He is a college man of good family, but without any money
at all save what he earns.. And now--"
I had had some young newspaper men with me, and I knew what they got.
They were nice boys, but they made fifteen dollars a week. I'm
afraid I smiled a little as I looked around the room, with its gray
grass-cloth walls, its toilet-table spread with ivory and gold, and
the maid in attendance in her black dress and white apron, collar and
cuffs. Even the little nightgown Lida was wearing would have taken a
week's salary or more. She saw my smile.
"It was to be his chance," she said. "If he made good, he was to have
something better. My Uncle Jim owns the paper, and he promised me to
help him. But--"
So Jim was running a newspaper! That was a curious career for Jim to
choose. Jim, who was twice expelled from school, and who could never
write a letter without a dictionary beside him! I had a pang when I
heard his name again, after all the years. For I had written to Jim
from Oklahoma, after Mr. Pitman died, asking for money to bury him,
and had never even had a reply.
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