It was characteristic of their different natures that Grandma Dorrance went to bed, and immediately fell asleep in spite of her anxiety about her affairs; while Dorothy lay awake far into the night pondering over the problem.
She could form no plan, she was conscious only of a dogged determination that she would somehow conquer the existing difficulties, and triumphantly save the day.
She thought of Lilian's practical suggestions, and though she admitted them practical, she could not think them practicable. Surely there must be some way other than boarding at Mrs. Hickox's, or living on bread and tea.
"At any rate," she thought to herself as she finally fell asleep, "nothing will be done until Mr. Lloyd is heard from, and that will give me at least two or three days to think of a plan."
But try as she would, the next day and the next, no acceptable plan would come into Dorothy's head.
"We are the most helpless family!" she thought to herself, as she lay in the hammock under the trees. "There is positively nothing that we can do, that's of any use. But I will do something,—I will! I WILL!" and by way of emphasizing her determination she kicked her heel right through the hammock.
The other children did not take it quite so seriously. They were younger, and they had a hazy sort of an idea that money troubles always adjusted themselves, and somehow got out of the way.
Leicester and Dorothy talked matters over, for though younger, he considered himself the man of the house, and felt a certain responsibility for that reason. But he could no more think of a plan than Dorothy could, and so he gave the problem up in despair, and apparently Dorothy did also.
However, even a serious trouble like this, was not sufficient to cast down the Dorrances' spirits to any great extent.
They went their ways about as usual; they rowed and fished and walked and drove old Dobbin around, while their faces showed no sign of gloom or depression. That was the Dorrance nature, to be happy in spite of impending disaster.