This has nothing to do with present matters, however, except that Desire found nothing real in her novel, and so had flung it aside, and was sitting rather listlessly with her crochet which she never cared much for, when Uncle Oldways entered.
Her face brightened instantly as he came in. He sat down just where he had sat the other night. Mr. Oldways had a fashion of finding the same seat a second time when he had come in once; he was a man who took up most things where he left them off, and this was an unconscious sign of it.
"Your mother has decided to sell the house on the 23d, it seems," he said.
"Yes; I have been out twice. I shall be able to go away by then; I suppose that is all she has waited for."
"Do you think you could be contented to come and live with me?"
"Yes. And let your mother and Helena go to Europe."
"O, Uncle Oldways! I think I could _rest_ there! But I don't want only to rest, you know. I must do something. For myself, to begin with. I have made up my mind not to depend upon my mother. Why should I, any more than a boy? And I am sure I cannot depend on anybody else."
These were Desire Ledwith's thanks; and Mr. Oldways liked them. She did not say it to please him; she thought it seemed almost ungrateful and unwilling; but she was so intent on taking up life for herself.
"You must have a place to do in,--or from," said Mr. Oldways. "And it is better you should be under some protection. You must consent to that for your mother's sake. How much money have you got?"
"Two hundred and fifty dollars a year. Of my own."
This was coming to business and calculation and common sense. Desire was encouraged. Uncle Oldways did not think her quite absurd.
"That will clothe you,--without much fuss and feathers?"
"I have done with fuss and feathers,"--Desire said with a grave smile, glancing at her plain white wrapper and the black shawl that was folded around her.
"Then come where is room for you and a welcome, and do as much more as you please, and can, for yourself, or for anybody else. I won't give you a cent; you shall have something to do for me, if you choose. I am an old man now, and want help. Perhaps what I want as much as anything is what I've been all my life till lately, pretty obstinate in doing without."