"Yes--and scrimp and save and scrooge along without a laundress another
four years, and do his washing and--"

"I--could fix the money part, Harry--easy."

He regarded her with his jaw dropped in the act of chewing.

"By Gad! where do you plant it?"

"It--it's the way I scrimp, Harry. Another woman would spend it on clothes
or--a servant--or matinées. It ain't hard for a home body like me to save,
Harry."

He reached across the table for her wrist.

"Poor little soul," he said, "you don't see day-light."

"Let him go, Harry, if--if he wants it. I can manage the money."

His scowl returned, darkening him.

"No. A. E. Unger never seen the inside of a high school, much less a
college, and I guess he's made as good a pile as most. I've worked for the
butcher and the landlord all my life, and now I ain't going to begin being
a slave to my boy. There's been two or three times in my life where, for
want of a few dirty dollars to make a right start, I'd be, a rich man
to-day. My boy's going to get that right start."

"But, Harry, college will--"