“Everywhere!” She laughed this time audibly.
“If he went everywhere I should see him,” said Dr. Sevier.
“Ah! naturally,” responded Mary, playfully. “But he does go wherever he thinks there’s work to be found. He doesn’t wander clear out among the plantations, of course, where everybody has slaves, and there’s no work but slaves’ work. And he says it’s useless to think of a clerkship this time of year. It must be, isn’t it?”
The Doctor made no answer.
There was a footstep in the alley.
“He’s coming now,” said Mary,—“that’s he. He must have got work to-day. He has an acquaintance, an Italian, who promised to have something for him to do very soon. Doctor,”—she began to put together the split fractions of a palm-leaf fan, smiling diffidently at it the while,—“I can’t see how it is any discredit to a man not to have a knack for making money?”
She lifted her peculiar look of radiant inquiry.
“It is not, madam.”
Mary laughed for joy. The light of her face seemed to spread clear into her locks.
“Well, I knew you’d say so! John blames himself; he can make money, you know, Doctor, but he blames himself because he hasn’t that natural gift for it that Mr. Ristofalo has. Why, Mr. Ristofalo is simply wonderful!” She smiled upon her fan in amused reminiscence. “John is always wishing he had his gift.”