"Your slave, GUILLIAM VAN DAM."
Such was the false but plausible missive that was aimed as an arrow at poor little Zell. There was nothing in her training or education, and little in her character, to shield her. Moreover the increasing miseries of their situation were Van Dam's allies.
Edith rose the next morning greatly refreshed, and her naturally courageous nature rallied to meet the difficulties of their position. But in her strength, as was too often the case, she made too little allowance for the weakness of the others. She took the reins in her hand in a masterful and not merciful way, and dictated to the rest in a manner that they secretly resented.
The store wagon was a little earlier than usual that morning, and a note from Mr. Hard was handed in, stating that he had payments to make that day and would therefore request that his little account might be met. Two or three other persons brought up bills from the village, saying that for some reason or another the money was greatly needed. Tom Crowl's gossip was doing its legitimate work.
In the post-office Edith found all the other accounts against the family, with requests for payment, polite enough, but pressing.
She resolved to pay all she could, and went first to Mr. Hard's, That worthy citizen's eyes grew less stony as he saw half the amount of his bill on the counter. The rumor of Edith's visit to the city had reached even him, and he had his fears that collecting might involve some unpleasant business; but, however unpleasant it might be, Mr. Hard always collected.
"I hope our method of dealing has satisfied you. Miss Allen," he ventured politely.
"Oh, yes," said Edith dryly, "you have been very liberal and prompt with everything, especially your bill."
At this Mr. Hard's eyes grew quite pebbly, and he muttered something about its being the rule to settle monthly.
"Oh, certainly," said Edith, "and like most rules, no doubt, has many exceptions. Good-morning."