But Maud clapped hers, and gave a joyful bounce, as she cried,—
“Now I can learn to cook! I love so to beat eggs! I’ll have an apron with a bib to it, like Polly’s, and a feather duster, and sweep the stairs, may be, with my head tied up, like Katy. Oh, what fun!”
“Don’t laugh at her or discourage her; let her find comfort in bibs and dust-pans if she can,” whispered Polly to Fan, while Maud took a joyful “header” among the pillows, and came up smiling and blowsy, for she loved house-work, and often got lectured for stolen visits to the kitchen, and surreptitious sweepings and dustings when the coast was clear.
“Mamma is so feeble, I shall have to keep house, I suppose, and you must show me how, Polly,” said Fan.
“Good practice, ma’am, as you’ll find out some day,” answered Polly, laughing significantly.
Fanny smiled, then grew both grave and sad. “This changes everything; the old set will drop me, as we did the Mertons when their father failed, and my ‘prospects’, as we say, are quite ruined.”
“I don’t believe it; your real friends won’t drop you, and you’ll find out which the true ones are now. I know one friend who will be kinder than ever.”
“Oh Polly, do you think so?” and Fanny’s eyes softened with sudden tears.
“I know who she means,” cried Maud, always eager to find out things. “It’s herself; Polly won’t mind if we are poor, ’cause she likes beggars.”
“Is that who you meant?” asked Fan, wistfully.
“No, it’s a much better and dearer friend than I am,” said Polly, pinching Fanny’s cheek, as it reddened prettily under her eyes. “You’ll never guess, Maud, so I wouldn’t try; but be planning what you will put in your cunning, three-cornered closet, when you get it.”
“Having got rid of “Miss Paulina Pry”, as Tom called Maud, who was immediately absorbed by her cupboard, the older girls soberly discussed the sudden change which had come, and Polly was surprised to see what unexpected strength and sense Fanny showed. Polly was too unconscious of the change which love had made in herself to understand at first the cause of her friend’s new patience and fortitude; but she rejoiced over it, and felt that her prophecy would yet be fulfilled. Presently Maud emerged from her new closet, bringing a somewhat startling idea with her.
“Do bankrupting men” (Maud liked that new word) “always have fits?”
“Mercy, no! What put that into your head, child?” cried Polly.
“Why, Mr. Merton did; and I was thinking perhaps papa had got one down there, and it kind of frightened me.”
“Mr. Merton’s was a bad, disgraceful failure, and I don’t wonder he had a fit. Ours isn’t, and papa won’t do anything of that sort, you may be sure,” said Fanny, with as proud an air as if “our failure” was rather an honour than otherwise.
“Do you think you and Maud had better go down and see him?” asked Polly.
“Perhaps he wouldn’t like it; and I don’t know what to say, either,” began Fan; but Polly said, eagerly,—
“I know he would like it. Never mind what you say; just go and show him that you don’t doubt or blame him for this, but love him all the more, and are ready and glad to help him bear the trouble.”