"Oh, the same reason which makes people do a great many things that
they don't like," she said, lightly; "I wanted the results. I knew if I
worked at it steadily the time would come when I should not only enjoy
it myself, but be able to give pleasure to other people. Why? Don't you
ever do things that you don't particularly like?"

He shrugged his shoulders, and bestowed on her a very wise look.

"Often enough," he said fiercely, and he thought of his drunken father.
"But then I wouldn't if I could help it."

"That would depend on whether you thought the thing would pay in the
end, would it not?"

Then, without waiting for an answer, she asked "What is your business?"

"My business?" with a curiously puzzled air.

"Yes; how do you spend your time?"

"Hunting up something to eat," he said, with a grim smile; visions of
his aimless loafing appearing before him as the only occupation he could
be said to have. It had not occurred to him to try to mislead her, but
she evidently did not understand.

"Oh, yes," she said, seriously, "so I suppose. Isn't it queer how busy
men and women have to be day after day, and year after year, just
getting themselves and others something to eat? Do you have other people
to help get it for? Mother, for instance, and little brothers and