Betty's Battles Part 9

It is a slow, miserable business, but before the morning is over Betty manages to get the greater part of the two pounds together.

"Hem; short, as usual," is Mr. Duncan's discouraging remark, as he counts it over.

Betty feels sick at heart. The morning's work has been quite a new experience. Occupied only with her own thoughts and plans, she has thought very little about other people's difficulties; and the miserable homes she has just seen have shocked and pained her deeply.

Mr. Duncan weighs the money in his hand for a moment or two, as though considering.

"Well, I can't be bothered just now with looking up anyone else. I suppose we'd better go on as we are--for the present. Here's the whole rent account-book; take it home, and let me know how much rent I've lost on the half-year. Good morning."

So she is to take up part of father's work, after all! How glad dear father will be!

CHAPTER VII

DAY BY DAY

For the first time in her life Betty is glad to be at home. The rooms seem more comfortable and airy than they have ever done before.

"Oh, how thankful I am that I don't live in that horrid, narrow street, like those poor wretched-looking women and children!" she thinks. Even one morning's work among people so much worse off than herself has opened her eyes a little to the blessings she possesses in her home.

Why, if father were only coming home as usual to-night, she could feel almost happy--_if_--ah! but father is not coming home; yet he will come some day, his life is in no danger. Oh, she will be brave for his sake, she will be true to the trust he has left in her hands!

No dinner ready again; mother still quite incapable of attending to anything, and poor Betty thoroughly tired out with her anxious morning's work. Yet she is not even cross.

No, the more trying and difficult things are, the greater the victory; and just now she feels braced up, heart and soul, for the fight.

It is sometimes easier to be brave and unselfish in a time of real trouble, than to bear with patience and sweetness the little worries of everyday life.

But Betty is on the right road now, she is doing great things; she is marching straight on; she is opening her heart to the Lord, and allowing His light to s.h.i.+ne into its dark places, and there is hope that before the little, wearing everyday worries come back again, she may be strong enough to resist even them, and prove herself a true Soldier at last.

She may fail though, and darken the light that G.o.d sends her! Well, we will hope for better things.

So Betty bustles about, and has dinner ready as usual when the children come in. Not until they are all off to school again has she time to tell her mother of the morning's work.

Mrs. Langdale is not at all encouraging.

"Nice place to send a girl like you to. What is he going to pay you?"

"I don't know yet, mother."

"And you never thought of asking? You silly child! He'll take your work and give you nothing."

"Oh, I'm sure he wouldn't do that, mother." But she looks rather blank at the idea.

"Well, you'll see; and don't say I didn't warn you. When are you going to see Mr. Duncan again?"

"To-morrow. I'm to make out an account of the rents to-night, and take it with me."

Betty finds that this last is easier said than done. She pores over the books until her head aches. Presently Bob comes in.

"Here, Betty, look sharp. I want a b.u.t.ton sewn on my coat, and I can't find that new pair of boot-laces, and--why, just fancy sitting there reading like that! No wonder a fellow can never get anything done in this house--it's too bad!"

"I'm not reading, I'm doing Mr. Duncan's accounts," says Betty quietly.

The knowledge that she is working unselfishly for the good of her family is a grand help towards keeping her temper!

Bob stares. "Rubbis.h.!.+" he says.

"Come and see, Bob. I'm to do part of father's work, and Oh, I do wish you could help me. I feel so stupid to-night, and there is so much to do."

Bob melts at once. "Why, Bet, who would have thought of your doing such a thing? There, let me see--Ah, here we are! Now then----"

But, alas! just as Bob is beginning to bring his brand-new ideas of correct book-keeping to bear on the problem before them, a violent outcry arises from Pollie, who, until now, has been playing fairly quietly with Jennie in the corner.

"Harry, you bad, wicked boy!" she screams, "I'll pull all your hair out, that I will!" and she rushes at Harry like a little fury. Harry defends himself savagely, and Jennie, curled up on the floor, howls her loudest.

"Be quiet, Jennie! Pollie and Harry, if you don't leave off fighting at once, I'll box your ears all round!" cries Bob, looking up angrily from his work.

"Harry's sawn the leg off one of our dollies!" shrieks Pollie, "and he's a bad, bad, wicked boy!"

[Ill.u.s.tration: Harry defends himself savagely.]

"She asked me to," roars Harry; "her dollie had smashed its leg like father, and I was the doctor, and had to take it off."

"He hadn't! He was to cure its bad leg, and now he's made it worse, and I'll pull his hair out for that, I will!"

"I don't care about your old dolls and rubbish; but if you're not quiet this minute I'll knock all your heads together and give you something to cry for!" cries Bob, still more angrily, and he starts from his chair as though to execute his threat.

But Betty lays her hand entreatingly on his arm. "Oh, Bob, don't; father wouldn't like it. He can't bear you to strike the children. Pollie, perhaps the doll can be mended; Harry didn't mean any harm. Harry, be quiet, you must not beat your little sister. Pollie, leave go, you naughty girl----"

But Betty is powerless to stop the storm. Bob tries to separate Harry and Pollie, who are fighting desperately. Harry kicks at Bob, whereat the elder brother loses his temper altogether, and cuffs Harry vigorously on both sides of his head. Harry roars; Jennie and Pollie continue to shriek. Bob, his face flaming with wrath, drags each screaming, kicking child to the door, and flings it into the pa.s.sage.

Then he locks the door, and with flushed face and tumbled hair, though pretending to look quite unconcerned, goes on with the books, in spite of the yells from the pa.s.sage outside.

Betty is in despair.

"Oh, Bob, how could you be so violent? If father had been at home you would not have behaved so----"

"Look here, Betty, if you're going to begin that, you may take the books yourself and do them; I'm sick of the whole thing!"

Betty is wise enough to make no answer to Bob's outburst. She leaves the room quietly, and, after some trouble, pacifies the children, and sees them all safely in bed.

She feels thoroughly humiliated and miserable. The whole thing is such a keen disgrace; that _her_ brothers and sisters should behave so roughly and rudely!

How untrained they all are--how badly brought up! No wonder father has grown so sad and old-looking of late. His old home--when he lived with Grannie--must have been very different.

She returns to the accounts. Bob is still poring over them, but looks so savage that she is almost afraid to speak. He finishes the work in silence, answers her thanks with a grunt, and goes off with his head in the air, and both hands deep in his pockets.