“Faster?” George echoed gravely. “We’ve got to have more than that to start with.”
“Well, there’s the six hundred dollars from the sale. Six hundred and twelve dollars it was.”
“It isn’t six hundred and twelve now,” said George. “It’s about one hundred and sixty.”
Fanny showed a momentary dismay. “Why, how—”
“I lent Uncle George two hundred; I gave fifty apiece to old Sam and those two other old darkies that worked for grandfather so long, and ten to each of the servants here—”
“And you gave me thirty-six,” she said thoughtfully, “for the first month’s rent, in advance.”
“Did I? I’d forgotten. Well, with about a hundred and sixty in bank and our expenses a hundred a month, it doesn’t seem as if this new place—”
“Still,” she interrupted, “we have paid the first month’s rent in advance, and it does seem to be the most practical—”
George rose. “See here, Aunt Fanny,” he said decisively. “You stay here and look after the moving. Old Frank doesn’t expect me until afternoon, this first day, but I’ll go and see him now.”
It was early, and old Frank, just established at his big, flat-topped desk, was surprised when his prospective assistant and pupil walked in. He was pleased, as well as surprised, however, and rose, offering a cordial old hand. “The real flare!” he said. “The real flare for the law. That’s right! Couldn’t wait till afternoon to begin! I’m delighted that you—”