In consequence of Ruth's vile ingratitude, it became plain to Mrs. Short that she must do one of three things, none of which she entirely liked. She might return to doing the work herself, which her rapidly increasing size rendered both difficult and distasteful to her. Or she might leave the work undone—cease to keep her place so beautifully clean, and attend merely to her cooking; to do her justice, this idea only suggested itself to be rejected. Or again, she might get a "gel." This she would do, she decided, after much deliberation.
The next point was, to get a "gel" for as little wages as possible—for none, if it could be managed. She therefore wrote to her son, offering in the handsomest manner to take "his Mary Kate" off his hands, educating her to be a notable woman like herself, and leaving to her such sums as she should have saved before her death. But Mat Short was very fond of his children, and they were not fond of their grandmother! Moreover Mat did not believe in the savings, for as he said to his wife, "Mother'd eat five hundred a year if she had it!" This obliging offer was declined. Mary Kate howled from the moment she heard her grandmother's letter read until the reply was safely posted. Then, and not till then, did Mrs. Short bethink herself of her long-lost daughter.
Now, though she always spoke of Jane as lost, Jane might more properly be said to be merely mislaid. Mrs. Short did not know where she was, simply because she had never inquired! Jane had offended her mother while very young, by going out as a servant, owing to what Mrs. Short called "competition of temper" at home. Then she had married, and Mrs. Short, then a widow, had cast her off: people were unkind enough to say that she feared lest Jane might expect a little help occasionally. Now, however, the case was different, and Mrs. Short caused a little quiet inquiry to be made about Jane, and discovered that she was a widow, with one son, who was at sea. Mrs. Short piously declared that it was "quite a Prominence," and forthwith wrote to Jane whose name, by way of a joke, was Mrs. Long,—to invite her to be a comfort to her mother's declining years.
Mrs. Long, who was again in service, thought she might as well try, in spite of the "competition" I have mentioned; or perhaps she knew that her temper had improved since the last competition, and wished to try again. At all events, she came, and great was Ollie's amusement at the queer contrast presented by Mrs. Long and Mrs. Short when he first saw them, on their way to church together, on the first Sunday after Mrs. Long's arrival. Mrs. Short, broader than she was long, waddling up the hill in her handsome tartan shawl, the tartan of some clan which was addicted to colour, and did not mind being seen a good way off. Mrs. Long, a very tall, thin woman, with an expression of meek obstinacy in her face, stalking beside her mother in a shabby, rusty black cloak, and a bonnet which looked as if she had accidentally sat down upon it.
But before long (I don't mean that for a pun) Mrs. Short found that she had made a great mistake, and, what was worse, one that could not be un-made. Jane's temper had quite the best of the competition now! She did not scold or storm, she seldom even answered again; but she smiled sourly when her affectionate mother tried to feed her upon bacon and cabbage, while she herself dined upon various costly delicacies. After a brief struggle, Jane had her own way, and her full share of such good things as were going. But these were not as plenty as of old.
Mrs. Long remarked that it was her mother's plain duty to save a certain sum weekly, to form a little fortune for her when she should be again left homeless by the old woman's death. She not only pointed out this duty, but she saw that it was done. She made the old woman fairly comfortable, however, and nursed her carefully when she required it; but she ruled her completely, and altogether things were not to Mrs. Short's mind, and she sometimes mournfully wished that she had "got a gel."
"But there," she said, "that's me all over; I couldn't get Jane out of my head, thinking she might be actially in want, and I in comfort; I'm too good-natured, that's the truth, and Jane don't take after me!"
"That's the Long and the Short of it!" As saucy Ollie Garland remarked when he heard this lament.