“You are going away?” exclaimed Shirley, surprised.
“Yes,” he said, “I cannot stand it any more at home. I had a hot talk with my father yesterday about one thing and another. He and I don't chin well together. Besides this matter of your father's impeachment has completely discouraged me. All the wealth in the world could never reconcile me to such methods! I'm ashamed of the rôle my own flesh and blood has played in that miserable affair. I can't express what I feel about it.”
“Yes,” sighed Shirley, “it is hard to believe that you are the son of that man!”
“How is your father?” inquired Jefferson. “How does he take it?”
“Oh, his heart beats and he can see and hear and speak,” replied Shirley sadly, “but he is only a shadow of what he once was. If the trial goes against him, I don't think he'll survive it.”
“It is monstrous,” cried Jefferson. “To think that my father should be responsible for this thing!”
“We are still hoping for the best,” added Shirley, “but the outlook is dark.”
“But what are you going to do?” he asked. “These surroundings are not for you—” He looked around at the cheap furnishings which he could see through the open window and his face showed real concern.
“I shall teach or write, or go out as governess,” replied Shirley with a tinge of bitterness. Then smiling sadly she added: “Poverty is easy; it is unmerited disgrace which is hard.”