And my wages would stop, and so would yours. Dad, do you realize
what you've done?" She tilted her head forward and stared at him intently
through her lashes, which was a trick she had.
"Yes, Babe, I realize perfectly. I'm--not counting on just the
furniture. I--think it would pay to ship the stuff on to the claim."
"For heaven's sake, dad! What are you counting on?" Helen May gave a
hysterical laugh that set her coughing in a way to make the veins stand
out on forehead and throat. (Peter's hands blenched into fighting fists
while he waited for the spasm to wear itself out. She should not go the
way her mother had gone, he was thinking fiercely.) "What--are--you
counting on?" she repeated, when she could speak again.
"Well, I'm counting on--a source that is sure," Peter replied vaguely.
"The way will be provided, when the time comes. I--I have thought it all
out calmly, Babe. The money will be ready when you need it."
"Dad, don't borrow money! It would be a load that would keep us
staggering for years. We are going along all right, better than hundreds
of people all around us.
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