“Why?” she asked, looking up uncertainly. She was rather afraid that Bass would desert her.
“I think I can get work there,” he returned. “We oughtn’t to stay in this darned old town.”
“Don’t swear,” she returned reprovingly.
“Oh, I know,” he said, “but it’s enough to make any one swear. We’ve never had anything but rotten luck here. I’m going to go, and maybe if I get anything we can all move. We’d be better off if we’d get some place where people don’t know us. We can’t be anything here.”
Mrs. Gerhardt listened with a strong hope for a betterment of their miserable life creeping into her heart. If Bass would only do this. If he would go and get work, and come to her rescue, as a strong bright young son might, what a thing it would be! They were in the rapids of a life which was moving toward a dreadful calamity. If only something would happen.
“Do you think you could get something to do?” she asked interestedly.
“I ought to,” he said. “I’ve never looked for a place yet that I didn’t get it. Other fellows have gone up there and done all right. Look at the Millers.”
He shoved his hands into his pockets and looked out the window.
“Do you think you could get along until I try my hand up there?” he asked.
“I guess we could,” she replied. “Papa’s at work now and we have some money that, that—” she hesitated, to name the source, so ashamed was she of their predicament.