“Certainly it is. I always believe in having things in black and white. I suppose it would cost you fifty dollars a week to board at Mrs. Peecksmith’s; but I should not think of charging you that,” she continued, with a benevolent smile.
“Gracious! I should hope not,” I mentally ejaculated, for at the Beacon Street house the boarders walked on Wilton carpets, looked out through windows decked with velvet draperies, slept upon rosewood bedsteads, and had seven courses at dinner, while Mr. Oliphant’s house was an old one, its furniture worn out and dilapidated, its carpets threadbare, and the fare—when they had no extra company—below the grade of a cheap boarding-house. If I had not loved Lilian with all my soul, I should have deemed it a charity to take her off her parents’ hands. As it was, she was cheap at any price.
“Whatever you say will be all right,” I replied. “I am getting a handsome salary now, and I am willing to pay a fair price.”
“I think thirty dollars a week would be no more than the cost to us. Of course I don’t expect you to pay anything near what it would cost at Mrs. Peecksmith’s.”
Whew! I could board at a house only one grade below Beacon Street for twenty. I expected she would say ten, or at the most fifteen dollars, but, poor “dear ma!” I suppose she needed the money to deck out the next daughter for the sacrifice. I could not object. It was all in the family; but I determined to find a house with all possible dispatch.
I went to the bank and took my place. I flatter myself that I was smart, for I won the approbation of even Mr. Bristlebach. I made no mistakes. I was not nervous. When I drew my month’s salary of one hundred and fifty dollars, all but about twenty dollars of it went into the purse of “dear ma,” for board which would have been high at ten dollars a week. Though Lilian complained of the accommodations, she said nothing about housekeeping. I made some inquiries, and found I could board better for half the price I was paying. I then said something about engaging rooms nearer to the bank. My dear wife protested. She could not leave “dear ma’s,” where she had all the comforts of a home, and was in her own family. I saw that she was a party to the swindle; that “dear ma” had instructed her what to do and what to say.
My home was no home at all, and I was determined to leave it before I had another month’s board to pay. To stay any longer would be ruin. My twenty dollars’ surplus would pay for only a few concerts and rides, and in less than a fortnight I was penniless again. My debts began to trouble me. One day Captain Halliard wanted to know if he had not lent me three hundred dollars for a few weeks. I assured him he had, and that I intended to pay him in a few days. Tom Flynn hinted that he was short, though he did not directly say he wanted his money. My tailor was becoming slightly unreasonable, and the keeper of a livery stable stupidly insisted upon being paid, and even had the audacity to refuse to trust me for any more teams.
It would not do for me to have these importunate creditors coming into the bank to see me. The president and the cashier would be alarmed if they discovered that the paying teller was in debt. But trying as these duns were, they were insignificant compared with the annoyances which I endured at “dear ma’s.” Lilian hinted, and then insisted, that I should refurnish our room at my own expense. I told her I would think of it, and went out to walk after dinner. I did think of it; and thought I would not do it. Strange as it may seem, “dear ma” was absolutely becoming disagreeable to me, and I wondered how such an angel as Lilian could have been born of such a designing woman as I found her mother to be.