The Happy Venture | Page 6

Fidelity was the only dependable source of income.
"And Mother must have that money, of course, for the rest-place,"
Felicia said. "For Heaven's sake, don't tell her," Ken muttered.
His sister shot him one swift look of reproach and then turned to Mr.
Dodge. She tried desperately to be very businesslike.

"What do you advise us to do, Mr. Dodge?" she said. "Send away the
servants, of course."
"And Miss Bolton," Ken said; "she's an expensive lady."
"Yes, Miss Bolton. I'll teach Kirk--I can."
"How much is the rent of the house, Mr. Dodge, do you know?" Ken
asked. Mr. Dodge did know, and told him. Ken whistled. "It sounds as
though we'd have to move," he said.
"The lease ends April first," said the attorney.
"We could get a little tiny house somewhere," Felicia suggested.
"Couldn't you get quite a nice one for six hundred dollars a year?"
This sum represented, more or less, their entire income--minus the
expenses of Hilltop Sanatorium.
"But what would you eat?" Mr. Dodge inquired gently.
"Oh, dear, that's true!" said Felicia. And clothes! What do you think
we'd better do?"
"You have no immediate relatives, as I remember?" Mr. Dodge mused.
"None but our great-aunt, Miss Pelham," Ken said, "and she lives in
Los Angeles."
"She's very old, too," Phil said, "and lives in a tiny house. She's not at
all well off; we shouldn't want to bother her. And there is Uncle
Lewis."
"Oh, him!" said Ken, gloomily.
"It takes three months even to get an answer from a letter to him,"
Felicia explained. "He's in the Philippines, doing something to
Ignorants."

"Igorrotes, Phil," Ken muttered.
"He sounds unpromising," Mr. Dodge sighed. "And there are no friends
who would be sufficiently interested in your problem to open either
their doors or their pocket-books?"
"We don't know many people here," Felicia said. "Mother hasn't gone
out very much for several years."
Ken flushed. "And we'd rather people didn't open anything to us,
anyhow," he said.
"Except, perhaps, their hearts," Mr. Dodge supplemented, "or their eyes,
when they see your independent procedure!" He tapped his knee with
his glasses. "My dear children, I suggest that you move to some other
house--perhaps to some quaint little place in the country, which would
be much less expensive than anything you could find in town. Your
mother had best go away, as the doctor advises--she will be much better
looked after, and of course she mustn't know what you do. I'll watch
over this Rocky Head concern, and you may feel perfectly secure in the
Fidelity. And don't hesitate to ask me anything you want to know, at
any time."
He rose, pushing back his papers.
"Don't we owe you something for all this, sir?" Ken asked, rather red.
Mr. Dodge smiled. "One dollar, and other valuable considerations," he
said.
Kenelm brought out his pocketbook, and carefully pulled a dollar bill
from the four which it contained. He presented it to Mr. Dodge, and
Felicia said:
"Thank you so very, very much!"
"You're very welcome," said the attorney, "and the best of luck to you
all!" When the glass door had closed behind the pair, Mr. Dodge sat

down before his desk and wiped his glasses. He looked at the dollar bill,
and then he said--quite out loud--
"Poor, poor dears!"
CHAPTER III
UP STAKES
That night, Kenelm could not sleep. He walked up and down his room
in the dark. His own head ached, and he could not think properly. The
one image which stood clearly out of the confusion was that of the
Celestine, raising gracious spars above the house-tops. The more he
thought of her, the more a plan grew in his tired mind. The crew of the
Celestine must be paid quite well--he could send money home every
week from different ports--he could send gold and precious things from
South America. There would be one less person to feed at home; he
would be earning money instead of spending it.
He turned on his light, and quickly gathered together his hockey
sweater, his watch-cap, and an old pair of trousers. He made them into
a bundle with a few other things. Then he wrote a letter, containing
many good arguments, and pinned it on Felicia's door. He tiptoed
downstairs and out into the night. From the street he could see the faint
green light from his mother's room, where Miss McClough was sitting.
He turned and ran quickly, without stopping to think.
No one was abroad but an occasional policeman, twirling his
night-stick. On the wharves the daylight confusion was dispelled; there
was no clatter of teaming, no sound but the water fingering dank piles,
and the little noises aboard sleeping vessels. But the Celestine was
awake. Lights gleamed aboard her, men were stirring, the great