“And you know”—Mellicent continued the grievance—“she will only have half as much as she has had; and then she has been a great help to mamma, for all the luxuries came from her, so we shall not have any.”
Persis was conscious that this was an appalling piece of news, but she valiantly held her ground. “Well, it doesn’t make us paupers, and we shall not have to keep boarders.”
“Except Basil and Porter,” put in Mellicent.
“They’re not real boarders; they are papa’s wards, and we are doing them a great favor,” Lisa amended. “We shall have to do without all sorts of things; and when we have had pretty nearly everything we wanted it will be no fun to see Annis Brown perked out in what ought to be ours, and to have to say we can’t afford to do thus and so.”
“It is rather a strain,” admitted Persis; “but, just the same, it is right, and it will not hurt us. Besides, if you look at it from the Browns’ side, we have been defrauding them all these years, and they have had to bear all sorts of things which we will never be called upon to do.”
“It is no fault of ours. They wouldn’t have been so poorly off if old Mr. Brown had taken better care of his money.”
“Oh, Lisa, how could he? It was the war made him lose, and he died before he had time to make good his losses.”
“Well, it doesn’t alter the fact that it is all very unpleasant, and I don’t enjoy having unexpected relations thrust upon me, and I don’t believe the rest of the family do either. It would be perfectly unnatural if they did.” With which parting thrust Lisa took her departure, Mellicent following.
Persis was left with conflicting emotions; her spirit of justice was here satisfied in a way of which she little dreamed. Her “chickens” had “come home to roost,” indeed, and she was conscious of a queer contradictory feeling about the matter. Pretty trinkets, her new bicycle, little treats, summer journeyings, had all been grandma’s bounty, and now—well, she would go and see grandma herself, and take her cue from this interested member of the family.
Accordingly she sought Mrs. Estabrook’s sunny room. “Oh, grandma,” she began, as soon as she entered, “I am so dreadfully upset in my mind; are you?”