Complete Works of Charlotte Perkins Gilman

by Charlotte Perkins Gilman

  There was some profit for her, of course, really more than she expected, for Mrs. Gale had long since persuaded her that keeping boarders spelled ruin. But she had to clothe herself and Peggy out of it. I told her I took out so much a week for my own services, and now Peggy helped a little and made her own pocket money.

  If I thought Mother was accumulating any I always urged some new supplies — linen, or dishes, or something. But the real surplus that did accumulate I kept to myself — literally and metaphorically.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Things went on wheels for a while, with our boarding house. Before Thanksgiving we were running smoothly, with some extra table boarders. Table boarders are a great help. We had six, young men mostly, two older ones.

  Of course after Mother came back we could have men, and they seemed to like to come. We only charged $5.00 a week for table board — and $2.50 of that was profit. Mother got $5.00 a week from the six, and I saved $10.00. With that, and $30.00 a week kept back from the previous income, my private safe got fuller and fuller, and I got more and more excited. I’d been paying the interest on that mortgage all along out of my own salary — you see it was only $80.00 a year — about $1.50 a week. And I saved as much as I could out of the rest, and counted ahead carefully (we had to buy a lot of coal in the summer — that kept Mother pretty close, though I paid for some), and before Christmas I had it!

  Thirty dollars a week for thirty-two weeks, plus $10.00 a week for twelve weeks — $1,080. My! I did draw a long breath!

  A thousand dollars inside of a year! It was better than I had hoped. I’d had extra expenses, too, but there was my own $3.50 to draw on — that made $112; and with what Grandpa left for me to live on all summer — I really had the thousand!

  To pay that mortgage — to really pay it, get that dreadful thing with my name on it back in my hands and burn it — I tell you, that was a joy!

  I hadn’t realized until it was done what a strain I’d been living under. I really had worked awfully hard — gardening, and marketing, and being waitress and chambermaid for eight, besides ourselves. Peggy helped, of course, after she came, and the extra “mealers” came; but I certainly had my hands full.

  It was a real Achievement; and as there wasn’t a soul on earth I could tell about it, I enjoy writing it down.

  It wasn’t so dreadful after all, but pretty close calculating. I used to get up at 5:30, have my highly gymnastic scrub-bath, and come down stealthily to the kitchen. Alison got up early, too, and I’d have a glass of milk and a cracker to start on. Then an hour in the garden — lovely work that was, though pretty damp; everything so bright and beady, and smelling so good. You can do a lot in a garden in an hour a day.

  Then I’d dust the parlors and set the table — we had to have a 7:30 breakfast on account of those boarders. By 9:00 the last one was fed and the room clean; and I’d had my breakfast sort of casually, waiting on them as needed.

  By 10:30 I had the rooms in order upstairs, sweeping two a day usually; and from 10:30 to 11:30 was marketing. I didn’t have to go far, fortunately, and of the keepable groceries I always had a good stock in advance. Between 11:30 and 12:15 I just rested — reading or sewing — and it felt good. Then the table was to be set for our early lunch; those schoolteachers had to have it at 12:30, and by 2:00 P.M. the dining room was clear and left dark and cool for the afternoon.

  Afternoons I had quite an easy time; only there are always things to do in a house. But I did the main work before lunch.

  And I went to bed early, religiously, by 9:00 most nights, and got eight hours’ sleep. It was real sleep, too. I used to go to bed so happy — because the Secret Hoard was rolling up from week to week.

  By Christmas week the thing was done — Done — and I felt like Alexander the Great!

  Considering what world to conquer next, I spent quite a time in thinking and planning.

  There was a very tempting world next door — Mrs. Gale’s house. I wanted — oh, how I wanted — to get Mrs. Gale out, and my mother in!

  Only to do that, and to do other things I wanted to away from home, I must have an Accomplice. Failing an Accomplice, I must reduce my ideas of boardinghouse profit, hire a mere manager, or leave it to Mama, with much less of an income — less, that is, than I could have made by doing it myself. I planned it all out on paper carefully.

  This boardinghouse business wasn’t my business — it was Mother’s. I had already accomplished my cherished Purpose. Father was gone, Mother was happy, and my Crime was obliterated — I’d torn up the deed.

  I wanted to leave the boardinghouse business so that it would be easy for Mother — plus Alison — to keep it up. Naturally Peggy could not be counted upon — she might go off most any time.

  The question was: Ought I to stay, to push the business and keep an eye on Peggy, or could I begin now to launch out and do the other things I wanted to?

  I watched Peggy. Pretty — prettier — prettiest; she certainly was the most fascinating thing. All the he-boarders seemed to think so, and their friends thought so, too — and the young men of the church — both churches, Mr. Cutter’s and Mrs. Windsor’s, and lots besides.

  Before New Year’s I made up my mind. My sister’s happiness in life might depend on my staying at home now. If I weren’t there, there was no knowing whom she might marry, and there was room for considerable choice.

  Also, if I stayed another year, and took in the World next door, and ran it myself, I might with perfect honesty, or at least, with tolerable honesty, accumulate quite a little money. So far as I know it is always useful to have a little money, unless it is gold money or a large necklace of silver, and you are about to drown.

  Accomplice — or Assistant?

  I decided on an Assistant — I was afraid I couldn’t find, or make, an Accomplice quite yet.

  I laid it out like this:

  “Some day Peggy will marry; I shall be away on Enterprises of my own, and Mother will be alone. I want to leave her so completely entrenched in a smooth-running, well-paying house, that she can’t spoil it by too much kindness. She ought to have a capable, stem, hard-headed businesswoman to keep her up.

  “Then if my dear Mrs. Windsor will only stay, I do believe she could hold her own even if the worst happened.” (That was if Father came back and told her to stop it.)

  So I began to study my list of friends and acquaintances that I had all set down with bits of description. Right there I began to find out something which I have been finding out ever since: the real smart, capable people are busy — you can’t find them lying around loose. And the ones who are disengaged, so to speak, are pretty generally useless.

  “Man or woman?” I said to myself.

  “Men that amount to anything are all busy. Young ones are sure to leave, if at all clever.

  “Women — young ones — are likely to marry. Old ones are mostly occupied if worth anything. Left-overs are no good.”

  Then I settled on this: if I could find a youngish middle-aged woman with an Incumbrance, say a child — or even two — who was smart enough to keep all the accounts straight and not let Mother... and then and there I stopped short and began to reconsider.

  All this propping up Mother from the outside was uncertain in the extreme. If she couldn’t, she couldn’t, that was all. But if she could...

  Then I resolved to put in a solid year, making everything as strong and safe as I could, and sort of educating Mother into some degree of independence. I counted on Mrs. Windsor to help, and she did, steadily, without seeming to realize it.

  You see Mother liked her so much that it was easy. She began to read her books and came in and sat with our class, and then she and Mrs. Windsor would read other books together.

  Then Mrs. Windsor, all of her own idea, got Mother interested in some of her proteges and projects, and I could fairly see her grow. I began to think I hadn’t done Mother justice. There are people who never amount to anything when they are with the wrong influence, and who come
out surprisingly under others.

  Dr. Bronson did Mother a world of good. He was a bachelor, and an old friend; she always used to brighten up when he came, and Robert and the other boys were all devoted to Mother.

  So I turned my whole mind on the next move. That was to get Jenny Gale a job, a good job, and then...

  This was not very hard, with so many people to ask. I had quite a good talk with Dr. Bronson first.

  “Mrs. Gale doesn’t look very well, does she?” I began.

  He agreed that she didn’t.

  “Don’t you think it would be really better for her if Jenny could do the work she liked, and support her mother — or help to?”

  “It would be a great deal better, Ben. She worries herself sick over her work and never gets ahead any. And Jenny worries too, because she hates it. But what are we going to do about it?”

  I meditated hard, as if I’d never thought of it before.

  “If we could persuade Mrs. Gale to stop...” I said.

  “She won’t — says she must keep a home for Jenny.”

  “Yes, well, if Jenny had a real good chance, a job that would pay her well...”

  “Even then her mother’s tied up with the business. I don’t see how she could stop.”

  I looked up at him, and smiled.

  “See here, Dr. Bronson,” I said, “which would you rather do — honest! — eat at Mrs. Gale’s table or at ours?”

  He smiled, too, and refused to answer the question. But I knew well enough.

  “May I tell you a secret,” I said, “that you’ll never, never tell?”

  “That’s what doctors are for,” he answered, “to keep secrets. I’ve had so many that I’ve forgotten them by the hundred.”

  Then I told him, ingeniously, what I was sure he knew already, that I was doing all this for Mother’s sake, and that I wanted her to have it all sound and safe — even if Father came back.

  “Don’t you think she would be better off, with boarders, even if he did come?” I asked.

  His face hardened the minute I mentioned Father. “Of course she would,” he replied briefly.

  “Well now, see here,” I said, and showed him some calculations I had made.

  Mrs. Gale’s house rented for $75 a month. It had twelve bedrooms — counting the doctor’s back parlor and the maid’s — ten lettable ones. Of course, she kept one for herself and Jenny, and never had her nine full at once. Also a lot of people went off without paying.

  “Ten boarders,” I showed him, “averaging $10.00 a week, is $5,200 a year. That’s the biggest possible income. The rent is $900. The fuel and light — say $200. One girl for waitress and chambermaid — about $300. That’s $1,400. Then if I pay $4.00 a week apiece for food (of course I wasn’t going to, but I didn’t mean to tell him everything) it’s $2,080 — plus $1,400 — that’s $3,480. Take that from $5,200 and it leaves $1,720. You see that leaves a margin of $1,720 Take out $150 for fuel, etc., and it’s $1,570. And if I lost equal to one boarder all the time, there’d still be over a thousand.”

  He studied it carefully. “There’s something wrong here, Ben — there must be. This is too good to be true. You’ve left out something.”

  “Of course I have,” I agreed. “I’ve left out the cook — and the manager — and the furniture. Now Alison can cook for twenty or thirty, she says so. You see she has no other work. And dear Mother could run two houses as well as one — you’d all eat over there, of course; and the whole furnishing, put it at $500, would only be $150 a year, at 10 percent. I’d soon buy it. Really Dr. Bronson, it can be done.

  “I notice that you keep your house full,” he admitted. “Yes — and we haven’t any losses because they all pay in advance. It’s just as cheap for them.”

  “I believe she could do it, Ben,” he said, “with you behind her. You’re a pretty smart young woman. I’ve always said so.” And he gave me a friendly little shake. “So what is your proposition, little Miss Manager?”

  “Why, I’m kind of ashamed to make it,” I told him, “but it’s this. You see, Jennie tells me how things are, and I’ve planned it this way. Mrs. Gale has signed the lease, of course, up to next May, and she’s owing for all that coal — she’s only paid for three tons, and there’s four left. And I suppose she’d want something for ‘the good will of the business.’”

  He smiled at that. He knew as well as I did — better, really — how little good will there was left in Mrs. Gale’s business.

  “If you’d stay right on, at the same rate,” I said rather sheepishly — I knew he was paying about $900 a year for his two big rooms and board, $17.00 a week I think it was— “and if you felt you could trust us enough to advance it for—” he smiled reassuringly as I hesitated, “for six months, then I’d have something to pay off Mrs. Gale.”

  “Why, my dear child, I’d pay it for a year,” he said cordially. “And trust you for twenty more in case anything happened to your undertaking. Tell me when you’re ready and I’ll give you a check or cash, as you prefer.”

  “Jennie’s job is the first thing,” I suggested rather gloomily.

  “That won’t be hard, I think. Jenny Gale is a pretty smart young woman,” he continued. “We’ll find her something.”

  I did not tell him that I still had Mother to persuade, but I felt sure that would not take long. She was fond of Jenny, and so was Mrs. Windsor, and they sympathized with her efforts to get a position. Mrs. Windsor helped a lot — I believe she really found the right place at last.

  I put it to Mother on the ground of being such a chance for dear Jenny; and then that it would be Mrs. Gale’s salvation.

  “Dr. Bronson says it’s worry and nothing else that ails her. He says if she could have a rest and no care she’d be a well woman.”

  When Mother hesitated over the risk, I went over the figures with her — still keeping that $4.00 estimate on food, and showed her that possible $1,570 — or even $1,070 clear profit.

  And, to finish, I began to say how all our boarders loved the food here, and loved her, and how Dr. Bronson would prefer our table, that he fairly suffered at Mrs. Gale’s, and she was just about converted.

  We had a talk with Alison, all three together. I had already spoken to her about it, and she was more than willing. It meant more money for her, too, and she delighted in her enlarged scale of cooking.

  Mrs. Gale was the hardest to move. She complained about her debts; I assured her we would take them all. She spoke of the furniture, fairly dwelt upon it, until I asked her what she thought it was really worth. She said, after figuring on it a long while, perhaps $1,200.

  You see, she had had very little of her own at first, and had had to buy from time to time. She got her things secondhand, and at auction sales — it was a poor lot, and old. There was hardly any real silver, and the bed and table linen was pretty well worn out. When I offered to pay her $300 down, and 10 percent a year on the rest until I could buy it, she was much impressed.

  She, too, spoke, rather half-heartedly, of the “good will of the business,” but even Mother knew better than that.

  “Of course, Mrs. Gale, that is right,” she agreed. “Just show us the annual profit and we shall be obliged to pay you on that basis.”

  “Well, Mrs. MacAvelly, I haven’t the face to claim any profit,” the poor woman said. “I’ve worked like a slave and so has Jenny, but beyond keeping a roof over our heads, and clothes on our backs, there’s nothing to show for it. You’ve done better, I know, but then you own your house — that makes a big difference, a very big difference. I don’t advise you to take my house,” she went on. “In conscience I can’t advise you to. It’s a hard house to heat, and to keep clean...”

  It took quite a good deal of persuading all around, but presently Mrs. Gale was out and we were in, with the rent to pay and the furniture to buy and Dr. Bronson’s advance to begin it with.

  We were soon running full houses, with a smart young woman to keep the Gale house clean, and Alison gettin
g extremely important over her cooking — and her increased income. She never had had enough to do for us. Alison had real capacity.

  But life is a complicated thing, I find. No sooner had I got the business going smoothly, with a chance of paying off everything, and even getting some new furniture by next winter, than things began to happen at home.

  I had kept an eye on Peggy, of course; but there was one thing I never thought of — that was anybody’s falling in love with me.

  It was that nice Robert Aylesworth. He was just the dearest boy — I was as fond of him as could be, but as for marrying him — oh, never!

  Of course I did not mean to marry at all. I’d seen enough of it. Besides, how could I marry, and be Benigna Machiavelli!

  I was planning for such a number of things to do in life, one after the other. Most people seem to me to spend their lives in coops. The boys run into an office and the girls run into a house, headlong, and there they sit as long as they live, in coops.

  I wanted Adventures — and I meant to have them. All these preliminaries were only to do my duty by my family first — then I was going to be off.

  As for Robert, I had been hoping, distinctly hoping, that he’d fall in love with Peggy as all the others did. He was so sweet with Mother, and he wasn’t over ambitious. I thought perhaps he’d be willing to live at home and back up Mother in the business.

  With that view I had confided in him a little, just a little; and the foolish boy was quite impressed with what I’d been doing. I told him it wasn’t anything, that housekeeping was a thing any woman ought to be good at.

  “Maybe they ought to be, but they are not,” said Robert, and he proceeded to follow me about and invite me to things, until I had to notice it.

  It was quite exciting, in a way. Though I did not mean to marry, I had no objection to being asked. And then I found there was a certain satisfaction in having somebody always considering one’s wishes and doing nice little things for one.