“I am afraid it will be too much for you, Herbert,” said Mrs. Carter, irresolutely.
“You don't know how strong I am,” said Herbert; “I shan't get tired so easily as you think.”
“But twenty miles is a long distance.”
“I know that, but I shall take it easy. The stage fare is seventy-five cents, and it's a good way to save it. I wish somebody would offer me seventy-five cents for every twenty miles I would walk. I'd take it up as a profession.”
“I am afraid I could earn little that way. I never was a good walker.” “You're a woman,” said Herbert, patronizingly. “Women are not expected to be good walkers.”
“Some are. I remember my Aunt Jane would take walks of five and six miles, and think nothing of it.”
“I guess I could match her in walking,” said Herbert, confidently. “Is she alive?”
“No, she died three years since.”
“Perhaps I take after her, then.”
“You don't take after me, I am sure of that. I think, Herbert, you had better take seventy-five cents with you, so that if you get very tired with your walk over, you can come back by stage.”