At the end of the week Gerhardt took his leave, Jennie returned home, and for a time at least there was a restoration of the old order, a condition which, of course, could not endure. Bass saw it. Jennie’s trouble and its possible consequences weighed upon him disagreeably. Columbus was no place to stay. Youngstown was no place to go. If they should all move away to some larger city it would be much better. He pondered over the situation, and hearing that a manufacturing boom was on in Cleveland, he thought it might be wise to try his luck there. If he succeeded, the others might follow. If Gerhardt still worked on in Youngstown, as he was now doing, and the family came to Cleveland, it would save Jennie from being turned out in the streets. Bass waited a little while before making up his mind, but finally announced his purpose. “I believe I’ll go up to Cleveland,” he said to his mother one evening as she was getting supper. “Why?” she asked, looking up uncertainly. She was rather afraid that Bass would desert her. “I think I can get work there,” he returned. “We oughtn’t to stay in this darned old town.” “Don’t swear,” she returned reprovingly. “Oh, I know,” he said, “but it’s enough to make any one swear. We’ve never had anything but rotten luck here. I’m going to go, and maybe if I get anything we can all move. We’d be better off if we’d get some place where people don’t know us. We can’t be anything here.” Mrs. Gerhardt listened with a strong hope for a betterment of their miserable life creeping into her heart. If Bass would only do this. If he would go and get work, and come to her rescue, as a strong bright young son might, what a thing it would be! They were in the rapids of a life which was moving toward a dreadful calamity. If only something would happen. “Do you think you could get something to do?” she asked interestedly. “I ought to,” he said. “I’ve never looked for a place yet that I didn’t get it. Other fellows have gone up there and done all right. Look at the Millers.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and looked out the window. “Do you think you could get along until I try my hand up there?” he asked. “I guess we could,” she replied. “Papa’s at work now and we have some money that, that—” she hesitated, to name the source, so ashamed was she of their predicament. “Yes, I know,” said Bass, grimly. “We won’t have to pay any rent here before fall and then we’ll have to give it up anyhow,” she added. She was referring to the mortgage on the house, which fell due the next September and which unquestionably could not be met. “If we could move away from here before then, I guess we could get along.” “I’ll do it,” said Bass determinedly. “I’ll go.” Accordingly, he threw up his place at the end of the month, and the day after he left for Cleveland. CHAPTER XI