That's
all I can say. We've simply got to have it out. There! I've said
it!"
Alaric rose, and drawing himself up to his full five feet six inches
of manhood glared malignantly at some imaginary bank officials. His
whole nature was roused. The future of the family depended on him.
They would not depend in vain. He looked at Ethel, who was trying to
make the best of the business by smiling agreeably on them both.
"It's bankrupt!" wailed Mrs. Chichester.
"Failed!" suggested Ethel, cheerfully.
"We're beggars," continued the mother. "I must live on charity for
the rest of my life. The guest of relations I've hated the sight of
and who have hated me. It's dreadful! Dreadful!"
All Alaric's first glow of manly enthusiasm began to cool.
"Don't you think we'll get anything?" By accident he turned to
Ethel. She smiled meaninglessly and said for the first time with any
real note of conviction:
"Nothing!"
Alaric sat down gloomily beside his mother.
"I always thought bank directors were BLIGHTERS. Good Lord, what a
mess!" He looked the picture of misery. "What's to become of Ethel,
mater?"
"Whoever shelters me must shelter Ethel as well," replied the mother
sadly. "But it's hard--at my age--to be--sheltered."
Alaric looked at Ethel, and a feeling of pity came over him.
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