Brewster’s Millions quotes

There were nine of them present, besides Brewster. They were all young, more or less enterprising, hopeful, and reasonably sure of better things to come. Most of them bore names that meant something in the story of New York. Indeed, one of them had remarked,

“A man is known by the street that’s named after him,”

and as he was a new member, they called him “Subway.”

The most popular man in the company was young “Monty” Brewster. He was tall and straight and smooth-shaven. People called him “clean-looking.”

Older women were interested in him because his father and mother had made a romantic runaway match, which was the talk of the town in the seventies, and had never been forgiven.

Worldly women were interested in him because he was the only grandson of Edwin Peter Brewster, who was many times a millionaire, and Monty was fairly certain to be his heir—barring an absentminded gift to charity.

It was a question of work, and hard work, and small pay. He lived on his salary because he had to, but he did not resent his grandfather’s attitude.

He was better satisfied to spend his “weakly salary,” as he called it, in his own way than to earn more by dining seven nights a week with an old man who had forgotten he was ever young.

It was less wearing, he said.

Montgomery Brewster no longer had “prospects.” People could not now point him out with the remark that some day he would come into a million or two.

He had “realized,” as Oliver Harrison would have put it.

Two days after his grandfather’s funeral a final will and testament was read, and, as was expected, the old banker atoned for the hardships Robert Brewster and his wife had endured by bequeathing one million dollars to their son Montgomery.

“Well, I can’t see that you are much changed.” There was a suggestion of a quaver in her voice, and the shadows did not prevent him from seeing the quick mist that flitted across her deep eyes.

“After all, it’s easy work being a millionaire,” he explained, “when you’ve always had million-dollar inclinations.”

“And fifty-cent possibilities,” she added.

“Do about it?” in surprise. “Why, it’s mine, isn’t it?”

“It is not yours until next September,” the lawyer quietly said.

“Well, I fancy I can wait,” said Brewster with a smile that cleared the air.

“But, my dear fellow, you are already the possessor of a million. Do you forget that you are expected to be penniless a year from now?”

“Wouldn’t you exchange a million for seven millions, Mr. Grant?”

“But let me inquire how you purpose doing it?” asked Mr. Grant, mildly.

“In a general way, I presume.”

“I’ll have to employ an army of spendthrifts to devise ways and means for profligacy.”

“You forget the item which restrains you from taking anybody into your confidence concerning this matter. Think it over. It may not be so difficult after a night’s sleep.”

He kept a “profit and loss” entry in his little private ledger, but it was not like any other account of the kind in the world.

What the ordinary merchant would have charged to “loss” he jotted down on the “profit” side, and he was continually looking for opportunities to swell the total.

Rawles, who had been his grandfather’s butler since the day after he landed in New York, came over to the grandson’s establishment, greatly to the wrath and confusion of the latter’s Aunt Emmeline. The chef came from Paris and his name was Detuit.

Stupefaction halted them. After the first pulseless moment of horror, exclamations of dismay went up on all sides. For Monty Brewster the first sensation of regret was followed by a diabolical sense of joy.

“Thank the Lord!” he said softly in the hush.

The look of surprise he encountered in the faces of his guests brought him up with a jerk.

“Sure,” growled Bill. “It’s a nice way to treat us, mister. Move along now and don’t turn ’round.”

“Well, you’re a couple of nice highwaymen,” cried Monty in disgust.

“That is no way to attend to business. Do you expect me to go down in my pocket and hand you the goods on a silver tray?”

“You’re a peach,” whispered Bill, gratefully “What did you do it for, mister?”

“Because you were kind enough not to cut my shirt.”

“Say, you’re all right, that’s what. Would you mind havin’ a drink with me? It’s your money, but the drink won’t be any the worse for that. We blowed most of it already, but here’s what’s left.” Bill handed Monty a roll of bills.

Dan. “But with the music and the decorations arranged, you’ve only begun. The favors are the real thing, and if you say the word, we’ll surprise them a little. Don’t worry about it, Monty. It’s a go already. We’ll pull it off together.”

“You are a thoroughbred, Mrs. Dan,” he exclaimed.

“You do help a fellow at a pinch.”

“I’m going to charter a yacht and sail away from this place for three or four months.” Peggy fairly gasped. “What do you think of the scheme?” he added, noticing the alarm and incredulity in her eyes.

“I think you’ll end in the poorhouse, Montgomery Brewster,” she said, with a laugh.

It was something to know that Monty Brewster could do a thing like that, and would do it for her. The exultant smile which it brought to her lips could only be made to disappear by reminding herself sharply of his recent arrogance.

Her anger, she found, was a plant which needed careful cultivation.

It was in a somewhat chastened mood that she started a few days later for a dinner at the DeMille’s.

Harrison resented the taunt. “It would be much less vulgar to do that, Monty, saving your presence, than to force your millions down everyone’s throat.”

“Well, they swallow them, I’ve noticed,” retorted Brewster, “as though they were chocolates.”

Pettingill interrupted grandiloquently. “My friends and gentlemen!”

Appendicitis, the doctors called it, and an operation was imperative.

“Thank heaven it’s fashionable,” laughed Monty, who showed no fear of the prospect.

“How ridiculous if it had been the mumps, or if the newspapers had said, ‘On account of the whooping-cough, Mr. Brewster did not attend his ball.’ ”

To Monty, fearless and less disturbed than any other member of his circle, appendicitis seemed as inevitable as vaccination.

“The appendix is becoming an important feature in the Book of Life,”

he once told Peggy Gray.

“It is not only New York that laughs at his quixotic transactions,” Barbara persisted. “Mr. Hampton, our guest from Chicago, says the stories are worse out there than they are in the east.”

“It is a pity that Monty’s illness should have made him so weak,”

said Peggy quietly, as they turned in through the great iron gates, and Barbara was not slow to see the point.

“It’s not in me to save money, Nopper, but if you can pull out a few dollars for yourself I shall not object.”

“You told me that once before, Monty,”

said Harrison, as he walked to the window. When he resolutely turned back again to Brewster his face was white, but there was a look of determination around the mouth.

“Better cash in and change your seat, Monty. They’re robbing you,” he whispered.

“Cash in when I’m away ahead of the game? Never!”

and Monty did his best to assume a joyful tone.

“The trouble with this,” Monty replied, “is that there are too many people about. My fairyland is to be just a little different.”

“Your fairyland, Monty, will be built of gold and paved with silver. You will sit all day cutting coupons in an office of alabaster.”

“Peggy, do you too think me vulgar? It’s a beastly parade, I know, but it can’t stop now. You don’t realize the momentum of the thing.”

She was prepared for the proposal, but this action disconcerted her; she gasped and looked about in perplexity. Her friends were smiling broadly and the sheik had placed his hands over his palpitating heart.

“Lothario has a pain,” whispered “Rip” Van Winkle sympathetically, and Brewster laughed.

Peggy did not hesitate an instant after hearing the laugh. She walked straight toward the sheik. Her cheeks were pink and her eyes were flashing dangerously. The persistent brown slaves followed with the jewels, but she ignored them completely.

The retinue bowed impressively and two or three graceless Americans applauded as vigorously as if they were approving the actions of a well-drilled comic opera chorus. Sailors were hanging in the rigging, on the davits and over the deck house roof.

“Smile for the gentleman, Peggy,” commanded Brewster delightedly. “He wants to take a short bask.”

“You are very rude, Mr. Brewster,” said Peggy, turning upon him coldly. Then to the waiting, expectant sheik: “What is the meaning of this eloquence?”

“Is there a Boston on this side of the water?” asked Monty in mild surprise.

“No; there is only one Boston in the universe, so far as we know. It is a large body of intellect surrounded by the rest of the world.”

“What the devil are you talking about? You don’t mean Boston, Massachusetts?” cried Monty, leaping to his feet.

There were no cries and few tears. They expected anything and were ready for the worst, but they would not show the white feather. It was Mrs. Dan who broke the tension.

“I made sure of my pearls,” she said; “I thought they would be appreciated at the bottom of the sea.”

Brewster came in upon their laughter. “I like your nerve, people,” he exclaimed, “you are all right. It won’t be so bad now. The wind has dropped.”

Twice she started to speak, but her voice failed her. She turned slowly and walked to the window, keeping her back to the man who smiled so sadly and yet so heartlessly.

“I didn’t want the million, Peggy,” he went on.

“You think as the rest do, I know, that I was a fool to act as I did. It would be rank idiocy on my part to blame you any more than the others for thinking as you do.

“You won’t mind being poor with me?” he asked.

“I can’t be poor with you,” she said simply.

“And I might have let all this escape me,” he cried fervently. “Listen, Peggy—we will start together, you as my wife and my fortune. You shall be all that is left to me of the past. Will you marry me the day after tomorrow?

He may think I dissipated the fortune, but I defy him or anyone else to prove that I have not had my money’s worth. To tell you the truth, it has seemed like a hundred million.

If anyone should tell you that it is an easy matter to waste a million dollars, refer him to me.

Last fall I weighed 180 pounds, yesterday I barely moved the beam at 140; last fall there was not a wrinkle in my face, nor did I have a white hair. You see the result of overwork, gentlemen.