“It may, but there is no certainty.”
“At any rate let us go in and get an ice cream.”
“No, Mr. Snodgrass, I must be very economical.”
“You ought to have a little amusement now and then,” urged the author, not concealing his disappointment.
“So I will when I can afford it.”
Mr. Snodgrass endeavored to shake Ben’s determination, but without success, for Ben was prudent and felt that he had no money to spare.
On his return he paid a week’s room rent to Mrs. Robinson. This left him three dollars for a reserve fund.
“I wish I knew how I was coming out,” he reflected anxiously. “I should hate awfully to fail. What would Mr. Winter say? He would gloat over it. Any way I can never go back to him. I would rather black boots.”
Once or twice that employment had suggested itself to Ben, but he had never looked upon it with favor. It was an honest business, though a lowly one, but he felt it was unsuited to one of his education and advantages.
Selling papers seemed a shade higher and more respectable, and he decided to inquire into the pay.