“The helping you? or the sum total? It is more than half of David Inglis’s yearly salary, and Aunt Mary has only that to keep house for them all—at least, she can’t have much besides. It depends on how you look at a sum of money, whether it seems large or small.”
Philip had no answer ready. He walked about the room angry and miserable. Frank went on:
“If you had not lost your situation, you might have paid it yourself, in time, I suppose. As it is you will have to fail too, or your creditor must make up his mind to wait. Are there more of them?”
Frank asked the question coolly, as though it were a trifling matter they were discussing, and his manner throughout the whole discussion seemed intended, Philip thought, to exasperate him.
“And it is not like Frank, the least in the world,” said he to himself, as he uttered an exclamation at his words.
“However,” repeated Frank, “it is only a drop in the bucket, as you say.”
Philip stood still and looked at him, vexation and astonishment struggling with some other feeling, showing in his face.
“Frank,” said he, “it isn’t like you to hit a fellow when he is down.”
“You need not be so very far down. I would not be down, if I were like you and could do anything,” said Frank, with something like a sob in his voice.
“It is precious little I can do, even if I knew what were needed.”