"I guess I'll be able to manage, Sally."
"I hope so. And I've been thinking, Fox, that I ought to help."
"Why, Sally, you do help. Just think of the things you do, every day, helping about your mother, and about the house."
"Yes," she returned, "but I mean about earning money. Those things don't earn money. Couldn't I learn typewriting and go into somebody's office? Or couldn't I teach? Do you have to know a lot of things, to teach, Fox?"
Fox smiled. "Some teachers that I have known," he answered, "haven't known such an awful lot of things. But if you really want to teach, Sally, you ought to be trained for it. At least," he added, more to himself than to Sally, "that is the popular opinion."
Again Sally was distressed. "Do you have to go to college, Fox?"
"Well," answered Fox, smiling, "not exactly, but something of the sort. There's a normal school or the training school for teachers, or whatever they call it."
"Oh, dear!" Sally wailed. "Everything takes so long! I wanted to do something right away. Can't you think of anything, Fox?"
"Not right off the bat. I'll see what thoughts I can raise on that subject. But if I don't think of anything, would you like to plan to be a teacher, Sally?"
"If it would help mother, I would. If that's the best thing we can think of. I'd do anything to help mother. I'd go out scrubbing or I'd sell papers or—or anything."