ND so Mrs. Blunt began a new life.
That afternoon when she went down with softened heart to her crowded and somewhat dirty rooms, she looked round upon them with new eyes—eyes that had been lightened by a ray from above. She scarcely knew it, and yet, instead of gloomy half-patient, half-hopeless despondency, she began to think even her poor little things might be able to be made better.
The rest of her children were all at school, but they would soon be home now. They must not find home more desolate than usual because mother had had a rare treat.
She put the new loaf carefully away, it must not be touched till to-morrow, and then she set on her kettle for tea and swept up the room. How different it looked even with that little bit of care! Next, deciding that she should just have time to clean the hearth, she set about it with all speed, and was just putting away her pail when there came a rush in the passage, and four or five children burst into the room.
It was on her lips to say, "What a row you do make!" but another word was already hovering there—Pattie's new word, "Jesus,"—and somehow that word would not let the others pass it.
"Ain't tea ready? we're awful hungry, mother."
"Very soon, Jim. Just take Pattie and baby outside, will yer, while I turn round a bit. It 'ull come all the sooner for letting me get it without them hangin' on my skirts."
Jim saw the force of this argument, and with pretty good grace took the little ones under his charge on the doorstep, while the mother turned to the eldest girl with an unusually kind welcome.
"Come, Kittie," she said, "and help tidy up for father. I've been out to tea, Kittie, and I've heard words as has made me wish to have a happier home, and I want you to 'elp me do it."
Kittie, a well-grown but backward girl of twelve, rather stared at her mother, but she recognized that the tone was different, and concluding that her mother was in a good humour, as she called it, she hastened to do as she was bid.