"I would have made my best bow to them, Grandpa, exactly as if I had nothing in my hand, and with my best clothes on, was sailing out to kill time; and I would have shown them all my worldly treasures, and perhaps I would have given them this lovely little bouquet which I will now give to you, my best grandpa, if you don't scold me any more." And she fastened on his coat a small bunch of scarlet berries, tiny white flowers, and dark leaves.
The old gentleman smiled down into her merry eyes, despite his vexation, and put his arm about her fondly.
"Poor child!" he said. "How can you keep a gay heart under such crosses as you have to carry!"
"All the crosses I carry are good for me, dear Grandpa. I have had a delightful time in the woods this afternoon. Now let us go in to tea. After that I have a fresh newspaper for you."
She stepped to her room and freshened herself with a soft lace necktie and a few bright leaves in her hair and at her throat, so that Grandpa's old eyes might imagine he had a lady in full dress at his table. Then she sat down and presided over the tea-urn with all due dignity and grace, taking care to have everything just as he liked it; the table in faultless array, and Gretchen with spotless apron in waiting, and certain other little ceremonies that he was fond of keeping up.
Supper over, and Mr. Winthrop comfortably established with his paper, Lily slipped off to the greenhouse to pot her ferns and violets. This was her workshop; here she toiled early and late, surreptitiously often, for it grieved the grandfather sorely that his darling had been brought to such straits, so she managed by various small strategies to keep from him the full extent of her labors.
It was the old story—unfortunate speculations—signing a note for another, etc., and a fortune had taken wings. Affluence and luxury had been exchanged for poverty, debts and anxieties. Lily had been bequeathed to her grandfather at the death of her widowed mother. So they two, the first and the last of the family, had been left alone in the old homestead; and it had been a happy life until this great change. Mr. Winthrop came out of the storm with nothing left but a small bank account.
A lifelong friend bought the residence at auction sale, telling Mr. Winthrop to stay just where he was; that when he needed the place he would let him know, giving him plainly to understand, however, that probably he should never ask him to leave it. And now the question arose as to what could be done to eke out a support without consuming at once the little they possessed. Mr. Winthrop had long since given up active business life; if there had been anything for him to do he was too feeble and aged to attempt it. Lily was a proficient in music, but, alas! there were many teachers and much competition. She succeeded by dint of great exertion in obtaining two or three pupils. They had many friends in their prosperous days who were "very sorry" for them now, but who considered it their solemn duty to employ none but German professors.
An inspiration came to Lily one day in this form: There was the greenhouse well stocked with plants, why should it not be a source of profit to them? It had always held a sort of fascination for her. She had watched John for hours, and asked questions innumerable, had even learned how to arrange flowers in different styles, little thinking the knowledge would ever prove useful to her. John had been dismissed, but she felt quite sure that by the aid of books she could care for the plants and realize a sum—with their other sources of income—sufficient for their wants. But there were difficulties in the way of accomplishing this. Her grandfather was a born aristocrat, and held to the belief that a lady, especially a Winthrop, must be hedged about with all sorts of dainty care, must not harden her hands with any manual labor, above all things must not engage in petty traffic like any huckster, in fine, that she was a rare and delicate flower that the winds must not visit too roughly, and that some chivalrous man must guard and cherish, as he had cared for her, and as he meant to do until this horrible thing had come upon them. "No, indeed, she must not think of putting her own hands to such work. If worst had come to worst, and they must make merchandise of the plants, then John must be recalled and the thing done up properly."
Poor Lily sighed, and tried to make her unpractical grandfather see that John would swallow up all the profits; but he was inexorable, declaring that as long as he lived she should never thus demean herself. Meanwhile, he should get into some business, he was sure. And now he cast about to see what he could do. Ah, yes, what? His business for forty years had been to direct others. He had been president of a bank and of a railroad company; but such offices are not open to men over seventy. He put pitiful little advertisements in the papers to the effect that "a skilled financier, one of large experience in railroading and banking desired a position." Then growing humbler would come down to "a ready accountant, a skillful penman, wishing a situation," forgetting that his poor old brain could scarcely add a column of figures correctly if life depended upon it, and that the trembling hand could no longer make graceful curves.