“Are you quite sure—?”
“Quite;” and he waved his hand, smilingly.
I did want to go down to the store with Fan; so I was glad of the permission. Stuart started to accompany us but two of the village boys came to call on him. I was relieved, for I wanted to stop on the way and see one of my Sunday School children.
Fan bought her braid, and we found the baby at the Day’s was sick, and Betty had to stay at home to help take care of it. Poor thing, how wild and wan it looked, so different from our rosy Edith.
Mrs. Day’s house was generally in disorder. She was a hard-working woman in some respects, for she was always at it. Her husband was a gardener and day-laborer, earning his twelve dollars a week pretty regularly, and they owned a small cottage and garden, that Mrs. Day senior had left them. Yet they always looked very poor.
“Yes,” Mrs. Day was saying, “I couldn’t spare Betty on Sunday. Husband went over the river to see his cousin, and took little Jem. I’d been hard at work all the week, and was clear beat out, up half the night, too. And I don’t see as the baby gets a bit better. You don’t know what it is to look after a baby all alone by yourself, and not have a soul to raise a finger for you.”
“But Betty helps a good deal.” I returned, for I could not bear to have the child so underrated.
“A girl like that can’t do much at the best. Now, if I had one or two grown up, as your mother has!”
She always thought if she only had something another person possessed, she should be happier. I wondered a little how she would get along with mamma’s cares and worries, and sewing, to say nothing of the demands from outside.
“Ask your ma if she cannot come over. Hardly a soul has been in, and I can’t go anywhere for a bit of change. But poor people have to do the best they can in trouble.”