"Don't cry, Hermy!" he pleaded. "Oh, don't cry, I—I can't bear it. You know I love you best in the world—ah, don't cry, dear. I—I'll hunt up a job first thing—honest I will—"
"But your clothes are so very shabby!" she sobbed, "and oh, boy dear, I have only just enough to—pay our rent this month—so I can't get you any more—yet, dear!"
"Hermy," said he brokenly, "oh, Hermy, you make me feel so mean I—I—One sure thing you're never goin' t' spend your money on clothes for me any more—? the money you work so hard for! Never any more, Hermy dear. You've done enough for me, I guess, an' now it's up t' me to help you and—and—oh, Gee!" Here Spike's voice broke altogether, whereupon Hermione, quite forgetting her own sorrows and worries, fell to soothing and comforting him as she had done many and many a time during his motherless childhood.
"Say, Hermy," said he at last, his tear-stained cheek pillowed on her soft, round bosom, "you won't think me a—an awful kid for—for cryin', will you?"
"I think I love you all the better, boy dear, and—I'm sure it has done us both good," and, smiling down at him through her tears, she kissed him.
"I'll start in an' rustle up a job right away, Hermy!" said he, rising and nodding grimly.
"Oh, boy," said she, looking up at him fondly, "I shall be so proud of you. It wouldn't matter what it was, or how little you got at first, so long as it was decent and honourable. And I'm sure you'll get on—Mr. Geoffrey thinks so too."
"Does he? I'm glad o' that. Say, how d'ye like Geoff?"
"Oh—well, I've only seen him two or three times," said Hermione, folding away her work preparatory to cooking supper.
"Is that all?" said Spike, smoothing out the paper and scowling at the long columns headed "Help Wanted."