"Master Dick here would consider himself too old to join such a juvenile party, I expect," says the old man, patting him on the back kindly; "but we mean to ask you all to come and spend an evening with us soon, if you can put up with two such old fogies as Brother Ned and myself for hosts. We must have someone from the town to come and tune the piano; and then, perhaps, my brother will play his piece to you—eh, Ned?"
"Certainly, Ben; but then we must also bring down that wonderful picture of yours for the young ladies to see. Miss Honor might perhaps take some very useful hints from it;" and with that parting shot Mr. Ned gives Mr. Benjamin his arm, and they trot down the steps together, away down the garden, and into the road.
CHAPTER XVI.
TRYING TO MAKE BOTH ENDS MEET.
Things go on quietly enough for some time, but as each day comes round it is pretty sure to bring with it some little trial and vexation; trifling in itself perhaps, but none the less wearying to the three girls, who with hopeful hearts are striving laboriously to cut and contrive in order to get the utmost out of every halfpenny.
Honor has shown from the first an almost dogged determination to have nothing brought into the house that cannot be paid for at once.
"We know to a farthing what our income is," she says quietly and firmly; "and what we cannot afford to have we must learn to do without."
Nevertheless it goes to the girl's heart when, having had to draw perhaps from the little sum set aside for the week's living for some other incidental expense, she has to say, "No meat to-day, girls and boys; we must make our dinners from potatoes and bread and butter."
"And very good fare too," some will say perhaps; but for girls and boys who have been brought up in the lap of luxury, and who in their sudden transition from affluence to well-nigh poverty have retained their usual healthy appetites, it is a little trying it must surely be allowed. To Doris and Honor the fact of having to deny themselves meat, and sometimes other things which are almost necessaries, is no great trial so long as they can somehow or other make both ends meet; but it does pain them to see that Molly's and Dick's faces are no longer so round and plump as formerly, and that little Daisy pushes away her plate of untempting food from before her sometimes, plaintively saying she is "not hungry to-day." The novelty of the situation having worn off also to a great extent, the spirits of Doris and Molly especially flag visibly at times; and while Doris sighs over her work with a generally listless air, Molly grows despondent, and even a little cross, as she goes about her daily duties. Poor Honor makes brave and determined efforts to preserve both her cheerfulness and her temper for the sake of all, but there are two little upright lines between her straight brows which tell of constant care and anxious thought; and many a quiet tear is shed when, tired in body and anxious in mind, the girl finds herself alone in her room with no one to witness her giving way to her overwrought feelings.
Still, there are gleams of brightness in the new life, and many an act of kindness is shown to the girls by the neighbouring families; on all of whom the Merivales have been most thoroughly impressed by the brothers Talboys. The first to call are the clergyman and his wife, and they prove to be affable, kindly-disposed people. Then most of the families round about call on Mrs. Merivale also, and do their best to cheer the girls with accounts of what goes on during the summer months, saying kindly that they hope they will look forward to plenty of games of tennis with their own daughters.