“To—to what?”
“Be-parent, if it isn’t a word, I invent it. It’s awfully tough luck for you, and if you want me to I’ll own up to the crowd that I can’t swing you, but if you are willing to stick, why, we’ll fix up some kind of a way to cut down expenses and bluff it out.”
Eleanor considered the prospect. Jimmie watched her apparent hesitation with some dismay.
“Say the word,” he declared, “and I’ll tell ’em.” 68
“Oh! I don’t want you to tell ’em,” Eleanor cried. “I was just thinking. If you could get me a place, you know, I could go out to work. You don’t eat very much for a man, and I might get my meals thrown in—”
“Don’t, Eleanor, don’t,” Jimmie agonized. “I’ve got a scheme for us all right. This—this embarrassment is only temporary. The day will come when I can provide you with Pol Roge and diamonds. My father is rich, you know, but he swore to me that I couldn’t support myself, and I swore to him that I could, and if I don’t do it, I’m damned. I am really, and that isn’t swearing.”
“I know it isn’t, when you mean it the way they say in the Bible.”
“I don’t want the crowd to know. I don’t want Gertrude to know. She hasn’t got much idea of me anyway. I’ll get another job, if I can only hold out.”
“I can go to work in a store,” Eleanor cried. “I can be one of those little girls in black dresses that runs between counters.”
“Do you want to break your poor Uncle James’ heart, Eleanor,—do you?”