"Mattie was all curiosity, and began at once: 'What in the world is it all about? Why, father, what makes you look so awful solemn; and, dear mamma, why, you're as pale as a ghost.'
"Well, I saw we were in for it, and so I just let right out. I said, 'Girls, mother and I have talked it over, night after night, and we have concluded that we ought to tell you about our circumstances. The fact is, not to be mealy-mouthed about it, we are all on the brink of ruin. I am head over heels in debt, and can't see any way of getting out. Your mother and I are nearly worn out; we can't last much longer. And now, we both feel that we ought to have a plain talk with you.'
"Fanny went into regular hysterics. My wife said, 'Don't, father, don't!' Fanny then began to cry and sob, and declared she shouldn't sleep a minute all night, she was sure she shouldn't sleep a minute.
"Mattie declared she had always lived like a beggar, never had a sixpence to buy anything like other girls, and she wished she had never, never been born.
"Angie, who is always good and loving, said she was very sorry for us. She always was a dear child. She didn't care what the the other girls said, for her part, she was real sorry for us, and what was more, she hoped that business would soon be first-rate again, so that we could all have plenty of money. That child has always been a real comfort to us. She wished we could have another war, it made money so plenty. I tell you she is a sharp one.
"Well, the whole thing ended just about as my wife said it would; it really didn't do any good, but, you see, I was in hopes the girls might help us to think of some way of cutting down. Of course I don't blame them, for, you know, they can't help it.
"Now, my dear friend, what can you say? I feel as if my hands were slipping, as if I were letting go of everything. What shall I do? If you can think of anything, do tell me, for God's sake."
I replied: "My friend, I comprehend your difficulty; I believe I understand it in all its bearings, and I am confident I can help you out.
"Send for your daughters to come home, at once. When they arrive, call another family council. Say to them, 'My dear children, I sent for you for imperative reasons. I am worn out, in debt, wretchedly unhappy, disgraced.—I can't live in this way any longer. You alone can save me. I ask you to abandon, at once, the life you are leading, and help your mother and myself to bear these burdens. I ask you to go with me to-morrow morning to the store, let me discharge both of the clerks, and you become my clerks. My daughters, if you will do this, we shall all be independent and happy. Believe me when I tell you, that these tortures are killing me. While you are all asleep in your beds, your mother and I are grieving and often weeping over the impending ruin. My children, will you save us? Your large acquaintance, your education, your manners, your devotion to our interests, will turn the current in the right direction.'
"Possibly," I said, "they may hesitate; but I don't believe it. In any event, it is the right thing to do. If it should turn out that they draw back, then stand up like an honest, christian man, and declare, 'I will not live another day such a life of fraud; I will not ask the jobbers to trust me with another penny's worth; I will no longer obtain goods under false pretences. If worse comes to worst, you, my daughters, must do what thousands of young women have done before you,—go out into the world and earn your own bread.'