Rex never murmured at the prospect of Batemans. Not even when the dreary aspect of the place, with mud two feet deep in its streets, first dawned upon him. He felt that he ought to rejoice rather that his new lot was to be cast so far away from all his old friends.
There were no educational facilities in Batemans; at least none of which the twins could avail themselves. Then they found plenty to do in helping their mother.
Rex acted as clerk, made out the bills and received the guests; Roy saw to the purchasing of supplies, and aided his brother in keeping objectionable characters out of the house.
There were no amusements and no society except that which they furnished themselves in the family circle, Roy often thought if he had had this life to look forward to, his whole previous existence would have been embittered. But now that he was living it, strength seemed given him in some way to bear the burden.
Sydney had gone to England. They asked him to write and let them know how he was getting along, but he would not promise.
Miles wrote regularly to Rex, even when the latter did not reply. He and his father had moved into the handsome home next the Harringtons’, with Mrs. Fox as housekeeper.
“I wonder what people think of the thing,” Rex said once to Roy.
There had been no publicity about the transfer. Only a few people knew of it and the cause.
On this July day on which we are writing, it was unusually hot. The heat seemed to be frying in the air. It was a day of all others on which to keep quiet and calm.
But this was the day on which the waiters of the Homestead House had chosen to go out on strike for an increase of wages which Mrs. Pell was not empowered to give them. They threw down their aprons just before the dinner hour at one o’clock.