“Four hundred fifty plunks this morning from
the Lyte deal. But taxes due. Let’s
see: I ought to pull out eight thousand net this
year, and save fifteen hundred of that—no,
not if I put up garage and—Let’s
see: six hundred and forty clear last month, and
twelve times six-forty makes—makes—let
see: six times twelve is seventy-two hundred and—Oh
rats, anyway, I’ll make eight thousand—gee
now, that’s not so bad; mighty few fellows pulling
down eight thousand dollars a year—eight
thousand good hard iron dollars—bet there
isn’t more than five per cent. of the people
in the whole United States that make more than Uncle
George does, by golly! Right up at the top of
the heap! But—Way expenses are—Family
wasting gasoline, and always dressed like millionaires,
and sending that eighty a month to Mother—And
all these stenographers and salesmen gouging me for
every cent they can get—”
The effect of his scientific budget-planning was that
he felt at once triumphantly wealthy and perilously
poor, and in the midst of these dissertations he stopped
his car, rushed into a small news-and-miscellany shop,
and bought the electric cigar-lighter which he had
coveted for a week. He dodged his conscience by
being jerky and noisy, and by shouting at the clerk,
“Guess this will prett’ near pay for itself
in matches, eh?”
It was a pretty thing, a nickeled cylinder with an
almost silvery socket, to be attached to the dashboard
of his car. It was not only, as the placard on
the counter observed, “a dandy little refinement,
lending the last touch of class to a gentleman’s
auto,” but a priceless time-saver. By freeing
him from halting the car to light a match, it would
in a month or two easily save ten minutes.
As he drove on he glanced at it. “Pretty
nice. Always wanted one,” he said wistfully.
“The one thing a smoker needs, too.”
Then he remembered that he had given up smoking.
“Darn it!” he mourned. “Oh
well, I suppose I’ll hit a cigar once in a while.
And—Be a great convenience for other folks.
Might make just the difference in getting chummy with
some fellow that would put over a sale. And—Certainly
looks nice there. Certainly is a mighty clever
little jigger. Gives the last touch of refinement
and class. I—By golly, I guess I can
afford it if I want to! Not going to be the only
member of this family that never has a single doggone
luxury!”
Thus, laden with treasure, after three and a half
blocks of romantic adventure, he drove up to the club.
