"That's for you and me to say. It's up to us, Jen. Pa'll never get another job, not on your life, unless it's running a lift. We've got to shoulder it—you and me between us."
Jennie passed on into the room and down to the group round the table. The glow had gone out of her cheeks, but she was free from her brother's dismay. To begin with, she was a woman, and he was only a man. All his adventures would have to be dull ones in the line of work whereas hers.... She could hear Wray saying, as he had said only two hours ago, "You could marry Bob Collingham if you wanted to."
She didn't want to—as far as that went; but if the worst were to come to the worst and they should be in need of bread....
"Hello, mother! Hello, daddy!" Jennie was quite self-possessed. "Teddy's been telling me. Too bad, isn't 't? But something will turn up. What is there for supper, Gus?"
Gussie minced round the table, putting on the salt cellars.
"There's pickled humming birds for princesses," she said, witheringly. "After that there'll be honey-dew jam."
"Then I'll go up and take my hat off."
This coolness had the inspiriting effect of an officer's calm on a sinking ship. It was an indication that life could go on as usual; and if life could go on as usual, all wasn't lost.
"And for mercy's sake," Jennie added, turning to leave them, "don't everybody look so glum. Why, if you knew what I could tell you you'd all be ordering champagne."
So they were tided over the dreadful minute, which meant that they found power to go on with the preparations for supper and to sit down to supper itself. There the old man cheered up sufficiently to be able to tell what had passed between him and the head of the firm. He was still doing this when Teddy sprang to his feet, striking the table with a blow that made the dishes jump.