"I shall be richer, Ruthie, than I ever thought to be, for I shall have a daughter and a—"
He stopped short. He could not say the word "son." Poor lost Fred!
"You mean me," said Ollie. "But, Mr. Trulock, we ought to be called your grandchildren," he added after a little reflection. "We're too little to be your children, don't you think? Ruthie, what makes you cry? I think it is too good to be true. You know how cold it is at Mrs. Cricklade's, and she is very often cross too! She hit you often, I know she did. Oh, Ruthie, do say you will stay here. It can't be wrong—is it, Mr. Trulock?"
"It would be wrong and unkind to leave me," replied Ralph quickly.
"Oh, I am only too glad to stay—you know that," Ruth cried, springing up and running to his side. "I only feared—"
"Have no fears, my dear child. We shall be very comfortable, and I hope very happy too. I thank God for my two dear children."
So the question was settled, and the little Garlands stayed with Ralph. Ollie had a holiday, as we know, but he was not allowed to be idle, for Ruth found employment for him. She set to work, with a charwoman to assist, to clean the house from top to bottom, and Ollie was as busy as any one. What a polishing and brightening that house got, to be sure! Ralph bought a little additional furniture too; and altogether his abode quite lost the poverty-stricken air which had so distressed May Cloudesley.
Christmas Eve came round again, and Mr. and Mrs. Cloudesley betook themselves to Lady Mabel's Rest, to pay a short visit to each house. May had persuaded her mother to send her a great hamper of apples, nuts, pears, gingerbread, and jam tarts, that she might have little presents for the children, for she knew them all now, and loved nothing better than giving them pleasure. She had some small gift for every one, mostly made by her own hands, and that intended for Mrs. Short was a pretty woollen mat to ornament her table. Mrs. Short liked the mat better than the flowers of last year, but she was intensely curious to know what Mrs. Cloudesley was taking next door, to Mr. Trulock and the Garlands, and May was quite determined that she should not find out. Mrs. Short had a long list of grievances to mourn over, and was not nearly so alert and lively as she had been on that day last year. A whole year of eating more than enough for two had told upon her.
"Mr. Trulock never was much of a neighbour," she said, "as you know, Mrs. Cloudesley; but when he was tramping the country from morning till night, and never had a bit or sup in his house that a proper-minded person would care to eat, it did not matter so much. But now, ma'am, things is very different, and they set down to as good meals in a plainish way as any one could desire, and Ruth is learning cooking from Miss Jones, and she's learned her to make coffee, and cakes, and things tossed up in the frying-pan—and I must say the smell is most tempting—and it's all one gets of them. And if I want anything off the common, I may just turn to and cook it, which gets to tire one, somehow; but never once, ma'am, has they said, 'Mrs. Short, will you step in to tea?' and I that nussed Trulock when every one else forsook him!"
"You should have a servant, Mrs. Short," said May, for want of something to say. "She would be company for you."