“All right, Sis! Jim can keep his hair on; he sha’n’t be ruined yet awhile, if we know it. Peace to the shades of the departed Elizabeth! You’ll boss the show, and I’ll be second in command.”
Mrs. Morland, also, received a communication from Frances. Jim was forthwith sent for—being suspected of having a weaker will than the one she had just encountered,—and obliged to listen to keen upbraiding, even to merciless taunts. Jim, pale and suffering, could reply only that Mrs. Morland’s opinions were humbly acknowledged as his own; and that if Missy could be induced to abandon her scheme, he would thankfully support motherly authority.
But Frances the Altruist took her own way.
The young people of Rowdon Cottage formed themselves into a sort of household league, and speedily discovered the benefits of co-operation. Jim toiled early and late; but his trouble shared was trouble lightened by at least one appreciable fact—the absence of need for further concealment. His distress of mind at the sight of his fellow-toilers grew no less, in spite of arguments drawn unconsciously from the propaganda of enlightened social economists; but his love for those two children who thus bravely tried to help him grew greater, and taught him more, day by day.
Frances had found her contentment, and was “happy again”. Her loyal friend Florry might now have roamed the Continent, if this desired consummation had indeed sufficed to send her there. But happy, busy Frances was more than ever a companion to be sought by a girl who never had been otherwise than happy and busy. Florry “begged lifts” from Dr. Brenton oftener than ever, and enjoyed her part in the cookery and housework quite as much as she enjoyed the talks about books and the comparisons of lessons which came in between, when folks wanted a rest.
Austin was positively refused regular employment as maid-of-all-work, so he kept on the look-out and seized his chances. At night he would prowl about in search of the family boots, and would hide them in a secret nook, so that in the morning he might try his hand at a new and original system of “blacking”. He would creep through the house, gather up the mats in a swoop, and depart, chuckling, to do mighty execution in the back-yard. Max, if on the spot, of course assisted like a man and a brother. Frances only had to hint that any special cleansing process was under consideration, and three young Altruists got ready for the fray.
“Hi, old man! How’s that for a carpet?”
Jim, anxious-eyed but smiling, professed profound admiration, and disappeared within his shed.
It was an April afternoon. Max and Austin, armed with flat sticks, stood on either side of a well-stretched rope, whereon hung the study carpet. The Altruists were spring-cleaning, and Rowdon Cottage resounded with their songs of triumph. Jim had timidly suggested Elizabeth as a helper, but the idea had been rejected with scorn.