“Yes.”
“But after the comforts you have been used to, think how hard that will make it.”
“I can do with less,” said Shirley quietly.
“Do you realize,” said Mr. Willing, “that if I do as you say, and Gabriel wins, and he must, all we shall have is the prize, when we might have four times that much?”
“Is the farm clear?” demanded Shirley.
“Yes, but I was figuring on raising some money on it to recoup my earlier losses.”
“Then,” said Shirley, “if the farm is clear, and Gabriel wins, we shall have enough. What more do we need?”
Mr. Willing hesitated, and Shirley continued.
“Come, Dad, promise me before it is too late. Mother would wish it, were she alive. You know that. We’ll get along some way. Come, Dad, will you promise?”
She stood tip and threw her arms around her father’s neck. Mr. Willing held her in a close embrace for several moments, and as he looked over her head he saw, in memory, another face that also seemed to plead with him.