"I will get into service somewhere."
"You cannot leave me. Where shall I go? I cannot leave my bed, and I don't think the frost will get out of my bones for a week or more."
"I cannot, I will not, remain here."
"Where can we go?"
Mehalah put both her hands to her brow. She could not answer this question. Were she alone, she could get a situation in a farmhouse, perhaps; but with a sick mother dependent on her, this was not possible. No farmer would take them both in for the sake of her services.
"Where else can we go?" again asked Mrs. Sharland; then in a repining voice, "If Master Rebow houses us for a while, it is very good of him, and we must be thankful, for we have no chance of shelter elsewhere. Where is the money to pay for rebuilding the farmhouse? Do you think my cousin, Charles Pettican—"
"No, no," exclaimed Mehalah, "not a word about him."
"He spoke up and promised most handsomely," said Mrs. Sharland.
"He can do nothing, mother; I will not ask him."
"A man that has a gilded balcony to his house wouldn't miss a few pounds for running up a wooden cottage."
"I will not go to him again."
"My dear child," said Mrs. Sharland, "I don't doubt he would take us in on a visit for a while, when we are forced to leave Red Hall."
"You think we shall not be obliged to remain here?"
"I don't see how we can. It is very good of Master Rebow to house us for a bit, but I doubt we can't stick as fixtures. I only wish we could. Anyhow stay here a bit we must. We have nowhere else to go to, except to my cousin Charles."
Mehalah knew what this alternative was worth. It was a relief to her to hear her mother speak of their stay in Red Hall as only temporary. She could not endure to contemplate the possibility of its being permanent. She formed a hope that she would be able to find work somewhere, and hire a small cottage; she was strong enough to do as much as a man.
During the day, everything that had been rescued
