“Yes, sir, but what’s to hinder me from gettin’ me a job right now?” asked June.
Wayne considered. Finally he shook his head. “No,” he answered, “I don’t want you working if I’m not. We’ve got enough to last us five weeks; four, anyway; and when we get toward the end of the money we can begin to look for something to do. If Mr. Milburn gives me a try-out and I make good, why, you won’t have to work.”
“Say I won’? How come, Mas’ Wayne?”
“You’ll keep house for me, June, and look after Sam. And you can go to school again. We’ll find a couple of rooms where we can get our own meals. How would you like that?”
“With a real cook stove, Mas’ Wayne?”
“Yes, a real, sure-enough one, June. And we’ll buy a whole outfit of pans and dishes and everything. And there’ll be a pantry with all sorts of things in it: canned soup and flour and sugar and——”
“Molasses?” asked June eagerly.
“Of course. Everything we want.”
“Lawsy-y-y!” crooned June, hugging himself tightly and rolling his eyes. “Jus’ like quality, Mas’ Wayne! Say, I goin’ to cook a big mess of pork an’ cabbage the very firs’ thing! I ain’ had none of that for a mighty long ol’ time, I’m tellin’ you.”
“That’s ‘if’,” reminded Wayne. “Maybe it won’t happen, though.”