"Sho, mother, that girl's good enough where she is, an' a bargain's a bargain. She was to stay till the first of September. And when you're in Rome you do as the Romans do, I've heard. It's natural, she should get polished up a little over there."
"I'm as good as Mrs. Dayton, if I don't keep city boarders," flung out Aunt Jane, resentfully. "And I've the best claim on Helen when we've taken care of her all these years."
"I d'know as she'd earned twenty-four dollars at home," said Uncle Jason.
"I s'pose not in money," admitted Aunt Jane, who down in her heart had no notion of bringing Helen home. "But I feel as if I had earned half that money doing without her."
"Twenty-four dollars. Phew! Pap, suppose you had to pay me that!" exclaimed Sam.
"You get your board and clothes," said his mother.
So they were mapping out Helen's life, and she was thinking whether she could have the courage to fight it out. She could not go back to the farm. That she settled definitely.
She picked up Mrs. Van Dorn's wraps and her three letters and carried them upstairs.
"I'm going to rest a while," said the lady. "You may come up in—well, half an hour. Will you push the reclining chair over by the window?"
Helen did that and laid the fleecy wrap within reach, smiled and nodded and ran lightly downstairs. In a moment she was helping Mrs. Dayton take out the dishes to the kitchen, and then dried them for Joanna.