[Illustration: Helen Mason Grose “I WAS THINKING—OF MR. STANLEY G. FULTON”] OH, MONEY! MONEY! A NOVEL BY ELEANOR H. PORTER Author of The Road to Understanding, Just David, Etc. WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY HELEN MASON GROSE _To_ MY FRIEND EVA BAKER CONTENTS I. EXIT MR. STANLEY G. FULTON II. ENTER MR. JOHN SMITH III. THE SMALL BOY AT THE KEYHOLE IV. IN SEARCH OF SOME DATES V. IN MISS FLORA’S ALBUM VI. POOR MAGGIE VII. POOR MAGGIE AND SOME OTHERS VIII. A SANTA CLAUS HELD UP IX. “DEAR COUSIN STANLEY” X. WHAT DOES IT MATTER? XI. SANTA CLAUS ARRIVES XII. THE TOYS RATTLE OUT XIII. THE DANCING BEGINS XIV. FROM ME TO YOU WITH LOVE XV. IN SEARCH OF REST XVI. THE FLY IN THE OINTMENT XVII. AN AMBASSADOR OF CUPID’S XVIII. JUST A MATTER OF BEGGING XIX. STILL OTHER FLIES XX. FRANKENSTEIN: BEING A LETTER FROM JOHN SMITH TO EDWARD D. NORTON, ATTORNEY AT LAW XXI. SYMPATHIES MISPLACED XXII. WITH EVERY JIM A JAMES XXIII. REFLECTIONS—MIRRORED AND OTHERWISE XXIV. THAT MISERABLE MONEY XXV. EXIT MR. JOHN SMITH XXVI. REENTER MR. STANLEY G. FULTON ILLUSTRATIONS “I WAS THINKING—OF MR. STANLEY G. FULTON” Frontispiece “I CAN’T HELP IT, AUNT MAGGIE. I’VE JUST GOT TO BE AWAY!” “JIM, YOU’LL HAVE TO COME!” “AND LOOK INTO THOSE BLESSED CHILDREN’S FACES” _From drawings by Mrs. Howard B. Grose, Jr._ CHAPTER I EXIT MR. STANLEY G. FULTON There was a thoughtful frown on the face of the man who was the possessor of twenty million dollars. He was a tall, spare man, with a fringe of reddish-brown hair encircling a bald spot. His blue eyes, fixed just now in a steady gaze upon a row of ponderous law books across the room, were friendly and benevolent in direct contradiction to the bulldog, never-let-go fighting qualities of the square jaw below the firm, rather thin lips. The lawyer, a youthfully alert man of sixty years, trimly gray as to garb, hair, and mustache, sat idly watching him, yet with eyes that looked so intently that they seemed to listen. For fully five minutes the two men had been pulling at their cigars in silence when the millionaire spoke. “Ned, what am I going to do with my money?” Into the lawyer’s listening eyes flashed, for a moment, the keenly scrutinizing glance usually reserved for the witness on the other side. Then quietly came the answer. “Spend it yourself, I hope—for some years to come, Stanley.” Mr. Stanley G. Fulton was guilty of a shrug and an uplifted eyebrow.