"I didn't suppose _you_ would," laughed Ernestine "But fortunately for me, I have some obliging sisters," and with that shot, Ernestine went in, singing like a mocking bird, and Jean followed slowly, looking back once or twice to Olive's motionless figure.

Oh how it cut! Olive grew flushed and white, then her brows came together darkly and her lips shut tight. "Ernestine is too frivolous to live," she said grimly; then looked straight off into the evening sky and was silent. But down to her proud, sensitive heart she was hurt, and in it was the longing wonder, "Why don't she come to me and ask as she does of Bea and the others. I would loan it to her;" but this feeling she fiercely refused to countenance, and shut her heart grimly, as she did her lips.

The broad old hall that ran clear through the house was growing quite dark with shadows; the game of chess had ended, and the players left the window, and presently Olive turned slowly and went into the house.

Through the sitting-room came a lively chatter, and as she pa.s.sed the door some one shouted, "Halloo!"

"Well I'm not deaf. Do you want me?"

"Pining to have you; come sit on my lap."

Olive pa.s.sed in, but disregarded the hospitably inclined young lady who lounged in a big chair, and pa.s.sed on to a dusky corner, where she curled up on the lounge.

"Olive," volunteered Kittie, who was in the window-sill, "mama has a plan; she's going to tell us after supper, and we've all been trying to guess what it is; what do you think?"

"I don't think anything."

"What a glorious lack of curiosity," laughed Kat.

"I suppose I'm just as contented as any of you with your guessing,"

returned Olive.

"Well I wish," said Ernestine with an energy that brought instant attention, "I wish papa was going to increase our allowances. Two dollars a month is a shameful little."

"But it amounts to ten dollars when paid to five girls," added Beatrice quickly, "besides Jean's twenty-five cents."

"A girl isn't supposed to spend two dollars every month for foolishness," said Olive severely. "You might call it a little if you had to live on it."

"I exist on my pretty things almost as much as I do on my food,"

answered Ernestine flippantly, "and what does two dollars buy?"

"Suppose you go awhile without spending it, then you'll have more,"

suggested Kittie practically.

"Yes," added Kat with a laugh. "Kittie saved fifty cents last month, and I saved just three; why _don't_ you do as we do and economize."

"How much have each of you saved altogether since papa began paying us?"

asked Beatrice. "I have nine dollars and thirty-four cents."

"Whew!" whistled Kittie. "I've got just three. I tell you caramels are disastrous to my pocket money."

"I wear out my gloves, love b.u.t.ter-scotch, and lost my head over a certain pair of slippers; consequence, two dollars and eight cents in my treasury," moaned Kat, with great self reproach.

"Well, I do everything that is frivolous, and unwise, and extravagant, but I have a good time, and the result is that I haven't a cent, and am in debt a dollar," laughed Ernestine, kicking out her pretty foot with its fancy little slipper, as if in defiance to anyone's criticisms or reproofs.

"Two more to hear from yet," said Beatrice, as silence fell. "Jeanie, have you spent all your quarters?"

"No," said Jean slowly and with much hesitation, "I had two dollars and spent one for a sash."

"And I borrowed the other," interrupted Ernestine, seeing that the child did not want to tell on her. "How much have you, Olive?"

"I made no promise to tell," leaped to Olive's lips; but instead of speaking it, she electrified them by saying, with a quiet smile of satisfaction, "Thirty dollars."

It did more than surprise them; it was almost a stun for a minute or two; then Ernestine slowly opened her lips: "Why, Olive Dering! wherever did you get it? If you'd never spent a cent of your allowance, papa hasn't been paying us long enough for it to amount to that."

"I suppose, for a girl that isn't a fool, there are more ways of getting money than sitting down with her hands folded and letting her father give it to her," retorted Olive with a snap.

"That's so, Olive," echoed Beatrice, with a heartiness that made them jump. "But what did you do? tell us quick; see every one of us stiff with curiosity."

It just occurred to Olive to let them remain stiff with curiosity, but perhaps an amount of satisfaction in the way she had earned her money is what changed her mind; at any rate, she began more readily than the others expected: "I sold the old iron out in the barn, and several bags of rags; then I've done some writing for papa's clerk, because he was hurried; and last week I sold my picture. Of my allowance I only spent enough for two pairs of gloves, that have lasted me with mending; so that's how I made my money."

"Blessings on you!" cried Kat enthusiastically. "I look upon you as a model, Olive, a living----"

"Nothing of the kind," interrupted Olive sharply, and rising up out of her corner, as if warming to the subject. "I'm only trying to be sensible; we're all old enough to be that, and be something more too. I wonder if we are never going to do anything but sit here at home, with papa to feed and dress us, besides giving us an allowance for little things and nonsense. I think it's wrong, and lazy, and a namby pamby way of being a useless thing, just because you are a girl! Besides, papa is worried and troubled; yes he is;--" warming still more at the breathless attention given her. "The other night, he and mama talked for hours, and I couldn't help hearing a little, because the transom was open. His voice was troubled, so was mama's, and sad, and he said something about 'lessening expenses,' and the difficulty of getting any ready money, and all that, and I believe in my heart that we ought to help him!"

Into the stunned silence that followed this outburst from short-spoken, reticent Olive, there came a new voice; such a sweet, lovely voice with a tender ring that made every one start to welcome the speaker.

"How dark you are, dears. Are all my steps here?"

"All here, solemnly engaged," answered Kat, unfolding herself from the big chair to make a seat for mother.

"And _just_ think," cried Kittie, with a lurch that pretty near tipped her out of the window. "Olive----"

"Has done wonders," interrupted Beatrice. "Be still all of you! Let's not tell mama yet."

Mrs. Dering laughed cheerily, at the sudden popping of a secret into the air, but announced that supper was ready, at which there was such a stampede as only a lot of hungry, healthy girls can make, and the sitting-room was left dark and still.

You see there were six of them--five strong bright girls, and one little lame sister, to laugh and sing, and make that big, roomy, comfortable, old home happy. Beatrice, seventeen; Ernestine, sixteen; Olive, fifteen; then Katherine and Kathleen or Kittie and Kat, twelve, and lastly, little Jean, with her flower-like, patient face and poor crooked little back. To help and guide them, was the dear, loving mother who called them her 'steps;' and the strong, helpful father, who romped and played, or read and studied with them and called Kittie and Kat 'his boys;' Olive his 'right hand man;' Ernestine, 'his picture;' Beatrice, his 'little woman,' and Jean his 'little pansy.' So now that you know them a little better, let us go into the dining-room and see what they are doing. Meetings at the Dering table are always lively ones, "Good for digestion and spirits," said papa Dering, so everybody talked and laughed and ate heartily, and went away without sour faces or sour stomachs. To-night, though, there is a change. Mr. Dering had a remark for each of the girls as they came in, then lapsed into silence, and stirred his coffee absently. Even Mrs. Dering could not hide a little anxiety, though she tried to be gay and interested in the girls' talk, as usual. With Olive's words fresh in their minds, the rest closely watched the faces of both parents, and each girl had thoughts and made plans, in every way characteristic of their respective selves.

Mr. Dering presently broke a silence by asking to be excused, as he must go back to the store--two most unusual things; for he always sat and talked at supper 'till all were through, and rarely ever let anything take him away from an evening at home; so no wonder the meal was shortened, and the party broke up.

"Oh how nice!" cried Jean, as they returned to the sitting-room, where in their absence, a bright fire had been built in the grate, and filled the room with a warm rosy glow. "Here's my seat."

"We'll tell our secrets by the first fire of the season," said Mrs.

Dering, as the girls all followed Jean's example, by pulling their chairs into the circle of warmth and light. "I thought it was so chilly this evening that firelight would be more cosy and cheerful than a lamp.

Now then, who shall begin?"

"Oh you, please," cried Kittie. "We are so anxious."

Every face warmly seconded her words, so Mrs. Dering began, after a moment's silence.

"When you were all little children mama never let anything worry or disturb you if she could help it, and if anything ever did, you came right to her to be comforted and helped. Papa never let you be cold or hungry, and without clothes, or be sick, if he could help it, and they both loved you tenderly, didn't they?"

"Why goodness, yes!" cried Kat, with glistening, astonished eyes.

"And now that you have become such big daughters, they love you none the less, but more if possible; because now they must give you more thought as you grow to womanhood. Now if----"

"Oh you needn't say another word!" cried Beatrice impulsively. "You look as if you didn't know how to tell us; but we know. Your secret is the same as ours; papa is worried, and we are all, every one of us, ready to help him!"

"Why my dear girls!" cried mama, with her eyes full of tears. "How did you know?"