The Work of the Sun

"Aw, come on now, Kate," he said. "Leave out the heroics and be
human. I'll do exactly as you say about everything if you will
help me wheedle Aunt Ollie into letting me have the money."

Kate stepped back and put out her hands defensively: "A rare
bargain," she said, "and one eminently worthy of you. You'll do
what I say, if I'll do what you say, without the slightest
reference as to whether it impoverishes a woman who has always
helped and befriended you. You make me sick!"

"What's biting you now?" he demanded, sullenly.

Kate stood tall and straight before and above him "If you have a good plan, if you can prove that it will work, what
is the necessity for 'wheedling' anybody? Why not state what you
propose in plain, unequivocal terms, and let the dear, old soul,
who has done so much for us already, decide what she will do?"

"That's what I meant! That's all I meant!" he cried.

"In that case, 'wheedle' is a queer word to use."

"I believe you'd throw up the whole thing; I believe you'd let the
chance to be a rich woman slip through your fingers, if it all
depended on your saying only one word you thought wasn't quite
straight," he cried, half in assertion, half in question.

"I honour you in that belief," said Kate. "I most certainly
would."

"Then you turn the whole thing down? You won't have anything to
do with it?" he cried, plunging into stoop-shouldered, mouth-
sagging despair.