“Oh, Lou, you can’t think what a life it is,” he cried impetuously.
“Why, Harry, it ought to be a very pleasant one.”
“What, with your nose over an account book, and every time you happen to look up, old Crampton staring at you as much as to say, ‘Why don’t you go on?’”
“Never mind, dear. Try and think that it is for your good.”
“For my good!” he said with a mocking laugh.
“Yes, and to please father. Why, Harry dear, is it not something to have a chance to redeem your character?”
“Redeem my grandmother! I’ve never lost it. Why, Lou, it’s too bad. Here’s father rich as a Jew, and Uncle Luke with no end of money.”
“Has he, Harry?” said Louise thoughtfully. “Really I don’t know.”
“I’m sure he has—lots. A jolly old miser, and no one to leave it to; and I don’t see then why I should be ground down to work like an errand-boy.”
“Don’t make a sentimental grievance of it, dear, but go and do your duty like a man.”