I never really
say that I'm betting, and you tell me I've lost before I've made up my
mind anything about it."

"Speaking of doughnuts," Jimmie said, his face still wearing the look
of dejection under a grin worn awry, "can you cook, Eleanor? Can you
roast a steak, and saute baked beans, and stew sausages, and fry out a
breakfast muffin? Does she look like a cook to you?" he suddenly
demanded of the waitress, who was serving him, with an apologetic eye
on the menu, the invariable toast-coffee-and-three-minute-egg
breakfast that he had eaten every morning since his arrival.

The waitress smiled toothily. "She looks like a capable one," she
pronounced.

"I _can_ cook, Uncle Jimmie," Eleanor giggled, "but not the way you
said. You don't roast steak, or--or--"

"Don't you?" Jimmie asked with the expression of pained surprise that
never failed to make his ward wriggle with delight. There were links
in the educational scheme that Jimmie forged better than any of the
cooperative guardians. Not even Jimmie realized the value of the
giggle as a developing factor in Eleanor's existence. He took three
swallows of coffee and frowned into his cup. "I can make coffee," he
added. "Good coffee. Well, we may as well look the facts in the face,
Eleanor. The jig's up. We're moving away from this elegant hostelry
to-morrow."

"Are we?" Eleanor asked.

"Yes, Kiddo. Apologies to Aunt Beulah (mustn't call you Kiddo) and the
reason is, that I'm broke. I haven't got any money at all, Eleanor,
and I don't know where I am going to get any. You see, it is this way.
I lost my job six weeks ago."

"But you go to work every morning, Uncle Jimmie?"

"I leave the house, that is. I go looking for work, but so far no nice
juicy job has come rolling down into my lap. I haven't told you this
before because,--well--when Aunt Beulah comes down every day to give
you your lessons I wanted it to look all O. K. I thought if you didn't
know, you couldn't forget sometime and tell her."

"I don't tattle tale," Eleanor said.

"I know you don't, Eleanor. It's only my doggone pride that makes me
want to keep up the bluff, but you're a game kid,--you--know. I tried
to get you switched off to one of the others till I could get on my
feet, but--no, they just thought I had stage fright. I couldn't
insist. It would be pretty humiliating to me to admit that I couldn't
support one-sixth of a child that I'd given my solemn oath to
be-parent."

"To--to what?"