"I've reason enough to cry," she whimpered brokenly. "You won't do anything to help me, and you're the one who should."
"I'll go to work," he said eagerly. He sat down on the edge of the bed. "I'm tired of college anyway!"
"Go to work!" echoed his mother. "What could you do? You wouldn't get ten dollars a week. Nor anything like it. You haven't any profession, and what is there in Ithaca to do anyway?... Oh, if your father'd only lived!"
She broke into a fresh burst of tears.
"Hush, please, dear," said Frederick, smoothing back the grey hair. "Go on and tell me what you want. There, see, now, I'm listening."
Mrs. Graves used her handkerchief vigorously.
"I said I wanted you to marry Madelene Waldstricker," she responded in ruffled tones. "You've but to ask her, and she'll jump. Babe says she talks of you all the time, and is frightfully jealous of you."
A fair, lovely face, glorious glistening brown eyes, and shrouding red curls passed between Frederick's vision and his mother's face, and he groaned.
"Don't! I said not to talk of Tess."
"But I can't help it," snapped Mrs. Graves. "I've got to tell you about Madelene, haven't I? You must ask her now.... She's staying here tonight."