Mrs. Fair had a way of bringing up problems just when her daughter had succeeded in putting them aside.
"I think we can manage in some way, mother. Don't worry," she said.
"But some one has to worry."
"Then let me do it," Celia answered, smiling.
Half an hour later she was standing by the spinet, absently touching the tuneless keys, when a voice from the window startled her. It was Morgan, who with his elbows on the sill, was looking in.
"Better sell it, Miss Celia."
Sell it! The idea had never occurred to her. "What could I get for it?" she asked, going to the window.
"Two hundred—maybe more."
Two hundred dollars would be a great help toward Tom's expenses, but to give up her grandmother's spinet? It took on a new value.
"Let me have it to do over and I guarantee you two hundred dollars," said Morgan.