"O I've my ways and means, like other folks," said Miss Bezac. "And you can do something more striking than aprons for people that don't need 'em. But I'm not going to give you this apron, Faith—I sha'n't have her wearing your work all round town, and none the wiser. See—this is nice and light and pretty—like the baby it's for,—you like green, don't you? and so will your eyes."
"I'd as lieve have Miss Essie wear my work as eat my butter," said Faith. "But," she added more gravely,—"I think that what God gives me to do, I ought to be proud to do,—and I am sure I am willing. He knows best."
"Yes, yes, my dear—I believe that,—and so I do most things you say," answered Miss Bezac, bringing forth from the closet a little roll of green calico. "Now do you like this?—because if you don't, say so."
"I'll take this," said Faith, "and the next time I'll take the apron. I must do just as much as I can, Miss Bezac; and you must let me. Would you rather have the apron done first? I want Miss Essie's apron, Miss Bezac!"
"Well you can't have it," said Miss Bezac,—"and what you can't, you can't—all the world over. Begin slow and go on fast—that's the best way. And I'll take the best care of you!—lay you up in lavender,—like my work when it's done and isn't gone home."
So laughingly they parted, and Faith went home with her little bundle of work, well contented.
A very few days had seen the household retrenchments made. Cindy was gone, and Mr. Skip was only waiting for a "boy" to come. Mother and daughter drew their various tools and conveniences into one room and the kitchen, down stairs, to have the less to take care of; abandoning the old eating-room except as a passage-way to the kitchen; and taking their meals, for greater convenience, in the latter apartment.
Faith did not shut up her books without some great twinges of pain; but she said not one word on the matter. She bestowed on her stitching and on her housework and on her butter the diligent zeal which used to go into French rules and philosophy. But Mrs. Stoutenburgh had reckoned without her host, for there was a great deal more of the butter than she could possibly dispose of; and Judge Harrison's family and Miss De Staff's became joint consumers and paid the highest price for it, that Faith would take. But this is running ahead of the story.
Some days after Faith's appeal to Mr. Stoutenburgh had passed, before the Squire presented himself to report progress. He found both the ladies at work in the sitting-room, looking very much as usual, except that there was a certain not inelegant disposition of various pieces of muslin and silk and ribbon about the room which carried the appearance of business.
"What rent will Mr. Deacon have, Mr. Stoutenburgh?" said Faith looking up from her needle.