His glance sharpened. "Why do you think that?"

"Because--now don't scold!" She brushed an imaginary bit of dust from his shoulder. "Because--I asked her."

"Shirley!" His clasp of her relaxed.

"Now _please_, don't let's have another scene. What's the use of rich relations if they can't help you out once in a while? You've no right to let your foolish pride cut Davy Junior and me off from Aunt Clara's help."

"Luckily we shan't need her help, because"--it was not so he had thought to tender his gift--"because to-day I got a job."

"A job? Oh, David!" Her arms tightened around his neck, Aunt Clara for the moment forgotten. "What is it?"

He told her.

"Just a draftsman? That isn't a very high position, is it?"

"Not very."

"How much does it pay?"

He told her and saw her face fall.

"Why, that's only a little more than you have been making."

"At least, it's steady and sure."

"But even Maizie makes that much. I used to get ninety from the library. I thought men--clever men--"

"Beggars," he said, "even clever beggars, can't be choosers."

"But we're not beggars, are we?"

"Your Aunt Clara will think so."

He turned away into another room, leaving the matter of Aunt Clara suspended in the air. He saw then that he ran no risk of Shirley guessing what his gift had cost him. He wondered if _he_ yet guessed how much it would cost.

Soon Aunt Clara arrived, in a taxicab and wearing a businesslike, purposeful air. She made herself promptly and perfectly at home and freely pa.s.sed judgment on all she saw; and very little escaped Aunt Clara's eyes. She inspected the flat and, inquiry establishing the rent, sniffingly reminded them that she and Uncle John--now unhappily deceased--had begun their housekeeping in a fifteen-dollar-a-month cottage. Pouncing upon a drawerful of Davy Junior's sweaters and slippers and lacy dresses, she cited the case of John, _fils_, who until he was three years old had never had more than two dresses and one coatie at a time. David's books struck her as an appalling extravagance; she and the late Uncle John had never thought of a library until they had ten thousand in bank.

"You are very poor managers, I must admit. You've been married more than four years, and what have you to show for it but didoes--and debts, as I understand?"

The question went home to David's heart. But it was he who, catching up Davy Junior, held out the crowing youngster for her inspection.

"We have this."

And then, a sudden wave of emotion surging unbidden within him, he caught the child sharply to him. He turned away quickly to hide this unwonted demonstration, but Aunt Clara saw.

"Very pretty! But sentiment b.u.t.ters no bread."

"Sometimes," he returned gravely, "it makes dry bread palatable."

"Humph!" remarked Aunt Clara. "And now let us have dinner--something more than dry bread and sentiment, if you please. I never talk business on an empty stomach."

To David, love and pride quivering from hurts lately sustained, that dinner, eaten to the accompaniment of the jarring critical voice, seemed endless. And yet, thinking of a worse thing to come, he could have wished it to last until midnight or that hour which found Aunt Clara too sleepy for business. It lasted until Aunt Clara had slowly sipped her second cup of coffee--which, inquiry brought out, cost forty-three cents the pound.

Perhaps the dinner had mellowed her humor a little, for:

"You may smoke," she nodded to David, "provided it isn't one of those nasty little cigarettes."

"It will have to be a pipe."

"A pipe is the least objectionable," she graciously conceded. "Your late Uncle John smoked one to the last."

Then she produced and donned a pair of gold-rimmed spectacles and through them fixed upon David the sternest of glances.

"And now, since I must leave in the morning, let us get to business.

You may tell me the situation."

"What situation have you in mind?"

"The one that made you write to me for help."

"But I didn't write to you for help."

"Shirley did, which is the same thing."

"When Shirley wrote, without my knowledge, she hadn't all the facts. I have just taken a position--"

"That is very sensible. What sort of a position?"

"A very good position, quite sufficient for our needs. And so we needn't spoil your visit by discussing our dull affairs."

Aunt Clara glared. "Young man, are you trying to snub me? I remember you tried that the first time I saw you."

"I hope," said David gently, "I haven't given you that impression."

"It's just his silly pride, Aunt Clara," Shirley put in soothingly.

Aunt Clara silenced Shirley with a gesture and kept her attention on David. "You did leave that impression. And you are thinking that I'm nosing into what is none of my business. On the contrary, young man, it is my business. You married against my advice, but it's no credit to me to have my relatives hard up and in debt. You are in debt, I understand?"

"That is true," David answered quietly, "but--"

"But you don't want my money to pay them with, you were about to say?

Young man, when you refuse my money, you're a little--_quite_ a little--in advance of the fact. I'm not going to give you money. I don't believe in giving money to able-bodied young men."

"Thank you," said David.

"But I will give you some advice and some help. You can take them or leave them. My advice is--get rid of this expensive apartment and store your goods. For the rest, I will take Shirley and the baby to live with me, paying all their expenses, until you can get on your feet. With your new position and no one but yourself to pay for, it oughtn't to take long."

Shirley gasped--unmistakably with delight.