"Certainly," answered Milly, drawing her purse from her pocket; "and," she continued, "I thought I might as well pay you four weeks in advance. I have that much to spare."
She came forward, holding out two crisp bills; but, to her surprise, "Widow Robbins" motioned her back. "Ah, no, my dear," she said, gravely; "that wasn't in our agreement. I can't take more'n the fifty cents. Now give me just that, and I'll sign my name to your paper."
Milly remonstrated, all in vain, and then, completely disgusted by the coarse vulgarity of the woman, her loud tone and half-sarcastic laugh, she produced her "agreement," allowing Mrs. Robbins to sign a receipt for fifty cents, and take her leave. Poor Milly, though vexed and puzzled, did not see into the deeper motive of the peddler in this transaction. By only receiving the half-dollar weekly, Mrs. Robbins prolonged her power over Milly, well knowing a day might come when even that sum would not be in Milly's possession to give her. If such a remote chance ever occurred to Mildred, she dismissed it as too absurd to contemplate for an instant. The next week passed by quickly enough, for in her mother's absence Mildred had many home cares added to her usual ones and the work at the store. One fact relieved her greatly. "Mr. Tom's" attentions had nearly ceased, and she was allowed to come and go to her daily work without subjecting herself to any special insolence from him. Widow Robbins appeared again on the following Monday, and was promptly paid and dismissed. The same evening Mrs. Lee returned from her visit, full of exhilaration from the change, and ready to hear Milly's account of Miss Jenner's party. It cost the girl an effort not to tell of her new dress; but Mrs. Lee did not observe the slight confusion in her daughter's manner, being fully entertained by hearing an account of the fine house.
Early the next evening Mildred paid a call at the brick house, and renewed her sociable intercourse with Alice and Roger, who welcomed her so cordially that Miss Jenner, though in a rather stiff way, asked Mildred to spend an evening with them once a week. It was a new era in Milly's life. How she looked forward to those Wednesday evenings, when, leaving the store at the earliest moment possible, she would hasten home, make a quick toilette, chatting with her mother the while, and then go out into the dusky streets, threading her way eagerly to Lane Street, where lights twinkled in the old-fashioned windows of Miss Jenner's house, and where she was sure to find a kindly welcome!
Sometimes the three young people sat in Alice's pretty sitting-room up stairs, which to Milly's eyes was like an enchanted palace. Although blind, Alice delighted in feeling soft hangings, luxurious coverings to her chairs and sofas, and the consciousness that her walls were hung with pretty pictures. Mildred had inherited from her father an exquisitely fine taste, and Alice Jenner's surroundings seemed to fill her with a sense of refinement which made her own dull life easier to bear when she went away. Gradually Miss Jenner's manner thawed to Mildred, and before Christmas came around, the young girl had been half a dozen times invited to the cozy supper table of the good lady, who on these occasions strove to make Milly feel perfectly at home, while she contrived to learn all the story of her life from the young girl's lips. Milly's one penance was Mrs. Robbins's weekly visit, and the consciousness that up in her bureau drawer, carefully locked and guarded, was the gray silk dress. By Christmas-time only six dollars had been paid on it, yet a certain security of the future made Milly feel sure no disaster could occur. Mrs. Robbins's calls were now all made at the store, and about the Christmas season "Mr. Tom" inquired, rather sneeringly, whether "Miss Lee's great-aunt" meant to give them her custom. Milly answered nothing, yet it aroused her fears, and on one Tuesday, after the peddler's customary call, she left the store determined to appoint some different place of meeting. There was something unusual, Milly thought, about the look of the cottage as she entered; first a rush, then a confusion of smothered voices. Mildred ran into the parlor, thence to the kitchen, where she found the children gathered mysteriously together.
"Willy's got the bronchitis," exclaimed Kate. "He must have caught it down at the marshes."
Mildred asked no further questions, but ran up stairs, tossing aside her hat, and going cautiously into her mother's room, where Willy lay suffering intensely. Mrs. Lee was glad to put all the responsible care into Mildred's hands, and so she devoted nearly all the night to the care of her little brother, appearing the next day haggard and heavy-eyed at Mr. Hardman's store. Days passed in hard work at the store, and nights of broken rest; and then came an evening when, on Mildred's return home, she was met with the news of her mother's illness. Poor Mrs. Lee, at no time strong, had succumbed to her anxiety and hard work, and Milly found her utterly prostrated, the doctor standing beside her, not able to pronounce on her disease, but looking so anxious that Milly had difficulty in hiding her tears. Willy was better, but the new trouble was terrible to contemplate. That night she wrote hurriedly to her mother's pupils, and the next morning she arose after a wakeful night with the consciousness that she had six people to support on five dollars a week.
Mildred felt too proud to tell Miss Jenner of her troubles. She dreaded a rebuff besides. Roger was not well, and she knew the brick house was in some confusion over his illness. It had been a trying season at Milltown, and few families had escaped; but Mildred thought her visitation hardest to bear.
The second day of her mother's illness Mildred came home very early, and after getting the children to bed, counted over her slender store of money while she sat in her mother's room, letting faithful Deborah have a rest. Just three dollars remained of her weekly earnings, and of this sum fifty cents must be saved for the terrible Widow Robbins. "I know what I'll do," thought Milly, almost aloud; "I'll see if she won't take her silk back. I can't spare a penny of my salary." This hope kept poor Mildred up until the peddler's next visit. It was in the little cottage parlor, and Mildred falteringly told her of her mother's illness, and their great need of money.
"That's neither here nor there," said the woman, shortly. "I can't lose my bread and butter. You say your dress is stained; that ends my taking it back; so any week—" The peddler stopped short rather ominously and glanced around the cottage parlor. It was a very pretty room. From the wreck of their fortunes Mrs. Lee and Milly had saved several—to them—priceless household treasures. On the mantel were the heavy old-fashioned silver candlesticks which Milly remembered all her life; some fine china was in the cabinet between the windows; the modest book-shelves were full of valuable volumes; one or two exquisite engravings hung upon the walls; here and there were a few excellent pieces of old family furniture. Altogether it was a room which not only charmed the eye, but showed such signs of "better days" that the few neighbors who had called upon the Lees held them in high esteem. Mrs. Robbins's glance was evidently highly satisfactory to herself.