Sue came into the room. Briefly I explained to her what our father had agreed upon, that she was to do the deciding and that he would abide by her decision. Then I began my questions to Joe. I felt awkward, painfully the intruder into two other people's lives. And I felt as though I were operating upon the silent old man close by. "The uglier the better," I kept repeating to myself.
"Let's take up first the money side, Joe. Have you any regular salary?"
"No."
"Such as it is, where does it come from?"
"Out of the stokers."
"How much do you get?"
"One week twenty dollars and another ten or five," he said. "One week I got three dollars and eighty-seven cents."
"Is that likely to grow steadier?"
"Possibly—more likely worse."
"But can two of you live on pay like that—say an average of ten dollars a week?"