en you something substantial to start with. Still, you have
a little tiny bit, and you'll have a little tiny salary, too; and of
course your Aunt Fanny's here, and she's got something you can fall back
on if you get too pinched, until I can begin to send you a dribble now
and then."

George's "little tiny bit" was six hundred dollars which had come to him
from the sale of his mother's furniture; and the "little tiny salary"
was eight dollars a week which old Frank Bronson was to pay him for
services as a clerk and student-at-law. Old Frank would have offered
more to the Major's grandson, but since the death of that best of
clients and his own experience with automobile headlights, he was not
certain of being able to pay more and at the same time settle his own
small bills for board and lodging. George had accepted haughtily, and
thereby removed a burden from his uncle's mind.

Amberson himself, however, had not even a "tiny bit"; though he got his
consular appointment; and to take him to his post he found it necessary
to borrow two hundred of his nephew's six hundred dollars. "It makes me
sick, George," he said. "But I'd better get there and get that salary
started. Of course Eugene would do anything in the world, and the fact
is he wanted to, but I felt that--ah--under the circumstances--"

"Never!" George exclaimed, growing red. "I can't imagine one of the
family--" He paused, not finding it necessary to explain that "the
family" shouldn't turn a man from the door and then accept favours from
him. "I wish you'd take more."

Amberson declined. "One thing I'll say for you, young George; you
haven't a stingy bone in your body. That's the Amberson stock in
you--and I like it!"

He added something to this praise of his nephew on the day he left for
Washington. He was not to return, but to set forth from the capital on
the long journey to his post. George went with him to the station, and
their farewell was lengthened by the train's being several minutes late.

"I may not see you again, Georgie," Amberson said; and his voice was a
little husky as he set a kind hand on the young man's shoulder. "It's
quite probable that from this time on we'll only know each other by
letter--until you're notified as my next of kin that there's an old
valise to be forwarded to you, and perhaps some dusty curios from
the consulate mantelpiece. Well, it's an odd way for us to be saying
good-bye: one wouldn't have thought it, even a few ye