“Good old Elizabeth!” chuckled Austin. “She’s a first-rater. She bakes scones once a week, and never forgets ‘Mr. Jim’. I say, Mr. Jim, here’s a second supply, well-buttered. Finished? What rot! Pull him down, Max, and send up his cup!”
“I made this cake myself, Jim,” whispered Florry. “It’s ever so sweet—and all boys like sweet things.”
Jim, always grateful for Florry’s simple friendliness, found he could eat the cake nicely. He was next supplied with an egg, which Guy’s hen had been obliging enough to lay, and Betty to boil, on purpose for him. Frances would be hurt if he did not do justice to her home-made brown bread. Altogether, the youngsters took care that Jim’s tea was a hearty one. The lad had dropped, some time ago, the idea that these girls and boys might despise the blacksmith-brother. He knew, without any sentimental demonstrativeness on their part, that they all accounted him “a brick”, and he tried earnestly to deserve the flattering compliment. He did not know how industriously Frances and Austin sang his praises, and with what honest pride they spoke of the hard and self-denying toil which set so high an example that they could not but be up and struggling to follow it.
Tea over, work began again, and lasted till the shadows lengthening “from each westward thing” brought the Altruists’ busy day to a close. The visitors straggled homeward, with Frances, Florry, and Austin travelling as far as the Common to speed them on their way. They were very tired, and very jolly, and very well pleased with themselves. Who could say that spring-cleaning had not its aspects picturesque and poetic? Who could deny these virtuous labourers the right to rouse the echoes with a song of parting, and with yet another to the next good meeting?
Austin ran all the way home that he might coax Jim out for a peaceful stroll. Frances and Florry, left together, exchanged confidences and opinions after their manner. At length, among desultory talk, Florry suddenly opened a brisk campaign.
“Frances, do you remember saying, when you first went to Rowdon, that you couldn’t come back to our Society—your Society—till you were gooder?”
Frances assented doubtfully.
“Well, you’re just as much gooder as any mortal girl wants to be.”
Frances kept expressive silence.
“If you were any gooder than you are now, I should be certain you were falling into a decline. Anyway, you’re an Altruist of Altruists, if our motto counts for anything, for I’m sure you ‘help others’ all day long. We’ve a meeting to-morrow evening. I am going over to it, and I mean to take you with me, and Austin too. It’s a mixed meeting—girls and boys; and afterwards we’ve a choir practice.”