But if his stepfather were coming home, Grit felt that his income would no longer be adequate to maintain the household. Mr. Brandon ought to increase the family income, but, knowing what he and his mother did of his ways, he built no hope upon that. It looked as if their quiet home happiness was likely to be rudely broken in upon by the threatened invasion.
"Well, mother," said Grit, "I must get to work."
"You haven't finished your dinner, my son."
"Your news has spoiled my appetite, mother. However, I dare say I'll make up for it at supper."
"I'll save a piece of meat for you to eat then. You work so hard that you need meat to keep up your strength."
"I haven't had to work much this morning, mother, worse luck! I only earned twenty cents. People don't seem inclined to travel to-day."
"Never mind, Grit. I've got five dollars in the house."
"Save it for a rainy day, mother. The day is only half over, and I may have good luck this afternoon."
As Grit left the house with his quick, firm step, Mrs. Morris looked after him with blended affection and pride.
"What a good boy he is!" she said to herself. "He is a boy that any mother might be proud of."