"I brought Jeannette home with me." "Who?" "Jeannette--Gussie's sister. The one who's had trouble with the family." "Home! What for!" "She's--she's a nice little thing, and bright. There wasn't any place to send her. We've got so much room." "You must be crazy." "Are you going to turn her out into the storm, mom, like the girl in the melodrama?" Mrs. Payson was silent a moment. Then, "Does she know anything about housework? Belle's always saying her Gussie's such a treasure. I'm about sick of that Hulda. Wastes more every week than we eat. I don't see what they _do_ with it--these girls. If we used a pound of butter this last week we used five and I hardly touch----" "Jeannette doesn't want to do housework. She wants to go to business college." "Well, of course, if you're running a reform school." But she made no further protest now. Lottie, peeling off her mother's wet clothing as soon as they entered the house, pleaded with her to go to bed. She was startled when her mother agreed. Mrs. Payson had always said, "When I go to bed in the middle of the day you can know I'm sick." Now she crept stiffly between the covers of her big old-fashioned walnut bed with a groan that she tried to turn into a cough. An hour later they sent for the doctor. An acute arthritis attack. Lottie reproached herself grimly, unsparingly. "I'll get up around four o'clock," Mrs. Payson said. "You don't find me staying in bed. Belle does enough of that for the whole family." At four she said, "I'll get up in time for dinner.... Where's that girl? Where's that girl that was so important, h'm? I want to see her." She was in bed for a week. Lottie covered herself with reproaches. CHAPTER XI No one quite knew when or how Jeannette had become indispensable to the Payson household; but she had. Most of all had she become indispensable to Mrs. Carrie Payson. Between the two there existed a lion-and-mouse friendship. Jeannette's ebullient spirits had not undergone years of quenching from the acid stream of Mrs. Payson's criticism. Jeannette's perceptions and valuations were the straightforward simple peasant sort, unhampered by fine distinctions or involved reasoning. To her Mrs. Carrie Payson was not a domineering and rather terrible person whose word was law and whose will was adamant, but a fretful, funny, and rather bossy old woman who generally was wrong. Jeannette was immensely fond of her and did not take her seriously for a moment. About the house Jeannette was as handy as a man. And this was a manless household. She could conquer a stubborn window-shade; adjust a loose castor in one of the bulky old chairs or bedsteads; drive a nail; put up a shelf; set a mouse-trap. In the very beginning she and Mrs. Payson had come to grips. Mrs. Payson's usual attitude of fault-finding and intolerance had brought about the situation. Jeannette had rebelled at once.