V
IN WHICH SOCRATES DISCUSSES THE OVER-PRODUCTION OF TALK
"Marie was my ward, and as pretty a girl as ever led a bulldog or atea box of chocolates at a sitting. She was a charming fish-hook, baitedwith beauty and wealth and culture and remarkable innocence. She haddangled about on mama's rod and line for a year or so, but the fishwouldn't bite. For that reason I grabbed the rod from the old lady andput on a bait of silence and a sinker, and moved to deep water andbegan to do business.
"Marie had a failing, for which, I am sorry to say, she was in no waydistinguished. She talked too much, as Harry had said. There are toomany American women who talk too much. Marie's mother used to talkabout six-thirds of the time. You had to hear it, and then you had toget over it. She had a way of spiking the shoes of Time so that everyhour felt like a month while it was running over you. You ought tohave seen her climb the family tree or the sturdy old chestnut of herown experience and shake down the fruit! Marie had one more tree inher orchard. She had added the spreading peach of a liberal educationto the deadly upas of Benson genealogy and the sturdy old chestnut ofmama's experience. The _vox Bensonorum_ was as familiar as theCongregational bell. The supply of it exceeded the demand, and afterevery one was loaded and ready to cast off, the barrels came rollingdown the chute.
"The next time I saw Marie she was a bit cast down. She wished me tosuggest something for her to do. Said she wanted a mission--a chanceto do some good in the world. Thought she'd enjoy being a nurse. Ifelt sorry for the girl, and suddenly I saw the flicker of a brilliantthought.
"'Marie,' I said, 'as a member of The Society of Useful Women you areunder a serious obligation, and you have taste for missionary work.Well, what's the matter with beginning on Nancy Doolittle? You owe hera duty and ought to have the courage--nay, the kindness--to performit. Nancy talks too much.'
"'Well, I should say so,' said Marie. 'Nancy is a scourge--I haveoften thought of it.'
"'She's downright wasteful,' I went on. 'She fills every hour withinformation, and then throws on some more. It keeps coming. Your seamsopen, and then it's every hand to the pumps! Dora Perkins and RebeccaFord are just as extravagant. They toss out gems of thought andchunks of knowledge as if they were as common as caramels.
"'You should go to these girls and kindly but firmly remind them ofthis fault. Tell them that too much conversation has created more oldmaids and grass and parlor widows than any other cause. Give them alittle lecture on the old law of supply and demand. Show them that itapplies to conversation as well as to cabbages--that if one's talk istoo plentiful, it becomes very cheap. Suggest that if Methuselah hadlived until now and witnessed all the adventures of the human race, hecouldn't afford to waste his knowledge. If he talked only half thetime nobody would believe him. They'd think he was crazy, and they'dknow why, in past ages, everybody had died but him, and they'd wonderhow he had managed to survive the invention of gunpowder. These girlshave overestimated the value of good-will. Their securities are notwell secured. There are millions of watered stock in theirtreasuries, and it isn't worth five cents on the dollar. Marie, youcan have a lot of fun. I almost envy you.
"'Tell these girls that the remedy is simple. They must be careful toregulate the supply to the demand. They could easily raise the priceabove par by denying now and then that they have any conversation inthe treasury.'
"Marie promised to undertake this important work, and I knew that inconnection with it she would also get some valuable advice.
"You see, this tendency to extravagant display has sunk in very deep.Our young people really do know a lot, and they want others to knowthat they know it. They are plumed with culture, and it has become acharge instead of a credit.
"Well, things began to mend. Betsey and I went to dine with theBensons one evening, and Marie was as quiet as a lamb. She answeredmodestly when we spoke to her. She told no stories; her jeweled crownof culture was not in sight; she listened with notable success, anddelighted us with well-managed and illuminating silence. Neither shenor her mother nor Mrs. Bryson ventured to interrupt the talk of anoted professor who dined with us. Marie was charming.
"After dinner she led me into the library, where we sat downtogether.
"She seemed a little embarrassed, and presently said, with a laugh, 'Ihad a talk with those girls, as you suggested.'
"'What did they say?' I asked.
"'What didn't they say?' she exclaimed. 'They flew at me likewildcats. They tore me to pieces--said I was the most dreaded talkerin Pointview, that I had talked a steady stream ever since I was born,that nobody had a chance to get in a word with me, that I had made allthe boys sick who ever came to see me. What do you think of that?'
"WHAT DIDN'T THEY SAY? THEY FLEW AT ME LIKE WILDCATS."]
"'It's a gross exaggeration!' I said.
"'Well, I thought it over, and made up my mind they were right,' shewent on. 'We kissed and made up and organized the Listeners' Circle,and mama and Mrs. Bryson and Mrs. Doolittle have joined. Our purposeis to regulate our talk supply very strictly to the demand.'
"'It's a grand idea!' I exclaimed. 'The Ladies' Talk and InformationTrust! Why, it will soon control the entire product of Pointview, andcan fix the price. Marie, it's only a matter of time when theconversation of you girls is going to be in the nature of a luxury andas much desired as diamonds. It won't be long before some young fellowwill offer his life for one word from you.'
"'Oh, _I'm_ hopeless! Nobody cares for me--not a soul!' said Marie.
"'Wait and give 'em a chance,' I answered.
"'Do you think it's true that I've been such a pestilence?' sheasked, as her fingers toyed with the upholstery. 'You know you've beena kind of father to me, and I want you to tell me frankly if I'vereally made the boys sick.'
"'Why, my dear child, if I were a young man I'd be kneeling at yourfeet,' I said; and no wonder, for they were a beautiful pair of feet,and none ever supported a nobler girl. Then I went on: 'Marie, yourtalk is charming. The demand continues. I feel honored by yourconfidence. Please go on.'
"'I believe I've been foolish without knowing it,' she said, her smilebeautiful with its sadness.
"'My dear child, if there were no folly in the world it would be astupid place, and I for one should want to move,' I said. 'Some neverdiscover their own follies, and they _are_ hopeless. You are as wiseas you are dear. It's in your power to do a lot of good. Think whatyou've already accomplished. I wish you would continue to help usdiscourage foolish display in America.
"'Are there any more chestnuts in the fire?' she asked, with a laugh.'Not that I'm afraid. I suppose the fire is good for me.'
"'Marie, I love your fingers too well to burn them unduly,' I said.'By the way, I expect that Harry Delance will be wanting to marry yousoon.'
"'Harry!' she exclaimed. 'I talked him to death--and out of thenotion--long ago, and I'm not sorry. He isn't my kind.'
"'Harry's a good fellow,' I insisted.
"'But he's so dreadfully nice--such a hopeless aristocrat! Grandfatherwould have a fit. I want a big, full-blooded, brawny chap, who isn't aslave to his coat and trousers--the kind of man you've talked so muchabout--one who could get his hands dirty and be a gentleman. I'mlonging for the outdoor life--and the outdoor man to live it withme.'
"'Give Harry a chance--his uneducation had only just begun,' I urged.
"I left Marie with a rather serious look in her face, and began towonder how I should accomplish the uneducation of Harry.
"That young man came to see me, in a day or two, at our home. My newset of Smollett lay on the piano, and he greatly admired it. Above allthings Harry loved books, and his specialty was Smollett; he had readevery tale in the series, at college, and made a mark with his thesison 'The Fathers of English Fiction.' He spent an hour of delight withthose books of mine. Then he said to me:
"'Only fifty copies printed?'
"'Only fifty,' I said.
"'Could I get a set?'
"'All sold,' I assured him, 'but I s
hall be glad to give these booksto you on two conditions.'
"He turned in astonishment.
"'They can do you no further harm, and my first request is that you donot lend them. My second is that you take them home in my wheelbarrowby daylight with your own hands.'
"He silently demurred.
"'At last those books have a chance to do some little good in theworld, and I don't want them to lose it,' I urged. 'The hands,feet, and legs of the high and low born are slowly being deprived oftheir rights in this community. Pride is robbing them of theirancient and proper offices. How many of the young men and women ofour acquaintance would be seen on the street with a package in theirhands, to say nothing of a wheelbarrow? Their souls are above it!'
"'Why should they carry packages and roll wheelbarrows?' Harry asked.'Stores deliver goods these days.'
"'That's one reason why it costs so much to live. We have to pay forour pride and our indolence and the delivery of the goods. It's allcharged in the bill. Some member of the family used to go to marketevery morning with his basket and carry the goods home with him.'
"'It would be ridiculous for me to do that,' said Harry. 'We're ableto pay the bills.'
"'But you're doing a great injustice to those who are not. You makethe delivery system a necessary thing, and those who can't afford ithave to help you stand the expense--a gross injustice. I want you tohelp me in this cause of the hand and foot. Your example would be fullof inspiration. Excuse me a moment.'
"I went for the wheelbarrow and rolled it up to the front door. Thenwe brought out the books and loaded them. That done, I seized thehandles of the barrow.
"'Come on,' I said. 'I'll do the work--you share the disgrace withme.'
"My gray hairs were too much for him.
"'No; give me the handles,' he insisted. 'If it won't hurt you, itwon't hurt me--that's sure.'
"So, in his silk hat and frock-coat and spats, with a carnation in hisbuttonhole, he seized the wheelbarrow like a man, and away we went. Isteered him up the Main Street, and people began to hail us withlaughter from automobiles, and to jest with us on the sidewalk, andMarie came along with two other pretty girls, and the barrow halted ina gale of merriment.
"'What in the world are you doing?' one of them asked.
"'It's the remains of the late Mr. Smollett,' I explained.
"'I'm setting an example to the young,' said Harry, as he mopped hisforehead. 'Couldn't help it. I had to do this thing.'
"'Great!' Marie exclaimed. 'Simply great! I'm going to get me awheelbarrow.'
"She would take hold of the handles and try it, and went on half ablock in spite of our protests, creating much excitement.
"That was the first rude beginning of The Basket and WheelbarrowBrigade in Pointview, of which I shall tell you later. And now I shallexplain my generosity--it can generally be explained--and how I cameby the Smollett."
'Charge It': Keeping Up With Harry Page 6
