Fantasy fiction; Utopian fiction; Utopias -- Fiction
“Done!” said Kendrick, very sure of his money. “Let it be two hundred
dollars.”
“Oh, shocking!” said Mrs. Kendrick. “You are like two dissolute young
men. I do not approve of betting.”
“I don’t approve of it either, madam,” said the count, “but this is to
establish the honor of the ‘hodden grey;’ and to make the transaction
more respectable or excusable in your severe eyes, let us further
decide, Kendrick, that whoever wins shall donate the money to your new
hospital.”
“Oh, that will be nice!” said Mrs. Kendrick, brightening. She was one of
the board of managers, and had in vain tried to get her husband to
subscribe anything further than the pitiful sum of fifty dollars at
starting. The doctor also, highly approved of this disposition of the
money. He had long agitated the subject of a hospital, and Mrs. Kendrick
at last had come to be, he said, his “right-hand man.” He was one of the
committee to draw up the prospectus then under consideration. He wished
especially to have the hospital so organized that not only the poor
could avail themselves of it, but those in better circumstances—for the
private family, he said, was no place for a sick person. He could not
receive the necessary care without feeling himself a burden, which vexed
and irritated him, and so retarded recovery.
After arguing upon the method of collecting the facts about the
workingmen of Ely & Gerrish, and after calling out the count at some
length on the particulars of the working of the _Familistère_ at Guise,
the doctor left, and Kendrick and Burnham returned to the charge of the
insurance scheme. Burnham insisted that the growing enterprise of
Oakdale, and its steady increase of population, made everything
favorable for a “big thing” in the insurance line.
“I see,” said the count, “that you are not disposed to take my
suggestions about making your insurance a mutual thing among your
citizens. Now, the longer I live, the more I am interested in the
independence of the people. Your rates of insurance, in private
joint-stock companies, are too high for the poor man, who needs
insurance infinitely more than the rich do. Now, as for Oakdale
enterprises, I see none so worthy of consideration as this well-managed
flower business of Dykes & Delano. That is something worth taking stock
in.” Here Burnham turned away with ill-concealed impatience, not to say
disgust; but Kendrick, anxious to keep on the right side of his rich
guest and relative, said, smiling blandly:
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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