The Happy Venture | Page 5

informed them, with professional lack of emotion, that their
mother was suffering from a complete nervous breakdown, from which
it might take her months to recover.
"Evidently," said he, "she has been anxious over something, previous to
this, but some definite shock must have caused the final collapse."
He was a little man, and he spoke drily, with a maddening deliberation.
"There was a letter--this morning," Felicia said, faintly.
"It might be well to find the letter, in order to ascertain the exact nature
of the shock," said the doctor.
Ken went to his mother's room and searched her desk. He came back
presently with a legal envelop, and his face was blank and half
uncomprehending. The doctor took the paper from him and skimmed
the contents.
"Ah--hm. 'United Stock ... the mine having practically run out ... war
causing further depreciation ... regret to inform you, ... hm, yes. My
dear young people, it appears from this that your mother has lost a good
deal of money--possibly all her money. I should advise your seeing her
attorney at once. Undoubtedly he will be able to make a satisfactory
adjustment."

He handed the paper back to Ken, who took it mechanically. Then, with
the information that it would be necessary for their mother to go to a
sanatorium to recuperate, and that he would send them a most capable
nurse immediately, the doctor slipped out--a neat little figure, stepping
along lightly on his toes. "Can you think straight, Ken?" Felicia said,
later, in the first breathing pause after the doctor's departure and the
arrival of the brisk young woman who took possession of the entire
house as soon as she stepped over the threshold.
"I'm trying to," Ken replied, slowly. He began counting vaguely on his
fingers. "It means Mother's got to go away to a nervous sanatorium
place. It means we're poor. Phil, we may have to--I don't know what."
"What do they do with people who have no money?" Felicia asked
dismally. "They send them to the poor-farm or something, don't they?"
"Don't talk utter bosh, Phil! As if I'd ever let you or Kirk go to the
poor-farm!"
"Kirk!" Felicia murmured. "Suppose they took him away! They might,
you know--the State, and send him to one of those institutions!"
"Oh, drop it!" snapped Ken. "We don't even know how much money it
is Mother's lost. I don't suppose she had it all in this bally mine. Who is
her attorney, anyway!"
"Mr. Dodge,--don't you remember? Nice, with a pink face and bristly
hair. He came here long ago about Daddy's business."
There was a swift rush of feet on the stairs, a pause in the hallway, and
Kirk appeared at the door.
"I told Maggie," said he, "and supper's ready. And what's specially nice
is the toast, because I made it myself--only Norah told me when it was
done."
Ken and Felicia looked at one another, and wondered how much supper
they could eat. Then Ken swung Kirk to his shoulder, and said:

"All right, old boy, we'll come and eat your toast."
"Is the crackly lady taking care of Mother?" Kirk asked over a piece of
his famous toast, as they sat at supper.
"Yes," said Felicia. "Her name's Miss McClough. Why, did you meet
her?"
"She said, 'Don't sit in people's way when you see they're in a hurry,'"
said Kirk, somewhat grieved. "I didn't know she was coming. I don't
think I like her much. Her dress creaks, and she smells like the
drug-store."
"She can't help that," said Ken; "she's taking good care of Mother. And
I told you the stairway was no place to sit, didn't I!"
"I've managed to find out something," Ken told Felicia, next day, as he
came downstairs. "Mother would talk about it, in spite of Miss
McThing's protests, and I came away as soon as I could. She says
there's a little Fidelity stock that brings enough to keep her in the
rest-place, so she feels a little better about that. (By the way, she tried
to say she wouldn't go, and I said she had to.) Then there's something
else--Rocky Head Granite, I think--that will give us something to live
on. We'll have to see Mr. Dodge as soon as we can; I'm all mixed up."
They did see Mr. Dodge, that afternoon. He was nice, as Felicia had
said. He made her sit in his big revolving-chair, while he brought out a
lot of papers and put on a pair of drooping gold eye-glasses to look at
them. And the end of the afternoon found Ken and Felicia very much
confused and a good deal more discouraged than before. It seemed that
even the Rocky Head Granite was not a very sound investment, and
that the staunch