“And he gave me this,” put in Jennie, who, with some instinctive psychic faculty, had been following her mother’s mood. She opened her dress at the neck, and took out the two hundred and fifty dollars; she placed the money in her mother’s hands.
The latter stared at it wide-eyed. Here was the relief for all her woes—food, clothes, rent, coal—all done up in one small package of green and yellow bills. If there were plenty of money in the house Gerhardt need not worry about his burned hands; George and Martha and Veronica could be clothed in comfort and made happy.
Jennie could dress better; there would be a future education for Vesta.
“Do you think he might ever want to marry you?” asked her mother finally.
“I don’t know,” replied Jennie “he might. I know he loves me.”
“Well,” said her mother after a long pause, “if you’re going to tell your father you’d better do it right away. He’ll think it’s strange as it is.”
Jennie realized that she had won. Her mother had acquiesced from sheer force of circumstances. She was sorry, but somehow it seemed to be for the best. “I’ll help you out with it,” her mother had concluded, with a little sigh.
The difficulty of telling this lie was very great for Mrs. Gerhardt, but she went through the falsehood with a seeming nonchalance which allayed Gerhardt’s suspicions. The children were also told, and when, after the general discussion, Jennie repeated the falsehood to her father it seemed natural enough.
“How long do you think you’ll be gone?” he inquired.
“About two or three weeks,” she replied.