"All this talk will be about your
father. What are you going to say about yourself?"
A cloud overspread Edward Billings's face. He raised a pair of troubled
eyes to his questioner. "Why, I never stopped to think of that," he began,
slowly, all the brightness fading out of his tone. "There's nothing much to
say about me. I sell papers and help father----"
"What does your father do?" asked Junius.
The boy hesitated. His face flushed, and he looked up uncertainly at the
goggles. "He used to teach, I told you," was the evasive answer, "until his
eyes gave out."
"And now?"
Edward Billings Henry wriggled about on the padded leather. "He's always
had bad legs,"--the evasion continued,--"but his arms and back are strong,
and his legs all right to stand on."
"Yes?" insisted Junius, and waited.
"So he's doing something he ain't going to do if I can get this job. Then I
could sell papers after and before office hours, and earn a lot of money."
Edward Billings Henry talked rapidly, but the young man beside him was not
to be turned from his purpose.
"Then what is it he's not going to do?"
The boy hesitated again.
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