“For we really want nothing much for ourselves,” said Mrs. Grimes. “We are entirely satisfied with what we have in this lovely little home and with your $2,000 salary from the bank.”
“Almost entirely,” said George. “There are some few little things we might add in—just a few; but with a million we could easily get them and more and have such enormous amounts of money left.”
“Almost the first thing I would do,” said Mrs. Grimes, “would be to settle a comfortable living for life on poor Isaac Wickersham. That man, George, crippled as he is, lives on next to nothing. I don’t believe he has two hundred dollars a year.”
“Well, we could give him twelve hundred and not miss it and then give the same sum to Widow Clausen. She can barely keep alive.”
“And there’s another thing I’d do,” said Mrs. Grimes. “If we kept a carriage I would never ride up alone from the station or for pleasure. I would always find some poor or infirm person to go with me. How people can be so mean about their horses and carriages as some rich people are is beyond my comprehension.”
It is delightful pastime, expending in imagination large sums of money that you haven’t got. You need not regard considerations of prudence. You can give free rein to your feelings and bestow your bounty with reckless profusion. You obtain almost all the pleasure of large giving without any cost. You feel nearly as happy as if you were actually doing the good deeds which are the children of your fancy.
George Grimes and his wife had considered so often the benevolences they would like to undertake if they had a million dollars that they could have named them all at a moment’s notice without referring to a memorandum. Nearly everybody has engaged in this pastime, but the Grimeses were to have the singular experience of the power to make their dream a reality placed in their hands.
For one day George came flying home from the bank with a letter from the executors of General Jenkins (who died suddenly in Mexico a week or two before) announcing that the General had left a million dollars and the country-seat in Susanville to George Grimes.
“And to think, Mary Jane,” said George when the first delirium of their joy had passed, “the dear old man was kind enough to say—here, let me read it to you again from the quotation from the will in the letter: ‘I make this bequest because, from repeated conversations with the said George Grimes, I know that he will use it aright.’ So you see, dear, it was worth while, wasn’t it, to express our benevolent wishes sometimes when we spoke of the needs of those who are around us?”
“Yes, and the General’s kind remark makes this a sacred trust, which we are to administer for him.”
“We are only his stewards.”
“Stewards for his bounty.”
“So that we must try to do exactly what we think he would have liked us to do,” said George.
“Nothing else, dear?”
“Why, of course we are to have some discretion, some margin; and besides, nobody possibly could guess precisely what he would have us do.”
“But now, at any rate, George, we can realize fully one of our longing desires and give to the people the lovely park and library?”
George seemed thoughtful. “I think, Mary Jane,” he said, “I would not act precipitately about that. Let us reflect upon the matter. It might seem unkind to the memory of the General just to give away his gift almost before we get it.”
They looked at each other, and Mrs. Grimes said:
“Of course there is no hurry. And we are really a little cramped in this house. The nursery is much too small for the children and there is not a decent fruit tree in our garden.”
“The thing can just stay open until we have time to consider.”
“But I am so glad for dear old Isaac. We can take care of him, anyhow, and of Mrs. Clausen, too.”
“To be sure,” said George. “The obligation is sacred. Let me see, how much was it we thought Isaac ought to have?”
“Twelve hundred a year.”
“H-m-m,” murmured George, “and he has two hundred now; an increase of five hundred per cent. I’m afraid it will turn the old man’s head. However, I wouldn’t exactly promise anything for a few days yet.”
“Many a man in his station in life is happy upon a thousand.”
“A thousand! Why, my dear, there is not a man of his class in town that makes six hundred.”
“George?”
“Well?”
“We must keep horses, and there is no room to build a stable on this place.”
“No.”
“Could we live here and keep the horses in the General’s stables across the way, even if the place were turned into a park?”
“That is worth thinking of.”
“And George?”
“Well, dear?”
“It’s a horrid thing to confess, but do you know, George, I’ve felt myself getting meaner and meaner, and stingier and stingier ever since you brought the good news.”
George tried to smile, but the effort was unsuccessful; he looked half-vexed and half-ashamed.
“Oh, I wouldn’t put it just that way,” he said. “The news is so exciting that we hardly know at once how to adjust ourselves to it. We are simply prudent. It would be folly to plunge ahead without any caution at all. How much did you say the debt of the Presbyterian Church is?”
“Six thousand, I think.”
“A good deal for a little church like that to owe.”
“Yes, but—”
“You didn’t promise anything, Mary Jane, did you, to Mrs. Borrow?”
“No, for I had nothing to promise, but I did tell her on Sunday that I would help them liberally if I could.”
“They will base large expectations on that, sure. I wish you hadn’t said it just that way. Of course, we are bound to help them, but I should like to have a perfectly free hand in doing it.”
There was silence for a moment, while both looked through the window at the General’s place over the way.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” asked Mrs. Grimes.
“Lovely. That little annex on the side would make a snug den for me; and imagine the prospect from that south bedroom window! You would enjoy every look at it.”
“George?”
“What?”
“George, dear, tell me frankly, do you really feel in your heart as generous as you did yesterday?”
“Now, my dear, why press that matter? Call it meaner or narrower or what you will; maybe I am a little more so than I was; but there is nothing to be ashamed of. It is the conservative instinct asserting itself; the very same faculty in man that holds society together. I will be liberal enough when the time comes, never fear. I am not going to disregard what one may call the pledges of a lifetime. We will treat everybody right, the Presbyterian Church and Mr. Borrow included. His salary is a thousand, I think you said?”
“Yes.”