"Wilhelmina," he said, putting his hand on her shoulder and looking down into her face (it was the first time in his life he had called her that), "I've got to borrow your Christmas gold piece. I never thought I'd come down so low, but,—well, I have! I'm in trouble, and I've got to have it to square myself."
"Is that all?" cried Miss Billy, brightening. "It can't be a very great trouble that that paltry gold piece can drive away. And I'm so glad to let you have it, Ted."
"No,—that's not all," went on Theodore, in a hard voice. "Mr. Brown thinks I'm a sneak, if not a thief!—and I've quit my job. Don't tell father and mother,—not yet, I mean."
"Theodore!" There was anguish in Miss Billy's tones that brought the tears for the first time to Theodore's eyes.
"But I've hired out to Mr. Hennesy to drive a team, and start to work in the morning."
"Brother, you can't do that!" Miss Billy, in spite of herself, was crying now.
"Do you remember," said Theodore, "we were reading the other day that a man is as great—not as his father's money, or his grandfather's name, but as the force within himself? Miss Billy, I have force enough to drive Mr. Hennesy's team, and stick to it! Inasmuch as that, I am a man."
Miss Billy looked up, overawed. Laziness, heedlessness, vanity, had dropped away as a mantle, and from the steady grey eyes looked the serious spirit of a man.
Like a rainbow of promise, Miss Billy smiled through her tears. "Theodore Lee," she said, wiping the last drop off her nose, "Theodore Lee, I'm proud of you!"