The Beggar's Purse: A Fairy Tale of Familiar Finance

In Short

This fable-like story follows E. Van Tenner, a precise but unthinking bachelor, who encounters a patriotic street beggar during the First World War. The beggar gifts him a "magic" purse that serves as a moral auditor, pressing against his conscience whenever he spends money on wasteful habits or social posturing. By refusing to pay for unnecessary luxuries and performative tips, Van Tenner learns to distinguish between genuine needs and the "blackmail" of social pressure. The book serves as a charming, dated, yet pointed exploration of the psychological costs of consumerism.

The Story

E. Van Tenner leads a life of comfortable, predictable habits in Philadelphia until a professional beggar stops him to advocate for the purchase of War Savings Stamps. The beggar offers Van Tenner a simple, flattish wallet with a celluloid tablet inscribed with the phrase, "What’s the good?" The condition is strict: Van Tenner must use the purse for all his daily expenses, and if he attempts to spend money on something wasteful or unnecessary, the purse will exert a physical or conscience-driven "magic" upon him. Intrigued, Van Tenner accepts the challenge.

On a business trip to New York, Van Tenner’s transformation begins almost immediately. When he attempts to tip a porter for a service he could perform himself, the purse bites his finger. He chooses a day coach over a Pullman car, realizing he has been paying extra for heat and stuffiness rather than comfort. As the day unfolds, the purse acts as a constant, nagging monitor of his vanity. He realizes he has been paying "blackmail" to hotel clerks, coat-room attendants, and taxicab drivers—not for service, but to avoid the discomfort of being judged as "cheap."

When he encounters a belligerent taxi driver, the purse imparts a sudden, military-like confidence to his voice, prompting him to challenge the man’s draft status, which sends the driver scurrying away. Emboldened, Van Tenner avoids unnecessary hotel room upgrades, bypasses extortionate coat-check fees, and even successfully negotiates with a head waiter who attempts to charge him for a menu on a "meatless" day.

By the end of his twenty-four-hour experiment, Van Tenner is exhausted but enlightened. He tallies his savings, realizing that his previous spending was largely driven by a fear of social disapproval. He falls just short of the money needed for two War Savings Stamps until a final realization—that opting for a postcard instead of a phone call saves him exactly the remaining eight cents—pushes him over the goal. Upon returning home, he meets the beggar again and reveals that he has not only saved the money for the stamps but has also gained a new, austere clarity about his own character. He commits to investing further, joining the "Take-the-Limit Club" and fundamentally altering his relationship with money.

How It Unfolds

The encounter A persistent, patriotic beggar approaches the comfortable bachelor E. Van Tenner and challenges him to buy war stamps by cutting out waste. He presents a plain, mysterious purse that promises to act as a physical manifestation of Van Tenner’s own better judgment.

The departure Van Tenner begins his trip to New York and is shocked when the purse discourages him from tipping a porter. He finds himself choosing the day coach over the Pullman, realizing that "economy" often masks a desire to avoid being seen as plebeian.

The confrontation When challenged by an aggressive taxicab driver, Van Tenner discovers the purse has the power to sharpen his resolve and command. He successfully resists the "blackmail" of hotel staff and coat-check girls by simply refusing to play the expected role of the wealthy, passive patron.

The resolution After a day of fighting his own vanity, Van Tenner arrives at the exact savings needed to purchase his war stamps. He realizes that the wallet didn't just save money; it cured his impulse to pay for the approval of strangers and helped him define his own values.

The People

E. Van Tenner is a man of rigid, comfortable habits who initially views his spending as a matter of course. He is a person of "vanity and timidity" who fears being thought "cheap" by hotel clerks and service staff. Through the challenge, he transforms into a man of deliberate action, gaining the courage to stand up for his own principles.

The Beggar acts as a catalyst and mentor. He is a professional patriot who uses the language of magic to frame financial discipline. He represents the voice of the wartime government’s call for thrift, but he is also a psychological guide who understands that Van Tenner’s biggest obstacle is his own fragile ego.

In Its Own Voice

“I propose that you shall start modestly with one of these stamps, purchased out of what you save on current expenses without giving up anything that you need or want or aren’t better off without.”

The beggar explains the simple, logical philosophy behind his challenge to E. Van Tenner.

“I’ve learned that every time I spend a dollar I spend an extra quarter for vanity and a dime for timidity.”

Van Tenner reflects on the true nature of his previous expenses after his twenty-four-hour experiment concludes.

What It's Really About

The story is a moral argument against the performative nature of middle-class consumerism. It posits that much of what we call "service" is actually a form of social extortion, where we pay to be coddled or to avoid the disdain of those who profit from our compliance. The book argues that "thrift" is not merely about hoarding money, but about reclaiming one's autonomy from the artificial expectations of the marketplace. By stripping away the "blackmail" of tipping and luxury upgrades, the protagonist discovers that his true needs are modest, and that genuine self-respect is incompatible with the constant, automatic purchase of social status.

Why Read It Today

Readers who enjoy the brisk, moralizing tone of early 20th-century American short stories will find this a fascinating relic. The prose is sharp, occasionally whimsical, and moves with a distinct, confident pace that reflects the urgency of the war effort. It feels like a piece of historical propaganda, yet it avoids being heavy-handed by grounding its message in a character-driven, almost comedic struggle against the inconveniences of modern city life.

You may find the period language—such as the references to "Red-Caps" and "Meatless Tuesdays"—to be a bit specific to 1918, but the underlying social observation remains surprisingly relevant. Anyone who has ever felt the social pressure to over-tip or pay for an unnecessary "service" to avoid awkwardness will recognize Van Tenner’s frustration immediately. While the book is quite short, its premise is memorable, and it serves as a lighthearted, if slightly preachy, reminder of how easily we surrender our agency to the service economy. It is best read as a historical curiosity that, despite its age, retains a genuine, biting wit regarding the ways we allow our money to buy our passivity.