The one unpleasant consequence which was not to be evaded or counteracted by any mere mental state, was the increasing drain on his slender purse for household expenses, to meet which the remittance he had received from the clerical charity threatened to be quite inadequate.  Slander may be defeated by equanimity; but courageous thoughts will not pay your baker’s hill, and fortitude is nowhere considered legal tender for beef.  Month after month the financial aspect of the Rev. Amos’s affairs became more and more serious to him, and month after month, too, wore away more and more of that armour of indignation and defiance with which he had at first defended himself from the harsh looks of faces that were once the friendliest.

But quite the heaviest pressure of the trouble fell on Milly—­on gentle, uncomplaining Milly—­whose delicate body was becoming daily less fit for all the many things that had to be done between rising up and lying down.  At first, she thought the Countess’s visit would not last long, and she was quite glad to incur extra exertion for the sake of making her friend comfortable.  I can hardly bear to think of all the rough work she did with those lovely hands—­all by the sly, without letting her husband know anything about it, and husbands are not clairvoyant:  how she salted bacon, ironed shirts and cravats, put patches on patches, and re-darned darns.  Then there was the task of mending and eking out baby-linen in prospect, and the problem perpetually suggesting itself how she and Nanny should manage when there was another baby, as there would be before very many months were past.

When time glided on, and the Countess’s visit did not end, Milly was not blind to any phase of their position.  She knew of the slander; she was aware of the keeping aloof of old friends; but these she felt almost entirely on her husband’s account.  A loving woman’s world lies within the four walls of her own home; and it is only through her husband that she is in any electric communication with the world beyond.  Mrs. Simpkins may have looked scornfully at her, but baby crows and holds out his little arms none the less blithely; Mrs. Tomkins may have left off calling on her, but her husband comes home none the less to receive her care and caresses; it has been wet and gloomy out of doors today, but she has looked well after the shirt buttons, has cut out baby’s pinafores, and half finished Willy’s blouse.

So it was with Milly.  She was only vexed that her husband should be vexed—­only wounded because he was misconceived.  But the difficulty about ways and means she felt in quite a different manner.  Her rectitude was alarmed lest they should have to make tradesmen wait for their money; her motherly love dreaded the diminution of comforts for the children; and the sense of her own failing health gave exaggerated force to these fears.

Milly could no longer shut her eyes to the fact, that the Countess was inconsiderate, if she did not allow herself to entertain severer thoughts; and she began to feel that it would soon be a duty to tell her frankly that they really could not afford to have her visit farther prolonged.  But a process was going forward in two other minds, which ultimately saved Milly from having to perform this painful task.