"Hardly as much to the organist perhaps. But I could give lessons in the school, Gordon tells me, and make no end of money so. Oh, it would be a first-rate thing for me."
"And for me?"
"Oh, I hope you won't have to go on slaving for Miss Crawford. You must come and keep house—" Bertie stopped abruptly. He could deceive on a grand scale, but these small fibs, which came unexpectedly, confused him and stuck in his throat.
"Keep house for you? Is that all I am to do? Bertie, how rich do you hope to be?"
"Rich enough to keep you very soon," he answered gravely.
"But does Mr. Gordon think you have a chance of this appointment?"
"Why not?" said Bertie. "I am fit for it." There was no arrogance in his simple statement of the fact.
"I know you are. All the same, I think I won't give up my situation till we see how this new plan turns out. And I don't want to be idle."
"But I don't want you to work," said Bertie. "You are killing yourself, and you know it. Well, this is worth inquiring about at any rate, isn't it?"
"Yes, it certainly is. It sounds very pleasant. But pray don't be rash: don't give up what you have already until you quite see your way."