“Alphonso Jones.”
“What makes you think so?”
“Alphonso lacks money to back up his gentility. He only gets twelve dollars a week, Kidder tells me, though he claims to have a thousand dollars a year. Miss Brintnall’s fortune will be a great inducement to him.”
“You forget that he has hopes of an alliance with the sister of the Count de Montmorency.”
“I think he had better take Miss Brintnall,” said Mr. Ingalls, dryly. “Now, to come back to your affairs. Are you quite out of money?”
“Almost. I gave four dollars to a poor family a day or two since, not expecting that I was to be left this way. I have about fifty cents in my pocket-book, and I owe a week’s board.”
His room-mate reflected a moment.
“I wish I were richer, for your sake, Gilbert,” he said. “As it is, I can lend you money enough to pay this week’s board bill. Before another week comes round, something may turn up.”
“Thank you,” said Gilbert, gratefully; “but I don’t like to rob you.”
“You won’t rob me, for I intend to let you repay it when you can. If I could keep it up till your guardian returns I would do so; but this I can’t do. I will tell you what I would do in your case.”