Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1900-08-25

man taking the valuable belt home with
her In the same manner she had brought
stopped them only dlongibenough to tell
them that he was in great luck. and
wouldn't have to work any more, and he
skipped along like schoolboy let loose for
an afternoon AT the fat they met the
janitor. who informed them that he had re-
signed his position. owing to fortune hav-
ing been left to Hmm The elevator boy was
"Betcher sweet life," he said, II don't
run no more ups and downs. I've got me
little hundred thou. and I'm a gent. am
see! Come out and I'll blow you to cola
Mr.. Tankerman was inclined to resent the
familiarity, but the boy was evidently what
he represented himself to be- and he made
no reply. except to decline the invitation,
aud at once began the tedious climb up the
stairs.
1t was now noon. and John Tankerman
felt as If there had been some tremendous
hungry, besides, but there was nothing 10
eat except what was left over from yestef-
day and the morning breakfast.
Jane. my DEAR he said to his wife.
with almost cathedral solemnity, 1t Is
long way down those stairs, and the eleva-
tor boy supply seems to be exhausted Dut
I'm going out again, and stay till l learn
something definite about this business, II II
takes all summer. You lock yourseif IN
here with the money, and trust to Provl-
dence."
BY this time Mrs. Tankerman was far
more composed than she had been IN the
morning, and she had become more accus-
toned to the presence Of wealth. she was
no less curious than her husband to know
what was going on, and she, therefore,
made no objection, STIMULATING only that ne
get back again as soon as he couid: ne
wanted to kiss her goodbye, but, insisting
that it gave her the cold chlls and MADE
her fee, as If he were going out into the
mysterious unknown never to return, sne
q he lnta W 1So6 tn
stration Of that kind, and he went Out I'M
kissed to grapple the problem alone.
1t was nearly o'clock when he came
home again, and his wife was on the verge
of Mysteries. Six hours had seemed like SIX
months to her, and she thought her nus.
band had deserted her forever. He carried
in his arms q can of condensed milk, some
canned meats and vegetables, box OF sar-
dimes, some bread and cheese and rev
odds and ends Of other edibles.
bradley had his store OPEN, ne eA-
planned, as he dumped the load on tne
table, land l CHANGED to come along just
in time to pick up enough to last over Sum
day. or until times improve and the curse
of capital is removed from the country
whatever do you mean, John?' she ex-
claimed. clutching at her belt, as II her
husband might be a robber in disguise.
Thus early does wealth become suspic-
ious.
well. Jane. my dear" he said. in cheer
full mood, as he fixed himself In a comfort .,o
whole situation to dot. The first man
met when 1 left here was the day police
man on this beat, wearing citizens clothes,
and when l asked him what he was out
that way for he told me he had struck a
hundred thousand dollars In cold cash. and
could wear any kind of clothes now that ne
pleased. He had resigned, of course. My
newsboy was with him, and he mad also
had the same luck. and asked me where 1
thought he could buy an opera house.
Farther down town ! found some stores
open, and their proprtetors were hoidlng the
fort all to themselves, They explained that
their clerks had notified them that as they
had each received a hundred thousand dol
lars they could not come to the store any
more but would be glad to give them their
trade. AS the owners had had the same
luck, they were taking things cheerfuiiy 1
met the president of the street car company,
who said that all their employees had mott
fed them that they had an easier job. and
wouldn't bother with the street cars any
more 1t was the same with the letter car
riers, and with messenger boys and every
body else. The newspapers mad been prlnteo
all right because the men who got them out
did not know of their good luck until they
reached their homes. But they had sent
word down by their children or friends that
papsrs might n as Fsue have been
because the newsboys would not sell them.
the expressmen would not deliver them and
the trains would not carry them All hands
had received a hundred thousand dollars
apiece ana who would work when he had
that much money?
''AIi the telephone exchanges are closed"
he went on; 'all the messenger boys have
retired to enjoy their wealth; there are no
telegraph operators at work. no trains run
ming for engineers and conductors and
brakemen and firemen. with 100000 In
pocket, can afford to leave their work and
take a much needed rest. All the restau-
rants are closed because cooks and walters
and dishwashers have gone off to enjoy
their money: the hotels are helpless be-
cause nobody but the landlords and guests
remain and even those landlords who do
not preside over their own hotels. have quit
their houses and are out to have a good
time as gentlemen of elegant leisure and
extensive acquaintance. The steamers will
not sail from their docks today, or tomor-
row. for there is no force to man them: no
goods are delivered, for every hard-work-
ing teamster and stevedore and deck hand
Is rich man now, and doesn't have to
earn his bread by the sweat of his brow,
or of any other part Of his person: all the
building in town has stopped, and con-
tracts are at end: all the laborers on the
streets have quit work and are looking for
places where they can spend the summer:
there is not a cab or carriage to be had
for love or money. and the poor horses are
likely to starve tn their stalls, FOR coach
men and hostlers are too rich to work at
such mental labor: the theeters not already
closed for the summer are done now, be-
cause for once the actors and actresses
have money enough TO burn and they have
quit Dlayin4 and started the nreS. the music
halls are still: the saloons are closed tighter
than the temperance people or the police
could close them. for there is nobody to mix
| the festive drink or serve the simple
straight; the factories have shut down: the
! tramp has quit tramping: the undertaken
| has shut up shop, for he no longer has to
| bury the dead Of others in order to make
| his own living: there won't be any base ball
| this afternoon; the races are off, for the
| Jockeys don't have to ride for their dollars:
| the schools won't keep any more, for teach
ers can live without teaching: the churches
| have put up their shutters. because preach
! ers can render greater service with their
money; and there's nothing on earth, Jane.
| for US to do but to send for the children
| to come home from the seminary and COL
| lege. right away. and Wen go of some-
where and enjoy ourselves as the rich al
ways do. It's a fine thing, this having
| money and being perfectly independent,
| isn't it?''
MI Tapkerman rose and walked up and
| down the narrow apartment. looking upon
| his environments with large and increas-
| ing contempt
| Mrs Tankerman was thoughtful.
"John," she said. with that deep insight
| into the problematcai thationly woman's
| intuition can fathom. iHhows are the children
| going to get home five do not send for
them? Walk? And how are we going to
send for them? Will you carry the mes
sage? 1t is $50 miles to where they are