“Did you really think of going, Fanny?” asked Veronica.  “You will stay, and do better than ever, for if you attempt to go, I shall bring you back.”

This was the invitation she wanted, and was satisfied with.

“I must give up flowers,” said Veronica, “of course.”

“I wonder if we shall keep pigs this fall?” said Fanny.  “Must we sit in the free seats in the meeting-house?  It will be fine for the boys to drop paper balls on our heads from the gallery.  I’d like to see them do it, though,” she concluded, as if she felt that such an insult would infringe upon her rights.

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

It was true.  Locke Morgeson had been insolvent for five years.  All this time he had thrown ballast out from every side in the shape of various ventures, which he trusted would lighten the ship, that, nevertheless, drove steadily on to ruin.  Then he steered blindly, straining his credit to the utmost; and then—­the crash.  His losses were so extended and gradual that the public were not aware of his condition till he announced it.  There was a general exasperation against him.  The Morgeson family rose up with one accord to represent the public mind, which drove Veronica wild.

“Have you acted wrongly, father?” she asked.

“I have confessed, Verry, will that suit you!”

Our house was thronged for several days.  “Pay us,” cried the female portion of his creditors.  In vain father represented that he was still young—­that his business days were not over—­that they must wait, for paid they should be.  “Pay us now, for we are women,” they still cried.  Fanny opened the doors for these persons as wide as possible when they came, and shut them with a bang when they went, astonishing them with a satirical politeness, or confounding them with an impertinent silence.  The important creditors held meetings to agree what should be done, and effected an arrangement by which his property was left in his hands for three years, to arrange for the benefit of his creditors.  The arrangement proved that his integrity was not suspected; but it was an ingenious punishment, that he should keep in sight, improve, or change, for others, what had been his own.  I was glad when he decided to sell his real estate and personal property, and trust to the ships alone, but would build no more.  I begged him to keep our house till Ben should return.  He consented to wait; but I did not tell Verry what I had done.  All the houses he owned, lots, carriages, horses, domestic stock, the fields lying round our house—­were sold.  When he began to sell, the fury of retrenchment seized him, and he laid out a life of self-denial for us three.  Arthur’s ten thousand dollars were safe, who was therefore provided for.  He would bring wood and water for us; the rest we must do, with Fanny’s help.  We could dine in the kitchen, and put our beds in one room; by shutting up the house in part, we should have less labor to perform.  We attempted to carry out his ideas, but Veronica was so dreadfully in Fanny’s way and mine, that we were obliged to entreat her to resume her old role.  As for Fanny, she was happy—­working like a beaver day and night.  Father was much at home, and took an extraordinary interest in the small details that Fanny carried out.