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Updated: September 20, 2025
As soon as breakfast was over, Kitty, after a weak suggestion that she should help Laura with the dishes, carried Billy away, saying that no matter what happened she was going to church. The Fenelbys were glad to have them go, and Mr. Fenelby helped Laura carry out the breakfast things. "Laura," said Mr.
Can't you see poor, dear little Bobberts is nearly killed? Why don't you do something?" There was really nothing they could do. Mr. and Mrs. Fenelby made such a compact crowd around Bobberts that no one else could squeeze in, but Kitty dropped on her knees and edged up to the crowd, murmuring, "Poor Bobberts! Poor Bobberts!" Billy stood awkwardly, feeling in his pockets.
"Rankin would be glad to do something of that sort to repay me for the number of times he has borrowed my lawn-mower. I will step over after dinner and ask him." "Are you sure, very sure, that you do not mind, Kitty?" asked Mrs. Fenelby. "You will not feel hurt, or anything?" "Oh, no!" said Kitty, lightly. "It will be a lark.
How could we save a hundred thousand dollars out of my salary, when the whole salary is only twenty-five hundred dollars a year, and we spend every cent of it?" "But, Tom dear," said Mrs. Fenelby, "how can I help spending it? You know I am just as economical as I can be. You said yourself that we couldn't live on a cent less than we are spending.
"It has something to do with you and with all of us. With everyone in this house. You love little Bobberts so much that you will be glad to help in his education." "Will I?" said Bridget in a way that was not too encouraging. "Yes, I know you will," Mrs. Fenelby chirped cheerfully, "because it is the cutest plan. I know you will be so interested in it. Mr.
Fenelby laid his fork softly on his plate and listened. There was no doubt of it. Someone was in the kitchen, gathering up the silverware. Mr. Fenelby arose and went into the kitchen. Almost immediately he returned. He returned because he either had to follow Bridget into the dining room or stay in the kitchen alone. "It's me, ma'am," said Bridget. She planted herself before Mrs.
"You you gave him a dollar not to carry these trunks upstairs!" exclaimed Mr. Fenelby. "Did you say you paid the man a dollar not to carry them upstairs?" "I had to," said Mrs. Fenelby. "It was the only way I could prevent him from doing it. He said you told him to carry them up, and that up they must go, if he had to break down the front door to do it.
"She she wanted them left down here." "Down here?" asked Mr. Fenelby, as if dazed. "Down here on the grass?" "Yes," said Kitty, lightly. "It was my idea. Laura had nothing to do with it at all. I thought it would be nice to have the trunks down here on the lawn.
Poor meek Laura needed some one to put a foot down, and Kitty felt that she had an admirable foot for that or any other purpose. She proposed to put it down. When Mr. Fenelby entered his yard on his return from the city he stopped short, and then looked up to where the two young women were sitting on the porch. "Hello!" he said, "What is the matter with these trunks?
"Then why did you ask me to leave it in my room, instead of showing it to Tom? Smuggler!" Mrs. Fenelby arose and walked away. She turned to the kitchen and opened the door. She was just in time to see Bridget lower a bottle from her lips and hastily conceal it behind her skirts. "Bridget!" she exclaimed sharply, with horror. "'Tis th' doctor's orders, ma'am," said Bridget. "'Tis for me cold."
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