“I wouldn’t wonder—poor soul. She never asks for him, does she?”
“No—she just says he’s coming back when he finds gold. But she will hate to be in a place with high walls in a city. I think she may begin to fret for Jim then. Mother and I wish we could keep her here, but I suppose it’s out of the question.”
“It would be a tremendous tie,” Barry remarked. “You could never leave her alone.”
“No: it hasn’t mattered yet, but of course it might be a difficulty. Anyhow, we couldn’t afford it. What a blessed nuisance money is! it’s always interfering with what one wants to do. If I could find a gold-mine Mother and I wouldn’t have any worries.”
“You’d have to manage the miners, and they’d always be going on strike,” said Barry, wisely. “Anyhow, you get a heap of fun out of life, without a gold-mine. There! that old kettle is boiling at last: I was getting so hot I thought I should boil before it did! When I strike my own mine, Robin, I’m going to have an electric plant put in here, so’s you can cook by electricity instead of that hot old wood-stove.” He filled the teapot, and then discovered that he had not put in any tea, at which he was justifiably annoyed.
“Your mind is too set on high projects,” laughed Robin, preparing the tray swiftly. “Never mind—you boiled three times as much water as we need; pitch it out, and the teapot will be as hot as Mother likes it to be, which is one good thing. Cake or biscuits? You can’t have bread-and-butter, ’cause all the butter is down the well. It was fast turning to oil this morning, so I put it down the well in a Mason jar.”
“Cake and biscuits, please,” said Barry. “Where’s your mother?”
“Lying down—she promised me, after a heated argument, that she would lie down until after five o’clock. I’m going to take this tray to her.” She went to the door and called softly. “Polly! Are you there?”
“Yes, Miss Robin.” Polly came hurrying, her face alight.
“Here’s your tea. Would you like to take it into the yard, in the shade?”