All day Betty goes about her work in the same humble spirit, with a sense of failure strong upon her.
The excitement of father's accident is over now; they have settled down into their old grooves again. True, Betty has much extra work to do, but all the glory of fighting grand difficulties has died out of her life again.
Collecting rents is certainly a very depressing business; that is, in a poor, unthrifty neighbourhood. No, there is nothing splendid about it.
"The house is as untidy as ever," she thinks, "and the younger children so rude and boisterous—and mother doesn't seem to care a bit."
Lower sink Betty's spirits as the day wears on. Now, is the real time of trial; now, indeed, she needs all her courage and resolution.
A letter from Grannie! Two letters—one to mother about father's accident, and a long loving letter of good counsel to herself.
Betty carries her treasure away to her own room; a few sprigs of fresh lavender fall from between the folded pages as she opens it. How Grannie's rooms always smelt of lavender! Her eyes fill with tears at the memories the delicate scent recalls to her mind!
"How lovingly Grannie's letter begins! Ah, she doesn't know what a failure I am making of everything!" thinks poor Betty.
"What is this? What does Grannie say?" Betty gazes eagerly at the page. "Oh! how did she guess all this?"
"I know, dear, that this is a time of real fighting," so the letter runs; "that every day brings its hard battle—the battle of standing firm against the worry and irritation of little things." Betty sighs. "Yes, and I feel sure that every day sees a hard-won victory, too." Betty shakes her head, and one big tear steals slowly down her cheek.