Bessie's marriage passed off in high style,—the change that had come over her mother being most marked—and after a fortnight of "doing the grand" at Bournemouth she and her "Darling" Jones settled down to business with the firm determination of making it "hum." And "hum" it did. Bessie had been a treasure in the business at Hadley, but she was a far smarter business woman now that she shared some responsibility. Every morning the shutters were down at eight o'clock, every corner thoroughly swept by nine, every order attended to promptly, supplies well seen to. It was like taking in a breath of Swiss air to go into that shop. Many a sleepy country-woman rubbed her eyes and pulled herself together after an interview with Bessie. It was not simply done for the money it brought, though of course the more business done the more it was to the advantage of the managers, but the main impetus was in the thought that she was helping Mrs. Waring. Bessie's highest delight was to win her "Well done!"—to know she was hastening the development of her scheme, for Phebe had taken both Reynolds and Jones into her confidence.
Bessie's mother marvelled at the change which had come over her, and wondered if it could possibly be the same girl who used to be always in hot water! If there was anything "hot" now-a-days it was more of the nature of milk than water.
The money for Phebe's scheme was gradually accumulating. One or two special agencies had helped in this, but it had mostly been won by hard and constant application to work. And all the time the sum in the bank had been growing Phebe's influence had grown too. There was never a town's meeting called to discuss any forward movement, or to right any wrong, but she was invited, mostly accompanied by her boy. But, as nearly always happens, alongside with this growing influence was a growing disfavour with well-to-do, rut-bound people, especially with those who had class prejudices and believed that woman was simply the chattel of a man. This was very much accentuated when she was called in as an arbitrator in a dispute between some men and their master, and was still further manifested when she publicly exposed the wrongs of some laundry girls. Whenever she saw wrongs or injustice she was bound to speak out. She even once spoke out at a church-meeting against the custom of relegating the poorest members to the top seats in the church gallery. That was a shocking offence, and almost won for her church-discipline. But she calmly went on her way, her eyes still fixed on the silver stars, and more and more became the confidante and helper of the poor.
The day at last arrived—the day she had looked forward to for months, even years—on which she paid into the bank to her "scheme account" the last needed amount before commencing operations, bringing the grand total up to five hundred pounds!
The following day arrangements were made for an interview with Stephen Collins. Both Nanna and she agreed it had better take place at her sister's house, her old home. It would be quieter, and there would be less chance for gossip to make anything out of it.
The father was dead, but the sister was still staying on in the old house. Phebe frankly told her she wanted a business talk with Stephen, and asked if she would mind inviting him.
"I shall be only too pleased," was the reply. "The wonder to me is you manage to get along so much by yourself as you do. Who would have imagined our dreamy Phebe turning into an enterprising business woman, and quite a public character, too! How things change! I used to be the go-ahead, and now I'm as good as a recluse."
"You've done the hardest piece of work, after all, dear," was Phebe's answer; "one that God won't forget. And, besides, you have the opportunity of coming out into the world and its work now father is at rest."
Stephen Collins accepted the invitation, and on a dreary Friday afternoon at the end of October the three gathered round a cheerful fire in the old-fashioned parlour.
For a minute or so Phebe thought they were girls and boy together again, and that the door would open presently and "mother" would come in with her cheery voice, "Girls, it's time for tea, and you'd better get Steve to help you!" How many a romp they had had together, especially when "father" was away at market! The fire crackled and the old clock ticked just as they had done then, but a glance at Stephen's iron-grey hair and his sad, earnest face gave proof enough that the old merry days had gone by for ever.