Friendship's Claim.
"Harold, you are getting to be quite a little man. I'm afraid you'll be one before I get my plans made for you. How would you like to go away to that military academy that I spoke of?"
The boy's eyes flashed and he looked up at George Cadman with keenest delight.
With the exception of deep-set eyes like Will's, he was the exact miniature of Alma.
The three: George, Alma and Harold—were sitting at the supper table in Alma's cozy dining-room.
Everything looked the same as when Will had left the home. It was true that Alma was left penniless, but it was comparatively easy for George to disguise the fact, and not until very lately did Alma learn that he was supporting the home with its accustomed luxury.
With the knowledge came a feeling of intense shame. She had been so thoughtless, leaving every business detail to George, and shutting herself up to her own grief.
The last few days had been full of troubled thought. How could she do anything at all to become independent, and yet bring Harold up in the right atmosphere? There seemed no answer to this at all. She never realized how perfectly helpless she was until now. Brought suddenly face to face with real living, she found herself without a resource. She wept tears over it, but that did not solve the problem.
She had determined tonight to talk to him about it, and beg him to show her some way to help herself.
When George addressed Harold, she looked up in silent surprise. Just when she was about to carry out her resolves, he was proposing new obligations, which her boy was only too eager to accept.