"Really, you must let me buy you another," and he pulled some money out of his pocket.
Being proud, I refused, making some excuses about not having time to buy a new one. The first chance I got, I scooted across to a fancy haberdasher on Tremont Street, and picking out a handsome dark-blue tie told the clerk to wrap it up. I had never paid more than a quarter for a tie, and when he calmly told me it was two dollars I almost fainted, but I felt I couldn't very well refuse to take it so I went to the back of the store and put it on. Do you know Ted, when that rich silk tie was contrasted with my blue serge that had seen considerable service as Sunday best, I felt about as comfortable as a man in overalls wearing a plug hat.
He who hesitates is sold. I hesitated, and the next thing I knew a smart young salesman was selling me a new suit, then I noticed the shoes I was wearing were patched. Well, sir, before I finished I had a complete new outfit, and that store had $150 of my money. It didn't worry me any until I was passing the Savings Bank at home. Then it struck me all of a sudden that in a week I had spent what it had taken three years of back-twisting work to save, and that the net result of my labor I could show in money was exactly nothing.
Ever since I have spent a little less than I earned, and that is a bully principle for you to imitate. I hate a tightwad, Ted, as much as you do; but I hate what is commonly known as a good spender a blame sight more. I don't want you to grow into a man who groans every time he spends a cent, and neither do I want you to feel that money is like the smallpox to be gotten rid of as quickly as possible.
A good spender is usually a man who believes in giving himself a good time, and who leaves his wife to take in boarders and his children to shift for themselves.
Now I'm going to pay your food bills, this time for I don't believe the Exeter townspeople will get much to eat until the storekeepers collect the money owing them, and can lay in a new stock; but you are going to pay for those silk shirts, pajamas, and other dodads, at the rate of three dollars a week until you've paid me back what I advance. Then after you have paid in full, if you want to buy more on the same terms all right.
Your affectionate father,
William Soule.