Pearl looked at him inquiringly. There must be more than that to the story, she thought.
"The women will tell you more about her—that's sure. They gabble a lot among themselves about her—I don't know—we think it best to leave her alone. No woman has any right to live alone the way she does—it don't look well."
"Well, anyway," Mr. Cowan spoke hurriedly, as one who has been betrayed into trifling feminine matters, and is anxious to get back to man's domain, "we'll take you—at seventy-five dollars a month, and I guess you can get board at Mrs. Zinc's here at about fifteen. That ain't bad wages for a girl your age. You can stay at Mrs. Zinc's anyway till you look around—Mrs. Zinc don't want a boarder. Girls can fit in any place—that's one reason in our neighborhood we like a girl better—there's no trouble about boardin' them. They can always manage somehow. Even if things ain't very good—it don't seem to phaze them—same as a man. We had a man once, and we had to pay him twenty-five dollars a month extra, and gosh—the airs of him—wanted a bed to himself and a hot dinner sent to the school. By Gum! and got it! We'll be lookin' for you at the middle of the month, and you can stay at Mrs. Zinc's and look around."
When the delegation had departed, Pearl acquainted her mother with the result of their visit. Mrs. Watson had retired to the kitchen, all of a flutter, as soon as the visitors came.
"I'm going to Purple Springs, Ma," she said, "to take the school, and they'll give me seventy-five dollars a month."
Mrs. Watson sat down, dramatically, and applied her print apron to her eyes—an occasion had come, and Mrs. Watson, true to tradition, would make the most of it. Her mother had cried when she left home—it was a girl's birthright to be well cried over—Pearlie Watson would not go forth unwept!
"Cheer up, Ma," said Pearl kindly, "I'm not going to jail, and I'm not taking the veil or going across the sea. I can call you up for fifteen cents, and I'll be bringing you home my washing every two weeks—so I will not be lost entirely."
Mrs. Watson rocked herself disconsolately back and forth in her chair, and the sound of her sobs filled the kitchen. Mrs. Watson was having a good time, although appearances would not bear out the statement.
"It's the first break, Pearlie, that's what I'm thinkin'—and every night when I lock the door, I'll be lockin' you out—not knowin' where ye are. When a family once breaks you never can tell if they'll ever all be together again—that's what frightens me. It was bad enough when you went to the city—and I never slept a wink for two nights after you'd gone. But this is worse, for now you're doin' for yourself and away from us that way."
"Gosh, Ma," spoke up Mary, "you sure cry easy; and for queer things. I think it's grand that Pearl can get out and earn money, and then when I get my entrance, I'll go to the city and be a teacher too. You're going to get back what you've spent on us, ma, and you ought to be in great humor. I'm just as proud of Pearl as I can hold, and I'll be tellin' the kids at school about my sister who is Principal of the Purple Springs School."