“And what's going to become of me then?” asked Barbara.
“You know, dear, we can't sacrifice the future for the present. It's a beastly short time in which I am to make a substantial addition to my earn ings, and your father most expressly stipulates that I bring them up to some appropriate figure. In the event of my being able to do this he will entrust your happiness to my care, feeling assured I am and will continue to be worthy of the trust he reposes in me—and so on and so forth through the easy let-down that he gave me. On the whole he was fair... most fair.”
Philip was silent for a moment, then he said:
“That I have a thousand dollars and better in the bank was a point in my favor—if it had not been for that the chances for a respectful hearing would have been slim.”
“It is quite a sum,” Barbara said. “Lots of people here, nice people, too, live on small salaries and never get anything ahead. Of course there are others, like the Perkinses, who are rich.”
“It's pitifully small!” said Philip, and looked his disgust.
“I don't know—one can do lots with a thousand dollars. You can buy a very pretty little home here for that,” said Barbara practically.
“Of course your father knows the money was left me and that I didn't make it. He hinted that it was about time that I got into something certain. He even said that as soon as I did we might marry. It's awfully lucky about that money. I hope to goodness nothing will happen to the bank, for if there should, I might just as well quit.”
Both laughed at the idea.
“Isn't it absurd!” said Barbara dolefully.