“No, he doesn’t, stupid!” Fanny cried, shaking him. “But he says Uncle Doug made the greatest mistake of his life when he went into politics. It spoiled him as a lawyer.”
“Well, what’s all this got to do with us?” Guy asked, drawing away.
“Us!” Fanny repeated rapturously. “Isn’t that a nice word? Dad would never let us—well, you know—if you were going to stick to politics, not to mention the twenty a week.”
“What can I do, then? I’m not clever, like other fellows. Don’t you suppose I know I’d have lost my position long ago if your uncle wasn’t the best man in the world?”
Fanny began to bite the tips of her fingers. “I guess I’ll have to speak to dad myself,” she said, slowly. “I’ll make him give you a job in the factory.”
“In the factory?” Guy exclaimed, horror-stricken.
Fanny turned upon him indignantly. “Yes. You don’t mean to say! Well, you’ll have to get over those notions. I suppose you got ’em at college. Dad’ll make you put on overalls and begin at the bottom. Oh, dad’s awfully thorough.”
Guy considered the matter. “How much would he give me?”
“Lots of fellows begin at three dollars a week,” said Fanny. Guy looked at her reproachfully. “Perhaps through influence you may be able to get as much as ten.” Then Fanny went on: “Now, look here. Dad’s always been sorry that I wasn’t a boy, so that I could take the business, and all that. But I guess I’ll take it, all the same. Only you’ll be my representative. See? After you’ve learned how to run things, dad may put you in charge of the New York office. Won’t it be grand? We’ll have a box at the opera and we’ll—” Fanny stopped. Her aunt stood at the door. “Oh, auntie, how much does it cost to keep house in New York?”
Helen Briggs smiled. “That depends.”