Lilac did not wait to hear more; she made her escape safely to her attic, and soon afterwards found Agnetta and learnt from her the history of the accident. Mrs Greenways had had a bad fall; she had caught her foot in a hole in the carpet and twisted her ankle, and the doctor said it was a wonder she had not broken any bones. Everyone in the house had so much to say, and was so excited about this misfortune, that Lilac’s little adventure was passed over without notice, and the scolding she had dreaded did not come at all. Poor Mrs Greenways had other things to think of as she lay groaning on the sofa, partly with pain and partly at the prospect before her. To be laid up a month! It was easy for the doctor to talk, but what would become of things? Who would look after Molly? Who would see to the dairy? It would all go to rack and ruin, and she must lie here idle and look on. Her husband stood by trying to give comfort, but every word he said only seemed to make matters worse.
“Why, there’s Bella now,” he suggested; “she ought to be able to take your place for a bit.”
“And that just shows how much you know about the indoors work, Greenways,” said his wife fretfully; “to talk of Bella! Why, I’d as soon trust the dairy to Peter’s cat as Bella—partikler now she’s got that young Buckle in her head. She don’t know cream from buttermilk.”
“Why, then, you must just leave the butter to Molly as usual, and let the girls see after the rest,” said Mr Greenways soothingly.
“Oh, it’s no use talking like that,” said his wife impatiently; “it’s only aggravating to hear you. I suppose you think things are done in the house without heads or hands either. Girls indeed! There’s Agnetta, knows no more nor a baby, and only that little bit of a Lilac as can put her hand to anything.”
Finding his efforts useless, Mr Greenways shrugged his shoulders and went out, leaving his wife alone with her perplexities.
The more she thought them over the worse they seemed. To whom could she trust whilst she was helpless? Who would see that the butter was ready and fit for market? Not Bella, not Agnetta, and certainly not Molly. Really and truly there was only that little bit of a Lilac, as she called her, to depend on—she would do her work just as well whether she were overlooked or not, Mrs Greenways felt sure. It was no use to shut her eyes to it any longer, Lilac White was not a burden but a support, not useless but valuable, only a child, but more dependable than many people of twice her years. It was bitter to poor Mrs Greenways to acknowledge this, even to herself, for the old jealousy was still strong within her.
“I s’pose,” she said with a groan, “there was something in Mary White’s upbringing after all. I’m not agoin’ to own up to it, though, afore other folks.”
When a little later Lilac was told that her aunt wanted her, she thought that the scolding had come at last, and went prepared to bear it as well as she could. It was, however, for a surprisingly different purpose.
“Look here, Lilac,” said Mrs Greenways carelessly, “you’ve been a good deal in the dairy lately, and you ought to have picked up a lot about it.”