“Oh, we must learn to walk softly,” said Mrs. Conway—she even laughed, for the road in front of her began to look less desperate. “Clothes we have enough of for some time, and even if not—well, one’s elbows would not grow blue with cold in this land of yours, even if they did make holes through their covering. And meat, and groceries, and bread—well, I must manage them some way.”
[161]
]And the “some way” was not so very hard to find after all. When the little school was actually opened, there came stray pupils for odd lessons,—the mine-manager’s grown-up girls for music; the children of two squatters riding in twice a week from over the hills and far away for drawing and music; the baker’s daughter and the butcher’s niece also to be taught the pianoforte.
Later on Mrs. Conway organized a cookery-class and a cutting-out class for a very small fee; taught the miners’ untrained wives that mutton-chops and tea, and tinned goods need not necessarily be on the table six days out of seven; and that pinafores and frocks were better cut out with patterns and precision, than chopped out in any fashion.
When Mrs. Conway looked back on the time at Sunnymeade, she felt this last task had paid her better than any.
And the time slipped along.
Days grew into weeks, weeks widened into months, and months spread into years—two of them—and still the little school went on, and the widow and her small daughters just managed to live.
Mrs. Conway grew thin with the ceaseless work and anxiety; and two wrinkles that came out on her forehead, during that time of stress, made their home there for life.
The two breathless, terrible summers during which they stayed in Sunnymeade tried her strength exceedingly, [162] ]but strangely enough the children were not greatly affected by them. Dolly’s red roses were not quite so bright perhaps, nor her arms so plump as English winters had found them, and Weenie’s activity on the hottest days kept her somewhat thin, but Phyl improved wonderfully. The cough had flown, the old man of the sea seemed utterly cast away, and a healthy brown had come creeping over her little white cheeks.
The fare at the cottage ran perforce on strictly simple, inexpensive lines—porridge, fruit, eggs, and bread forming the staple diet, but that, though monotonous, hurt none of them.
And frocks were turned and twisted about, and tucks were let down, and [boots went to the cobbler’s] for repairs till sole and upper refused to have longer lease of life forced upon them.