ou might as well go to work. But before you go,
will you please give me a quarter? I borrowed a quarter from Rosie to
buy your breakfast."

Dave put his hand in his pocket and found a quarter. He flipped it
across the table. "Here's your money, Rosie."

"And if you want me to get any supper for you," Janet went on, "you'll
have to give me some money, too."

Dave hesitated. He was not accustomed to paying the household expenses.
Before he realized what he was saying, he asked: "Hasn't your mother any
money?" Under the instant fire of Janet's scorn, he saw his mistake and
reddened with shame.

"Yes," Janet told him grimly, "she's got one dollar and I'll see you
starve to death before I touch one cent of it for you! If you want any
supper, you pay for it yourself; and you'll pay for mine, too, if I get
any. If I don't get any, it won't be the first time."

Dave slowly emptied his pocket. He had a two-dollar bill, a fifty-cent
piece, and some small change. "Here," he said, offering Janet the bill
and the fifty-cent piece. "Will that suit you?"

Janet took the money but refused to be placated. "It ain't what will
suit me or won't suit me. You know as well as I do what's fair and
square, and that's all there is to it. And while we're on money," she
continued, "I might as well tell you if you don't pay five dollars on
the rent we'll be dispossessed next Monday. On account of ma being sick
so much lately we've dropped behind four weeks and the agent won't wait
any longer."

Dave swallowed hard. "This is all I got till Saturday."

"Are you sure you'll have any more on Saturday?"

Dave looked hurt. "Won't I have a whole week's wages?"

"I don't know." Janet spoke without any feeling as one merely stating a
fact. "Most weeks, you know, you're in debt to the saloon, and when you
pay up there on Saturday afternoon you haven't much left by night."

Dave smothered an oath. It was plain that he thought he had done a very
handsome thing in passing over the greater part of his money. It was
also plain that he had expected a grateful "Thank you." And what did he
feel he was receiving? An insult! He looked at Janet in sullen
resentment. "You're a nice one, you are, talking that way to your own
father! I tell you one thing, though: you wouldn't talk that way if your
mother was around. She's got a heart, she has! All you've got is a
turnip!"

At mention of her mother, Janet choked a little. "My mother don't think
my heart's a