“Being economical doesn’t bring in cash to pay bills,” interrupted Jeff.  “Do the best he can, Lanse won’t draw any hair-raising salary the first year.  He could probably get clerical work at one of the banks, but what’s that?  He’d fall off so in his wind I could throw him across the room in three months.”

They all laughed.  Jeff’s devotion to athletics dominated his ideals at all times, and his disgust at the thought of such a depletion of his brother’s physical forces was amusing.

Celia was still looking at her father.  He spoke in the hearty tone to which they were accustomed, his face full of satisfaction.

“You please me very much, all of you,” he said.  “It will be the best tonic I can offer your mother.  Her greatest trial is this very necessity, which she foresaw the instant the plan was formed—­so much sacrifice on the part of her children.  Yet she agreed with me that the experience might not be wholly bad for you, and she said”—­he paused, smiling at his elder daughter—­“that with Celia at the helm she was sure the family ship wouldn’t be wrecked”

Then he told them that they might plan the division of labour and responsibility as they thought practicable.  He agreed with Celia that the younger boys must remain in school, but added—­since at this point it became necessary to mollify his son Jefferson—­that a fellow with a will might find any number of remunerative odd jobs out of school and study hours.  He commended Lansing’s idea, but advised him to look around before deciding; and he passed an affectionate hand over Charlotte’s black curls as he observed that young person sunk in gloom.

“Cheer up, little girl!” he said.  “The second violin is immensely important to the music of the family orchestra.  The hand that can design wall-papers can learn to relieve the mistress of the house of some of her cares.  Celia, without a maid in the kitchen, will find plenty of use for such a quick brain as lies under this thatch.”

But at this moment something happened—­something to which the family were not unused.  Charlotte suddenly wriggled out from under the caressing hand, and in half a dozen quick movements was out of the room.  They had all had a vision of brilliant wet eyes, flushing cheeks, and red, rebellious mouth.

“Poor child!” murmured Celia.  “She thinks we find her of no use.”

“She is rather a scatterbrain,” Lanse observed.  “The year may do her good, as you say, father—­as well as the rest of us,” he added, with modesty.

“There’s a lot of things she can do, just the same,”—­Jeff fired up, instantly—­“things the rest of us are perfect noodles at.  When she gets to earning more money in a day than the rest of us can in a month maybe we’ll let up on that second-fiddle business.”

“Good for you, you faithful Achates!” said Lanse.  Then he turned to his father.  “You haven’t told us yet when you go, sir.”

“If we can, two weeks from to-day,” said Mr. Birch.  Then he went up-stairs to tell his wife that she might go peacefully to sleep, for her children were ready to become her devoted slaves.  Justin followed Jeff out of the room, and Jeff broke away from this younger brother and hastened to rap a familiar, comforting signal of comradeship on Charlotte’s locked door.