But I can buy the things, Elnathan, get them cheap
at the second-hand store. And I can cook to beat--well to beat some women
anyway--" He paused to think a moment of Adelizy, one of the pauper cooks.
"Yes," he thought, "Adelizy has her days. She's systematic. Some days
things are all but pickled in brine, and other days she doesn't put in any
salt at all. Some days they're overcooked, and other days it seems as if
Adelizy jerked them off the stove before they were heated through." Then he
looked eagerly into the unresponsive young face before him. "What's the
matter with my plan, Elnathan?" he asked, gravely. "Why don't you fall in
with it? I never knew you to hang off like this before."
"I haven't any money," was the slow answer. "I can't do my share toward it.
And I'm not going to live off of you. Your money will last you twice as
long as if you don't have to keep me. Adelizy says six hundred dollars
isn't much, if you do think it is a fortune, and you'll soon run through
with it, and be back here again."
For a moment the old man was stung. "I sha'n't spend the most of it for
salt to put in my victuals anyway," he said.
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