"Well, if we could manage to pay the rent of a type-writing machine, I
could probably get you copying from the firm as well as from some of the
other lawyers in the building. I was wondering the other day if I could
do anything at it myself, and thus pick up an additional dollar or two in
the week. Of course, you would accomplish more than I could, and it
would be a hundred times better than stitch! stitch! How I hate the whir
of the thing!" And Bernard, with his juggler gift of mimicry, proceeded
forthwith to turn himself into a sewing-machine, jerking his feet up and
down in imitation of the motion of the treadle, and making an odd noise
in his throat.
Mrs. Farrell laughed, as she replied: "I do not know that there is much
choice between this and the click of the type-writer. But, anyhow, your
plan, though it sounds plausible, would not do, because I should not be
able to work the type-writer."
"There would be no difficulty about that," argued Bernard. "You know how
to play the piano, and the fingering is very much easier. It will come
naturally."
His mother laughed again, yet she sighed as well.
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