"Are you a schoolteacher, Emily?" he said.

"Kindergarten. It's my first year. And don't call me Emily, please."

"Why not? It's your name. I think it's the prettiest name in the
world." Which he hadn't meant to say at all. In fact, he was perfectly
aghast to find himself saying it. But he meant it.

At supper he passed her things, and stared, until everybody laughed
again, and Eva said acidly, "Why don't you feed her?"

It wasn't that Emily had an air of helplessness. She just made him
feel he wanted her to be helpless, so that he could help her.

Jo took her home, and from that Sunday night he began to strain at the
leash. He took his sisters out, dutifully, but he would suggest, with
a carelessness that deceived no one, "Don't you want one of your girl
friends to come along? That little What's-her-name-Emily, or
something. So long's I've got three of you, I might as well have a
full squad."

For a long time he didn't know what was the matter with him. He only
knew he was miserable, and yet happy. Sometimes his heart seemed to
ache with an actual physical ache. He realized that he wanted to do
things for Emily. He wanted to buy things for Emily--useless, pretty,
expensive things that he couldn't afford.

He wanted to buy everything that Emily needed, and everything that
Emily desired. He wanted to marry Emily. That was it. He discovered
that one day, with a shock, in the midst of a transaction in the
harness business. He stared at the man with whom he was dealing until
that startled person grew uncomfortable. "What's the matter, Hertz?"
"Matter?" "You look as if you'd seen a ghost or found a gold mine. I
don't know which." "Gold mine," said Jo. And then, "No. Ghost." For
he remembered that high, thin voice, and his promise. And the harness
business was slithering downhill with dreadful rapidity, as the
automobile business began its amazing climb. Jo tried to stop it. But
he was not that kind of businessman. It never occurred to him to jump
out of the down-going vehicle and catch the up-going one. He stayed
on, vainly applying brakes that refused to work. "You know, Emily, I
couldn't support two households now. Not the way things are. But if
you'll wait. If you'll only wait. The girls might--that is, Babe and
Carrie--"

She was a sensible little thing, Emily. "Of course I'll wait. But we
mustn't just sit back and let the years go by. We've got to help."

She went about it