“That ain’t possible.”
“Not only possible, but easy. Give her the money to go back to Portland to stay till we come. She’ll never know it’s mine.”
“No, sir! I won’t do that. She’d never take so much money as that from me, and I’d have to tell her the truth. She’s just possessed to pay Mrs. Bruce back, as it is. She’d rather work in their Park years than not do it.”
Irving made an impatient sound, and Betsy shook her head.
“Mrs. Bruce is awful down on her. You’ll find it out if you touch the subject any lower’n her hair. I know the symptoms.”
“Well, what are you going to do, then?” asked Irving, frowning impatiently.
Miss Foster looked back at him, full.
“That ain’t anything to any young man,” she said impressively.
“You’re going to do something, then?” he asked eagerly. “I don’t want to go into that dining-room to-night. Do you like to see her there?”
He rose, spurned his chair, and walked up and down the log cage.