The $30,000 Bequest, and Other Stories — John Shaqi
The $30,000 Bequest, and Other StoriesTwain, Mark
General
The $30,000 Bequest, and Other Stories
Twain, Mark
Humorous stories, American; Short stories, American; United States -- Social life and customs -- Fiction
Luck came their way again. Aleck, ever watchful saw a great and risky
chance, and took a daring flyer. A time of trembling, of doubt, of awful
uneasiness followed, for non-success meant absolute ruin and nothing
short of it. Then came the result, and Aleck, faint with joy, could
hardly control her voice when she said:
“The suspense is over, Sally--and we are worth a cold million!”
Sally wept for gratitude, and said:
“Oh, Electra, jewel of women, darling of my heart, we are free at last,
we roll in wealth, we need never scrimp again. It's a case for Veuve
Cliquot!” and he got out a pint of spruce-beer and made sacrifice, he
saying “Damn the expense,” and she rebuking him gently with reproachful
but humid and happy eyes.
They shelved the pork-packer's son and the banker's son, and sat down to
consider the Governor's son and the son of the Congressman.
CHAPTER VI
It were a weariness to follow in detail the leaps and bounds the Foster
fictitious finances took from this time forth. It was marvelous, it
was dizzying, it was dazzling. Everything Aleck touched turned to fairy
gold, and heaped itself glittering toward the firmament. Millions upon
millions poured in, and still the mighty stream flowed thundering
along, still its vast volume increased. Five millions--ten
millions--twenty--thirty--was there never to be an end?
Two years swept by in a splendid delirium, the intoxicated Fosters
scarcely noticing the flight of time. They were now worth three
hundred million dollars; they were in every board of directors of every
prodigious combine in the country; and still as time drifted along, the
millions went on piling up, five at a time, ten at a time, as fast as
they could tally them off, almost. The three hundred double itself--then
doubled again--and yet again--and yet once more.
Twenty-four hundred millions!
The business was getting a little confused. It was necessary to take an
account of stock, and straighten it out. The Fosters knew it, they felt
it, they realized that it was imperative; but they also knew that to do
it properly and perfectly the task must be carried to a finish without
a break when once it was begun. A ten-hours' job; and where could _they
_find ten leisure hours in a bunch? Sally was selling pins and sugar and
calico all day and every day; Aleck was cooking and washing dishes and
sweeping and making beds all day and every day, with none to help, for
the daughters were being saved up for high society. The Fosters knew
there was one way to get the ten hours, and only one. Both were ashamed
to name it; each waited for the other to do it. Finally Sally said:
“Somebody's got to give in. It's up to me. Consider that I've named
it--never mind pronouncing it out aloud.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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