You can laugh too much. You can be too cheerful. You can look too muchon the sunny side of life. You wont believe this and neither did BobbyMcTabb. But McTabb proved it out. It took the girl to help him—KittyDuchene was her name—tall and sweet to look upon, with those pure blueeyes, dark with the beauty of violets, that go so well with hair whichis brown in the shadow and gold in the sun. They proved it outtogether, all of a sudden. It is their story. And it will never bebelieved. But it’s the truth.
Bobby McTabb was born fat. He weighed fourteen pounds at the start—andkept going. He doubled up his avoirdupois at the end of the tenthmonth, was a fraternity joke at college in his twentieth year, andmade the scales groan under two hundred and eighty pounds at the endof his thirtieth—when he came to Fawcettville. But don’t let thesefacts prejudice you against Bobby McTabb. At least don’t let them giveyou a wrong steer. For Bobby McTabb, in spite of his fat, was a liveone. Fawcettville woke up the day he arrived and began to scrape offthe age-old moss from round the hubs of its village institutions. Forrumor had preceded Bobby McTabb. It endowed him with immense wealth.He was going to boom Fawcettville. The oldest inhabitants gathered ingroups and discussed possibilities, while their sons and youngerrelations worked in the hay and wheat fields. Some believed a railroadwas coming that way. Others that a big factory, like those in thecities, was to be built. A few smelled oil, and Bobby McTabb’s firstappearance gave weight to every dream that had been dreamed. Thevillagers had never seen anything like him, from his patent leathershoes and his gaudily striped waistcoat to his round, rosy, laughingface. He was so fat that he appeared to be short, though he was abovemedium height, and everyone agreed at first glance that no soul lessthan that of a millionaire could possibly abide within this earthlytabernacle that disclosed itself to their eyes. But Bobby McTabbquickly set all rumors at rest. He had come to found a bank—the firstbank in Fawcettville. At that minute he had just one hundred andtwenty-seven dollars in his pocket. But he said nothing of that.
How Bobby McTabb started his bank has nothing to do with this story.But he did it—inside of a week, and prospered. The first part of thestory is how he won Confidence—and met the girl. It was his fat, andhis round, rosy, laughing face that counted. Within a month all themen liked him, the children loved him, and mothers and daughters wereready to trust him with anything. And never for an instant did Bobbybetray one of their trusts. He was lovable from the boots up, and grewfatter in his prosperity as the months rolled by. He discarded hisgaudy attire, and did as the other Romans did—wore a broad-brimmed“haying” hat in summer, “wash shirts,” and seamless trousers. Hejoined the village church, was elected Sunday-school superintendentwithout a dissenting vote, and was soon the heart and soul of everycountry rollicking-bee for miles around. Bobby woke up every morningwith a laugh in his soul and a smile on his boyish face, and hecarried that smile and laugh about with him through every hour of theday. He was happy. Everywhere he preached the gospel of happiness andoptimism. If your heart was sick with a heavy burden it would lightenthe moment you heard his laugh. And it was a glum face that wouldn’tbreak into a smile when it met Bobby McTabb’s coming round the