It just occurred to Olive to let them remain stiff with curiosity, but perhaps an amount of satisfaction in the way she had earned her money is what changed her mind; at any rate, she began more readily than the others expected: "I sold the old iron out in the barn, and several bags of rags; then I've done some writing for papa's clerk, because he was hurried; and last week I sold my picture. Of my allowance I only spent enough for two pairs of gloves, that have lasted me with mending; so that's how I made my money."
"Blessings on you!" cried Kat enthusiastically. "I look upon you as a model, Olive, a living——"
"Nothing of the kind," interrupted Olive sharply, and rising up out of her corner, as if warming to the subject. "I'm only trying to be sensible; we're all old enough to be that, and be something more too. I wonder if we are never going to do anything but sit here at home, with papa to feed and dress us, besides giving us an allowance for little things and nonsense. I think it's wrong, and lazy, and a namby pamby way of being a useless thing, just because you are a girl! Besides, papa is worried and troubled; yes he is;—" warming still more at the breathless attention given her. "The other night, he and mama talked for hours, and I couldn't help hearing a little, because the transom was open. His voice was troubled, so was mama's, and sad, and he said something about 'lessening expenses,' and the difficulty of getting any ready money, and all that, and I believe in my heart that we ought to help him!"
Into the stunned silence that followed this outburst from short-spoken, reticent Olive, there came a new voice; such a sweet, lovely voice with a tender ring that made every one start to welcome the speaker.
"How dark you are, dears. Are all my steps here?"
"All here, solemnly engaged," answered Kat, unfolding herself from the big chair to make a seat for mother.
"And just think," cried Kittie, with a lurch that pretty near tipped her out of the window. "Olive——"
"Has done wonders," interrupted Beatrice. "Be still all of you! Let's not tell mama yet."
Mrs. Dering laughed cheerily, at the sudden popping of a secret into the air, but announced that supper was ready, at which there was such a stampede as only a lot of hungry, healthy girls can make, and the sitting-room was left dark and still.
You see there were six of them—five strong bright girls, and one little lame sister, to laugh and sing, and make that big, roomy, comfortable, old home happy. Beatrice, seventeen; Ernestine, sixteen; Olive, fifteen; then Katherine and Kathleen or Kittie and Kat, twelve, and lastly, little Jean, with her flower-like, patient face and poor crooked little back. To help and guide them, was the dear, loving mother who called them her 'steps;' and the strong, helpful father, who romped and played, or read and studied with them and called Kittie and Kat 'his boys;' Olive his 'right hand man;' Ernestine, 'his picture;' Beatrice, his 'little woman,' and Jean his 'little pansy.' So now that you know them a little better, let us go into the dining-room and see what they are doing. Meetings at the Dering table are always lively ones, "Good for digestion and spirits," said papa Dering, so everybody talked and laughed and ate heartily, and went away without sour faces or sour stomachs. To-night, though, there is a change. Mr. Dering had a remark for each of the girls as they came in, then lapsed into silence, and stirred his coffee absently. Even Mrs. Dering could not hide a little anxiety, though she tried to be gay and interested in the girls' talk, as usual. With Olive's words fresh in their minds, the rest closely watched the faces of both parents, and each girl had thoughts and made plans, in every way characteristic of their respective selves.