“Well,” observed Mrs. Carraway, quietly, “I don’t either.  I thought so at the time when they asked my permission to do their shopping at the International Toy Bazar.”

“It’s a solar-plexus retort, just the same,” said Carraway, as he shook his head and went to bed.  “I think on the 1st of January, if you have no objections, Mrs. Carraway, I will forswear utilitarianism—­and you may remove the golf-balls from the cloisonne vase as soon as you choose.”

THE BOOK SALES OF MR. PETERS

Like many another town which frankly confesses itself to be a “city of the third class,” Dumfries Corners is not only well provided but somewhat overburdened with impecunious institutions of a public and semi-public nature.  The large generosity of persons who never give to, but are often identified with, churches, hospitals, associations of philanthropic intent of one kind and another, in Dumfries Corners as elsewhere, is frequently the cause of embarrassment to persons who do give without being lavish of the so-called influence of their names.  There are quite a dozen individuals out of the forty thousand souls who live in that favored town who find it convenient to give away as much as five hundred dollars annually for the maintenance of milk dispensaries, hospitals, and other deserving enterprises of similar nature for the needy.  Yet at the close of each fiscal year those who have given to this extent are invariably confronted by “reports,” issued by officials of the various institutions, frankly confessing failure to make both ends meet, and everybody wonders why more interest has not been taken.  “Surely, we have loaned our names!” they say.  It never occurs to anybody that one successful charity is better than six failures.  It has never entered into the minds of the managers of these enterprises that a man disposed to give away five hundred dollars could make his contributions to the public welfare more efficacious by giving the whole to one institution instead of dividing it among twenty.

However, human nature is the same everywhere, and until the crack of doom sounds mankind will be found undertaking more charity than it can carry through successfully, not only in Dumfries Corners, but everywhere else.  It would be difficult to fix the responsibility for this state of affairs, although the large generosity of those who lend their names and blockade their pockets may consider itself a candidate for chief honors in this somewhat vital matter.  It may be, too, that the large generosity of people who really are largely generous with their thousands has something to do with it.  There is more than one ten-thousand-dollar town in existence which has accepted a hundred-thousand-dollar hospital from generously disposed citizens, and the other citizens thereof have properly hailed their benefactor’s name with loud acclaim, but the hundred-thousand-dollar hospital, which might have