CHAPTER XI

It was in all the papers. The honorable provost seemed to wish that the fact of Professor Ladue's break with the authorities of the university should be known, and he graciously allowed himself to be interviewed on the subject once a week. As was to be expected, but one side of the question was presented in these interviews, but that may have worked no injury to Mr. Ladue, who received undeserved credit for his silence. It was just as well. In none of those interviews did the honorable provost give out the letter that Mr. Ladue had written. That letter contained certain pointed passages which the press should not get hold of, if he could help it. Mr. Ladue had some reason to be proud.

Then the reporters began to come out to Mr. Ladue's house, in the hope of an interview with him. They did manage to get a few words with Sally, but the words were very few and then Fox came in. So it came about that Fox Sanderson spent most of his time, from breakfast-time until bedtime, at the Ladues'. Naturally, Henrietta was there, too. Sally was well content with any arrangement which brought them both there all the time.

Those would have been hard times with the Ladues if it had not been for Fox Sanderson. Mrs. Ladue owned the place, to be sure, but she owned very little else; hardly more than enough to pay the taxes. And if Mr. Ladue had been a hard man to extract money from, at least he had kept the tradesmen satisfied; or, if not satisfied, they were never sufficiently dissatisfied to refuse to supply the necessities. It was a different case now, and Sally wondered a good deal how they contrived to get along. She knew that Fox was managing their affairs, but things had been going on in this way for a long time before she got to the point of wondering whether he was supplying the money. She reached that point at last, and she asked Fox about it.

She had waited until she got him alone and was sure that they would not be interrupted.

"Fox," she asked without preamble, "where do we get our money?"

Fox was taken by surprise. He had not been expecting any question of the kind. He found himself embarrassed and hesitating.

"Why," he answered, not looking at her, "why--our money? Er--what do you want to know for?"

Sally was regarding him steadily. "Because," she replied, "I think I ought to. Where do we get it?"

"Oh, don't you care, Sally," said Fox carelessly. "We get it honestly."

Sally's earnest regard did not waver. "Of course we get it honestly. But where? I think you ought to tell me, Fox. Do you give it to us?"

Sally, bent upon the one purpose, had not thought of sitting down. She stood squarely before Fox, her fingers interlocked before her, and gazed up into his face. Fox shifted his weight to the other foot as she asked the question. Then he laughed a little.

"I give it to you! What an idea!"

"But do you?" Sally insisted. "You haven't said you don't."

"Let's sit down, Sally," said Fox, attempting a diversion. "Aren't you tired?"

"No, I'm not. But you sit down if you want to. Excuse me for keeping you standing."

Fox found a chair and seated himself comfortably. Sally again faced him, still standing.

"Aren't you going to sit down?" asked Fox, seemingly surprised. "Please do. I can't be satisfied to sit, with you standing." He placed a chair for her.

"All right," Sally moved the chair around so that she would face him, and sat down.

"What a lovely summer day, Sally!" he said. "Isn't it, now?"

Sally laughed. She would not be diverted. "Yes," she said. "But you haven't answered my question."

"Well," asked Fox, sighing, "what is the question?" There seemed to be no escape.

"Where do we get our money? Do you give it to us?"

"But that," he remonstrated, "makes two questions."

The quick tears rushed into Sally's eyes. "Oh, Fox, won't you tell me?"

Fox glanced at her and gave in at once. He told the strict truth, for nothing less would do, for Sally. He couldn't have told anything else, with those solemn, appealing gray eyes looking at him.

"I'll tell you, Sally," he said quickly. "Just trust me."

Sally smiled. It was like a burst of sunshine. "I do."

"I know it," he returned, "and I'm proud of it. Well, I have been advancing what money has been needed for the past three months. You can't say I've given it to you. I'd rather say us, Sally. So you see, you can't say I've given it to us, for we--Henrietta and I--have been here so very much that we ought to pay something. We ought to contribute. I don't like to call it board, but--"

"Why not?" Sally asked, interrupting. "Why don't you like to call it board?"

"Well," Fox answered, rather lamely, "you don't take boarders, you know."

"I don't see," said Sally, brightening distinctly, "I can't see why we don't--why we shouldn't, if mother's well enough. I've been thinking."

"But that's just it. Your mother is not well enough for you to take regular, ordinary boarders. You mustn't think of it."

"Would you call you and Henrietta regular, ordinary boarders?" Sally asked, after a few moments of silence.

Fox laughed. "On the contrary, we are most irregular, extraordinary boarders. But why, Sally? Would you like to have--"

"Oh, yes," cried Sally at once. "I should like it very much. But I don't know whether you would."

"Yes, I should like it very much, too. But there have seemed to be certain reasons why it wasn't best to live here."

"But you live here now," Sally objected; "all but sleeping. We've got rooms enough."

"I'll think it over; and, if I think we can come, we will."

"I hope you will. I should feel comfortabler. Because I don't see how we can ever pay you back; at any rate, not for a long time. We should have to wait until I'm old enough to earn money, or until Charlie is. And I'm four years older."

Fox smiled at the idea of waiting for Charlie. But Sally went on.

"And there's another thing. There's Doctor Galen."

"Oh, so the doctor's the other thing. I'll tell him."

"The money that we have to pay him is the other thing." Sally was very earnest. "Will it be much, do you think?"

"Sally, don't you worry. I asked the doctor just that question and he told me I had better wait until he sent his bill. He hasn't sent it yet."

"Well--will it be as much as a hundred dollars?"

"It is possible that it may be as much as that."

"Oh, will it be more?" Sally was distressed. When should she be able to save--even to earn a hundred dollars. "We can't ever pay it, Fox; not for years and years."

Again Fox told her not to worry. She did not seem to hear him. She was following her thought.

"And, Fox, if you have to pay it, we shall owe you an awful lot of money. Have--have you got money enough?"

Fox Sanderson did not have an "awful lot" of money. That very question had been giving him some anxiety. But he would not let Sally suspect it.

"I guess I'll be able to manage, Sally."

"I hope so. And I've been thinking, Fox, that I ought to help."

"Why, Sally, you do help. Just think of the things you do, every day, helping about your mother, and about the house."

"Yes," she returned, "but I mean about earning money. Those things don't earn money. Couldn't I learn typewriting and go into somebody's office? Or couldn't I teach? Do you have to know a lot of things, to teach, Fox?"

Fox smiled. "Some teachers that I have known," he answered, "haven't known such an awful lot of things. But if you really want to teach, Sally, you ought to be trained for it. At least," he added, more to himself than to Sally, "that is the popular opinion."

Again Sally was distressed. "Do you have to go to college, Fox?"

"Well," answered Fox, smiling, "not exactly, but something of the sort. There's a normal school or the training school for teachers, or whatever they call it."

"Oh, dear!" Sally wailed. "Everything takes so long! I wanted to do something right away. Can't you think of anything, Fox?"

"Not right off the bat. I'll see what thoughts I can raise on that subject. But if I don't think of anything, would you like to plan to be a teacher, Sally?"

"If it would help mother, I would. If that's the best thing we can think of. I'd do anything to help mother. I'd go out scrubbing or I'd sell papers or--or anything."

"Bless your heart!" Fox exclaimed under his breath. "Bless your dear heart, Sally! You needn't go out scrubbing or washing dishes or selling papers or anything of the kind. You can do better than that. And your mother is likely to need your help about as much when you are fitted for teaching as she does now."

"Is--isn't mother getting better?" asked Sally, hesitating.

"Yes," said Fox, "but very slowly; very slowly indeed. Doctor Galen thinks it will be some years before she is herself again. Think, Sally, how much better it will be for you to be getting ready. Suppose she was well now. What would you and she do? How would the conditions be different?"

Sally murmured something about taking boarders.

"Well," Fox observed, "I never have taken 'em and so I have no experience with that end of it. But Henrietta and I have been boarding for a good many years now--ever since mother died--and we have seen a good deal of all kinds of boarders. On the average, they seem to be an unmannerly and ungrateful lot. Don't you be a party to making 'em worse, Sally. Don't you do it."

Sally laughed.

"Besides," he went on, "it's pretty apt to be humiliating."

"I suppose that's something unpleasant," Sally said quietly, "and, of course, it wouldn't be pleasant. I shouldn't expect it to be."

"I don't believe there's any money in it."

Sally paused a moment to digest that phrase. Then she sighed.

"You know more about it than I do. I'll do just what you say, Fox."

The gate clicked and they both looked around.

"Here comes Henrietta," said Fox. "Now we'll all go out in the shade and play. But, Sally," he added hastily, "have you got any rich relatives?"

"Rich relatives!" Sally exclaimed. "Not that I know of. Or, wait. There's Miss Hazen--Martha Hazen. She's a cousin of father's, but I don't know how rich she is. I've never seen her."

"Where does she live?"

"Up in Massachusetts, somewhere. I think she's queer."

"The queerer the better. Your father's cousin, is she? It wouldn't be strange. Can you find out where she lives, Sally?"

Sally thought she could. "And, Fox," she reminded him,--she was afraid he might forget,--"you see if you can't come here to live. Will you, Fox?"

He nodded. Henrietta was at the piazza steps. "I'll ask Doctor Galen about it."

"What'll you ask Doctor Galen about, Fox?" inquired Henrietta. "Are you and Sally talking secrets?"

"I'll ask the doctor what should be done with a very troublesome little sister," he answered, smiling at her.

"You might get rid of her by sending her off to boarding-school," Henrietta remarked. "Not that she wants to go."

"No boarding-school for you yet, young lady. There are one hundred reasons why, and the first is--is so important that the ninety-nine others don't matter."

Fox had caught himself just in time. He had intended to say that he didn't have the money. Well, he hadn't; but he didn't mean to tell Sally so.

"I suppose that first reason," said Henrietta, "is that you can't spare me."

"Wrong. That is the second. And the third is that you are too young. Never mind the others. We are going out to play now, Henrietta." Sally darted into the house. "Where are you going, Sally?"

"After Charlie," she called softly. "I'll be right back. And let's be sauruses!"

"Sauruses it is," Fox returned. "I say, Henrietta, can you climb trees as well as Sally?"

"Well, not quite"--hesitating--"but I'm learning."

"You live in a cave with Charlie," he said decidedly.