Florence sprang up, and confronted her sister. “What?” she cried, with startling emphasis. “He has come to board with us,” Lucy repeated. “He had lost the good home Charlie had found for him, and as I saw this Clementina Gillespie was a person who could be trusted to keep the housework regularly done, I suggested that he should come to us. He makes life much happier for Hugh than I can do myself just now.” “Well, to be sure!” said Florence. “And so you’ve turned lodging-house keeper. You don’t mean to say you needed to do it, Lucy?” she asked with a bitter tone. “In that case you might first have spoken to Jem and me——” “I cannot say I needed to do it. So far as money is concerned, everything is going on as I arranged and hoped,” returned Lucy. “Rather I felt that the house is the better for another friendly inmate, full of good nature and spirits. I do not repent of it. Miss Latimer is old, the servant is elderly, and I am often too tired to talk to Hugh or play with him. If it will comfort your gentility to know there is not much money profit in the new arrangement, I can give you that assurance, Florence. Young Black pays me exactly what he gave Mrs. Mott in her little suburban house. It is a trifle over his actual expenses (as I can see by watching the weekly bills). But it cannot be said to take its share in the upkeep of a house in Pelham Street. It is a friendly agreement. Of course Tom could not afford more.” “Then you give up your privacy—your social status—for absolutely nothing!” cried Florence. “I never did see anybody like you, Lucy. If you don’t want to make a profit out of your lodger, why did you take one? You could have got scores of young ladies glad to live in such a house as yours, without any salary—or even, I do believe, paying a trifle, and you could have called her Hugh’s ‘governess’ or your own ‘companion.’ You might have taken Hugh away from the Kindergarten, and let her teach him at home. Any young lady could teach Hugh all he needs to learn yet.” Lucy shook her head. “Every young lady has not been taught how to teach,” she answered. “If she had, it would not be fair to take her training for nothing.” “Oh, fair enough, if she were ready to give it,” said Florence. “There are plenty of girls, with a little means of their own—who can’t get on with their own people, and don’t care to submit to the restraints of really salaried employment—who would have just suited you. And, as I say, I have no doubt there are many such who would even pay you as much as this boy does. For Pelham Street is a good address (nobody knows yours is the only small house there), and your appointment as art-teacher at the Institute would satisfy their friends of your eligibility as a chaperon.”