“Well, ‘the proof of the pudding is in the eating,’” returned Florence. “And now that you have lost your paragon, and are reduced to the rank and file of domestic servants, you do not seem to get on much better than the rest of us. What sort of person have you got now?”
“A middle-aged woman—as I told you, a Highland woman. She was recommended to me by Mrs. Bray’s Rachel,” said Lucy.
“She ought to be another paragon, then,” remarked Florence; “for Rachel is a model. It needs to be a saint to live with Mrs. Bray, who keeps her maid ‘going’ from morning to night. And evidently you start with implicit trust in your Highland woman, as you have so promptly trusted Hugh to her society, in defiance of all your stoutly defended principles.”
“I think I might trust him with her,” Lucy answered mildly. “Nevertheless I should not have done so yet. I have Miss Latimer staying with me, and Hugh is left in the company of young Tom Black. Don’t you remember the nice lad Charlie was so interested in, and who was one of my visitors on that awful Christmas Day? He has come to board with us.”
Florence sprang up, and confronted her sister.
“What?” she cried, with startling emphasis.
“He has come to board with us,” Lucy repeated. “He had lost the good home Charlie had found for him, and as I saw this Clementina Gillespie was a person who could be trusted to keep the housework regularly done, I suggested that he should come to us. He makes life much happier for Hugh than I can do myself just now.”
“Well, to be sure!” said Florence. “And so you’ve turned lodging-house keeper. You don’t mean to say you needed to do it, Lucy?” she asked with a bitter tone. “In that case you might first have spoken to Jem and me——”
“I cannot say I needed to do it. So far as money is concerned, everything is going on as I arranged and hoped,” returned Lucy. “Rather I felt that the house is the better for another friendly inmate, full of good nature and spirits. I do not repent of it. Miss Latimer is old, the servant is elderly, and I am often too tired to talk to Hugh or play with him. If it will comfort your gentility to know there is not much money profit in the new arrangement, I can give you that assurance, Florence. Young Black pays me exactly what he gave Mrs. Mott in her little suburban house. It is a trifle over his actual expenses (as I can see by watching the weekly bills). But it cannot be said to take its share in the upkeep of a house in Pelham Street. It is a friendly agreement. Of course Tom could not afford more.”
“Then you give up your privacy—your social status—for absolutely nothing!” cried Florence. “I never did see anybody like you, Lucy. If you don’t want to make a profit out of your lodger, why did you take one? You could have got scores of young ladies glad to live in such a house as yours, without any salary—or even, I do believe, paying a trifle, and you could have called her Hugh’s ‘governess’ or your own ‘companion.’ You might have taken Hugh away from the Kindergarten, and let her teach him at home. Any young lady could teach Hugh all he needs to learn yet.”