"And Mother must have that money, of course, for the rest-place,"
Felicia said. "For Heaven's sake, don't tell her," Ken muttered.
His sister shot him one swift look of reproach and then turned to Mr.
Dodge. She tried desperately to be very businesslike.
"What do you advise us to do, Mr. Dodge?" she said. "Send away the
servants, of course."
"And Miss Bolton," Ken said; "she's an expensive lady."
"Yes, Miss Bolton. I'll teach Kirk--I can."
"How much is the rent of the house, Mr. Dodge, do you know?" Ken asked.
Mr. Dodge did know, and told him. Ken whistled. "It sounds as though
we'd have to move," he said.
"The lease ends April first," said the attorney.
"We could get a little tiny house somewhere," Felicia suggested.
"Couldn't you get quite a nice one for six hundred dollars a year?"
This sum represented, more or less, their entire income--minus the
expenses of Hilltop Sanatorium.
"But what would you eat?" Mr. Dodge inquired gently.
"Oh, dear, that's true!" said Felicia. And clothes! What _do_ you think
we'd better do?"
"You have no immediate relatives, as I remember?" Mr. Dodge mused.
"None but our great-aunt, Miss Pelham," Ken said, "and _she_ lives in
Los Angeles."
"She's very old, too," Phil said, "and lives in a tiny house. She's not
at all well off; we shouldn't want to bother her. And there is Uncle
Lewis."
"Oh, _him_!" said Ken, gloomily.
"It takes three months even to get an answer from a letter to him,"
Felicia explained.
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