The Old Woman Who Lived in a Shoe: or, There's No Place Like Home

Florence felt quite grand on the following day, attired in her new green delaine, and her "lovely" gloves. Granny was so busy with the others that she never noticed them; and Florence quieted her conscience by thinking that the money was her own, and she could do what she liked with it. She kept self generally in view, it must be admitted.

Mrs. Van Wyck's overture was destined to make quite a stir. She repeated it to her neighbors in such glowing terms that it really looked like an offer to adopt Florence; and she declaimed bitterly against the pride and the ingratitude of the whole Kenneth family.

Florence held her head loftily, and took great pains to contradict the story; and Joe became the stoutest of champions, though he teased her at home.

"But it's too bad to have her tell everybody such falsehoods; and, after all, three dollars a month would be very low wages. Why, Mary Connor gets a dollar a week for tending Mrs. Hall's baby; and she never scrubs or scours a thing!"

Truth to tell, Florence felt a good deal insulted.

But the whole five went to school pretty regularly. Hal was very studious, and Florence also, in spite of her small vanities; but Joe was incorrigible everywhere.

Florence gained courage one day to ask Mr. Fielder about the prospect of becoming a teacher. She was ambitious, and desired some kind of a position that would be ladylike.

"It's pretty hard work at first," he answered with a smile.

"But how long would I have to study?"

"Let me see – you are fourteen now: in three years you might be able to take a situation. Public schools in the city are always better for girls, for they can begin earlier in the primary department. A country school, you see, may have some troublesome urchins in it."

Florence sighed. Three years would be a long while to wait.

"I will give you all the assistance in my power," Mr. Fielder said kindly. "And I may be able to hear of something that will be to your advantage."

Florence thanked him, but somehow the prospect did not look brilliant.

Then she thought of dressmaking. Miss Brown had a pretty cottage, furnished very nicely indeed; and it was her boast that she did it all with her own hands. She kept a servant, and dressed quite elegantly; and all the ladies round went to her in their carriages. Then she had such beautiful pieces for cushions and wonderful bedquilts, – "Though I never take but the least snip of a dress," she would say with a virtuous sniff. "I have heard of people who kept a yard or two, but to my mind it's downright stealing."

There was a drawback to this picture of serene contentment. Miss Brown was an old maid, and Florence hoped devoutly that would never be her fate. And then Miss Skinner, who went out by the day, was single also. Was it the natural result of the employment?

CHAPTER IV

THE IDENTICAL SHOE

They did pretty well through the fall. Joe came across odd jobs, gathered stores of hickory-nuts and chestnuts; and now and then of an evening they had what he called a rousing good boil; and certainly chestnuts never tasted better. They sat round the fire, and told riddles or stories, and laughed as only healthy, happy children can. What if they were poor, and had to live in a little tumble-down shanty!

Sometimes Joe would surprise them with a somerset in the middle of the floor, or a good stand on his head in one corner.

"Joe," Granny would say solemnly, "I once knowed a man who fell that way on his head off a load of hay, and broke his back."

"Granny dear, 'knowed' is bad grammar. When you go to see Florence in her palace, you must say knew, to rhyme with blew. But your old man's back must have grown cranky with rheumatism, while mine is limber as an eel."

"He wasn't old, Joe. And in my day they never learned grammar."

"Oh, tell us about the good old times!" and Hal's head was laid in Granny's lap.

The children were never tired of hearing these tales. Days when Granny was young were like enchantment. She remembered some real witch stories, that she was sure were true; and weddings, quiltings, husking-bees, and apple-parings were full of interest. How they went out sleigh-riding, and had a dance; and how once Granny and her lover, sitting on the back seat, were jolted out, seat and all, while the horses went skimming along at a pace equal to Tam O'Shanter's. And how they had to go to a neighboring cottage, and stay ever so long before they were missed.

"There'll never be such times again," Joe would declare solemnly.

Florence would breath a little sigh, and wonder if she could ever attain to beaux and merriment, and if any one would ever quarrel about dancing with her. How happy Granny must have been!

Dot had a dreadful cold, and Granny an attack of rheumatism; but they both recovered before Christmas. Every one counted so much on this holiday. All were making mysterious preparations. Joe and Hal and Florence had their heads together; and then it was Granny and Florence, or Granny and Hal.

"I don't dare to stir out," said Joe lugubriously, "lest you may say something that I shall not hear."

Hal killed three fine young geese. Two were disposed of for a dollar apiece, and the third he brought to the kitchen in triumph.

"There's our Christmas dinner, and a beauty too!" he announced.

Hal had sold turkeys and chickens enough to buy himself a good warm winter coat.

Granny had a little extra luck. In fact, it was rather a prosperous winter with them; and there was nothing like starvation, in spite of Mrs. Van Wyck's prediction.

They all coaxed Granny to make doughnuts. Joe dropped them in the kettle, and Hal took them out with the skimmer. How good they did smell!

Kit and Charlie tumbled about on the floor, and were under everybody's feet; while Dot sat in her high chair, looking wondrous wise.

"How'll we get the stockings filled?" propounded Joe, when the supper-table had been cleared away.

They all glanced at each other in consternation.

"But where'll you hang 'em?" asked Kit after a moment or two of profound study.

"Some on the andirons, some on the door-knob, some on the kettle-spout, and the rest up chimney."

"I say, can't we have two?" was Charlie's anxious question.

"Lucky if you get one full. What a host of youngsters! O Granny! did you know that last summer I discovered that you were the old woman who lived in a shoe?"

"O Joe! don't;" and Hal raised his soft eyes reproachfully.

Granny laughed, not understanding Hal's anxiety.

"Because I had so many children?"

"Exactly; but I think you are better tempered than your namesake."

Granny's eyes twinkled at this compliment.

"It was an awful hot day, and Dot was cross enough to kill a cat with nine lives."

"But she's a little darling now," said Hal, kissing her. "I think the sand-man has been around;" and he smiled into the little face with its soft drooping eyes.

"Yes, she ought to be in bed, and Kit and Charlie. Come, children."

"I want to see what's going to be put in my stocking," whined Charlie in a very sleepy tone.

"No, you can't. March off, you small snipes, or you will find a whip there to-morrow morning."