We like to see people save. We smile benignly, as one who murmurs, "Bless you, children," when we catch them laying by for a rainy day. We believe in economy. At the same time, it should not be carried to extravagant lengths—at least, not at our expense. We are willing to help our friends to economize, but there are reasonable limits. They must not crowd the kindly mourner too far.
For instance, there is Binks—awfully nice chap, Binks. You must know him, short, fairly stout, wears lavender ties, and rides down to the office every morning on the rear platform of the street-car for the sake of the air. Great fellow for hygiene is Binks. Plays a good game of tennis, too.
Binks invited us over to dinner one Saturday not long ago.
"Tell you what," said Binks in his buoyant way, "come on over early—say, about two o'clock—and we'll walk out to my new lot in the West Annex if it's a fine day and get back in nice time for dinner. Great for the appetite—you'll feel like a prize-fighter after you've strolled around through the woods for a few hours."
It sounded good, and the day was fine, and we were there at two sharp—difficult as it is for us to be anywhere at anything sharp. We were neatly but inconspicuously clad in our walking clothes, Norfolk jacket, green hat, and pipe. We also wore a tan cane and chamois gloves. Nothing elaborate, you know, but grace in every line.
Binks, on the contrary, had on the worst suit we have ever seen out of the furnace room. A greasy old peak-cap reposed on his head, and his trousers were patched and frayed. We didn't mind that. We are not snobbish. But we did object to the tools.
Binks had a cross-cut saw, a sledge-hammer weighing approximately twelve pounds, an axe, and two steel wedges weighing about five pounds each. We looked long and hard at them, and longer and harder at Binks. He had the grace to blush.
"I hope you don't mind, old man," he said with affected lightness, "but there's a bit of a tree fallen down on the lot, and I thought it would be good sport to cut it up this afternoon. Great exercise, you know—brings all the muscles of the back into play. Besides, the wood will come in handy in the grate this winter. Stringency, you see—got to save every penny these times, eh, what?"
We are weak. We gulped once or twice, but what was there to say? We could do nothing but fall in with the plan, and let on that we were overjoyed at the prospect of bringing the muscles of our back into play. It did occur to us, however, that there might be jollier methods of doing so than cutting up fallen trees.
"You better carry the saw," said Binks, "it's light. I'll pack the rest of the stuff—unless you could carry one of the wedges. It's only a short way to the car, you know."