Alice's face showed two girlish dimples, while she talked glibly,—too glibly, Isabelle thought. They went into the dining room where there was a tiny coal fire before which Alice had been sewing. Isabelle's namesake—number two in the list—having been considered by her aunt, was dismissed on an errand. The older boys were at school, the baby out in the kitchen "with the colored lady who assists," as Alice explained.
When they were alone, the cousins looked at each other, each thinking of the changes, the traces of life in the other. Isabelle held out her hands yearningly, and Alice, understanding that she knew what had befallen them, smiled with trembling lips. Yet it was long before she could speak of their misfortune in her usual calm manner.
… "The worst is that we have had to take Ned out of the technical institute and send him back to the school here with Jack. It isn't a good school. But we may move into the city in the fall…. And Belle had to give up her music. We all have to chip in, you see!"
"She mustn't give up her music. I shall send her," Isabelle said quickly, reflecting whimsically how she had loathed her own music lessons. Alice flushed, and after a moment's pause said deliberately:—
"Do you really mean that, Isabelle?"
"Of course! I only hope she will get more out of it than I did."
"I should be glad to accept your offer for her sake…. I want her to have something, some interest. A poor girl without that,—it is worse for her than for the boys!"
Isabelle could see Alice's struggle with her pride, and understood the importance of this little matter to her, which had made her deliberately clutch at the chance for the little girl.
"Belle shall come to me to-morrow and spend the day. I will send for the teacher…. Now that's settled, and, Alice, you and Steve will be better off soon! He is too able a man—"
Alice shook her head steadily, saying:—