“I don’t believe I should,” returned Mrs. Baker pleasantly. “Well, you may come and try it, if you like.”
“Oh, thank you!” exclaimed Ethel, her eyes shining. “When shall I begin?”
“To-morrow, if you like; but if you’re really decided to come we’d better settle about the terms. You’d expect to board and sleep here, I suppose?”
“I suppose so, if you want me to,” returned Ethel with a sigh, thinking of Nannette’s distress on learning that she was to be left alone at Uncle Albert’s.
“Yes, I’d rather you would,” said Mrs. Baker. “I’ve a right nice little bedroom for you opening into mine. Shall I show it to you?”
“Yes, if you please.”
They went into the back part of the house, leaving the store in the care of Mrs. Ray, the mother of Mrs. Baker, up a narrow winding stairway and into a small room opening on one side into the hall, on another into a larger bedroom. Everything looked neat and clean, but the furniture was scant and plain, by no means an agreeable contrast to the room Ethel now occupied at her uncle’s, or indeed with any room in his large and commodious dwelling.
Ethel was conscious of some sinking of the heart at the thought of the not pleasant exchange, but independence was sweet; still sweeter the thought of getting even one step nearer the realization of her dream of the little home of their own for herself, brother, and sisters.
And it was quite as good a room—as well furnished at least—as the one they had occupied at Mr. Coote’s.
Mrs. Baker could almost read the young girl’s thoughts in her speaking countenance.