In spite of these expenses Mary banked four hundred dollars, leaving herself enough in hand for a fortnight to come, for she found that they could live on twenty-five dollars a week. She calculated that they must make, as an absolute minimum, to be safe, one hundred dollars a month, for she was determined, if possible, not to draw further upon their hoard. This was destined for a future use, the hope of which trembled constantly in her heart. All her plans centered about this hope, but she still forebore to speak of it to Stefan, even as she had done before their marriage. Perhaps she instinctively feared a possible lack of response in him. Meanwhile, she must safeguard her nest.
In spite of Stefan's initial success, Mary wondered if his art would at first yield the necessary monthly income, and cast about for some means by which she could increase his earnings. She had come to America to attain independence, and there was nothing in her code to make dependence a necessary element of marriage.
"Stefan," she said one morning, as she sat covering a cushion, while he worked at one of the unfinished pastorals, "you know I sold several short stories for children when I was in London. I think I ought to try my luck here, don't you?"
"You don't need to, sweetheart," he replied. "Wait till I've finished this little thing. You see if the man I sold the boy to won't jump at it for another hundred." And he whistled cheerily.
"I'm sure he will," she smiled. "Still, I should like to help."
"Do it if you want to, Beautiful, only I can't associate you with pens and typewriters. I'm sure if you were just to open your mouth, and sing, out there in the square--" he waved a brush--"people would come running from all over the city and throw yellow and green bills at you like leaves, till you had to be dug out with long shovels by those funny street-cleaners who go about looking dirty in white clothes. You would be a nymph in a shower of gold--only the gold would be paper! How like America!" He whistled again absently, touching the canvas with delicate strokes.
"You are quite the most ridiculous person in the world," she laughed at him. "You know perfectly well that my voice is much too small to be of practical value."