"These are no vagrant fowls, bought anywhere, allow me to inform you," says Molly as the party approach the hen-house; "they came, every one of them, from the Mortons' own farm at Oakleigh. Don't you recognize Mr. Pincher? A rare lot of trouble he gave the boys the other day; but he has settled down pretty well now, I think."
Daisy especially is delighted with this addition to the establishment, and asks anxiously if she may take the fowls into her own care. She and Doris, indeed, are both enraptured with all the arrangements. So far from feeling any dismay at the prospect of living a totally different life from that to which they have been accustomed from infancy, their spirits rise, and with the hopefulness and love of change which are invariably found in youth, they all seem to look forward to their new life with real pleasure, which is only damped when they think of the kind and dear father, still so sorely missed by all at times.
"After all, I think it will be really jolly living in a small house," remarks Dick, following the girls into the house again. "One won't be able to roam about wondering which room to go into; which will be rather a relief, to my mind. There is the dining-room, and the drawing-room, and if they won't do, why, one can just sit on the stairs!"
Unanimous approval of these sentiments is expressed; but as they come to the end of their peregrinations round the house Doris suddenly becomes grave, and putting her arm within Honor's as they turn into the sitting-room for tea, she says:
"Honor, my girl, we must have a good long talk together very soon. I've no end of messages from aunt, and if I don't deliver them at once I shall forget half. Shall we hold a council of war when the children have gone to bed to-night?"
Here Dick begs to be informed if he is expected to consider himself one of "the children" referred to; but being reassured on this point, renews his attack on the bread-and-butter with unruffled composure, while his sisters continue their conversation.
A few hours later Honor looks into the room where Doris is on her knees before a large trunk, busily unpacking, and says softly, Daisy being asleep:
"Let us go down, Doris, dear, and have our chat. The fire is out in the sitting-room, but there's a splendid one in the kitchen, and Jane won't be there, for mother, feeling a little nervous, said she would like her to sit beside her with her work. I left Dick and Molly roasting apples," she adds, "so if we want to have any we had better look sharp, I expect."
In a few minutes the four young people are comfortably settled round the fire, Honor in state in the only available chair, the second one being occupied by Timothy. Doris, having extracted from Molly a solemn assurance that there is no such thing as a beetle (black) in the house, establishes herself on the corner of the large kitchen-fender, while Molly occupies the opposite one, and Dick perches himself on the table, within easy reach of the plate of apples.
"Well now, to begin," says Doris, "aunt sent her love, and she was very glad indeed that you were able to make her cheque do, because, she says, it shows you must have some ideas of management; and you know what that means with aunt, and she considers it augurs well for the future. She says, too, that she thinks we ought to manage now, with the sum we have yearly, and what we may be able to earn—for of course I told her, girls, that we should all turn to and do something,—though goodness knows what I am fit for!" Doris gloomily adds, "However, that's neither here nor there. What was I saying? Oh yes, about the money! Aunt says—what is, of course, very true—that she has given us a fair start, and that, unless any dire calamity should fall upon us, we must not expect her to do anything more, as she would not like to ask uncle again for a long time. She wants you to write, Honor, and tell her everything—what we decide on trying to do, and all that sort of thing, you know; and she implored me not to forget to ask what wages you are paying Jane; because, she says, we have no business to keep an expensive servant. We ought to have some strong girl from the village to do the rough work, and manage all the rest—cooking and all, mind—among us. Well, now wait a minute"—for here Molly shows signs of breaking into the conversation,—"I haven't half finished yet! Aunt has been talking to me about mother, as well. She has had her own doctor to see her; and he says that this shock and trouble have really brought her into a very low and delicate state of health. You know, Honor, aunt used not to have a spark of patience with mother's nervous attacks, and headaches, and so on; but she quite astonished me the other day by suddenly taking hold of my arm and saying: 'Doris, your mother now is really what she has fancied herself for years past—she is a delicate woman, and if you and the others are not careful she will become a confirmed invalid. You are not a child now, and I can speak openly to both you and Honor, I think." And then aunt went on to say plainly that it is not in mother's power—she is sure—to take the management of affairs now; and that we must take all the trouble and worry on our own shoulders, and not bother her about money and so on. 'Let her keep quiet, child,' aunt said, 'and give her little bits of work to do—she likes needle-work, you know; and you girls must learn to do for yourselves; it will be a good lesson for you before you get husbands and homes of your own, if you ever do'" (here Dick laughs softly and derisively), "'and,'" proceeds Doris with dignity, "'your husbands will thank their stars that they have got wives who can do something besides eat and sleep, and dress and make calls!' There—I think I've said everything now; so you can all talk away as much as you please; I am going to eat apples!"