, only we owe fifty cents from last week, which we must pay this, or else we’ll be thrown out. Then there’s fifteen cents for that dude of an insurance man—he says he’ll lapse us if we let it run on like we have. Let him do it, the old cheat! I don’t believe they’d plan to pay us if any of us should die. They’re nothing but robbers, anyhow. Where was I, Al? Let me see, there’s owing a dollar for the furniture—WHEN will we have it paid for?—and there’s two dollars that should be paid the Jew, only we’ll have to satisfy him with fifty cents this week, because there’s a day out.” (The Jew was the man who kept the “New England Clothing and Furnishing Company,” from whom we had bought our clothes, a set of furs, and the gold bracelets on instalments.) “This week’s bill for groceries is five dollars and sixty-three cents, the baker has owing him about seventy-five, the meat man let me have them two ham bones and that shank end, and I owe him for that; there’s some white shirts and collars at the Chinaman’s, but I want to say right here that your uncle will have to pay for those out of his own spending money. That’s too much of a luxury, that is; we can’t go on with such gentlemanly notions in this house and ever get ahead. Oh, these debts, when will they be paid! That is all I think of except the beer man. He won’t wait, whatever comes or goes. There, that reckons up to—why, how in the name of God are we going to face the world this way? I’m getting clean worn out with this figuring every week!”
After finding that she would not have money enough to go around to satisfy all the clamorants, she would proceed with a process of elimination, putting off first the tradesman who received explanations with the most graciousness. The insurance man she did not care for, so he had to be put off, but, with his own interests in mind, he would carry us out of his own pocket until some grand week when aunt would feel kindly towards him, and she would generously make up all back payments. Aunt always went to the uttermost limit of credit possibility, arranging her numerous creditors like checkers on a board to be moved backwards and forwards week by week. The beer man got his pay every week. He did not allow his bills to grow old. In arranging for that payment, aunt used to say, as if protesting to her own conscience, “Well, suppose some others do have to wait! I want to have a case of lager in over Sunday. We’re not going to scrimp and slave without some enjoyment!”
Week after week this same exasperating allotment of uncle’s wage took place, with but minor variations. Time after time the insurance would drop behind and would be taken up again. Time after time the Jew would threaten to put the lawyers on us. Time after time the grocer would withhold credit until we paid our bill, yet the beer-wagon stopped regularly at our door, and Mrs. O’Boyle, her daughter, and Mrs. Redden would exchange courtesies and bottles. And Aunt was always consoling her sister women on such occasions with this philosophy: “The rich have carriages and fine horses and grand mansions for enjoyment; we poor folks, not having such, must get what comfort we can out of a stimulating sup!”
And Mrs. Redden would reply, “Yes, Mrs. Brindin, you’re right for sure. Just warm a bit of that ale with a bit of sugar stirred in, will you, please? It will warm the baby’s belly. I forgot to bring his milk bottle, like the absent-minded I am.”
Chapter VII. I am given the
Privilege of Choosing my
own Birthday
Chapter VII. I am given the
Privilege of Choosing my
own Birthday
THE reopening of the public-schools in the fall found Aunt Millie stubbornly refusing to allow me to enter. “I shall never know anything,” I protested. But she replied, with confidence, “All knowledge and wisdom isn’t in schools. There’s as much common sense needed in getting a living. I’ll keep you out just as long as the truant officer keeps away. Mind, now, and not run blind into him when you’re on the street. If you do—why, you’ll know a thing or two, young man!”
Uncle pleaded with her in my behalf, but she answered him virulently, “Stop that, you boozer, you! We must get out of debt and never mind making a gentleman, which you seem set on. I’d be ashamed if I was you. Let him only earn a few dollars, and we’d be relieved. Goodness knows when you’re going to drop out, the way you’re guzzling things down. It wouldn’t surprise me to see you on your back any day, and I want to be ready.”
But some days later, my uncle came back home from work with much to say. “Look here, Millie, it might be good for us to send Al to school right away. If he must go in the mill, as it seems he must as soon as he can, then it’s to our advantage to get him in right away!”
“What do you mean?”