“Thank Heaven he is well; I had a letter from him only to-day,” answered Mr Ashton. “Many mercies are granted us, and I trust, therefore, that you will all submit to be deprived, without murmuring, of the wealth we hitherto have thought our own. Dear ones, the law-suit has been decided against us!”
The young Ashtons were silent for some minutes, but presently recovered themselves.
“We can all work,” exclaimed the three sons, in a breath.
“Our happiness does not consist in this,” said Sophy, glancing round the room, “We will make the smallest cottage comfortable for you, mamma.”
“I am sure we can, and do all the work ourselves,” cried Fanny, her next sister.
“I can make a pudding, and churn, and could soon learn how to milk a cow,” said Agnes, the third daughter, laughing. “I have always wished to live in a cottage in the country.”
“I’ve arranged it,” said Fanny. “Agnes shall be cook, I will be waiting-maid, Sophy housekeeper, Philip bailiff, Harry gardener, and Charley—oh, let me consider—general farm-servant: won’t that be excellent?”
“But you place your mother and me on the shelf,” said Mr Ashton, his spirits reviving from seeing the way in which his children bore the announcement he had so dreaded making. “What are we to do?”
“O papa, of course you and mamma are to do nothing. We are all to work for you,” exclaimed Harry, a fine youth of fourteen, who looked as if there was indeed work in him.
“Of course,” added Charley. “How we ought to thank you, papa, for having us taught carpentering, and that we all have such a fancy for gardening. John says, too, that I know almost as much about pigs and cows and sheep as he does; and as for Phil, he knows more about everything than all of us put together.”