“Phil, what should you and Ted do if you were suddenly called upon to support your sisters and me?” asked Mrs. Porter, as her family were finishing their supper.
“Play ball,” declared Phil.
“Be an aviator,” announced his brother.
“You might have known what their answers would be, Momsy, without asking,” exclaimed Sallie, with disgust. “Ever since Phil was elected captain of his school nine all he can think of is ‘play ball.’”
“Yes, and Ted’s just as absorbed in that old machine he is building—as if he could build anything that would fly,” interposed Margie.
“I tell you it can fly, Miss Smarty. It rose more than a foot from the ground and kept up for its whole length last week,” retorted Ted.
“That wasn’t flying, it was the shock caused by my lending you my week’s allowance,” retaliated Margie.
“You said you wouldn’t mention that, and anyway, I didn’t promise to pay it back until next month.”
“I’m sorry, Ted. That slipped out without my thinking. Do you suppose your machine would fly twice its length if I loaned you this week’s money?”
“Goody, sis, will you?”
“Don’t you do it, Marg,” warned her older sister. “Momsy, you ought to forbid Ted’s throwing away all his and Margie’s money on that crazy old airship.”
“I haven’t asked you for any, have I?” demanded Ted, his cheeks flushing.
“Good reason why—you know I wouldn’t lend you any.”
“You can turn up your nose all you like, but you’ll change your tune when you see me flying about.”
“I shall be so old my eyesight will be gone when you do.”
“Never you—” began Ted, only to be interrupted by his mother.
“There, there, son, don’t get so excited. It is all right for you to spend your own time and money on your flying machine, if you wish, but you must not borrow from Margie.”
“Now don’t scold Ted, Momsy,” broke in the younger girl. “I really owe him something because he helped me to pass my algebra exam.”
“Besides, I said I would pay her back next month—and I will.”
“All right, but I forbid you to ask Margie again. I think, too, it would be just as well if you all saved your allowances from now on—there is no knowing how soon they will stop entirely,” added Mrs. Porter, seriously.
At this statement, the boys looked blankly at their sisters, then at their mother, and as they searched her face, they noticed how unusually wan and frail she appeared.
“Why, Momsy, how tired you look!” exclaimed Phil.
“I am, son,—and ill. The doctor says I may,” and her voice quavered, “I may be obliged to give up my work and take a long rest.”
In shocked surprise, her sons and daughters heard her words, for, though they loved their mother dearly, with the carelessness of youth, they had failed to note the increasing look of weariness that was furrowing her face with lines.
“If Dr. Blair says you ought to take a rest, you shall,” declared Ted.
“Yet I can’t unless you and Phil are able to take my place as breadwinner, and flying and playing ball do not seem to be very reliable occupations.”
“We didn’t mean that; at least, I didn’t,” protested Phil, hastily.
“Nor I,” his brother quickly confirmed.
“Then what would you do?”
An instant Phil looked at his brother, who nodded, then replied:
“We’d take up a free homestead out West and raise wheat.”
So utterly different from anything they had expected was this announcement that Mrs. Porter and her daughters simply sat in silence.
Confronted with the necessity of bringing up four young children with only a small life insurance as a basis, the mother had courageously set about the task.
Artistic by nature, through the aid of friends, she obtained a responsible and remunerative position with a large department store which had enabled her to make their home in Weston comfortable and attractive, even, indeed, through the strictest economy, to save a few hundred dollars—but the effort had been at the expense of her strength and health.
“A lot you kids know about farming,” exclaimed Margie, the first to recover from her surprise.
“Or about anything else that’s practical,” retorted Phil. “But we can learn—and there’s a better living to be made from a farm, say out in Washington State, even the first year, than we could provide you in the city in five.”
“You think you would be happy to leave Weston, with your amusements and all your friends?” quietly asked Mrs. Porter.
“We know we should be,” asserted Phil. “Why, Jack Howell told us it took all the money he could earn just to buy his clothes and go round—and he receives twenty dollars a week. So how could we take care of you and the girls, too, even if we were able to get that much?”
“Which we wouldn’t be,” promptly declared Ted. “If a fellow can get ten dollars a week when he starts in, he is lucky. I know, because I’ve been trying to find a place where I could earn some money to put into my flying machine.”
“Why go way out to Washington?” inquired Sallie. “If you are set on going in for farming, there must be no end of places nearer where you could do as well.”
