"
"You were a famous Spartan till the time came," said Jock, in an odd
husky voice.
"I wouldn't mind so much but for mother," said poor Barbara, in an
apologetic tone; "nor if there were any stuff in Allen; nor if dear
Armie were well and like himself; but, oh dear! I feel as if all the
manhood and comfort of the family would be gone to the other end of
the world."
"What did you say about mother?"
"I beg your pardon, Jock, I didn't mean to worry you. I know it is a
grand thing for you. But mother was so merry and happy when we
thought we should all be snug with you in the old house, and she made
such nice plans. But now she is so fagged and worn, and she can't
sleep. She began to read as soon as it was light all those long
summer mornings to keep from thinking; and she is teasing herself
over her accounts. There were shoals of great horrid bills of things
Allen ordered coming in at Midsummer, just as she thought she saw her
way! Do you know, she thinks she may have to let our own house and
go into lodgings."
"Is that you, Barbara?" said a voice at the Parsonage wicket. "How
is our dear patient?"
"Rather better to-night, we think."
"Tell him I hope to come and see him to-morrow. And say the vases
are come. I thought your mother would wish us to have the large
ones, so I put them in the Church.
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