Margaret Maliphant

								

hundred little details that make all the difference in matters of that
kind, and pluck and coolness stood me in poor stead of experience.
But at that time I was confident, and as I stood there looking at
the brightness that I did not see, tears came into my eyes--tears
of mortification, that even the squire should have considered me so
perfectly useless that I could be set aside as though I did not exist.
How often I had wished to be a boy! How heartily I wished it that
afternoon! If I had been a boy there would never even have been a
question of getting a paid manager to help father. I should have been a
man by this time, nearly of age, and no one would have doubted that I
was clever enough and strong enough to see after my own.
Father called from the window, and I went in. He was sitting by the
table, surrounded by papers, his foot supported on a chair.
"Sit down, Meg," said he. "I want you to help me remember one or two
things in the books that I don't quite understand--I think you can."
He spoke quite cheerfully. I had been setting down things in the book
while he had been ill, and paying the wages to the men, and it was
quite natural he should want to see me about it. I sat down, and we
went over the books item by item. We had had a very sound education,
though simple, quite as good as most girls have, and I had been
considered more than usually smart at figures. But that day I think I
was dazed. I could not remember things; I could not tell why the books
were not square; my wits were muddled on every point. Father was most
patient, most kind. I think he must have seen that I was over-anxious,
but his kindness only made me more disgusted with myself; for I knew
that that dreadful question was in his mind the whole time, as it was
in mine.
Whenever I told him anything that was not satisfactory in the conduct
of affairs, or anything that had failed to turn out as he expected, I
knew that it was in his mind, although he did not think I saw it.
"We can't expect old heads to grow on young shoulders," said he at
last, patting mine gently, a thing most rare for him to do. "It takes
many a long day to learn experience, my dear. And sometimes we don't do
so much better with it than we did without it." He put the books away
as he spoke, and leaned back in his chair. "That'll do now, child," he
added; "to-morrow I shall be able to see the men myself. I am well and
hearty again now--thank the Lord--and a good bit of work will do me
good."
"You mustn't begin too soon, father," said I, timidly; "you know the
weather is very cold and treacherous yet."
"Oh, you women would keep a man in-doors forever for fear the wind
should blow in his face," cried he, testily. "But there's an end to
everything. When I'm ill you shall all do what you like with me, but
when I'm well I mean to be my own master."
"But I shall still be able to help you, father, as I have done
before, sha'n't I?" added I, still, singularly, without my accustomed