ed.

"Look here, little girl," said Lansing, speaking soberly in the
darkness. "You know you haven't got this household on your shoulders all
alone. It's a partnership affair, and don't you forget it. Now, good
night, and take care you sleep like a top."

Celia held him tight for a minute, and answered bravely:

"You're a dear boy, and a great comfort."

Lansing tiptoed away to his own room, farther down the hall, feeling a
strong sense of relief that the determination of the young substitute
heads of the house to begin the new regime without a preliminary hour of
wailing had been successfully carried through.

"We've got the worst over," he thought, as he fell asleep. "Once fairly
started, it won't be so bad. Celia's clear grit, that's sure."

Alone in her room, Celia had it out with herself, and spent a wakeful
night. But she brought a cheerful face to Lansing's early breakfast, and
when the younger members of the family came down later she was ready for
them with the sunshine they had dreaded not to find.

Everybody spent a busy day. Jeff and Justin went off to school.
Charlotte announced with meekness that she was ready for whatever work
Celia might find for her, and was given various rooms up-stairs to sweep
and dust, her sister being confident that vigorous manual labour would
be the best tonic for a mind dispirited.

As for Celia herself, she dismissed Delia, the maid of all work, with a
kindly farewell and the letters of recommendation her mother had
prepared, and plunged eagerly into business. She was a born manager, and
loved many of the details of housework, particularly the baking and
brewing, and she was soon enthusiastically employed in putting the small
kitchen to rights.

At noon Charlotte and the boys were served with a light luncheon, with
the promise of greater joys to come, and by five in the afternoon the
house was filled with the delightful odours of successful cookery.

At that hour Charlotte, whose labours had been enlarged by herself to
cover a thorough overhauling of the entire house--such tasks being her
special aversion, and therefore to be discharged without mitigation on
this first day of self-sacrifice--wandered disconsolately into the
kitchen with broom and dust-pan, looking sadly weary. She gazed with
envious eyes at her sister, flying about in a big apron, with sleeves
rolled up, her cheeks like carnations, her eyes bright with triumph.

"Well, you do start in with vim," the