night and day for longer than I
care to think about. We're clearing away the debris of the
fire, and drilling two new wells."

The doctor was persuaded to stay to supper, which was a meal to be
remembered, for Miss Hope was a famous cook and she spared neither
eggs nor butter, a liberality which the close-fisted Joseph Peabody
would have blamed for her poverty.

There was no mistaking the strained financial circumstances of the
two old women. Every day that Bob spent with them disclosed some new
makeshift to avoid the expenditure of money, and both house and barns
were sadly in need of repairs. Bob himself was able to do many little
odd jobs, a nail driven here, a bit of plastering there, that tended
to make the premises more habitable, and he worked incessantly and
gladly, determined that his aunts should never do another stroke of
work outside the house.

They were normal in health again and Betty had suggested that she go
back to the Watterbys. But they looked so stricken at the mention of
such a plan, and seemed so genuinely anxious to have her stay, that
she promised not to leave till her uncle came for her. Bob, too, was
relieved by her decision, for his promise to Mr. Gordon still held
good, and yet he felt that his place was with his aunts.

The shades all over the house were up now, and the four bedrooms on
the second floor in use once more. They were sparsely furnished, like
those downstairs, but everything was neat and clean. Miss Charity
confided to Betty that she and her sister had been forced to sell
their best furniture, some old-fashioned mahogany pieces included, to
meet a note they had given to a neighbor. The two poor sisters seemed
to have been the prey of unscrupulous sharpers since the death of
their parents, and Betty fervently hoped that Bob would be able to
stave off the pseudo real-estate men till her uncle could advise
them.

A few days after the doctor's call Betty decided that what she needed
was a good gallop on Clover. She had had little time for riding
since she had been nurse and housekeeper, and the little horse was
becoming restive from too much confinement.

"A ride will do you good," declared Miss Hope, in her eager, positive
fashion. "I suppose you'll stop in at Grandma Watterby's? Tell her
Charity and I thank her very much for the rugs and for the beef tea
she sent us."

The road from the Saunders farm was the main highway to Flame City,
and Bob, who in his cap