"David, my boy, perhaps it is this which is standing between you and a full consecration to His service."

And then she spoke to him of his father, and of his work, and how blessed he had been in it, and of the rest and reward to which he had gone.

"A little sooner than we would have chosen for our own sakes, Davie, but not too soon for him, or for his Master."

A great deal more she said to him of the life that lay before him, and how he might help her and his brothers and sisters. Then she spoke of his work for Christ, and of his preparation for it, and how hopeful-- nay, how sure she was, that happy and useful days were before him--all the more happy and useful because of the sorrow he had been pa.s.sing through. "As one whom his mother comforteth," came into David's mind as he listened.

"And it is I who ought to be comforting you, mamma. I know I am all wrong--" said he, with tears.

"We will comfort one another. And indeed, it is my best comfort to comfort you. And, Davie, my love, we will begin anew."

There was more said after that--of the work that lay ready at his hand, of how he was to take out his books again, lest he should fall back on his studies, and do discredit to his father's teaching, and of how he was to help his brothers and sisters, especially Violet and Jem.

"Only, mamma, I think they have been getting on very well without me all this time," said Davie, ruefully.

"Not so well as they will with you, however," said his mother.

"Everything will go better now."

Everything did go better after that with David. His troubles were not over. His books gave him pain rather than pleasure, for a while, and it needed a struggle for him to interest himself in the plans and pursuits of Jem, and even of Violet. But he did not grow moody over his failures, and by and by there came to be some good in life to him again, and his mother's heart was set at rest about him, for she began to hope that it was well with David in the best sense now.

During the first summer they saw very little of the Oswalds. They lived quite at the other end of the town, in a house very different from the "bridge house," as their cottage was called, and for the greater part of the summer, the young people of the family had been away from home. But in the autumn it was so arranged that Violet at least, was to see a great deal of some of them. Mr Oswald had six children, four daughters and two sons. His eldest daughter Ame had been mistress of the house since her return from school, at the time of her mother's death. This had happened several years ago. She was twenty-four years of age, very clever and fond of society. She was engaged to be married, but she did not intend to leave home immediately, from which indeed she could not easily have been spared. They had much company always, and she had a great deal to do in entertaining them, and led a very busy and, as she thought, a very useful life in her father's house.

The next in age was Philip, but he was not at home. He was in his last year at M-- University, and was to be home in the Spring. Selina came next. She was one year younger than Violet, and would fain have considered herself a grown-up young lady, and her education finished, if her father and sister had agreed. Then came Frank, who was not very strong, and whose eyes were still weak, and then Charlotte and Sarah, girls of ten and twelve. It was to teach these two that Violet was to go to Mr Oswald's house.

Mrs Inglis felt that the proposal had been made by Mr Oswald quite as much with the thought of helping them as of benefiting his children, who had before this time gone to a day-school in the neighbourhood. But she did not refuse to let Violet go on that account. She believed her to be fitted for the work. She knew her to be gentle and affectionate, yet firm and conscientious, that she would be faithful in the performance of her duties towards the little girls, and that they would be the gainers in the end by the arrangement. And so it proved.

The first intention was that Violet should return home every night, but as the season advanced and the weather broke, the distance was found to be too great, and besides, Violet's slumbering ambition was awakened by the proposal that she should share in the German and French lessons which Selina received from Professor Olendorf, and so she stayed in the house with her pupils, only going home on Friday night to spend the Sunday there.

She had very little share in the gay doings for which Miss Oswald was ambitious that her father's house should be distinguished. For Miss Oswald had strong opinions as to the propriety of young girls like Violet and Selina keeping themselves to their lessons and their practising, and leading a quiet life, and so had her father. Even if he had not, it is likely that Miss Oswald's opinion would have decided the matter. As it was, Selina became content to stay at home in Violet's company when her sister went out, and Violet was more than content. She enjoyed her work both of teaching and learning, and the winter pa.s.sed happily and profitably away.

Of course she was missed at home, but not painfully so. There were no pupils for her mother to teach in the winter. Ned went to school, and there was only Jessie to teach, and a good many of the lessons she received was in the way of household work, and she soon began to take pride and pleasure in it as Violet had done before.

And so the winter pa.s.sed quietly and happily to them all. There was need for constant carefulness, for rigid economy even, but want never came near them. How to make the most of their small means, was a subject at this time much in Mrs Inglis's thoughts. How to obtain the necessary amount of the simplest and most wholesome food, at the smallest cost, was a problem solved over and over again, with greater or less satisfaction, according to the circ.u.mstances at the moment. There was a certain amount of care and anxiety involved, but there was pleasure too, and all the more that they knew the exact amount of their means, and what they had "to come and go" upon.

They had some pleasant surprises in the shape of kind gifts of remembrance from Gourlay friends, gladly given and gladly received, less because of present necessities than because of old friendship. Want!

no, it never came near them--never even threatened to come near them.

When the winter was over, they could look back to what Jem called "a tight spot" or two in the matter of boots and firewood, but on nothing very serious after all.

The boots and the firewood were the worst things. No one can tell till she has really tried, how much beyond the natural turn of existence almost any garment may be made to last and wear to preserve an appearance of respectability by a judicious and persevering use of needle and thread. But boots, especially boys' boots, are unmanageable in a woman's hands, and, indeed, in any hands beyond a certain stage of dilapidation; and every one knows, that whatever else may be old, and patched, and shabby, good boots are absolutely indispensable to the keeping up of an appearance of respectability, and, indeed, one may say, with some difference, to the keeping of a lad's self-respect. The boots were matters of serious consideration.

As to the firewood, there is a great difference as to the comfort to be got out of the same quant.i.ty of firewood, depending on the manner in which it is used, but even with the utmost care and economy, it will consume away, and in a country where during seven months of the year fires are needed, a great deal must consume away. Even more than the consideration given to the boots, the wood had to be considered, and it was all the more a matter of difficulty, as economy in that direction was a new necessity. Boots had always been a serious matter to the Inglises, but wood had been plentiful at Gourlay. However, there were boots enough, and wood enough, and to spare, and things that were vexing to endure, were only amusing to look back upon, and when Spring came, none of the Inglises looked back on the winter with regret, or forward to the summer with dread, and so their first year in Singleton came happily to an end.

CHAPTER TEN.

It was Sat.u.r.day afternoon and a holiday with the schoolboys, of course.

It was a holiday to them all, for Mrs Inglis and Violet were out of doors too, sitting on the gallery in the sunshine, and Davie was coming home. He was at the moment crossing the bridge at a great pace, and so eager to be among them, that instead of going soberly round by the gate, as he was accustomed to do, he took Jem's fashion and swung himself first over the side of the bridge, and then over the fence into the garden. They might well look surprised, and all the more so that it was high water, and he had to scramble along the unsteady fence and through the willows before he could get to the gra.s.s dry shod.

"Well done, Davie! you are growing young again," said Jem.

David sat down on the steps at his mother's feet laughing and breathless.

"Is it a half holiday?" asked his mother.

"Yes; Frank came to the bank and begged Mr Caldwell to let me go out in the boat with him and his brother this afternoon."

"And he was willing to let you go, I suppose?"

"Yes; he was not quite sure about the boat, and he said I must come first and ask you, mamma."

"A long walk and a short sail. It won't pay, Davie," said Jem. "You would not have cared, would you, mamma?"

"But I must have come at any rate to change my clothes. We shall very likely get wet."

"How very prudent!" said Jem.

"Very proper," said his mother.

"Well, be quick, or you'll keep them waiting. It is well to be you,"

said Jem. "I wish the high and mighty Phil Oswald would ask me to sail with him."

"Perhaps he may; he is bringing the boat here. Mamma, I have some good news."

The children gathered round to listen.

"That is why you came jumping over the fence, instead of coming round by the gate," said Ned.

"Violet knows it!" said Jessie; "look at her face."

"No, I don't know it. I might, perhaps, guess it."

It was no very wonderful news. Only that Mr Caldwell had reminded David that he had that day been a year in the office, and that next year his salary was to be raised. Not much. It did not seem a great sum even to Ned and Jessie. But it was worth a great deal more than the mere money value, because it implied that David was getting to understand his work, and that his employer knew it, and had confidence in him. The mother said something like this to him and to them all, and she was very much pleased.

"Our Davie will be a rich man some day!" said Jem. "I thought I was to be the rich man of the family, but it don't look like it now."

"It will be a while first," said David.

"You will be a banker," said Ned.

"I am afraid I ought to be gardener this afternoon," said David, looking round on the garden.

"No use. The water is rising. We shall be flooded yet," said Jem.

"There is no time lost yet," said his mother.

"It is better that we should be a little late, than that the water should cover the earth after the seeds are sown."