Galusha murmured something, something meant to be sympathetic. Miss
Phipps' evident distress and mental agitation moved him extraordinarily.
He wanted to say many things, reassuring things, but he could not at the
moment think of any. The best he could do was to stammer a hope that she
would not be obliged to sell the house.
She shook her head. “I'm afraid I shall,” she said. “I don't see how
I can possibly keep it much longer. When father died he left me, so he
thought, with enough income to get along on. It wasn't much--fact is, it
was mighty little--but we could and did get along on it, Primmie and
I, without touchin' my principal. But then came the war and ever since
livin' costs have been goin' up and up and up. Now my income is the same
as it was, but what it will buy is less than half. It doesn't cost much
to live down here, but I'm afraid it costs more than I can afford. If I
begin to take away from my principal I'll have to keep on doin' it and
pretty soon that will be all gone. After that--well, I don't want to
look any further than that. I shouldn't starve, I presume likely; while
I've got hands I can work and I'd manage to keep alive, if that was all.
But it isn't all. I'd like to keep on livin' in my own home. And I can't
do that, Mr. Bangs. I can't do that, as things are now. I must either
get some more money somehow, or sell this house, one or the other.”
Galusha leaned eagerly forward. He had been waiting for an excuse and
now he believed he saw one.
“Oh, Miss Phipps,” he cried, “I--I think I can arrange that. I do
indeed. You see, I have--ah--more money than I need. I seldom spend my
money, you know, and--”
She interrupted him and her tone was rather sharp.
“Don't, Mr. Bangs,” she said. “Don't say any more. If you've got the
idea that I'm hintin' for you to LEND me money--you or anybody else--you
never was more mistaken in your life. Or ever will be.”
Galusha turned red. “I beg your pardon,” he faltered. “Of course I know
you were not hinting, Miss Martha. I--I didn't dream of such a thing. It
was merely a thought of my own. You see, it would be such a favor to me
if you would permit me to--to--”
“Don't.”
“But, Miss Phipps, it would be doing me such a GREAT favor. Really, it
would.”
He was so very much in earnest that, in spite of her own stress of mind,
she could not help smiling.
“A great favor to help you get rid of your money?” she asked. “You
havin' such a tremendous lot of it, I presume likely.”
“Yes--ah--yes, that's it, that's it.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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