"My money's gone. I've got to get out and earn more," I answered sadly.

He eyed me gravely. "What are you going to do?" he inquired.

"I am going back to shingling," I said with tragic accent.

"Shingling!" the old man exclaimed, and then began to laugh, his big
paunch shaking up and down with the force of his mirth. "Shingling!" he
shouted finally. "Can _you_ shingle?"

"You bet I can," I replied with comical access of pride, "but I don't
like to. That is to say I don't like to give up my work here in Boston
just when I am beginning to feel at home."

Brown continued to chuckle. To hear that a man who knew Mantegazza and
Darwin and Whitman and Browning could even _think_ of shingling, was
highly humorous, but as he studied my forlorn face he sensed the
despairing quiver in my voice and his kind heart softened. He ceased to
smile. "Oh, you mustn't do that," he said earnestly. "You mustn't
surrender now. We'll fix up some way for you to earn your keep. Can't
you borrow a little?"

"Yes, I could get a few dollars from home, but I don't feel justified in
doing so,--times are hard out there and besides I see no way of repaying
a loan."

He pondered a moment, "Well, now I'll tell you what we'll do. I'll make
you our Instructor in Literature for the summer term and I'll put your
Booth lecture on the programme. That will give you a start, and perhaps
something else will develop for the autumn."

This noble offer so emboldened me that I sent west for twenty-five
dollars to pay my board, and to have my suit dyed.--It was the very same
suit I had bought of the Clark Street tailor, and the aniline purple had
turned pink along the seams--or if not pink it was some other color
equally noticeable in the raiment of a lecturer, and not to be endured.
I also purchased a new pair of shoes and a necktie of the Windsor
pattern. This cravat and my long Prince Albert frock, while not strictly
in fashion, made me feel at least presentable.

Another piece of good fortune came to me soon after. Dr. Cross again
invited me to dine and after dinner as we were driving together along
one of the country lanes, the good doctor said, "Mrs. Cross is going up
into New Hampshire for the summer and I shall be alone in the house. Why
don't you come and stay with me? You need the open air, and I need
company."

This generous offer nearly shipwrecked my dignity. Several moments
passed before I could control my voice to thank him. At last I said,