My column of figures, after I had thought of every possible expense that could be incurred in the course of the week, footed up at a trifle over twenty dollars a week, but I was entirely convinced that I should bring the actual below the estimated expense. From the first of July my salary was to be two thousand a year, or about thirty-eight dollars and a half a week. I could therefore let my expenses go up to twenty-five dollars a week without upsetting the argument.
Then I allowed three hundred a year for clothing my wife and myself, and for incidental expenses. In our beautiful home we should not care to ride and go to concerts and theatres much, and both of us were well supplied with clothing. I deemed the sum appropriated as amply sufficient. At this rate I could pay off my debts in a year and a half, and be square with the world. Until this was done, I intended to hold myself to a most rigid economy. I must even contrive some way to let Lilian know that I could not spend money so freely as I had done, but I could promise her that, when my debts were paid, she should have every thing she wanted.
I was perfectly satisfied. My prudential calculations set me all right with myself and with the rest of mankind. The vision of the English basement house, all finished and furnished, with Lilian sitting in state in the little boudoir of a parlor, was my castle in the air for the present. I was very cheerful and light hearted, and went to my daily duties at the bank with an alacrity I had never before felt. I told Lilian I should not be at home to dinner that day. When she wanted to know why, I said something about bank commissioners, and was afraid I should be detained until a late hour. She kissed me as usual when I left her, and even “dear ma” looked so very amiable, that I was afraid she would kiss me too. But she did not, and my heart smote me as I thought of the treason I was meditating against her and the two unmarried daughters.
I ought to say here, in justice to myself, that these two sisters of my wife were a heavy burden upon me, independently of the thirty dollars a week I paid for my board; for if Lilian and I proposed to go to a concert, to the theatre or the opera, it was somehow contrived that one or both of them should join the party. My wife reasoned that a carriage would cost no more for four than for two, and the paltry expense of the tickets was all the additional outlay I incurred, while it was such a pleasure for the sisters to go. Then I could just as well purchase three pairs of white kids as one—Mrs. Oliphant would pay me for them. I must do her the justice to say that she always offered to do so, but, as it was “all in the family,” I was too magnificent to stoop to such trifles; and I know that she would have considered me mean if I had accepted the paltry dollars. I went to the bank with the thousand dollars in my pocket. I intended to devote the afternoon to selecting the furniture for my new house. My friend Buckleton was in the furniture business. He would not only keep my secret, but he would give me a bargain on his wares; and what was better, if I came a little short he would trust me. The thousand dollars’ worth of goods in my house was so much real property, the possession of which would add to my credit, and was available as security, if occasion required.
Shaytop’s Little Bill.
The bank closed, and after I had settled my cash, I decided to take a little lunch at Parker’s before I went to Buckleton’s store. I was going out of the bank when that confounded Shaytop, the stable man, presented himself before me like the ghost of a faded joy. He had the impudence to thrust his little bill, which amounted to only sixty odd dollars, in my sunny face. Humph! sixty dollars was nothing to me in my present frame of mind. I didn’t “cotton” to any such sum as that, and Mr. Bristlebach, the president of the bank, who was reputed to be worth a million, could not have looked more magnificent than I did, if he had tried.
“Mr. Glasswood, I am getting rather tired of calling on you about my bill,” Shaytop began, in the most uncompromising manner.
“Do I owe you anything, Mr. Shaytop?” I inquired, very loftily.
“Do you owe me anything!” exclaimed the fellow, opening his eyes wide enough to catch a vision of the prophetic future. “I reckon you do.”