NOTHING TO DO.
TROWGOOD was willing to trust to any amount for the furniture; so the making ready of the new house began at once. Mother said she did not see any good in waiting, for the bills could be paid as soon as ever the money came, and father was of the same mind.
There was a great deal to be done to the house. Father took it in such a hurry, that he did not have a proper agreement made; and when he found afterwards what a number of repairs were wanted, he had to do it all himself, for the landlord was a churlish sort of body, and said "No" to pretty nearly everything asked.
Mother was vexed because father had not thought of these matters sooner; but father said, what did it signify? He seemed to think five thousand pounds could do everything.
He and mother were agreed on one head, and that was that the house must make a smart appearance. The top rooms were damp, and the kitchen had water oozing out all over the walls, and there was a queer sort of smell in the parlour, which grannie said ought to be attended to. She said our cottage had always been so sweet and dry, and that was partly how we had all kept such good health. She told father he had a deal better have the dampness and the smell cured, and spend less on carpets and gimcracks. But mother said—"Who cared for a little wet?" and father said,—"All in good time, grannie." And he seemed to think the "good time" should come late, not early.
The new carpet, which was chosen in such a hurry for our cottage, would not fit the new parlour, and Trowgood said he could not get any more of the same pattern. Mother seemed rather glad. She had that put into the biggest bedroom,—at least she settled that it should go there when we moved,—and she chose another, quite as smart, which cost a great deal more, and so she liked it better.
It is wonderful what a number of things are wanted in a new house. Mother did not seem to care to keep anything out of the dear old cottage. Grannie and I were to sleep together still, and we settled to furnish our room with things that we had by us, and to have nothing new at all. But whatever we did not want for our room was to be sold. Mother seemed bent on having all quite fresh. I think the thought of parting with the old furniture that she loved so much cut very deeply with grannie.
Father was still working for the Johnstones, but he did not work regular as he was used to do before. He seemed to have a sort of distaste for it. Sundays were getting to be just days of pleasure and amusement, with no thought of God in them; and on Monday he commonly had a lazy fit, and lounged about doing nothing. Sometimes the lazy fit lasted over Tuesday as well. He used before to have a bright brisk way of doing things, but he was losing that now. I think Mr. Johnstone or the foreman must have found fault with him once or twice, for I heard him talking about them angrily, and saying "he wouldn't be driven—not he,—thank goodness he had enough and to spare now, and he should please himself."
I don't at all know whether father meant to go on with the same work, after he got his money. I think it is likely he was in a sort of uncertain state, waiting to see what to do. He would have money enough to start him in something better, or even to live an idle life. But he had been trained to no other kind of work; and it is quite certain that no hale and hearty man in middle life can be happy with nothing to do. There are men who can make their own work and find their own interests,—men who can be quite happy in doing good to others, or in studying God's works, or in reading books. But reading was always a labour to father, and he knew and cared nothing about study; and I don't suppose he ever thought of such a thing as steady doing of good to others, though of course he would have been ready any day to give a crust to a starving man, if he came across him by chance.
But, as I say, I do not know what father really meant to do. I think it startled him, and I am sure it was a great shock to us all, when Mr. Johnstone dismissed him from his employ.