Alice walked out with her precious key, feeling as if the whole thing was done. But it was far from that.
Her next visit—she had carefully planned them all out—was to a man who sold wood; for in that village wood was the only fuel.
This man, Mr. Williams, had a son who was somewhat dissipated, therefore he was ready to listen patiently to Alice’s pleading, and to help in any really practical plan. He listened interestedly, and promised to give a cord of cut wood to begin with, and if it proved a success, to give enough to run the fireplace—there was no stove—all the evenings of that winter.
Next, Alice went to the finest house in the village, where lived Mrs. Burns, a wealthy lady, whose son was wild and gave her anxiety.
“She must pity mother and me,” thought Alice, as she walked up the broad walk to the house, “and I’m sure she’ll help.”
She did. She was surprised at Alice’s bravery, but warmly approved of her plan. “You’ll want books and papers,” she said, “and you must have hot coffee always ready.”
“I hadn’t dared to think of so much,” said Alice.
“But you must have coffee,” repeated Mrs. Burns, “or they’ll miss their beer too much; and you must charge enough to pay for it, say two cents a cup; I think it could be made for that.”
“But then we must have some one to make it,” said Alice thoughtfully.
“Yes,” said Mrs. Burns, “and I think I know the very woman—Mrs. Hart. She is poor, and I know will be glad, for a little wages (which I shall pay her), to spend her evenings there, making coffee. She’s a jolly sort of a person, too, and I think would be just the one to make the boys feel at home.