“Just like the old woman!” exclaimed Mr. Tucker indignantly. “Oh, she’s a high-strung pauper, she is! Expects all the delicacies of the season for seventy-five cents a week. She’d ought to go to the Fifth Avenoo Hotel in New York, and then I’ll bet a cent she wouldn’t be satisfied.”
It is observable that even in his imaginary bets Mr. Tucker maintained his economical habits, and seldom bet more than a cent. Once, when very much excited, he had bet five cents, but this must be attributed to his excited state of mind.
“So you regard her complaints as unreasonable, do you, Mr. Tucker?” observed the investigating committee.
“Unreasonable? I should think they was. I allow, Squire Pope, we don’t live like a first-class hotel”—Mr. Tucker’s language was rather mixed—“but we live as well as we can afford to. As to sugar, we don’t allow the paupers to put it in for themselves, or they’d ruin us by their extravagance. Mrs. Tucker puts sugar in the teapot before she pours it out. I s’pose Ann Carter would put as much in one cup of tea as Mrs. T. uses for the whole teapotful, if she had her way.”
This was very probably true, as the frugal Mrs. Tucker only allowed one teaspoonful for the entire supply.
“That looks reasonable, Mr. Tucker,” said the squire approvingly. “Now about the bread and the meat?”
“The paupers has plenty of bread,” said Mr. Tucker. “Our bread bill is actually enormous.”
“And as to the meat?”
“We don’t give ’em roast turkey every day, and we don’t buy tenderloin steaks to pamper their appetites,” said Mr. Tucker, “though we’re perfectly willing to do it if the town’ll pay us so we can afford it. Do you think the town’ll agree to pay me twenty-five cents more a week for each one, squire?”
“Certainly not. It can’t be thought of,” said the squire hastily, knowing that if the selectmen advocated such a measure they would probably lose their reelection.