"I wish you wouldn't talk like that," said Janet, with a shiver.
"Then I won't, if you don't like; but it's truth," said Mrs. Simmons. "It's truth, and it has got to be faced. You go and do your best, and then you may trust God; but if you don't do the little you can, I don't see what call you have to trust."
"But what am I to do?" asked Janet helplessly.
"Begin to lay by at once. Don't wait till next month or next year. There's the Post Office Savings Bank, which is perfectly safe, and it'll hold as small sums as you like. I'd keep a locked box by me, with a hole in the top, and I'd slip in every penny I could spare. It'll grow wonderfully quick, I can tell you. I'm not advising you to become a miser, like poor old Mr. Meads, loving the money more than your own flesh and blood. But I do say it's your duty to provide all you can against a rainy day, and to teach your children to help you. I shouldn't wonder but there's many a penny goes in goodies, which don't do nobody any good."
"Why, they get the goodies at your shop," said Janet.
"That don't make no difference. My goodies are wholesome and won't hurt the children. But if they're properly fed, they don't need a lot of goodies between meals. It's a bad habit, and a wasteful one. You might save many a penny that way."
"Well, I'll think about it," said Janet.
"And now about the rice pudding," said Mrs. Simmons.
Janet looked relieved, and her face cleared.
"About the rice pudding," said Mrs. Simmons again. "When I was cook at Mrs. Mason's, there wasn't any pudding we had oftener. Mr. Mason scarce counted he'd dined without one. But I didn't make it like you make yours, though I'd been used to your way before I went to Mrs. Mason. I had to learn their way, and a good way I found it,—cheap and nourishing too."