“Very well, I’ll try again.  This house is plenty large enough so that by a little crowding we could make room for somebody else.  And I know a teacher in one of my schools who’d be only too glad—­”

“Take a boarder, you mean?”

“Yes, I do!  We’ve got to do something!”

“No!”

Deborah threw up her hands: 

“All right, Edith, I’m through,” she said.  “Now what do you propose?”

“I can try to do without Hannah again—­”

“That will be hard—­on all of us.  But I guess you’ll have to.”

“So it seems.”

“But unfortunately that won’t he enough.”

Edith’s face grew tenser: 

“I’m afraid it will have to be—­just now—­I’ve had about all I can stand for one night!”

“I’m sorry,” Deborah answered.  For a moment they confronted each other.  And Edith’s look said to Deborah plainly, “You’re spending thousands, thousands, on those tenement children!  You can get money enough for them, but you won’t raise a hand to help with mine!” And as plainly Deborah answered, “My children are starving, shivering, freezing!  What do yours know about being poor?” Two mothers, each with a family, and each one baffled, brought to bay.  There was something so insatiable in each angry mother’s eyes.

“I think you’d better leave this to me,” said Roger very huskily.  And both his daughters turned with a start, as though in their bitter absorption they had forgotten his presence there.  Both flushed, and now the glances of all three in that room avoided each other.  For they felt how sordid it had been.  Deborah turned to her sister.

“I’m sorry, Edith,” she said again, and this time there were tears in her eyes.

“So am I,” said Edith unsteadily, and in a moment she left the room.  Deborah stood watching her father.

“I’m ashamed of myself,” she said.  “Well?  Shall we talk it over?”

“No,” he replied.  “I can manage it somehow, Deborah, and I prefer that you leave it to me.”

Roger went into his study and sank grimly into his chair.  Yes, it had been pretty bad; it had been ugly, ominous.  He took paper and pencil and set to work.  How he had come to hate this job of wrestling with figures.  Of the five thousand dollars borrowed in August he had barely a thousand left.  The first semi-annual interest was due next week and must be paid.  The balance would carry them through March and on well into April.  By that time he hoped to be making money, for business was better every week.  But what of this nine hundred dollars in debts?  Half at least must be paid at once.  Lower and lower he sank in his chair.  But a few moments later, his blunt heavy visage cleared, and with a little sigh of relief he put away his papers, turned out the lights and went upstairs.  The dark house felt friendly and comforting now.