Magnum Bonum; Or, Mother Carey's Brood. Yonge Charlotte Mary

her the best, in spite of her much worse behaviour, for were not her virtues her own, and her vices her mother’s?

      Caroline had paid the weekly books, and asked no questions, until the winding up of the executor’s business; and the quarterly settlement of accounts made startling revelations that the balance at her bankers was just eleven shillings and fourpence halfpenny, and what was nearly as bad, the discovery was made in the presence of her fellow executor, who could not help giving a low whistle. She turned pale, and gasped for breath, in absolute amazement, for she was quite sure they were living at much less expense than in London, and there had been no outgoings worth mentioning for dress or journeys. What were they to do? Surely they could not live upon less! Was it her fault?

      She was so much distressed, that the good-natured Colonel pitied her, and answered kindly—

      “My good little sister, you were inexperienced. You will do better another year.”

      “But there’s nothing to go on upon!”

      He reminded her of the rent for the London house, and the dividends that must soon come in.

      “Then it will be as bad as ever! How can we live more cheaply than we do?”

      “Ellen is an excellent manager, and you had better consult her on the scale of your expenditure.”

      Caroline’s spirit writhed, but before she had time to say anything, or talk to Janet, the Colonel had heard his excellent housewife’s voice, and called her into the council. She was as good as possible, too serenely kind to manifest surprise or elation at the fulfilment of her forebodings. To be convicted of want of economy would have been so dreadful and disgraceful, that she deeply felt for poor Caroline, and dealt with her tenderly and delicately, even when the weekly household books were opened, and disclosed how much had been spent every week in items, the head and front of which were oft repeated in old nurse’s self-taught writing—

                “Man......  Glas of beare. 1d.

                 Creme........... 3d.”

      For had not the Colonel’s wife warned against the endless hospitality of glasses of beer to all messengers; and had not unlimited cream with strawberries and apple-tarts been treated as a kind of spontaneous luxury produced at the Belforest farm agent’s? To these, and many other small matters, Caroline was quite relieved to plead guilty, and to promise to do her best by personal supervision; and Ellen set herself to devise further ways of reduction, not realising how hopeless it is to prescribe for another person’s household difficulties. It is not in the nature of things that such advice should be palatable, and the proverb about the pinching of the shoe is sure to be realised.

      “Too many servants,” said prudence. “If old nurse must be provided for—and she ought to have saved enough to do without—it would be much better to pension her off, or get her into an almshouse.”

      Caroline tried to endure, as she made known that she viewed nurse as a sacred charge, about whom there must be no question.

      Ellen quietly said—

      “Then it is no use to argue, but she must be allowed no more discretion in the housekeeping.”

      “No, I shall do that myself,” said Caroline.

      “An extravagant cook.”

      “That may be my fault. I will try to judge of that.”

      “Irregular hours.”

      “They shall end with the holidays.”

      There was still another maid, whom Ellen said was only kept to wait on nurse, but who, Caroline said, did all their needlework, both making and mending.

      “That,” said Ellen, “I should have thought you and Janet could do. I do nearly all our work with the girls’ help; I am happy to say that Jessie is an excellent needlewoman, and Essie and Ellie can do something. I only direct the nursery maid; I never trust anything to servants.”

      “I could never bear not to trust people,” said Caroline.

      Ellen sighed, believing that she would soon be cured of that; and Carey added—

      “On true principles of economy, surely it is better that Emma, who knows how, should mend the clothes, than that I should botch them up in any way, when I can earn more than she costs me!”

      “Earn!”

      “Yes; I can model, and I can teach. Was I not brought up to it?”

      “Yes, but now it is impossible! It is not a larger income that you want, but proper attention to details in the spending of it, as I will show you.”

      Whereupon Mrs. Brownlow, in her neat figures, built up a pretty little economical scheme, based on a thorough knowledge of the subject. Caroline tried to follow her calculations, but a dreaminess came over her; she found herself saying “Yes,” without knowing what she was assenting to; and while Ellen was discoursing on coals and coke, she was trying to decide which of her casts she could bear to offer for sale, and going off into the dear old associations connected with each, so that she was obliged at the end, instead of giving an unqualified assent, to say she would think it over; and Ellen, who had marked her wandering eye, left off with a conviction that she had wasted her breath.

      Certainly she was not prepared for the proposal with which Mother Carey almost rushed into the room the next day, just as she was locking up her wine, and the Colonel lingering over his first glance at the day’s Times.

      “I know what to do! Miss James is not coming back? And you have not heard of any one? Then, if you would only let me teach your girls with mine! You know that is what I really can do. Yes, indeed, I would be regular. I always was. You know I was, Robert, till I came here, and didn’t quite know what I was about; and I have been regular ever since the end of the holidays, and I really can teach.”

      “My dear sister,” edged in the Colonel, as she paused for breath, “no one questions your ability, only the fitness of—”

      “I had thought over two things,” broke in Caroline again. “If you don’t like me to have Jessie, and Essie, and Ellie, I would offer to prepare little boys. I’ve been more used to them than to girls, and I know Mr. Ogilvie would be glad. I could have the little Wrights, and Walter Leslie, and three or four more directly, but I thought you might like the other way better.”

      “I can see no occasion for either,” said Ellen. “You need no increase in income, only to attend to details.”

      “And I had rather do what I can—than what I can’t,” said Caroline.

      “Every lady should understand how to superintend her own household,” said her Serene Highness.

      “Granted; oh, granted, Ellen! I’m going to superintend with all my might and main, but I don’t want to be my own upper servant, and I know I should make no hand of it, and I had much rather earn something by my wits. I can do it best in the way I was trained; and you know it is what I have been used to ever since my own children were born.”

      Ellen heaved a sigh at this obtuseness towards what she viewed as the dignified and ladylike mission of the well-born woman, not to be the bread-winner, but the preserver and steward, of the household. Here was poor little Caroline so ignorant as actually to glory in having been educated for a governess!

      The Colonel, wanting to finish his Times in peace, looked up and said, with the gracious tone he always used to his brother’s wife—

      “My good little sister, it is very praiseworthy in you to wish to exert yourself, and very kind and proper to desire to begin at home, but you must allow us a little time to consider.”

      She took this as a hint to retreat; and her Serene Highness likewise feeling it a dismissal, tried at once to obviate all ungraciousness by saying, “We are preserving our magnum bonums, Caroline dear; I will send you some.”

      “Magnum bonum!” gasped Caroline, hearing nothing but the name. “Do you know—?”

      “I know the recipe of course, and can give you an excellent one. I will come over by-and-by