"Oh, Brian! Brian!" cried Auntie Sue, wiping her eyes. "I knew you
would come to the 'bread and butter' at last. That is where all our
philosophies and reasonings and arguments come at last, don't they? Just
'bread and butter,' that is all. And I love you for it. Of course you
can't live upon my hospitality,--and I couldn't let you if you would.
And if you WOULD, I wouldn't let you if I could. I am no more a lady of
means, my haughty sir, than you are a gentleman of independent fortune.
The fact is, Brian, dear, I suspect that you and I are about the two
poorest people in the world,--to be anything like as pretentiously
respectable and properly proud as we are."
When the man could make no reply, but only looked at her with a
much-puzzled and still-proud expression, she continued, half-laughingly,
but well pleased with him: "Please, Brian, don't look so haughtily
injured. I had no intention of insulting you by offering charity. Far
from it."
Instantly, the man's face changed. He put out his hands protestingly,
and his blue eyes filled, as he said, impulsively. "Auntie Sue, after
what you have done for me, I--"
She answered quickly: "We are considering the future. What has been, is
past. Our river is already far beyond that point in its journey. Don't
let us try to turn the waters back. I promise you I am going to be very,
very practical, and make you pay for EVERYTHING.
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