"There is another thing about paying this money, John. You know more will be coming by-and-by from Mrs. Train."
"It is ill waiting for dead men's shoes, Joe. Mrs. Train is as likely to live as you or I; and, besides, I am sure you would not like to feel that you were speculating on her death."
"That is true. I should feel mean about it; for the old lady has always been a good friend of mine. Well, John, I believe I will take your advice;—that is, if Aggy is willing."
Joseph went home in a very good humour, and quite determined to take John's advice.
Agnes, however, was not very well pleased. She said the money was hers, and she didn't want it all shut up in a house. Joe could pay Carr half his bill, if he wished to, and the rest could wait: they should want the money for other things.
And Joe, to whom paying money for what he had had and enjoyed was something like throwing it away, let the matter drop, saying to himself, by way of salvo, that the money really did belong to Agnes and she ought to have the use of it. There would be plenty of time. His wages were rising every day, times were good, and, if they could not make both ends meet, they might take some boarders. So that their indebtedness was really increased, instead of lessened, by Aunt Eunice's legacy.
About the middle of the winter, Agnes's second baby was born. It was a fine little boy, and really did look like her: so she was quite satisfied this time. She had been content with her mother's attendance before; but now nothing would serve but a regular nurse, recommended by Mrs. Van Horn as having a very genteel connection.
Mrs. Train was at first a good deal hurt, but satisfied herself with the idea of the gentility of the thing. She was now very comfortably off, thanks to Aunt Eunice; but the habit of complaining was too deeply fixed to be uprooted by any change of circumstances, and she mourned continually over the fact that the money was so tied up that she could not touch it. It was so hard upon her not to be able to help dear Agnes; and, after all, what did the income from three thousand amount to? It was just an aggravation,—nothing more.
It was the first of August. John's young peach and plum trees were coming into bearing, and the apricot tree, by the kitchen door, was covered with fruit, just growing to perfection. The garden was more fruitful than ever, and John had carried early cucumbers and tomatoes to market, besides using all he wanted himself; while Letty's flower-beds were the envy and admiration of the neighbourhood, and threatened to eclipse Mrs. De Witt herself.
Every thing was in order at Number Nine. Not a nail was loose, not a board hung awry, not a speck of paint was needed anywhere about it. Every one who came through Myrtle Street said, "What a pretty place!"