He don't know what he's doing. He tells 'em
all about that prize--and it's true, you know, he did get it; that's
what they married on, and he thought he could get plenty more that
way, and then he never sold another story. It was too bad. He's a
real gentleman, though you might not think it to look at him now,
not shaved, and all. He thought he could earn a thousand every week,
I s'pose, poor fellow. He got work in a department store, fin'ly,
and it took all he made to bury her. She was a sweet little thing,
but soft. I was real sorry for 'em."
She wiped her eyes hastily.
"Do you know whether he went to Harvard?" Caroline inquired, in a
business-like tone.
The woman was heating some milk in a bottle, over a lamp, and did
not answer her, but a voice from the door brought her sharply
around. The young man stood there. Though still unshaven, he was
otherwise quite changed. His hair was parted neatly, his coat
brushed, his face no longer flushed, but pale and composed.
"If your extraordinary question refers to me, yes, I went to
Harvard," he said in a grating, disagreeable voice. "I have in fact
been called a 'typical Harvard man.' But that was some time ago. May
I ask who you are?"
The woman lifted the bottle from the tin cup that held it and picked
up the baby; the young man shifted his eyes from her immediately and
looked persistently over Caroline's head.
Pages:
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88