"Do as I bid you," said Mrs. Allen impressively.
"There," she said to the chuckling builder, in lofty scorn, throwing toward him a check as if it were dirt. "Now leave the presence of ladies whom you don't seem to know much about."
The man reddened and went out muttering that "he had seen quite as good ladies before."
Two days later a letter from Mrs. Allen's bank brought dismay by stating that she had overdrawn her account.
The next day there came a letter from their lawyer saying that a messenger from the bank had called upon him—that he was sorry they had spent all their money—that he could not sell the stock he held at any price now—and they had better sell their house in the country and board.
This Mrs. Allen was inclined to do, but Edith said almost fiercely:
"I won't sell it. I am bound to have some place of refuge in this hard, pitiless world. I hold the deed of this property, and we certainly can get something to eat off of it, and if we must starve, no one at least can disturb us."
"What can we do?" said Mrs. Allen, crying and wringing her hands.
"We ought to have saved our money and gone to work at something," answered Edith sternly.
"I am not able to work," whined Laura.