When Haze came up from tending the furnace to-night his face was even more care-lined and anxious than usual.
“How much is there left?” I asked,—the inevitable question.
“If we’re careful it may last till the middle of next week,” returned Hazard, grimly. “Then, I suppose, we’ll begin pawning the spoons. Odd world,—hey?”
Certainly, it is hard for Hazey. One can’t blame him for occasional bitterness. He is working faithfully and well in uncongenial surroundings, and has not had a cent of pay for weeks; while Geof, who is showered with the very advantages for which Haze so ardently longs, seems sullenly determined to make no use of them. Oh, the contrast is cruel! But mother says the struggle is bringing out a new manliness and self-reliance in Haze that are a daily surprise and joy to her. Roses again,—dear mother!
But something had better hurry up and happen soon!
Wednesday, January 28.
He thought he saw a Banker’s Clerk
Descending from the ’bus;
He looked again, and found it was
A Hippopotamus.