“What office?” Frankie asked, with interest. “Mr. Petersen’s. He says I can have your place. I’ll go down to the village to-morrow and find a girl to stay with Grandma while I’m away.” Now, both Frances and Minnie knew that, on account of her liability to those mysterious “attacks,” it wouldn’t do to leave the old lady alone, and they wouldn’t have done so under any circumstances, but she, poor old soul, terrified before their confident youth, not knowing what resources they had, felt them to be capable of everything. She pictured herself, solitary again, ill perhaps, with a strange servant prowling about, prying into everything, pilfering, undoubtedly setting the house on fire.... It was a most painful scene; she broke down, cried, surrendered. Minnie, although with tears in her eyes, saw her opportunity and pressed her point. “Grandma dear,” she said, “tell us just what you have, and we’ll arrange some way to manage.” The old lady confessed resentfully to a sole income of twenty-five dollars a month. They were incredulous. “But in that case,” said Frances, “you must.... Why, there must be....” “About how much do you suppose--we--owe?” asked Minnie. This question the old lady couldn’t answer, because she actually did not know. She had never attempted to calculate; it was a topic she did not care to think about. She mentioned a number of tradespeople who had been “very nice”; in fact, she deluded herself into the belief they enjoyed serving a Defoe. They were, she assured the girls, perfectly willing to wait. Wait for Heaven knows what! “Mr. Petersen, too, I suppose,” Minnie asked with a frown, “I suppose we owe him money?” “Dear me, child, he’s only too pleased to have someone living here. He told me so himself. He couldn’t rent this place to anyone else; he’d simply have to pay a caretaker.” “Why did he buy it then?” enquired Frankie. The subject was not pursued, however, for Minnie had got up, a little pale as her great minute approached. “Now then, Grandma and Frankie,” she said, “here’s my plan. I want to take charge of the housekeeping and--and the money.... I’ll keep things going and try to pay off the debts.” “Nonsense, child! What are you going to pay them off with? How far do you imagine----” “I’ve found a boarder,” she said. “A boarder!” they both cried, simultaneously. “A literary gentleman,” she explained, “from New York. He’ll only pay eight dollars a week, but he’s a start, anyway.” “But, my dear,” Frances objected, “where could you put him?” “Nowhere in _my_ house!” cried the old lady. “I won’t hear of it! It’s disgraceful! It’s vulgar! I won’t have it!” “I _must_!” said Minnie, “I’ve made up my mind. I can’t and won’t go on this way. Either you’ll let me have this boarder or I’ll have to go into Mr. Petersen’s office.”