"When I come downstairs,
self-denial week will set in!"
Her tone brought him to her side; he stooped to kiss the smiling
face between the thick braids.
"You always stand by me, Nance!" he said gratefully.
Chapter Twenty-five
There was no stopping half way, however. The current had caught
the Bradleys and it carried them on. There was no expense that
could be lessened without weakening the whole structure. Nancy
grew sick of bills, bills that came in the mail, that were
delivered, and that piled up on her desk. She honestly racked her
brain to discover the honourable solution; there was no solution.
Even while she pondered, Priscilla in her arms, the machinery that
she and Bert had so eagerly constructed went on of its own power.
"The cleaner's man, Hannah?" Nancy would ask, sighing. "You'll
have to give him all those things; the boys' white coats are
absolutely no good to them until they're cleaned, and Mr. Bradley
really needs the vests. And put in my blue waist, and all those
gloves, and the lace waist, too--no use letting it wait!"
"The things to-day came collect, Mrs. Bradley," Hannah might
respectfully remind her.
"Oh, of course! And how much was it?--eleven-forty? Heavens! What
made it so big?"
"Two suits, and your velvet dress, and one of Anne's dresses.
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