"But look here," George blurted worriedly, "I don't like it, mother, darned if I do! You're selling everything—just for school!"
"School is rather important, George," was Edith's tart rejoinder. "If you don't think so, ask your aunt." "What do you think of it, Auntie?" he asked. The cloud which had come on Deborah's face was lifted in an instant.
"I think, George," she answered gently, "that you'd better let your mother do what she thinks best for you. It will make things easier here in the house," she added, to her sister, "but I wish you could have Hannah, too."
"Oh, I'll manage nicely now," said Edith. And with a slight smile of triumph she resumed her dinner.
"The war won't last forever," muttered Roger uneasily. And to himself: "But suppose it should last—a year or more." He did not approve of Edith's scheme. "It's burning her bridges all at once, for something that isn't essential," he thought. But he would not tell her so.
Meanwhile Deborah glanced at the clock.
"Oh! It's nearly eight o'clock! I must hurry or I'll be late," she said. "Good-night, all—"
And she left them.
Roger followed her into the hall.
"What do you think of this?" he demanded. Her reply was a tolerant shrug.