"NOW then, girls," cried Lizzie, rocking the cradle softly, while the two other girls got each a piece of work to go on with; even Agnes produced a coarse blue sock, and knitted away woman-fully—"now then, girls, tell me everything; and first, how do you get on?"
"Wonderfully, Liz, just wonderfully! Of course, we miss her every day we live, poor Clarice most of all. But then we are always busy, and, somehow, we have got to have a way of looking forward that is a great help, and keeps us going."
"That is Guy's doing," added Clarice. "He borrowed a book about New Zealand from Miles Murphy, and we read it in the evenings, and talk of our plans. And look, Liz, at the 'beloved bag,' as Guy calls it, look how fat it is!"
"What a grand bag!" said Lizzie. "But where does the money come from?"
"Helen and I, I think we wrote you word, got work from that shop in Dublin, and we earn three shillings a week, and sometimes four."
"Three shillings each, do you mean?"
"Oh no; between us. You know there is home work to be done, too—plenty of darning, eh, Nelly?"
Helen groaned.
"Aymer's stockings are more darn than stocking," she answered. "I suppose it is the digging, and all that."
"Still, we are saving money," said Clarice. "I'm bag-keeper; and I jingle it sometimes when Helen is low—listen, Nelly; isn't that a pleasant sound?"