During the next few days Sigrid was absorbed in deep calculations. She found that, exclusive of Swanhild’s small earnings, which would be absorbed by her education and the few extras that might be needed, their actual yearly income would be about £150. Frithiof’s work for Herr Sivertsen, and whatever they might earn by evening engagements, could be laid aside toward the fund for paying off the debts, and she thought that they might perhaps manage to live on the rest. Mrs. Boniface seemed rather aghast at the notion, and said she thought it impossible.
“I don’t suppose that we shall spend as little on food as Frithiof did when he was alone,” said Sigrid, “for he nearly starved himself; and I don’t mean to allow him to try that again. I see that the great difficulty will be rent, for that seems so high in London. We were talking about it this morning, and Frithiof had a bright idea. He says there are some very cheap flats—workmen’s model lodgings—that might perhaps do for us; only of course we must make sure that they are quite healthy before we take Swanhild there.”
“Clean and healthy they are pretty sure to be,” said Mrs. Boniface, “but I fancy they have strict rules which might be rather irksome to you. Still, we can go and make inquiries. After all, you would in some ways be better off than in ordinary lodgings, where you are at the mercy of the landlady.”
So that afternoon they went to an office where they could get information as to model dwellings, and found that four rooms could be obtained in some of them at the rate of seven and sixpence a week. At this their spirits rose not a little, and they drove at once to a block which was within fairly easy distance both of the shop and of the rooms in which Madame Lechertier gave her afternoon dancing-classes.
To outward view the model dwellings were certainly not attractive. The great high houses with their uniform ugly color, the endless rows of windows, all precisely alike; the asphalt courtyard in the center, though tidy and clean, had a desolate look. Still, when you realized that one might live in such a place for so small a sum, and thought of many squalid streets where the rental would be twice as high, it was more easy to appreciate these eminently respectable lodgings.
“At present we have no rooms to let, sir,” was the answer of the superintendent to Frithiof’s inquiry.
Their spirits sank, but rose again when he added, “I think, though, we are almost certain to have a set vacant before long.”
“Could we see over them?” they asked.
“Well, the set that will most likely be vacant belongs to a north-country family, and I dare say they would let you look in. Here, Jessie, ask your mother if she would mind just showing her rooms, will you?”
The child, glancing curiously at the visitors, led the way up flight after flight of clean stone stairs, past wide-open windows, through which the September wind blew freshly, then down a long passage until at length she reached a door, which she threw open to announce their advent. A pleasant-looking woman came forward and asked them to step in.