“Well, look here, Betty,” argued Bob, impressed in spite of himself by her reasoning, “I’m pretty husky and I might have something to say if they tried to do away with me. Besides, what would be their object?”
Betty admitted that she did not know, unless, she added dismally, they planned to set the house on fire some night and burn up the whole family.
Bob laughed, and refused to consider this seriously. But for the next few days Betty dogged his footsteps like the faithful friend she was, and though the boy found this trying at times he could not find it in his heart to protest.
Miss Hope and Miss Charity were very happy these days. For a while they forgot that the interest was due the next month, that no amount of patient figuring could show them how the year’s taxes were to be met, and that the butter and egg money was their sole source of income. Instead, they gave themselves up to the enjoyment of having young folk in the quiet house and to the contemplation of Bob as their nephew. Faith had died, but she had left them a legacy—her son, who would be a prop to them in their old age.
Miss Hope and Miss Charity were talking things over one morning when Betty and Bob were out whitewashing the neglected hen house. Though the sisters protested, they insisted on doing some of the most pressing of the heavy tasks long neglected.
“I really do not see,” said Miss Hope, “how we are to feed and clothe the child until he is old enough to earn his living. Of course Faith’s son must have a good education. Betty tells me he is very anxious to go to school this winter. He is determined to get a job, but of course he is much too young to be self-supporting. If only we hadn’t traded that stock!”
“Maybe what he says about the farm being worth a large sum of money is true,” said Miss Charity timidly. “Wouldn’t it be wonderful if there should be oil here, Sister?”
Miss Hope was a lady, and ladies do not snort, but she came perilously near to it.
“Humph!” she retorted, crushing her twin with a look. “I’m surprised at you, Charity! A woman of your age should have more strength of character than to believe in every fairy tale. Of course Bob and Betty think there is oil on the farm—they believe in rainbows and all the other pretty fancies that you and I have outgrown. Besides, I never did take much stock in this oil talk. I don’t think the Lord would put a fortune into any one’s hands so easily. It’s a lazy man’s idea of earning a living.”