"Several weeks, I hope. I am here for a holiday, by the doctor's orders."
Ellen raised her eyes.
"Then you are not well," said Mrs. Cameron, quickly.
"I have had a great deal of anxiety lately. Don't look troubled. It is over now—happily over."
"Oh, I am glad. Ellen, we must take care of Mr. Fletcher." The young girl nodded sympathetically. "There is a vacant room in the farmhouse."
"No, I will find a bedroom elsewhere; but if you will allow me, I will take my meals with you."
"It will be a great pleasure to us. There is another farmhouse half a mile away, where you can get a room. Ellen will show you the way. There is no hurry for a few minutes. We must go into accounts."
"Accounts?"
"Yes," said Mrs. Cameron, and at a sign from her, Ellen brought forward a small account book. "You have sent us more money than we need. We can't quite keep ourselves, but we can do something towards it. You will find the figures correct, I think, though we are not very clever at arithmetic."
It was useless for me to protest; they had their ideas of what was just, and seeing that I was giving them pain by objecting, I waived further objection, and looked through the book. Everything was neatly set down. I had sent them so much money; they had earned so much; their weekly account for board and lodging came to so much; and in the result there was a balance of four or five pounds, which they insisted belonged to me, and which I was forced to accept. If any proof were needed to convince me that I had been thrown into the society of ladies of scrupulous integrity and uprightness, it lay before me in this little account book; it increased my respect and esteem for them, and I thanked my good fortune for the association, and inwardly vowed never to desert them. What the mother had to impart to me was disclosed within twenty-four hours of my arrival. It was sufficiently grave, and strengthened my resolve to remain with them.