The Fortunes of the Farrells | Page 9

you come upstairs. I'll snoodle up to the hot bottle, and read till you come."
The programme sounded very attractive,--to snoodle up to the hot bottle, and lie at ease reading an interesting book,--much more attractive than to linger downstairs by the dying fire, and discuss disagreeable problems with an anxious mother. But Ruth did not waver in her decision, and a few moments later Mrs Connor was caught paying a round of visits to the children's bedrooms--"just in time," as Ruth thought whimsically, "to waken the poor souls from their first sleep!"--and escorted back to the chair which Mollie had vacated.
"Is anything wrong, dear?" she asked nervously. Poor little woman, if a surprise were in store, it seemed so much more likely that it should be disagreeable rather than bright! "You don't feel feverish, or ill, or--"
"No, no, my dear; I just want to talk to you about my own affairs. I'm quite well, and so strong and--and grown-up, don't you know, that it is time I grew independent, and began life on my own account. You have Mollie at home, and Trix and Betty growing up, and I think, mother dear, that I ought not to be dependent on the pater any longer. He has been very good and kind to us all these years; but, still--"
She hesitated, and Mrs Connor looked at her with anxious tenderness. She had honestly considered the welfare of her two little girls as much as her own when she decided to marry a second time, and it had been a constant joy to feel that her expectations had been fulfilled; yet here was Ruth, her firstborn darling, her right hand in household affairs, actually talking of leaving home!
"Aren't you happy, Ruth? Have you not been happy all these years? I thought you were quite content and satisfied."
She sighed; and Ruth gave an echoing sigh, and answered honestly--
"Quite happy, darling, as far as you and the pater are concerned. He could not have been kinder to us if we had been his very own daughters. But satisfied? Oh no, mother; never satisfied for a long time back! How could I be? I don't want to seem ungrateful; but I'm only twenty- one, and it has been all work and no play, and there are so many, many things that I want to do, and see, and feel. I've never been to a proper grown-up dance in my life, for if we have been asked we have not had decent clothes to go in, and we never invite anyone here, so now people have given over asking us even to quiet evenings. I hardly ever speak to a soul outside this house, and I get so tired of it all;--and only fifteen pounds a year for dress and pocket-money! Remember what your allowance was when you were a girl, and all the jolly times you had, and the parties, and the visits, and the trips abroad,--and then think of our lives. It is dull for us, isn't it, dear?"
Mrs Connor's pale cheeks flushed with a touch of offence. Not having sufficient insight into girls' natures to understand that there was nothing either undutiful or unnatural in Ruth's lament, she felt herself personally injured thereby.
"Mollie is happy--Mollie is content!" she said briefly.
And Ruth assented with a brief "Yes," and said no more.
If the difference between Mollie's nature and her own was not patent to their own mother, it was useless to enlarge upon it. She waited a moment or two to regain composure, then continued quietly--
"But that was not exactly the point. I did not mean to speak of my own troubles. What I feel is that when business is so bad, it is not right for two grown-up girls to stay at home. You could get on without me, with a little extra help for sewing, and in time I might earn enough, not only to keep myself but to help the others. Honestly, now, don't you think I am right? In my place, would you not feel it your duty to the pater to be independent, and lighten his responsibility, if even by a little?"
Mrs Connor sat silent, torn between two thoughts--dread of parting from Ruth, and a longing to help the overburdened husband, who had come as a rescuer in her own need. No one but herself guessed how it tore her heart to present him with fresh bills, or to ask for money for all the thousand-and-one needs of a growing family. Her very dread and nervousness made her choose inappropriate moments for her requests, and Mr Connor's aloofness from the ordinary workaday world made matters still more difficult. He probably considered fifteen pounds a year a lordly dress allowance for his two step-daughters; certainly he would not have noticed if they