Letty Fox Read Online Free Page B

aunts, cousins, even my grandmother, Cissie Morgan, would look me over and quite frankly ask what was wrong with me that I had not got a man, a fine home, a good income, and children yet. Why was I still Letty Fox and not Letty What-have-you? There was no answer, for I had not even the excuse that I was ugly, ambitious, disillusioned, misunderstood, or timid; I was quite the most eligible and probably the most desirable girl in the family—well, no one ever thought to see me twenty and unattached.
    Well, as to the rent: I had no chance of getting money from my father, who was quite a different breed from myself. He did not approve of my debts, although I had heard some tales about his own indebtedness at my age. Then, of course, I was not, truly speaking, insolvent, for on my twenty-fifth birthday I was to get the thousand dollars that Grandfather Morgan left for me; and, more than that, everyone has always felt that Father owed me for the shares of Standard Oil of New Jersey that were given to me when I was born and were later sold to pay for my medical and school expenses. I supposed that I would get this money when I actually got married; but on account of my vagaries in love, my family had been holding out on me; not so much giving me the forbidding frown, as secretly and tranquilly exercising their economic advan tage over me; so that I felt I must marry in order to get my own property, even though I am long past my majority. My own stand point was different. I felt that if I had the money I would attract a husband in a short time. I attracted men enough; the difficulty was that I could not keep them, and since army life had taught about eleven million eligibles what economic security is, I did not complain, because my friends, ex-officers, felt that a man needed a woman with cash, to start out in civilian life again. Young men count up; what with rents, taxes, and high prices for infants, they naturally flinch from the married state. If I could get an acceptable offer, I would not of course pay up my debts with any money received upon my engagement. These debts I considered would be rather the concern of my parents and relatives, who were supposed to look after me. No, I would put the money to some use, furnish a home and prepare to settle down as a regular wife and mother. The fact is, dribs and drabs of money must come to me from the Morgan family, as time goes on, simply because so many of the older brothers and sisters of my mother have no children. Grandmother Morgan usually paid up for me when I was really in a jam, the only drawback being that she lived too hard, was seventy-five, and still wanted to remarry.
    After I had, on Saturday, given the superintendent the promised thirty dollars, an unavoidable bribe during the housing shortage, I went to my father’s office in the Produce Exchange. He is a manager and perpetual understudy for an old friend, Joseph Montrose, who is in ship chartering and freights. Papa likes to see me there and to show off my good looks and cleverness. He took me out to lunch in “the Custom House” restaurant in the Exchange; and after we had chatted for a long time about the Third World War and the general fate of this lithosphere, I asked him for the thirty dollars which I had paid the superintendent. He frowned. I had a long tussle before he sighed, pulled out a piece of paper and pencil, figured upon it ostentatiously, and agreed to take me back to the office, where he would get an advance from the treasurer. I told him the address of the place and when I was to move in. I asked him if he would come and help me bring in the furniture, but he said, “I will be there, all right, but you must have the money to pay the men.” I was irritated and said he had never given me a home. He stood me another drink downstairs, and it ended well, with my father merely repeating that I must not expect him to have the money for the men. I had taken a taxi downtown, and had had