The Joy of the Open Road

STOP a minute, Edith. Pull out to the side and back up to the house where the sign is. No, not the ‘Tourists Eats’ sign; you are n’t hungry again, are you? It’s the one behind that — there, ‘Antiques.’ Now don’t sag at the shoulders in that disagreeable way. I’ve only stopped three times this afternoon, and when we’re up at the lake and you want to ask some of the girls in to luncheon you’ll be awfully glad if I have eight Bennington plates to set the table with. I have seven now, with the two I got yesterday, and if I can find just one more we have it. You’d like to run in for a minute, would n’t you, Georgia?

Don’t say a word about Bennington after we get there. I’m going to ask if she has any milk glass. They always raise the price of the first thing you ask for if they think that’s what you really want, and anyway it’s a good plan to ask for something you think they have n’t got, so you can get out easily if they have n’t anything you want to buy. Not that you can always tell. Lucia’s whole collection of bleeding-heart glass is made up of pieces she hoped they did n’t have.

Oh, good afternoon. Yes, I’d like just to look around a little. You have n’t any milk glass, have you? You know, that whitish-looking stuff. I’m trying to get a plate shaped like a fish, for olives. Oh yes, they used to make them. Well, if you have n’t any I expect we’d better go. Come, Edith. Oh, by the way, what are those brown plates over there? I don’t suppose they amount to anything, but they’re sort of funny-looking. Bennington, did you say? What an extraordinary name! I never heard of that before, did you, Georgia? What’s that jug thing of the same color? A what? Oh, but I don’t think you could use it for flowers on the table if it’s a cuspidor. Still, there are lots of people who would n’t have any more idea than I did of what it was, and it is a nice shape for flowers. When I first used those china setting hens for soup I did n’t like the idea a bit, — you see, we used to keep chickens when I was younger, — but now that everybody’s doing it I’ve really quite got over the notion. How much are those brown plates? Four dollars apiece? Mercy, I could n’t think of getting those. No, no.

What’s that white goblet over there? Oh. No, I thought it just might be a piece of blackberry glass. I did n’t want it myself, but they’re selling in Chicago for eighteen dollars apiece. It’s ridiculous, but ever since that Senator’s wife began to collect them that’s what they are. She doesn’t seem to care what she pays. Yes, it’s the same one. They used to be given away with groceries, you know. Last month when I was motoring through Pennsylvania I asked a man if he had some and he said he’d just shipped his last West. I think it’s dreadful the way people run up prices like that. And half the time people do it when they have n’t the slightest intention of buying. At that same place I saw a nice piece of Stiegel (Nellie would have loved it), and when I asked how much it was he said two hundred and fifty dollars. When he saw me gasp he said, ‘And guess who it was told me it was worth that!’ He went to his desk and handed me an envelope, and there in the corner was ‘Henry Ford.’ Now I don’t mind Ford’s buying antiques; I think it’s awfully nice for a business man to have an outside interest (I only wish Harry cared for them a little more); and I’m crazy to see Ford’s new Detroit Museum; but if he is n’t going to buy something I don’t see why he has to go and put it out of sight for the rest of us. I’d hate to tell you how much I spend every year on antiques as it is. Of course I get some of it back because I do dispose of things every now and then when they don’t seem to fit in any more. You know that man who has that new shop over on the North Side that I pointed out to you the other day? He asked me if I belonged to the dealers’ association, just because I dropped in to see if he would have any use for those pulled-in rugs I got East and that Windsor chair that used to be on the porch and the little lowboy from the dining room. Imagine! I said I certainly wasn’t a dealer and walked right out. But if you don’t mind, when we get back, I wish you’d go in and price the silhouette that’s hanging on the right-hand side of his window. I was looking at it just when he said that to me, and I ’m pretty sure it’s an old one. Of course it isn’t anything you’d want yourself, but you could get it and I’d pay you and he’d never know I’d been back.

Did you say those what-you-call-’em Bennington plates were four dollars apiece? What would they be if I took all three of them? Twelve dollars! Could n’t you make it any less? Well, if you could n’t, I guess you’d better wrap them up for me and I ’ll go along. Edith seems to be sitting on the front step all lopped over. It’s funny the way that child seems to be so easily tired sometimes and so strong others. She can play golf all afternoon and never seem to feel it, but these drives just wear her out. I suppose it’s having to keep her mind on the traffic all the time.

Here’s the money. Thank you. Come, Georgia. Edith, you can take this out to the car for me. Why, put it anywhere, only be careful it does n’t bump against that lamp chimney or my pair of brown bottles — they’re the ones that are wrapped in a funny paper, remember. I think it would go on top of my suitcase, and that fire-back I bought this morning will keep it from slipping.

You know, Georgia, I want to talk to you about an idea I’ve had. What would you think of our running an antique shop together up at the resort? You know you felt just as strongly as I did about the prices that that woman charged who had one three years ago — it was awful; and nobody’s tried it since. Of course I think one ought to get a fair return on one’s money — I thought it would be about right if we’d double what we pay for things; then we could rent that cute little cottage cater-corner from the post office and still have a little money to pay the girls to go down if there were afternoons when we did n’t feel like it. What do you think? We can talk about it going along in the car, for perhaps we’d better not stop again this afternoon — it’s getting on and we ought to get to Crossing City before dark on account of that bad place in the road. At least we’ll plan not to stop, but if we see a place with lots of china I might want just to take a peek. You see, with these new plates I have ten, and it would be awfully nice to complete the dozen, would n’t it?