"No, father. And then there was another time--and oh, yes, many other times. But I did not know mother was just trying to teach me, when she seemed so kind and sympathizing, and used to say in that voice of hers--you remember mother's cheerful voice, father?--'Well, Polly, it is a difficult thing, but do your best.'"

"All right, child," said the Doctor, "I perceive that your mother's plan was a wise one. Tell me quickly what ideas you have with regard to keeping this establishment together, for it is almost time for me to run away to Mrs. Judson. I allow eight pounds a week for all household expenses, servants' wages, coal, light, food, medicine. I shall not allow you to begin with so much responsibility, but for a week you may provide our table."

"And see after the servants, please, father?" interrupted Polly, in an eager voice.

"Well, I suppose so, just for one week, that is, after Helen has had her turn. Your mother always managed, with the help of the vegetables and fruit from the garden, to bring the mere table expenses into four pounds a week; but _she_ was a most excellent manager."

"Oh, father, I can easily do it too. Why it's a lot of money! four pounds--eighty shillings! I shouldn't be a bit surprised if I did it for less."

"Remember, Polly, I allow no stinting; we must have a plentiful table.

No stinting, and no running in debt. Those are the absolute conditions, otherwise I do not trust you with a penny."

"I'll keep them, father--never fear! Oh, how delighted I am! I know you'll be pleased; I know what you'll say by-and-by. I'm certain I won't fail, certain. I always loved cooking and housekeeping. Fancy making pie-crust myself, and cakes, and custards! Mrs. Power is rather cross, but she'll have to let me make what things I choose when I'm housekeeper, won't she, father?"

"Manage it your own way, dear, I neither interfere nor wish to interfere. Oh, what a mess we shall be in! But thank heaven it is only for a week. My dear child, I allow you to have your way, but I own it is with trepidation. Now I must really go to Mrs. Judson."

"But one moment, please, father. I have not shown you my plan. You think badly of me now, but you won't, indeed you won't presently. I am all system, I a.s.sure you. I see my way so clearly. I'll retrench without being mean, and I'll economize without being stingy. Don't I use fine words, father? That's because I understand the subject so thoroughly."

"Quite so, Polly. Now I must be going. Good-night, my dear."

"But my plan--you must stay to hear it. Do you see this box? It has little divisions. I popped them all in before dinner to-day. There is a lock and key to the box, and the lock is a strong one."

"Well, Polly?"

The Doctor began to get into his overcoat.

"Look, father, dear, please look. Each little division is marked with a name. This one is Groceries, this one is Butcher, this is Milk, b.u.t.ter, and eggs, this is Baker, this is Cheesemonger, and this is Sundries--oh yes, and laundress, I must screw in a division for laundress somehow.

Now, father, this is my delightful plan. When you give me my four pounds--my eighty shillings--I'll get it all changed into silver, and I'll divide it into equal portions, and drop so much into the grocery department, so much into the butcher's, so much into the baker's. Don't you see how simple it will be?"

"Very, my dear--the game of chess is nothing to it. Good-night, Polly. I sincerely hope no serious results will accrue from these efforts on my part to teach you experience."

The Doctor walked quickly down the avenue.

"I'm quite resolved," he said to himself, "to bring them all up as much as possible on their mother's plan, but if Polly requires many such lessons as I am forced to give her to-night, there is nothing for it but to send her to school. For really such an experience as we are about to go through at her hands is enough to endanger health, to say nothing of peace and domestic quiet. The fact is, I really am a much worried man.

It's no joke bringing up seven motherless girls, each of them with characters; the boys are a simple matter--they have school before them, and a career of some sort, but the girls--it really is an awful responsibility. Even the baby has a strong individuality of her own--I see it already in her brown eyes--bless her, she has got her mother's eyes. But my queer, wild, clever Polly--what a week we shall have with you presently! Now, who is that crying and sobbing in the dark?"

The Doctor swooped suddenly down on a shadowy object, which lay p.r.o.ne under an arbutus shrub. "My dear little Firefly, what _is_ the matter?

You ought to be in bed ages ago--out here in the damp and cold, and such deep-drawn sobs! What has nurse been about? This is really extremely careless."

"It wasn't nurse's fault," sobbed Firefly, nestling her head into her father's cheek. "I ran away from her. I hided from her on purpose."

"Then you were the naughty one. What is the matter, dear? Why do you make things worse for me and for us all just now?"

Firefly's head sank still lower. Her hot little cheek pressed her father's with an acute longing for sympathy. Instinct told him of the child's need. He walked down the avenue, holding her closely.

"Wasn't you going the other way, father?" asked Firefly, squeezing her arms tight around his neck.

"No matter, I must see you home first. Now what were those sobs about?

And why did you hide yourself from nurse?"

"'Cause I wanted to be downstairs, to listen to the grown-ups."

"The grown-ups? My dear, who are they?"

"Oh, Nell, and Poll Parrot, and Katie; I don't mind about Nell and Polly, but it isn't fair that Katie should be made a grown-up--and she is--she is, really, father. She is down in the school-room so important, and just like a regular grown-up, so I couldn't stand it."

"I see. You wanted to be a grown-up too--you are seven years old, are you not?"

"I'm more. I'm seven and a half--Katie is only eleven."

"Quite so! Katie is young compared to you, isn't she, Firefly. Still, I don't see my way. You wished to join the grown-ups, but I found you sobbing on the damp gra.s.s under one of the shrubs near the avenue. Is it really under a damp arbutus shrub that the grown-ups intend to take counsel?"

"Oh no, father, no--" here the sobs began again. "They were horrid, oh they were horrid. They locked me out--I banged against the door, but they wouldn't open. It was then I came up here. I wouldn't have minded if it hadn't been for Katie."

"I see, my child. Well, run to bed now, and leave the matter in father's hands. Ask nurse to give you a hot drink, and not to scold, for father knows about it."

"_Darling_ father--oh, how good you are! Don't I love you! Just another kiss--_what_ a good father you are!"

Firefly hugged the tall doctor ecstatically. He saw her disappear into the house, and once more pursued his way down the avenue.

"Good!" he echoed to himself. "Never did a more hara.s.sed man walk. How am I to manage those girls?"

CHAPTER VIII.

SHOULD THE STRANGERS COME?

Helen and Polly were seated together in the pleasant morning-room. Helen occupied her mother's chair, her feet were on a high footstool, and by her side, on a small round table, stood a large basket filled with a heterogeneous collection of odd socks and stockings, odd gloves, pieces of lace and embroidery, some wool, a number of knitting needles, in short, a confused medley of useful but run-to-seed-looking articles which the young housekeeper was endeavoring to reduce out of chaos into order.

"Oh, Polly, how you have tangled up all this wool; and where's the fellow of this gray glove? And--Polly, Polly--here's the handkerchief you had such a search for last week. Now, how often do you intend me to put this basket in order for you?"

"Once a week, dear, if not oftener," answered Polly, in suave tones.

"Please don't speak for a moment or two, Nell. I'm so much interested in this new recipe for pie-crust. You melt equal portions of lard and b.u.t.ter in so much boiling water--that's according to the size of the pie; then you mix it into the flour, kneading it very well--and--and--and--"

Polly's voice dropped to a kind of buzz, her head sank lower over the large cookery-book which she was studying; her elbows were on the table, her short curling hair fell over her eyes, and a dimpled hand firmly pressed each cheek.

Helen sighed slightly, and returned with a little gesture of resignation to the disentangling of Polly's work-basket. As she did so she seated herself more firmly in her mother's arm-chair. Her little figure looked slight in its deep and ample dimensions, and her smooth fair face was slightly puckered with anxiety.

"Polly," she said, suddenly; "Polly, leave that book alone. There's more in the world than housekeeping and pie-crust. Do you know that I have discovered something, and I think, I really do think, that we ought to go on with it. It was mother's plan, and father will always agree to anything she wished."

Polly shut up Mrs. Beaton's cookery-book with a bang, rose from her seat at the table, and opening the window sat down where the wind could ruffle her hair and cool her hot cheeks.

"This is Friday," she said, "and my duties begin on Monday. Helen, pie-crust is not unimportant when success or failure hangs upon it; puddings may become vital, Helen, and, as to cheesecakes, I would stake everything I possess in the world on the manner in which father munches my first cheesecake. Well, dear, never mind; I'll try and turn my distracted thoughts in your direction for a bit. What's the discovery?"

"Only," said Helen, "that I think I know what makes father look so gray, and why he has a stoop, and why his eyes seem so sunken. Of course there is the loss of our mother, but that is not the only trouble. I think he has another, and I think also, Polly, that he had this other trouble before mother died, and that she helped him to bear it, and made plans to lighten it for him. You remember what one of her plans was, and how we weren't any of us too well pleased. But I have been thinking lately, since I began to guess father's trouble, that we ought to carry it out just the same as if our mother was with us."

"Yes," said Polly. "You have a very exciting way of putting things, Nell, winding one up and up, and not letting in the least little morsel of light. What is father's trouble, and what was the plan? I can't remember any plan, and I only know about father that he's the n.o.blest of all n.o.ble men, and that he bears mother's loss--well, as n.o.body else would have borne it. What other trouble has our dear father, Nell? G.o.d wouldn't be so cruel as to give him another trouble."