“You certainly ought to do better than that young Hall, as I’ve told you before. I doubt if he has five thousand a year.”
“Four, mother, I understand.”
“Then he is worse than impossible. Four thousand a year! Your father never spent less than fifteen and we had hard enough work to make ends meet as it was, but I always had my maid, and my carriage. I’m an old woman now, and it doesn’t make any difference if I have to do without—though I can’t say I’ve ever become used to it—but you are young; you ought to have pleasure, luxury, the good things of life. Look at Edith, poor child, stuck here in this awful place without a cent she can call her own. It ought to be a lesson to you.”
“Sort of horrible example, I suppose,” remarked Mrs. Rogers, with a trace of bitterness in her voice.
“Well, you’re not happy, are you?” asked her mother, turning on her suddenly. “Why should you be? Donald may be a very faithful husband—at least I don’t know anything to the contrary, but why he should expect a girl like you to bow down and worship him, just for permitting you to cook his meals, is more than I can see. If he only had a little more spirit, he would get out and make money, the way other men do, instead of being content to live on little better than a clerk’s hire. I don’t like to hurt your feelings, my dear, any more than I can help, but you know I’ve always thought him a pretty poor sort of a stick.”
“I know you’ve never liked Donald, mother. Let’s talk of something else.”
“What we really came for, Edith, was to talk over our plans for the summer.” Alice drew up her chair and looked significantly at her mother.
“Exactly,” said Mrs. Pope. “I know that Donald hasn’t given his consent, but I intend to talk to him about the matter myself.” Mrs. Pope looked at her daughter as though she believed the matter as good as settled already. “Alice and I are paying thirty-five dollars a week where we are. If you and Bobbie could pay twenty-five that would make—let me see—” she paused, absorbed in the effort of mental calculation—“two hundred and sixty a month.”
“Two hundred and forty, mother,” corrected Alice.