“That child?”
“When he was older, of course.”
“That is a long way ahead,” said Carroll. He moved to go, but again Anna stood before him.
“Arthur,” said she, solemnly, “I am living with you and doing all I am able. I am giving my strength for you and yours. You know that as well as I do. You know upon whom the brunt here falls. I do not complain. The one who has the best strength should bear the burden, and I have the strength, such as it is. None of us Carrolls need brag of strength, God knows. But I want to know how you came by that money. Yes, I suspect, and I am not ashamed. I have a right to suspect. How did you get that money?”
“I sang and danced for it in a music-hall, blackened up as a negro,” said Arthur Carroll.
“Then that was you, Arthur!” gasped Anna.
“Yes. It was the one thing I could do to get that money honestly and pay the bills, and I did it. I would not let Arms pay.”
“I should think not,” cried Anna. “We have not fallen quite so low as that yet. But you—”
“Yes, I,” said Carroll. “Now let us go to bed, Anna.”
Anna stood aside, but as her brother turned to pass her she suddenly put up her arms, and as he stooped she kissed him. He felt her cheek wet against his. “Good-night, Arthur,” she said, and all the bitterness was gone from her voice.