“Don’t!”
The tone was so sharp that Miss Thorne lifted her head quickly and shot a keen glance at the girl before her. The attractive face had grown strained and the eyes were burning restlessly.
“What is it, Berta?” No student had ever heard her voice so soft before. “You are in trouble.”
Berta looked at her for a moment without replying. Then she picked up her letter, folded it carefully in its original creases, and fitted it into the envelope. “Yes,” she said at last, “I am in trouble. My sister-in-law has lost her income from a foolish investment, entirely her own fault, and she is utterly helpless. My parents have no money to spare. There is nobody else but me to support her and the three babies. She writes that a position in the high school will be vacant next year and I ought to apply at once.”
Miss Thorne sat silent. “And there is no other way?” she asked after what seemed a long, long time.
“None,” answered Berta.
“You will give up the fellowship, your hopes of doing exceptional work? You will sacrifice all your ambition and take up the drudgery of teaching in an uncongenial sphere for the rest of your life?”
“Well, I can’t let the babies go to an orphan asylum, can I?” demanded the girl brusquely to conceal the pain, “there is no one else, I tell you.”
The woman rose and put both arms around the girl. “Berta, dear,” she said, “you are right. Once I hesitated at the point where you are now. I had to choose between the demands of home and the invitation of ambition. I let the home-ties snap, and—here is my empty room. Now there is nobody that cares.”
Berta glanced around again with a little shiver. “There isn’t any question about it for me,” she said, “I’ve got to take care of the babies. And”—she straightened her shoulders suddenly as if throwing off a weight, “it won’t be so hard when I get used to the idea, because, you see, I—love them.”