Chapter XXIV: Aunt Rachel’s Will, 337 (2)

Lilian would be delighted with it; there could be no doubt of that. What a magnificent surprise it would be to her, if I could take her in, after it was all furnished! Stupid as the idea may seem to lady housekeepers, I was so enamored of my plan that I determined to put it into operation. I was satisfied we could live in this gem of a house for less than I paid for board, and live in much better style.

The idea of a surprise to Lilian was delightful to me, and I laid out the plan in detail; but the first thing was to provide the funds. Then my jaw dropped down. I owed over six hundred dollars to certain restless creditors; but I could save money by going to housekeeping, and my duty to them required that I should do so. I had not yet troubled Aunt Rachel, and taking Lilian with me, I went down to Springhaven to spend the Fourth of July, ostensibly to escape the noise and dust of the city, but really to lay siege to my venerable aunt’s purse strings.

The only thing that was likely to defeat me was the fact that Aunt Rachel did not like my wife, for Lilian, who regarded the worthy spinster as an “old fuss,” had not always been as prudent in her presence as I could have wished. But I caught my aunt alone at five o’clock in the morning, for the noise of fire-crackers had driven the old creature from her bed at an unwonted hour. I played my cards with all the skill of which I was master. She not only gave me the money, a thousand dollars, which she had “salted down” in the house for fear all the banks would break, but she promised to keep my secret. She declared that Lilian was too extravagant for a young man like me, and I explained that I wished to furnish the house without her knowledge, so as to save expense. She commended my good motive, and I returned to the city with a thousand dollars in my pocket, to furnish the English basement house.

_CHAPTER IV._

THE ENGLISH BASEMENT HOUSE.

A THOUSAND dollars in cash was more than I had ever before possessed at one time. I felt like a rich man, for the shadow of the six hundred dollars which I owed did not offensively obtrude itself upon me. I could hardly conceal my exhilaration from Lilian, but I was so intent upon giving her a grand surprise that I kept the great secret, and preserved a forced calmness. I had made very careful estimates of the cost of living in my new palace—I thought they were very careful—and I was fully satisfied that I should save one-third of my present expenses.

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.

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.”

“Is it possible? I declare, I had quite forgotten the circumstance.”

“Forgotten it! I’ll bet you didn’t! I think I have taken pains enough to keep you informed of it.”

“Don’t be rude, Mr. Shaytop. I don’t permit any man to dun me.”

“Don’t you? Well, by George, you have made an exception in my favor. Haven’t I been to see you once a week for the last three months?”

“I don’t remember,” I replied, vacantly.

“Look here, my gay bird, you can’t tom-fool me any longer. I’m going to have my money, or break something,” he added, with an energetic gesture.

“Certainly, my dear sir, if I owe you anything, I shall pay it with greater pleasure than you will receive it.”

“I’ll bet you won’t! I want to see Mr. Bristlebach. I don’t think he likes to have his clerks run up bills for teams, and not pay for them.”

“All right; you can see Mr. Bristlebach, if you wish. He is in the director’s room. Shall I introduce you to him?”

“I want to see him if you are not going to pay me.”

“Haven’t I told you that I should take great pleasure in paying you, if I owe you anything. It had slipped my mind that I owed you’ a bill, though now it comes to me that there is a small balance due you.”

“A small balance! You owe me sixty-two dollars!”

“Well, I call that a small balance. In the bank we deal in big figures. How long have I owed you sixty-two dollars, Mr. Shaytop?”

“About six months.”

“Exactly so! Have you added interest?”

“No. I shall be glad enough to get the bill, without saying anything about the interest.”

“If I forgot this little matter, it is not right that you should lose anything by my neglect. Add the interest to your bill, and I will pay it.”

“That’s what you said every time I asked you for the money—all but the interest.”

“I’m going up to Parker’s for a lunch now. If you will call there in half an hour, I will pay you the bill and the interest,” I continued, glancing at the clock in the bank.

“If you mean so, I’ll be there.”

“Don’t insult me, Mr. Shaytop.”

“I’ll be there, and if you are not there, I’ll take the next best step.”

He turned on his heel, and left me. It was painfully impressed upon my mind that I must pay that bill, and thus diminish the resources for furnishing the house. But I was something of a philosopher, and I argued that paying this demand would not increase the sum total of my indebtedness; it would only transfer it to the account of the furniture. This thought suggested a new train of ideas. My tailor was bothering me about a little bill I owed him; Uncle Halliard would be asking me again if I did not owe him three hundred dollars; and Tom Flynn would hint that he was short. Why could I not improve my credit by paying off all these debts, and “running my face” for the furniture? It was worthy of consideration as a piece of financial policy.

I went to Parker’s, and ordered “a little lunch” which cost me a dollar and a half. Before I had finished it, Shaytop made his appearance. I never saw a fellow look more doubtful than he did. He evidently believed that he had come on a fool’s errand. Since I could not well avoid paying the bill, I was to have the pleasure of dissolving this illusion in his mind.

“Sit down, Mr. Shaytop,” I began politely, pointing to the chair opposite my own at the table.

“I haven’t much time to spare,” he replied, glancing at the viands before me, perhaps with the ill-natured reflection that this was the way the money went which ought to be used in paying his bill.

“Won’t you have something to eat, Mr. Shaytop; or something to drink, if you please?”

“No, I thank you; I’ve been to dinner, and I never drink anything.”

“Happy to have you eat or drink with me,” I added, coolly.

“I’m in a hurry, Mr. Glasswood.”

“Are you? Well, I’m sorry for that. We don’t live out more than half of our lives on account of always being in a hurry. By the way it seems to me very strange I forgot that little bill of yours. One hundred and sixty-two dollars, I think you said it was?”

“Sixty-two dollars, I said,” he answered as if congratulating himself that it was not the sum I named.

He took the bill from his pocket, and laid it on the table before me.

“Good!” said I, glancing at the document. “I’m a hundred dollars in. I was thinking you said it was a hundred and sixty-two.”

I intimated to the waiter that he might bring me a Charlotte Russe, and he removed the dishes from the table.

“I don’t like to hurry you, Mr. Glasswood, but I ought to be at the stable.”

“O, you are in a hurry! I had quite forgotten that you said so. Well, I will not keep you waiting,” I replied drawing my _porte-monnaie_ from my pocket.

His eyes glistened, and I think he had a hope by this time. I glanced at the bill again.

“You haven’t added the interest,” I continued.

“Never mind the interest.”

“But I am very willing to pay it.”

“Well, you add it. You can figure as fast again as I can.

“Sixty-three, eighty-six,” I replied. “Receipt the bill, Mr. Shaytop.”

He went over to the cashier’s desk and performed this pleasing operation. I think the act gave him an additional hope of receiving his money.

“Perhaps you had just as lief take my due bill for six months for this amount, now that we have added the interest?” I suggested.

“No, I’ll be hanged if I had!” retorted he, very sharply. “Have you brought me up here, and wasted an hour of my time, to give me your note, which isn’t worth the paper you will write it on?”

“You are impudent, Mr. Shaytop.”

“Perhaps I am, but—”

“Never mind; if you don’t want the note, you can have the money. It don’t make much difference to me, though it would be more convenient to pay the bill at another time than now. There isn’t the least need of making use of any strong language.”

“Pay me, and I won’t use any, then.”

I opened my _porte-monnaie_ and took therefrom the roll of bills I had received from Aunt Rachel. A five hundred dollar bill was on the top, and the balance of the pile was in hundreds and fifties. I ran through the bills with professional dexterity, so that he could see the quality of them.

“I can’t make the change, Mr. Shaytop,” I replied, with cool indifference.

I glanced at him. I went up in that man’s estimation from zero to summer heat. He would have trusted me for a span every day in the week for six months. I took out a hundred dollar bill and tossed it over to him. As I suspected, he could not give me the change. He went to the counter and procured smaller bills for it, and gave me the sum coming to me. He had ceased to be in a hurry.

“If you want any more teams, Mr. Glasswood, I think I can fit you out as well as any other stable in the city,” said he, after he had put his wallet back into his pocket.

“I don’t,” I replied, curtly.

“Don’t you ride any now?”

“Yes, just as much as ever; but you see, Mr. Shaytop, I don’t like to be bothered with these small accounts, and to deal with men who think so much of little things,” I answered, magnificently. “You have threatened to speak to Mr. Bristlebach, which you are quite welcome to do; and you intimate that my note is not worth the paper on which it is written.

“I hope you will excuse me for what I said, but I was a little vexed” pleaded he. “I was mistaken in you. The fact of it is, I lost two or three bills—”

“You haven’t lost anything by me, and I don’t intend you shall,” I interposed.

I finished my “little lunch,” rose from the table, and having paid my bill, left the house. Shaytop followed me. He wanted my trade, now that he had seen the inside of my pocket-book. But I shook him off as soon as I desired to do so, and hastened to the store of Buckleton. Confidentially I stated my plan to him, and he was willing to be my bosom friend. In the course of the interview I opened my _porte-monnaie_, and contrived that he should see the figures on the bank bills it contained. It was surprising how those figures opened his heart.

When I suggested that I was making a large outlay, he volunteered to trust me to any extent I desired. He was kind enough to go with me to the carpet store, and assist me in the selection of the goods I wanted. I insisted upon paying two hundred dollars on account, which made the carpet people astonishingly good-natured to me; and I was taken aback when they offered to give me credit. Buckleton then went with me to the kitchen furnishing store, and his advice helped me very much as I wandered through the long lists of articles. I made the selection and paid the bill.

When we returned to the furniture store, I warmed toward him, and finally prevailed on him to accept two hundred dollars towards the bill I bought of him. He gave me a receipt. When we footed up the prices of the goods I had selected, I was rather startled to find they amounted to nearly eight hundred dollars.

“I can’t afford that!” I protested, “I must go over it again, and take some cheaper articles.”

“It don’t pay to buy cheap furniture, Glasswood,” replied my friend. “You have been very moderate in your selections.”

He overcame my scruples by declaring that I need not pay for the goods till it suited my own convenience. I left him and went back to the bank to count my funds. I had only four hundred and seventy dollars left. I could not pay off the six hundred of old debts now; so I left the matter open for further consideration.

The carpet people went to work immediately, and in a week all the rooms were ready for the furniture. Buckleton was so obliging as to go to the house himself and arrange the chairs, tables, bedsteads and other articles. The kitchen furniture was all put in the closets, hung up on the walls, or otherwise disposed of, so that the place looked like an occupied home. I had sheets, pillow-cases, towels, and other articles made up, and in three weeks the English basement-house looked as cosey as the heart of a bank officer could desire.

But fearful inroads had been made upon my exchequer. The carpet people made up a total bill of three hundred and thirty dollars; and when I hinted that I might possibly find it necessary to avail myself of their offer to give me credit, they had a note to pay and wanted the cash. I was too magnificent to haggle. I settled their bill—and cursed them in my heart. When I had paid everything except the six hundred I owed Buckleton, I had only ninety dollars in my pocket.

I was alarmed. A cold sweat stood on my forehead as I added up the items and found that I was twelve hundred dollars in debt. The situation worried me for a few days, but I soon became accustomed to it. I consoled myself with the hope that the bank would raise my salary, though I could pay off the debts with my present income in three years. It would all come out right in the end, and it was useless to worry about the matter.

I didn’t worry long. The English basement house, all furnished, new and elegant, with a Biddy in the kitchen, was a joy which could not be ignored. If it had cost me nearly fifteen hundred dollars to furnish the house, I had that amount of property on hand, and my debts were really no more than before. The house was ready for my wife, and I proposed to her, one afternoon, when all was ready, to take a walk with me.

_CHAPTER V._

LILIAN ASTONISHED—SO AM I.

IN spite of the doubts and fears which had disturbed me, I was delighted with the English basement house and already in anticipation I enjoyed the surprise of Lilian, when I should tell her that the beautiful home was her own. I asked her to walk with me, but she was a little fretful that day; somehow she seemed more like “dear ma” than I had ever seen her before.

“I don’t want to walk to-day, Paley. I’m tired,” she replied, with a languid air.

“I only wish to go a little way,” I added.

“Not to-day, Paley.”

“I want to show you a house, Lilian.”

“A house!” she exclaimed with something like an abused expression on her beautiful face, as though she half suspected the treason towards “dear ma” which I was meditating.

“I saw a little English basement house in Needham street, which I would like to have you look at, just as a curiosity, you know,” I continued, with as much indifference as I could assume.

“Why do you wish me to see it, Paley?” she asked, exhibiting more interest and apparently forgetting that she was tired.

“Well, because I saw it, and liked the looks of it. There can be no harm in seeing it.”

“I don’t know, Paley,” she answered, doubtfully; but whatever suspicions she cherished, she could have no idea of the truth, “We will go some other day.”

“But we may not have the opportunity another day. I happen to know that the house is open to-day.”

What do you mean, Paley? You look just as though you were planning something.”

“So I am. I am planning a little walk that will not take half an hour of your time.”

“Something worse than that,” she added, shaking her head.

“I was thinking that, some time or other, we might possibly go to housekeeping.”

“Well, I suppose we shall, some time or other,” she answered, languidly. “But I hope you are not thinking of doing it yet awhile. I can’t bear the thought of leaving dear ma; we are so pleasantly situated here.”

To use a vulgar expression, “I did not see it.” I was not wicked enough to attempt to prejudice my darling against “dear ma,” and I felt obliged to manage the matter with care. But, as the shock could not long be deferred, I might as well make some approaches.

“Of course we are situated pleasantly enough here; but you know, Lilian, that you said we must go to housekeeping.”

“Certainly, we must go to housekeeping in time, but not yet.”

“But you know that your mother was kind enough to take us to board only till we could complete our arrangements. She is very obliging, and I am very grateful to her for the favor; but I don’t think it would be right for us to impose ourselves upon her any longer than is absolutely necessary.”

“O—well—of course not; but it will be very hard for me to go away from home.”

“We need not go far; indeed, not so far but that you can call upon her every day. My conscience reproaches me when I think of the trouble we are giving her.”

“She does not complain.”

“She will not complain, but at the same time it is not right for us to remain here, under the circumstances, any longer than we are compelled to do so. You know she said she should not think of taking any body else to board; and after she has been so kind to us, we ought to be considerate enough not to trespass upon her goodness.”

“I will speak to her about the matter; and if she really does not wish to keep us, why, we’ll leave,” added Lilian.

“But, my dear, you must not forget that she is your mother, and that she will make any sacrifice for your sake, even to her own great injury. It is a matter of conscience with me; and I do not feel like asking her to make this sacrifice of comfort any longer than necessary. Our coming here was only a temporary arrangement, you know, and whatever she may say, our being here will give her a great deal of trouble and anxiety. Come, Lilian, dearest, put on your bonnet. It will do no harm to look at the house. It is already rented to a young couple who are just going to housekeeping,” I continued; but I did not think it necessary to say who the young couple were, and she did not seem to care enough about it to ask me.

“If the house is let, why do you wish me to see it?” she inquired.

“I want to get at your ideas in regard to a house,” I replied, ingeniously.

She looked at me, and seemed to have some doubts, but she probably reasoned that the house was already rented, and there could be no treason against “dear ma” in merely looking at it. She put on her bonnet and shawl. When my hand was on the door the ever watchful Mrs. Oliphant appeared, and wished to know whether we should be back to tea.

We should; but this was not enough. Lilian was not very well, and she must not walk too far. We were only going around to Needham street, and should return in half an hour. If Lilian was going to call on the Trescotts, why had she not told her mother, for both owed them a call? We did not intend to call on the Trescotts; we were only going out for a little walk. If we were going to walk, why were we particular in saying that we were going through Needham street? There was some treason in Needham street, and Lilian was forced to say that we desired to see a house which was already leased to a young couple who were going to housekeeping.

“Dear ma” looked uneasy, but she permitted us to depart. I was afraid she would insist upon accompanying us, as I think she would, had she not been satisfied by the assurance that the house was already leased. We walked to Needham street. I was full of hope. Lilian would like the English basement house—she could not help liking it, and what a rapturous moment would it be when I told her that it was all her own! Even the anticipated battle with “dear ma” seemed to be farther removed and of much less consequence than before. We approached the house, and my heart beat high with transports of delight. In a few days, perhaps the very next day, I should see the idol of my soul enthroned within its walls!

With Lilian leaning lovingly on my arm, I halted at No. 21. On the door, to my intense confusion and disgust, glittered a new silver plate whereon was inscribed the name,”P. GLASSWOOD,” not in Old English, German text, or any other letter which he who runs may _not_ often read, but in plain script! I had told the maker not to put it on the door for a week; but he had misunderstood me, or had taken it upon himself to defeat my plan.

“P. GLASSWOOD!”—exclaimed dear Lilian, stunned and horrified, so that the shock she had thrilled my whole frame.

“Certainly; P. Glasswood,” I interposed, promptly. “You know Pierce—don’t you, Lilian? I think you saw him when we were at Springhaven. He is only a second cousin of mine, but he is a good fellow.”

“I didn’t know you had a cousin of that name,” she replied, much comforted.

As I did not know it myself, I did not blame her for not being aware of the circumstance. I opened the door, and we went in, for I had already provided myself with a night key—that gross metallic sin against a wife. Of course the house and furniture were at their best estate. Every thing was new, nice and elegant. The hall gave the first cheerful impression of the house, and Lilian was delighted with it. The little sitting-room was so cosy and snug that my wife actually cried out with pleasure.

The parlors and the chambers were equally satisfactory, and Lilian thought my cousin would be very happy with his bride in this new house. We proceeded to the kitchen, where the Biddy in charge smiled benignantly upon her new “missus,” though, she did not betray the secret she had been instructed to keep. My wife was not so much interested in the kitchen as in the parlor and sitting-room, but she was kind enough to say that every thing was neat and convenient, though I am afraid she was hardly a judge on the latter point. We returned to the sitting-room, and my wife seated herself in the low rocking-chair which had been selected for her use.

“How do you like it on the whole, Lilian?” I asked, dropping into the arm-chair, in which I intended to read the Transcript every evening.

“I think it is real nice,” she replied, with a degree of enthusiasm which fully rewarded me for all the pains I had taken, and the anxiety I had suffered.

“I’m glad you like it, Lilian. I like it exceedingly, and I am glad to find our tastes are one and the same.”

“I don’t mean to say that, if I were going to housekeeping, I wouldn’t have some things different,” she added.

“But you think you could contrive to exist in a house like this?”

“Why, yes; I like it very much indeed.”

“Then it is yours Lilian!” I added, rising from my arm-chair, as I precipitated the climax upon her.

“What do you mean, Paley?” she asked, bewildered by my words.

“This house and all that it contains are ours, dearest Lilian.”

“I thought you said it was your cousin’s.”

“So I did, Lilian; but that was only a little fiction to aid me in giving you a delightful surprise. This house is yours, my dear, and all that it contains, including myself, and Biddy in the kitchen.”

“Is it possible? Do you mean so, Paley?”

“I do; every word, syllable, letter and point, including the crossing of the t’s and the dotting of the i’s, of what I say is true. The house and all that it contains are ours.”

“I don’t understand it.”

“Well, dearest, it is plain enough. Not only to give you a pleasant surprise, but to save you all trouble and anxiety, I have hired the house and furnished it.”

“You have, Paley?”

“I have, dearest Lilian! How happy we shall be in our new home.”

“I don’t think so!”

Certainly Lilian had been duly and properly astonished. It was my turn now, and I was, if possible, more astonished than she had been. She did not think so! What an unwarrantable conclusion!

“You don’t think so, Lilian?” I added, interrogatively.

“No, I don’t! If you begin in this way we can never be happy.”

“Why not?”

“In the first place, I don’t want to go to housekeeping yet.”

“But I thought you did. The plan has been from the beginning, since we could not get board at the Revere or in Beacon Street, to go to housekeeping,” I replied, with rather more sharpness than I had ever before found it necessary to use to dear Lilian.

She was evidently angry, and her eyes glowed like diamonds in the sunlight. But she never looked so pretty as she did at that moment when her face was rouged with natural roses, and her eyes appeared like a living soul.

“Do you think, Paley, that I want to go to housekeeping in a little, narrow contracted box like this?” she added.

“I thought you liked the house, dearest Lilian.”

“I like it very well for Mrs. Pierce Glasswood, but not for Mrs. Paley Glasswood.”

“I am sorry you don’t like it, for it is too late now to recede,” I replied, gasping for breath. “I was sure it would please you.”

“It don’t!”

“What possible fault can you find with it?”

“It don’t suit me. How could you do such a thing, Paley, as to hire a house and furnish it, without saying a word to me?”

By this time I had come to the conclusion that it was very stupid in me to do it.

“I wanted to surprise you.”

“Well, you have surprised me,” she snapped, with such a sweet expression of contempt that I was almost annihilated. “Do you think a lady has no will of her own? No taste, no judgment, no fancy? How could you be so ridiculous as to furnish a house without asking my advice? Could you have found a homelier carpet in Boston, if you had looked for one, than this very carpet under our feet?”

“Buckleton said it was the handsomest one in the city, and the neatest pattern.”

“Then Buckleton has no taste. No one can select a carpet for a woman. What did you put that cold oil-cloth on the entry for? I should think you imported it from the polar regions on purpose to give me a chill every time I see it! The figure in the parlor carpet is large enough for a room a hundred feet square. That great blundering tete-a-tete is fit for a bar-room, but not for a parlor. There is no end to the absurdities in this house.”

“Now, really, dearest Lilian, I was sure you would be pleased with every thing,” I pleaded.

“You are a stupid, Paley Glasswood.”

I agreed with her.

“I am very sorry, Lilian; but I did everything with the hope of pleasing you.”

“Now here’s a pretty kettle of fish!” exclaimed my indignant bride. “What can we do?”

“I can’t alter the house, my dear, but I can change the furniture so as to suit you, though doing so will be very expensive,” I continued, meekly, as I endeavored to conciliate her.

We had been married only about four months, and the present occasion looked very much like a quarrel. I had not had the remotest suspicion that she was so spunky. It did occur to me that she was slightly unreasonable, if one so beautiful could be unreasonable. Her father was as poor as a church mouse. His house, as I have hinted, was meanly furnished, and certainly neither the house nor the furniture was worthy to be compared with the one I had provided for my little wife. She had no reason for putting on airs, and being so fiercely critical about the carpets and the chairs. They were vastly better than she had ever had at home.

“Do you think I will live in this house, Paley Glasswood?” said she, with her lips compressed and her eyes snapping with indignation.

“Why, I hope so,” I replied, more astonished than she had been at any time during the visit to the new house.

“You are mistaken, Paley Glasswood. I am your wife, but not your slave; I am not to be dragged from my home when and where you please. You ought to have told me what you intended to do in the beginning.”

“I know it now; and I confess that I was wrong,” I replied, with due humility, and, I may add, with perfect sincerity. “I hope you will forgive me, this time Lilian, and I will never be guilty of such an offence again.”

“I should hope not. But here we are! What’s to be done with this house and furniture?”

“Why, my dear, won’t you go to housekeeping with me?”

“Certainly not, in this house,” she answered, with a flourish.

This announcement was very startling to me. It was appalling to think that I had expended fifteen hundred in preparing a cage which the bird refused to occupy. Intensely as I loved, adored Lilian, I could not help seeing that she was developing a trait of character which I did not like. But I was a politic man, and seeing how useless it was to attempt to argue the matter while she was in her present frame of mind, I had to keep still. We left the house and walked home. For the first time since we were married she declined to take my arm, and I began to be very miserable. Somehow it seemed to me that the meeker I was, and the more I deprecated her wrath, the greater became her objection to the house.

“What shall I say to dear ma?” demanded Lilian, after she had thrown off her things.

“My dear, you need not say a word to her. I will do all this unpleasant business myself,” I replied. “You can lay all the blame upon me. I will tell her that we are going to our new house to-morrow.”

“You needn’t tell her any such thing, for I am not.”

Before we had proceeded any farther with the discussion Mrs. Oliphant entered the room. The battle was imminent.

_CHAPTER VI._

A FAMILY JAR.

I DID not feel at all at ease when Mrs. Oliphant entered the room. I was entirely willing to be conquered and trodden under the little feet of the fair Lilian, but I was not so ready to be trampled upon by the unromantic feet of “dear ma.” I was conscious that my pretty wife was getting the weather-gage of me—that she had already got it, in fact. I was not disposed to complain of this, but I intended, if possible, to out-manœuvre Mrs. Oliphant. I regarded Lilian as “my family,” and I wished to have her “set off” from my mother-in-law.

In spite of all the strong talk which my lovely wife had used in regard to the English basement house, I confidently expected that she would take her place in the new home I had provided for her. If she was dissatisfied with it, she would soon love it for my sake, if not for its own. But I was sure she did not rebel on her own account; it was the influence of her mother which had controlled her. I accepted the theory that the queen’s majesty could do no wrong. If anything was not right, it was the fault of the ministers.

After I had permitted her to say all she had to say, and to exhaust her vocabulary of invective, she would quietly submit to the new house, move in, be as happy as a queen in a short time, and wonder how she had ever thought the little snuggery was not a palace. I had made a fearful expenditure in preparing the house for her; I had thrust my head into the jaws of the monster Debt, and I must make the best of the situation.

“Ma,” said Lilian, as her mother entered the room, “what do you suppose Paley has done?”

The poor child looked at the faded carpet as she spoke, hardly daring to raise her eyes to the maternal visage. I hoped she contrasted the hueless fabric on the floor with those bright colors which gleamed from her own carpet in the Needham street house.

“Why, what has he done?” asked Mrs. Oliphant, with a theatrical start, which was modified by a tiger smile bestowed upon me.

“He has hired a house?” replied Lilian, with a gasping sigh, which was simply intended as convincing evidence that she was not implicated in the nefarious transaction.

“Hired a house!” exclaimed Mrs. Oliphant; and her sigh was genuine, and not intended for effect.

“And furnished it too!” added Lilian, with horror, as she piled up the details of my hideous wickedness.

“And furnished it too!” groaned poor Mrs. Oliphant, sinking into a chair, as though she had reached the depth of despair in the gulf into which my infamous conduct had plunged her.

“He did not say a word to me about the house or furniture until this very afternoon!” continued my beautiful wife, holding up both her pretty white hands the better to emphasize her astonishment and chagrin.

“Of course, if you desire to leave your own pleasant home, Lilian, it is not for me to say a word,” added the meek mamma, with another sigh, which seemed to measure the depth of the resignation that could submit to such an outrage.

“But I do not desire to leave my pleasant home,” protested Lilian. “I never had such a thought. I am sure, I have been so happy here that I never dreamed of another home, as long as you were willing to keep us, mother.”

“You have been very kind indeed to us, Mrs. Oliphant,” I ventured to remark, though I was not certain that the time had come for me to defend myself. “I feel very grateful to you for the sacrifice you have made to accommodate us; and I am sure I shall never forget it.”

“A mother lives for her children alone,” sighed Mrs. Oliphant. “Even when they are married she cannot lose her interest in them.”

“Certainly not, madam; especially not in so good a daughter as Lilian.”

“It is hard enough to have them removed by marriage from the direct influence of a mother, and to feel that she is no longer a mother in the sense she has been.”

I thought that Mrs. Oliphant had submitted to the marriage of her daughter with tolerable resignation, and would even permit the other two to go to the sacrifice without rebelling against the dictates of fate.

“Of course she can never be entirely removed from a mother’s influence,” I replied, wishing that she could. “You have been very kind and considerate toward us since we were married—to me for Lilian’s sake.”

“And for your own,” she interposed.

“I trust I shall never be ungrateful. I feel called upon to explain my conduct,” I continued. “You remember, when we returned from our bridal tour that something was said about boarding. We could not find such accommodations as we desired, and you were so kind as to offer to accommodate us till we could obtain a house, or make other arrangements.”

“Yes, I remember,” replied Mrs. Oliphant. “I don’t take boarders, but I was willing to do what I could for Lilian’s comfort and happiness.”

“You were, madam; and I was very grateful to you for your consideration, both to Lilian and to me. You intimated that it would not be convenient for you to take us to board, but you were willing to sacrifice your own comfort and your own feelings to oblige us. I was very sorry indeed that the circumstances compelled us to trespass upon your kindness. You did us a favor for which I shall never cease to be grateful. But I did not feel willing to compel you to submit to the inconvenience of boarding us any longer than was absolutely necessary. My gratitude compelled me, when I found a house, to take it, and relieve you at once from all the care and responsibility which your self-sacrificing nature had imposed upon you.”

“And without even permitting me to see the house in which I was to live!” exclaimed Lilian, coming to the assistance of her mother, who seemed to be thrown into disorder by my tactics.

“I did not suppose it was possible for any one, even with your refined taste, Lilian, to object to such a beautiful little house. But I was obliged to hire it on the instant, or lose it. Another man would have taken it in less than half an hour. It is so near your mother’s that you can come to see her half-a-dozen times a day, if you please.”

“But I will never live in that house,” protested Lilian, with more energy than I thought the occasion required, though I could not help adoring her while her cheeks glowed and her eyes snapped.

“Don’t say that, dear Lilian. You should endeavor to conform to the wishes of your husband,” mildly interposed the suffering parent. “Doubtless he has done all for the best, and perhaps you will like the house, after all.”

“I know I never shall like it,” snapped the divine Lilian; which was as much as to say that she was fully determined not to like it.

“Mrs. Oliphant, would you do me the favor to walk over to the house with me?” I suggested to the affectionate mother.

“No; I would rather not. I never step between man and wife,” replied she, with praiseworthy resolution. “I do not wish to see the house. This is an affair between you and Lilian, and it is my duty to be strictly neutral.”

“But I hope you appreciate my motives?”

“I can not say that I do,” she answered. “I think a man should consult his wife before he hires and furnishes the house in which she is to spend a great deal more time than her husband.”

I wish to say to my readers that I heartily endorse Mrs. Oliphant’s position. A man ought to consult his wife about the house in which she is to spend more of her time than he. It is eminently proper, right and just that he should do so; but I beg to call the attention of the critic to my unfortunate position. Lilian was an angel (in my estimation); her mother was not an angel. The daughter was a mere doll—I am writing after the lapse of years. She was completely under the control of her mother. What I suspected then, I knew afterwards—that Mrs. Oliphant intended to have us as permanent boarders.

Mr. Oliphant had long been running behind-hand under the heavy expenses of his extravagant family. Something must be done to eke out his failing income, or the two unmarried daughters could no longer hold their position in society. They must dress, or be banished by their own vanity from the circle in which they moved—a circle which contained husbands. They could not take strangers as boarders, for the house was not fit to accommodate them; but a son-in-law would submit in silence, while a stranger would rebel. I was the victim.

If I proposed housekeeping, my plan would be condemned, as another boarding-place had been already. Perhaps I persuaded myself into the belief, under the necessities of the occasion, that I was hiring and furnishing the English basement house as a pleasant surprise to Lilian. If I did, it was a comfortable delusion, for it was really only a scheme to escape from the clutches of my mother-in-law, and to avoid the martyrdom of my situation on Tremont street. Perhaps the reader will forgive me after this explanation. If he does not, it is not the worst of my errors, and I would thank God most devoutly if I had no graver sin to answer for.

I told Mrs. Oliphant that I had hired a house which was rather better than I could afford; that I had furnished it at an expense which was beyond my means, in order to please Lilian. I said something more about the “pleasant surprise,” and was positive that no bank officer of my degree had so fine an establishment. I repeated all I had said about not imposing upon her self-sacrificing nature. But all I said seemed to fall flat upon her ear. She was not touched by my devotion to her daughter; on the contrary she was disgusted with me, as I read her sentiments in her face, for she did not utter them.

Lilian felt that she had an able champion in her mother, and she said but little. Still professing entire impartiality, Mrs. Oliphant read me a lecture on the impropriety of my conduct, frequently interpolating the discourse with the statement that it was none of her business though, as I had asked her advice (which I had not), she felt obliged to be candid with me. She and Lilian seemed to understand each other perfectly, and while the latter resolutely refused to occupy the house I had prepared for her reception, the former mildly and often declared that a wife should submit to her husband. Lilian knew what to say so as not to implicate her mother in any improper remarks. I think my wife loved me almost as much as she feared her mother. I am sure that she would have accepted the situation with pleasure, if she had not been under her “dear ma’s” influence.

What could I do? I had well-nigh ruined myself in fitting up the house. I was vexed, and as the conversation proceeded I began to grow impatient. Finally I left the house to buy some cigars, I said, but in reality to find an opportunity to think over my situation. I did think it over, and I did not buy any cigars, for I was not allowed to smoke them, even in the kitchen. Lilian would yield at once, if she could escape her mother’s influence. As it was, I must fight the battle with both of them.

I walked across the Common, thinking what I should do. If I submitted this time, I should not only be obliged to bear the privations to which the Oliphants subjected themselves in order to maintain their social position, but I must forever be the willing slave of “dear ma.” I could not endure the thought. If the family chose to live on tough beef and salt fish, it was their affair, not mine. I could not stand it, and the result of my deliberations was that I decided not to stand it. I went back to the house, stiffened for any thing that might occur, though it almost broke my heart to think of opposing Lilian.

“Perhaps the person who wanted the house you have hired would be willing to take it now, and purchase the furniture you have put into it?” suggested Mrs. Oliphant, when the subject was resumed.

Perhaps he would; but my idea just then was that he would not have the opportunity to do so.

“I think not; the party who wanted it would have furnished it at half the expense I have incurred,” I replied.

“Couldn’t you let it as a furnished house?” she added.

“My lease does not permit me to underlet it.”

“I think it would be cruel to take Lilian away from her own pleasant home, when she wishes to remain here so much,” continued Mrs. Oliphant, a little more sharply than she had yet spoken. “But, of course, it is none of my business and I do not wish to interfere between you.”

After supper, I saw Lilian alone in our room. She was as resolute as a little tiger. She positively refused to go into the English basement house, or to have anything to do with it.

“I think you have insulted my mother,” she added.

“Insulted her!” I exclaimed, rather startled by this new charge which had evidently been put into her brain by “dear ma.”

“She has made her arrangements to board us, and now you want to go away.”

“She hasn’t made any arrangements at all. Not an article of furniture has been added to the house.”

“She says she has; and I think she knows best,” retorted Lilian, sharply.

“You have spoken to me every day for a month about furnishing our room.”

“I think we ought to furnish it.”

“And pay thirty dollars a week for our board! I don’t think so,” I replied; and this was almost the first time I had ventured to disagree with her.

“Mother says she boards us cheaper than any body else would,” snapped my pretty one. “Now you insult her for her kindness to us.”

“I have already explained my position to her. I did not mean to insult her, and I don’t think my conduct will bear that construction. But, Lilian, the house in Needham Street is all ready for us. I have even hired a servant girl, who is there now.”

“I will not go into it, Paley. If you wish to abuse my mother you can, but I will not. I am sorry you have ceased to love me.”

“I have not ceased to love you, Lilian,” I replied, putting my arm around her neck and kissing her.

Then I went over the whole argument again, and if I did not convince her that I had not insulted or wronged her mother, it was because her fears set logic at naught.

“You will sell the furniture, and give up the house—won’t you, Paley?” said she, in her most fascinating way.

“I would if I could Lilian, but the die is cast. I must go, or I am ruined.”

Suddenly, in a fit of passion, she shook my arm from her neck and shrunk from me.

“For the last time, Paley, I say it, I will never go into that house,” said she, angrily.

“I am sorry, Lilian,” I replied, sadly. “You do not act like the loving wife you have always been.”

“I will not be insulted any longer.”

“Very well, Lilian; I am going to move into the new house to-morrow.”

“What!” exclaimed she, aghast, for she evidently did not believe me capable of such rebellion.