"If you
don't think so, ask your aunt." "What do you think of it, Auntie?" he
asked. The cloud which had come on Deborah's face was lifted in an instant.
"I think, George," she answered gently, "that you'd better let your mother
do what she thinks best for you. It _will_ make things easier here in the
house," she added, to her sister, "but I wish you could have Hannah, too."
"Oh, I'll manage nicely now," said Edith. And with a slight smile of
triumph she resumed her dinner.
"The war won't last forever," muttered Roger uneasily. And to himself: "But
suppose it _should_ last--a year or more." He did not approve of Edith's
scheme. "It's burning her bridges all at once, for something that isn't
essential," he thought. But he would not tell her so.
Meanwhile Deborah glanced at the clock.
"Oh! It's nearly eight o'clock! I must hurry or I'll be late," she said.
"Good-night, all--"
And she left them.
Roger followed her into the hall.
"What do you think of this?" he demanded. Her reply was a tolerant shrug.
"It's her own money, father--"
"All her money!" he rejoined. "Every dollar she has in the world!"
"But I don't just see how it can be helped."
"Can't you talk to her, show her what folly it is?"
"Hardly," said Deborah, smiling. Already she had on her coat and hat and
was turning to go. And her father scowled with annoyance. She was always
going, he told himself, leaving him to handle her sister alone.
Pages:
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241