“No, I’m not, but Gradda is; at least she has worried herself into a sick headache. She did too much last week, and now both the maids have taken French leave, so here’s where I cook.”
“You don’t mean it!”
“Sure pop. Sit thee down and let me pour out the tale of my woes into your sympathetic ear.”
Winnie listened attentively to Joanne’s recital; at its close she broke out with “Jo, I think you’re a brick!”
“Brick your own self. You would do just the same. You see I can’t very well help myself. The worst part is trying to manage poor dear Gradda. She is overcome with horror at poor little baby Jo trying to act like a responsible being. I’ve always been a sort of vine, you see, at least I have had to play vine whether I wanted to or not, and now that I can stiffen up without twining she can’t understand it. She isn’t used to these emergencies, anyway. Life has gone on rather placidly for her. When she has kept house she could always get servants without difficulty. Now when those good old days are past and they are hard to get she is all adrift without sail or compass, and is all used up. Grad has gone out on the war-path, and I am hoping for a good report.”
“Suppose he can’t get any one.”
“I shall keep up the good fight, of course. Now tell me about school.”
“Oh, well, there wasn’t much doing, and won’t be till the schedules are made out.”
“All the girls back?”
“Some are not, but there are several new ones. I haven’t sized them up yet. Clausie and Ess were on hand, but Betty and Virgie won’t be here till next week.”