After he had gone Marion told Dollie the good news. For another month they could live in comparative comfort.
“I wonder where he got it,” was Dollie’s natural comment.
Marion sighed a little as she answered absently:
“It is one more debt of gratitude that I owe. When, oh, when, will I ever be able to repay them?”
The first thing the next morning Marion secured a doctor for Dollie. His bill was exorbitant, but she paid it ungrudgingly.
Her next move was to rent another typewriting machine, for she was hopeful that by this means Dollie might be able to earn her living.
“Of course it is a risk,” she argued to herself, “but it will amuse her when she is better, and she may be able to secure a position in an office when she has become proficient.”
As the days passed by the hundred dollars seemed to melt away, and Marion redoubled her efforts to secure employment.
Mr. Moore came in every evening and tried to cheer them up, but the girls could see that he was often dispirited, although his manner was always courteous and affectionate. It was growing colder now and both girls needed new clothing, so this demand upon their capital diminished it still farther.
“If I was only well enough to look for work, too,” Dollie would say every day, but, in spite of Marion’s care she was still weak and ailing.