With Dennis, the oldest son, and Annie, the maid
at the Warrens', he also consulted. Money for their immediate needs,
he told them, he would provide. And the funeral expenses must not
worry them. Afterward--well, plans for the future could be discussed at
another time. But upon Dennis and Annie he tried to impress a sense of
their responsibility.
"It's up to you, Boy," he said to the former. "Annie's job's sure, I
guess, as long as she wants it, and she can give her mother somethin'
every month. But you're the man of the house now, and you've got to
steer the ship and keep it afloat. That means work, and hard work,
lots of it, too. You can do it, if you've got the grit. If I can find
a better place and more pay for you, I will, but you mustn't depend on
that. It's up to you, I tell you, and you've got to show what's in you.
If you get stuck and need advice, come to me."
He handed the priest a sum of money to cover immediate contingencies,
and departed. His letter to Abbie that afternoon was so blue that the
housekeeper felt sure he was "coming down" with some disease or other.
He had been riding in that awful subway, where the air--so the papers
said--was not fit to breathe, and just as like as not he'd caught
consumption. His great-uncle on his mother's side died of it, so it "run
in the family.
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