"I—I can't, just yet," I faltered, with a dreary vision before my eyes of such a boarding house as that from which Kitty rescued me.
"Very well, Nelly, but think about it; you will see that to go on as you are doing would be only throwing money into a bottomless pit. But bring me your bills to-morrow; I must have facts and figures, if we are to straighten your affairs. Now—you need money—"
He was fumbling for his check book. Badly as I needed help, instinctively I cried:—
"Oh, no; not that!"
"Quite sure? It is the situation that troubles you and not the butcher, the baker—"
"Quite sure."
"I desist. But sleep on what I have said. Remember that I am in your father's place, that I—your aunt and I—are very anxious about you."
He took my hand, seeming as perplexed as I am myself. He looked affectionate enough, but so futile.
So I came away heartsick. It's useless to argue with Judge Baker. He's a plebeian from his thick shoe soles to his thin hair; but he's honest. And yet—if he had been less ponderously precise—he might have said: "Why, really, I don't exactly know. Mr. Winship is a well-to-do man. It has been years since I knew, but I can ascertain and—"
Or he might just have told the plain truth—that Father has a large Western farm. Englishmen think all Western folks are rich. Why, I believe Meg Van Dam would dower me if I were to marry Strathay. I could make it worth her while. It wouldn't be the first arrangement of that sort in New York, either.