It was a strange question, and Louie looked her surprise as she replied, “Do you mean, how did he get his living?”
“Why, yes, I guess that is what I mean. Was he a banker, or merchant, or what?”
Louie’s brown eyes looked steadily at him, and her face flushed as she replied very frankly:
“I hardly know what he did; there were so many things, and he did not stay long in any. Got tired and tried another. He was in a bank for a while, and in a store and insurance office, and I don’t know what else; a rolling stone, mother used to call him, but he managed at times to make a lot of money, which he spent very freely, and then didn’t have much till he made some more. He is doing a great deal better now. Why do you ask me? Have you any particular reason?”
Louie’s eyes were very bright, and Herbert felt his own droop beneath them. He had not realized all his question might lead to, and was wondering how to answer her, when she again said to him:
“What is it? Tell me!”
“Oh, nothing much,” he began. “There are a heap of liars in the world—jealous pates—who hint that your father is—a—or was—a—”
Here he came to a dead stop, for Louie’s eyes were getting dangerous.
“Is—er—was—er—what? Speak out, or I’ll get up and go straight home.”
“I’d like to see you do it,” Herbert answered laughingly. “Don’t bounce about so. You’ll upset the boat, and I can’t swim.”