They always laughed together at this statement, for it would surely have been difficult to find a more irresponsible, feckless bit of goods than Miss Molly aged five. The twins were marvels of usefulness compared with her, and even Noll was more to be trusted in the matter of shutting the gate or looking for eggs than his eldest sister. But it was good for Grace and Bertha to have something to laugh over when the days were extra dreary, and nerves were strained almost to the point of breakdown.
There had been one of those times in the dead of winter when Anne had written straight to Tom, and had said that the life was too hard for Bertha, and she must be sent to Australia forthwith. As the letter had been accompanied by a banker’s draft containing money to cover her passage out, it really seemed as if Bertha would have to go. But the old yearning for a life of ease seemed to die then, and it was Bertha who decided what the others would not venture to decide for her.
“I shall not go,” she had said quietly, as she stood confronting Tom, who looked almost wild with anxiety. “You and Grace are kind enough to consider that I earn my living, and so I am independent. If I went to Anne and her husband, they would probably not let me do this, and so I should be dependent on the charity of my brother-in-law, and that I should not care for at all, now I have once tasted the sweets of independence.”
“Are you sure that you won’t repent?” asked Tom hoarsely, for he knew very well that if Bertha did go, it would be almost impossible to fill her place.
“I went through all that back in the fall, just after harvest was over, when the first letter came,” Bertha answered steadily, though her lips trembled a little as she thought of the many times when the strangled temptation had come to life again to torment her with fresh vigour, for, after all, she was very human, and her present life was harder than most.
“But you did not say anything about it; at least, I never heard of it,” said Tom.
“No, and you would not have heard now if Anne had not written to you,” replied Bertha. “You see, the trouble is that neither Anne nor Hilda think that I am good for much in the matter of work. I used to be most fearfully lazy in the old days, and they both had to suffer a great deal in consequence, so it is not wonderful that they do not think that I am fit to run this house alone, and I expect that both of them pity you and Grace from the bottom of their hearts.”
“They need not, at least not on the score of your housekeeping,” interposed Tom hastily, and then he said in a worried tone, “But what am I to say to this letter? Or will you take it and answer it yourself?”
“No, I think that you will have to do it, because you have to send that money back, you see,” answered Bertha, who felt that she would not be easy until that banker’s draft was on its way back to Australia. “You can tell Anne, if you like, that I am a paid employee, and it would not be fair to ask me to resign unless I misbehave myself; and as I have not given you notice, and do not intend to, yours is rather a delicate position.”
“Ha, ha, ha!” laughed Tom, in sheer relief and joy. “But I am afraid that she will see through that; anyhow, she will be downright mad with me.”