“Mend sheets—there is a pile waiting for me. I think you had better go to the store with the butter after lunch, Robin—if you take your gun you may get some rabbits, coming home.”
“That’s a good idea,” agreed Robin. “Won’t you come, too?”
“No, not to-day—I want to get all the mending out of the way when once I begin it. Replacing house-linen will be an expensive matter: we can’t afford to let things go at all.” A faint line appeared between her brows.
“Now, you’re worrying about money again, Mummie. And you promised you wouldn’t.”
“I do try not to worry,” said her mother. “Now and then I can’t help it, especially when I wake up at night. If I could only get a little reserve in the bank, Robin—something against a rainy day.”
“But the rainy day may never come.”
“It’s far less likely to come if one has something in the bank. I don’t know why, but it is so. We did save a little, and then my horrible dentist’s bill ate it all up. The idea of illness makes me afraid—supposing I fell ill, and you all alone here, without money!”
“You—you aren’t feeling ill, Mother?” demanded Robin, anxiously.
“No—not a bit. But it may come.” She laughed at the worried face. “I really didn’t mean to talk like this; but I had a wakeful night, and all sorts of bogies came and sat on my pillow. I would do anything if I could earn some money—something to put by.”
“I don’t see how we can do more than we’re doing,” Robin said, knitting her brows. “Remember, the vegetable money will begin to come in soon, and I’ve quite a lot of rabbit skins, already. Oh, I’m sure we’ll manage quite well, darling!” She went to her mother, putting her lips to her hair. “If you begin to worry, things will be sure to go wrong. And we’re so happy!”