"It'll please Ma, w'en she comes to hear 'bout it; she thinks a sight of
Frank Baker," urged Mr. Winship.
"'Fraid I'll have to tackle someb'dy else 'bout that money," he went on
after a pause; "Tim'thy says he ain't got a cent loose, jest now. I did
kind o' want to keep it quiet, keep it to the fambly like, but I can git
it; I can git th' money; on'y it'll take time."
"Why, Father, I begged you not to try," said Helen impatiently. "I don't
need money; ask John."
"W'at you've spent can't come on John," declared Mr. Winship; "I'll have
to be inquirin' 'round. But I'm glad to see ye lookin' brighter'n you did
yist'day, Sissy; Tim'thy's wife'll have an eye on ye. She's comin' here
agin to-morrer, she says, to a weddin'. You didn't tell me 'bout any one
gittin' married--not in sich a hurry, not to-morrer. W'ich gal is it?"
"Wouldn't think it was Cadge, would you?" laughed Kitty, staggering into
the room under the weight of a big palm. "Next chum I have, it'll be in
the contract that, in case of emergency, she helps run her own wedding.
'Course Helen's all right with me--or will be, once Caroline Bryant's
disposed of.
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