Hermione sighed softly and, resting her round chin in her hands, viewed him silently awhile until, becoming aware of the steadfast gaze of those sweet and gentle eyes, Spike shuffled uneasily and changed colour.
"Arthur," she said softly, "when you promised me to try and find a situation you meant it, didn't you?"
"Sure I did!"
"That was a week ago, dear."
"But, Hermy, I went after that office-boy's job—you know I did!"
"Yes, dear, though you got there too late."
"No, I wasn't late, Hermy, only another guy happened t' get there first—an' got the job! A kid I could have licked with one hand, too. One of these mommer's pets in a nobby sack suit—all dolled up in a clean collar an' a bow-tie an' grey kid gloves. I guess his outfit helped him a whole lot—an' y' see I'm a few chips shy on clothes, I guess."
Hermione looked at her brother's worn garments, shiny at elbow and knee, and as she looked, her eyes were suddenly suffused.
"Yes, dear, I—I'm afraid they are—rather shabby," she admitted humbly. "Your clothes always did seem to wear out so very quickly! And—and it costs so much to live! And—sometimes I grow—afraid—"
The smooth, low voice faltered and ended upon a sob. Spike stared in wide-eyed amaze, for seldom had he seen his sister thus, but now, beholding the droop of that brave head, seeing how her strong white hands gripped each other, he tossed the paper aside, and flinging himself on his knees clasped her in his arms.