"You don't quite understand me, Maggie."
"I hope you are not thinking of yourself, Leo—only of mon père."
"I was thinking that he has worked for me, and now I must work for him. I must give up my school now."
"You must, indeed, Leo."
"We can't stay in this house unless we pay the rent. Father made ten dollars a week, and it took every cent of it to pay the expenses. What shall we do now?"
"We must both work."
"We can't make ten dollars a week if both of us work. But you can't do anything more than take care of father. I don't see how we are going to get along. Fitz Wittleworth has only five dollars a week at Mr. Checkynshaw's. If he gave me the same wages, it wouldn't more than half pay our expenses."
Maggie looked puzzled and perplexed at this plain statement. It was a view of the situation she had not before taken, and she could not suggest any method of solving the difficult problem.
"We can reduce our expenses," said she, at last, a cheerful glow lighting up her face as she seemed to have found the remedy.
"You can't reduce them. The doctor's bill and the medicines will more than make up for anything we can save in things to eat and drink."