THE $30,000 BEQUEST
and Other Stories
by
Mark Twain
(Samuel L. Clemens)
THE $30,000 BEQUEST
CHAPTER I
LAKESIDE WAS A PLEASANT LITTLE TOWN of five or six thousand
inhabitants, and a rather pretty one, too, as towns go in the
Far West. It had church accommodations for thirty-five thousand,
which is the way of the Far West and the South, where
everybody is religious, and where each of the Protestant sects
is represented and has a plant of its own. Rank was unknown
in Lakeside—unconfessed, anyway; everybody knew everybody
and his dog, and a sociable friendliness was the prevailing
atmosphere.
Saladin Foster was book-keeper in the principal store, and
the only high-salaried man of his profession in Lakeside. He
was thirty-five years old, now; he had served that store for
fourteen years; he had begun in his marriage-week at four
hundred dollars a year, and had climbed steadily up, a hundred
dollars a year, for four years; from that time forth his
wage had remained eight hundred—a handsome figure indeed,
and everybody conceded that he was worth it.
His wife, Electra, was a capable helpmeet, although—like
himself—a dreamer of dreams and a private dabbler in romance.
The first thing she did, after her marriage—child as
she was, aged only nineteen—was to buy an acre of ground
on the edge of the town, and pay down the cash for it—
twenty-five dollars, all her fortune. Saladin had less, by fifteen.
She instituted a vegetable garden there, got it farmed
on shares by the nearest neighbor, and made it pay her a
hundred per cent, a year. Out of Saladin’s first year’s wage
she put thirty dollars in the savings-bank, sixty out of his
second, a hundred out of his third, a hundred and fifty outof his fourth. His wage went to eight hundred a year, then,
and meantime two children had arrived and increased the
expenses, but she banked two hundred a year from the salary,
nevertheless, thenceforth. When she had been married
seven years she built and furnished a pretty and comfortable
two-thousand-dollar house in the midst of her garden-acre,
paid half of the money down and moved her family in. Seven
years later she was out of debt and had several hundred dollars
out earning its living.
Earning it by the rise in landed estate; for she had long ago
bought another acre or two and sold the most of it at a profit
to pleasant people who were willing to build, and would be
good neighbors and furnish a general comradeship for herself
and her growing family. She had an independent income
from safe investments of about a hundred dollars a
year; her children were growing in years and grace; and she
was a pleased and happy woman. Happy in her husband,
happy in her children, and the husband and the children
were happy in her. It is at this point that this history begins.
The youngest girl, Clytemnestra—called Clytie for short—
was eleven; her sister, Gwendolen—called Gwen for short—was thirteen; nice girls, and comely. The names betray the
latent romance-tinge in the parental blood, the parents’ names
indicate that the tinge was an inheritance. It was an affectionate
family, hence all four of its members had pet names,
Saladin’s was a curious and unsexing one—Sally; and so was
Electra’s—Aleck. All day long Sally was a good and diligent
book-keeper and salesman; all day long Aleck was a good
and faithful mother and housewife, and thoughtful and calculating
business woman; but in the cozy living-room at night
they put the plodding world away, and lived in another and
a fairer, reading romances to each other, dreaming dreams,
comrading with kings and princes and stately lords and ladies
in the flash and stir and splendor of noble palaces and
grim and ancient castles.
CHAPTER II
NOW CAME GREAT NEWS! Stunning news—joyous news, in
fact. It came from a neighboring state, where the family’s
only surviving relative lived. It was Sally’s relative—a sort of
vague and indefinite uncle or second or third cousin by thename of Tilbury Foster, seventy and a bachelor, reputed well
off and corresponding sour and crusty. Sally had tried to
make up to him once, by letter, in a bygone time, and had
not made that mistake again. Tilbury now wrote to Sally,
saying he should shortly die, and should leave him thirty
thousand dollars, cash; not for love, but because money
had given him most of his troubles and exasperations, and
he wished to place it where there was good hope that it would
continue its malignant work. The bequest would be found
in his will, and would be paid over. Provided, that Sally should
be able to prove to the executors that he had taken no notice
of the gift by spoken word or by letter, had made no inquires
concerning the moribund’s progress toward the everlasting tropics,
and had not attended the funeral.
As soon as Aleck had partially recovered from the tremendous
emotions created by the letter, she sent to the relative’s
habitat and subscribed for the local paper.
Man and wife entered into a solemn compact, now, to never
mention the great news to any one while the relative lived, lest
some ignorant person carry the fact to the death-bed and distort
it and make it appear that they were disobediently thankname of Tilbury Foster, seventy and a bachelor, reputed well
off and corresponding sour and crusty. Sally had tried to
make up to him once, by letter, in a bygone time, and had
not made that mistake again. Tilbury now wrote to Sally,
saying he should shortly die, and should leave him thirty
thousand dollars, cash; not for love, but because money
had given him most of his troubles and exasperations, and
he wished to place it where there was good hope that it would
continue its malignant work. The bequest would be found
in his will, and would be paid over. Provided, that Sally should
be able to prove to the executors that he had taken no notice
of the gift by spoken word or by letter, had made no inquires
concerning the moribund’s progress toward the everlasting tropics,
and had not attended the funeral.
As soon as Aleck had partially recovered from the tremendous
emotions created by the letter, she sent to the relative’s
habitat and subscribed for the local paper.
Man and wife entered into a solemn compact, now, to never
mention the great news to any one while the relative lived, lest
some ignorant person carry the fact to the death-bed and distort
it and make it appear that they were disobediently thankname of Tilbury Foster, seventy and a bachelor, reputed well
off and corresponding sour and crusty. Sally had tried to
make up to him once, by letter, in a bygone time, and had
not made that mistake again. Tilbury now wrote to Sally,
saying he should shortly die, and should leave him thirty
thousand dollars, cash; not for love, but because money
had given him most of his troubles and exasperations, and
he wished to place it where there was good hope that it would
continue its malignant work. The bequest would be found
in his will, and would be paid over. Provided, that Sally should
be able to prove to the executors that he had taken no notice
of the gift by spoken word or by letter, had made no inquires
concerning the moribund’s progress toward the everlasting tropics,
and had not attended the funeral.
As soon as Aleck had partially recovered from the tremendous
emotions created by the letter, she sent to the relative’s
habitat and subscribed for the local paper.
Man and wife entered into a solemn compact, now, to never
mention the great news to any one while the relative lived, lest
some ignorant person carry the fact to the death-bed and distort
it and make it appear that they were disobediently thankful
for the bequest, and just the same as confessing it and
publishing it, right in the face of the prohibition.
For the rest of the day Sally made havoc and confusion
with his books, and Aleck could not keep her mind on her
affairs, not even take up a flower-pot or book or a stick of
wood without forgetting what she had intended to do with
it. For both were dreaming.
“Thir-ty thousand dollars!”
All day long the music of those inspiring words sang
through those people’s heads.
From his marriage-day forth, Aleck’s grip had been upon
the purse, and Sally had seldom known what it was to be
privileged to squander a dime on non-necessities.
“Thir-ty thousand dollars!” the song went on and on. A
vast sum, an unthinkable sum!
All day long Aleck was absorbed in planning how to invest
it, Sally in planning how to spend it.
There was no romance-reading that night. The children
took themselves away early, for their parents were silent, distraught,
and strangely unentertaining. The good-night kisses
might as well have been impressed upon vacancy, for all the response they got; the parents were not aware of the kisses,
and the children had been gone an hour before their absence
was noticed. Two pencils had been busy during that
hour—note-making; in the way of plans. It was Sally who
broke the stillness at last. He said, with exultation:
“Ah, it’ll be grand, Aleck! Out of the first thousand we’ll
have a horse and a buggy for summer, and a cutter and a
skin lap-robe for winter.”
Aleck responded with decision and composure—
“Out of the capital? Nothing of the kind. Not if it was a million!”
Sally was deeply disappointed; the glow went out of his face.
“Oh, Aleck!” he said, reproachfully. “We’ve always worked
so hard and been so scrimped: and now that we are rich, it
does seem—”
He did not finish, for he saw her eye soften; his supplication
had touched her. She said, with gentle persuasiveness:
“We must not spend the capital, dear, it would not be
wise. Out of the income from it—”
“That will answer, that will answer, Aleck! How dear and
good you are! There will be a noble income and if we can
spend that—”“Not all of it, dear, not all of it, but you can spend a part of
it. That is, a reasonable part. But the whole of the capital—
every penny of it—must be put right to work, and kept at it.
You see the reasonableness of that, don’t you?”
“Why, ye-s. Yes, of course. But we’ll have to wait so long.
Six months before the first interest falls due.”
“Yes—maybe longer.”
“Longer, Aleck? Why? Don’t they pay half-yearly?”
“That kind of an investment—yes; but I sha’n’t invest in
that way.”
“What way, then?”
“For big returns.”
“Big. That’s good. Go on, Aleck. What is it?”
“Coal. The new mines. Cannel. I mean to put in ten thousand.
Ground floor. When we organize, we’ll get three shares
for one.”
“By George, but it sounds good, Aleck! Then the shares
will be worth—how much? And when?”
“About a year. They’ll pay ten per cent, half yearly, and be
worth thirty thousand. I know all about it; the advertisement
is in the Cincinnati paper here.”“Land, thirty thousand for ten—in a year! Let’s jam in the
whole capital and pull out ninety! I’ll write and subscribe
right now—tomorrow it maybe too late.”
He was flying to the writing-desk, but Aleck stopped him
and put him back in his chair. She said:
“Don’t lose your head so. We mustn’t subscribe till we’ve
got the money; don’t you know that?”
Sally’s excitement went down a degree or two, but he was
not wholly appeased.
“Why, Aleck, we’ll have it, you know—and so soon, too.
He’s probably out of his troubles before this; it’s a hundred
to nothing he’s selecting his brimstone-shovel this very
minute. Now, I think—”
Aleck shuddered, and said:
“How can you, Sally! Don’t talk in that way, it is perfectly
scandalous.”
“Oh, well, make it a halo, if you like, I don’t care for his
outfit, I was only just talking. Can’t you let a person talk?”
“But why should you wanting to talk in that dreadful way?
How would you like to have people talk so about you, and
you not cold yet?”“Not likely to be, for one while, I reckon, if my last act was
giving away money for the sake of doing somebody a harm
with it. But never mind about Tilbury, Aleck, let’s talk about
something worldly. It does seem to me that that mine is the
place for the whole thirty. What’s the objection?”
“All the eggs in one basket—that’s the objection.”
“All right, if you say so. What about the other twenty?
What do you mean to do with that?”
“There is no hurry; I am going to look around before I do
anything with it.”
“All right, if your mind’s made up,” signed Sally. He was
deep in thought awhile, then he said:
“There’ll be twenty thousand profit coming from the ten
a year from now. We can spend that, can we, Aleck?”
Aleck shook her head.
“No, dear,” she said, “it won’t sell high till we’ve had the
first semi-annual dividend. You can spend part of that.”
“Shucks, only that—and a whole year to wait! Confound
it, I—”
“Oh, do be patient! It might even be declared in three
months—it’s quite within the possibilities.”“Oh, jolly! oh, thanks!” and Sally jumped up and kissed
his wife in gratitude. “It’ll be three thousand—three whole
thousand! how much of it can we spend, Aleck? Make it
liberal!—do, dear, that’s a good fellow.”
Aleck was pleased; so pleased that she yielded to the pressure
and conceded a sum which her judgment told her was a
foolish extravagance—a thousand dollars. Sally kissed her
half a dozen times and even in that way could not express all
his joy and thankfulness. This new access of gratitude and
affection carried Aleck quite beyond the bounds of prudence,
and before she could restrain herself she had made her darling
another grant—a couple of thousand out of the fifty or
sixty which she meant to clear within a year of the twenty
which still remained of the bequest. The happy tears sprang
to Sally’s eyes, and he said:
“Oh, I want to hug you!” And he did it. Then he got his
notes and sat down and began to check off, for first purchase,
the luxuries which he should earliest wish to secure.
“Horse—buggy—cutter—lap-robe—patent-leathers—
dog—plug-hat—church-pew—stem-winder—new teeth—
say, Aleck!”“Well?”
“Ciphering away, aren’t you? That’s right. Have you got
the twenty thousand invested yet?”
“No, there’s no hurry about that; I must look around first,
and think.”
“But you are ciphering; what’s it about?”
“Why, I have to find work for the thirty thousand that
comes out of the coal, haven’t I?”
“Scott, what a head! I never thought of that. How are you
getting along? Where have you arrived?”
“Not very far—two years or three. I’ve turned it over twice;
once in oil and once in wheat.”
“Why, Aleck, it’s splendid! How does it aggregate?”
“I think—well, to be on the safe side, about a hundred
and eighty thousand clear, though it will probably be more.”
“My! isn’t it wonderful? By gracious! luck has come our
way at last, after all the hard sledding, Aleck!”
“Well?”
“I’m going to cash in a whole three hundred on the missionaries—
what real right have we care for expenses!”
“You couldn’t do a nobler thing, dear; and it’s just like your generous nature, you unselfish boy.”
The praise made Sally poignantly happy, but he was fair
and just enough to say it was rightfully due to Aleck rather
than to himself, since but for her he should never have had
the money.
Then they went up to bed, and in their delirium of bliss
they forgot and left the candle burning in the parlor. They
did not remember until they were undressed; then Sally was
for letting it burn; he said they could afford it, if it was a
thousand. But Aleck went down and put it out.
A good job, too; for on her way back she hit on a scheme
that would turn the hundred and eighty thousand into half
a million before it had had time to get cold.
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