“I don’t care,” Mrs. Silburn went on, “Kit’s just as good as any of them. Don’t bother, now, till I finish the letter. What do I care for their kings or cardinals when I have a letter from Kit?
“‘The cardinal gave me a letter to the Bishop of New Zealand,’ she continued to read from the letter, ‘and it may be of service to us there. But I hope you have heard from the consul before this. I almost wish I had asked you to send me a cable despatch telling me when you got a letter and what it said. But cabling is so expensive—about forty cents a word to Marseilles—that I shall have to wait in patience till I get home. That will be in about three weeks after you get this letter, I think; and I will be out to see you just as soon as I get my cargo disposed of.’
“I do hope we will hear from that consul before Kit gets back,” Mrs. Silburn said, after finishing the letter; and for the twentieth time she figured out, as well as she could, how long it ought to take a letter to go from London to New Zealand, and how long for the reply to come to America.
“Well,” she continued, “Kit will find things very much improved here when he comes home. I never saw the old place look so well. If only he could stay here longer to enjoy it! He works and works to keep a comfortable home for us, and then never can stay in it more than a few days at a time. But you must be off to school, Vieve; and don’t forget to put on your overshoes, the streets are so muddy. I don’t know how many times I have told you to go and buy a new pair, but you go on wearing those old things, full of holes. You’ll catch your death of cold.”
“I don’t need new ones, mother,” Vieve replied. “They don’t grow on the trees, you know, and all these things cost money. I’m not going to be spending all of Kit’s money for my clothes.”
“You foolish child, don’t you know that he always likes to buy things for you? He’d rather get new clothes for you than for himself.”
“I know it, mother,” Vieve answered. “He slipped some money into my hand last time he was home, you know, and told me to buy something for myself. But I’m not going to do it; I’d rather save it; you know what for.”
“You don’t want your father to come home and find that you’ve died of diphtheria, do you?” Mrs. Silburn asked. “Well, you must have your own way about it, I suppose. Stop at the butcher’s when you come home at noon, Vieve, and get a slice of ham—not a very thick slice. There are two or three eggs left, and that will do for our dinner.”
It was as well that Kit could not see the pinching little ways at home, or he would have worried over it. It was something new for the Silburn family to live in this way, for Kit’s father had always made good pay, and insisted upon the wife and children having plenty of everything. But when he disappeared there came a change, and there were grave doubts for a time whether Mrs. Silburn could make both ends meet, even with the most rigid economy. Then Kit began to earn a little; but although nearly every cent of his went to his mother, she was determined that every cent of his little savings should be set aside for his future use. It was only when there seemed a slight possibility of her husband’s being alive that she consented to use some of his money to repair and paint the house and pay the last of the indebtedness upon it. Her own small income barely sufficed to buy the plainest food. There was always, now, some of Kit’s money in the house; but of their own, as they called it, money that they were willing to spend, they were often reduced to two or three dollars.
Not long after the receipt of Kit’s letter, Vieve once more waved a white envelope as she descended the hill from the post-office, and this proved to be the long-expected answer from the consul in New Zealand. Mrs. Silburn turned it over and over many times, and examined the address and the postmarks and the strange stamp on the corner, before she could raise courage to open it. It was addressed to “Christopher Silburn, Esq.,” as it was in answer to his letter; and her agitation was so great that she was half inclined to make this a pretext for letting it stand unopened until Kit returned.