He met her inquiry with primary, practical suggestions, just what she needed, wasting no words.  He saw it was the best service he could do this little girl who had suddenly become the real head of the household.

“I have thought, and thought,” said Sylvie; “and after all, mother must decide.  Perhaps she wouldn’t want to keep house.  I don’t know whether we could.  She spoke once about boarding.  But boarding costs a great deal, doesn’t it?”

“To live as you would need to,—­yes.”

“I should hate to have to manage small, and change round, in boarding.  I know some people who live so.  It would give me a very mean feeling.  It would be like trying to get a bite of everybody’s bread and butter.  I’d rather have my own little loaf.”

“You are a brave, true little woman,” said Mr. Sherrett, warmly.  “All you want is to be set in the right direction, and see your way.  You’ll be sure to go on.”

“I think I should.  If mother can only be contented.  I think I should rather like it.  I could understand living better.  There would only be a little at a time.  A great deal, and a great many things, make it a puzzle.”

“Have you any knowledge about the property?”

“Mr. Cardwell has been here two or three times.  He says there are twelve thousand dollars secured to mother by a note and mortgage on this place.  It was money of hers that was put into it.  We shall have the income of that; and there might be things, perhaps, that we should have the right to sell, or keep to furnish with.  Seven and a half per cent, on twelve thousand dollars would be nine hundred dollars a year.  If we had to pay sixteen dollars a week to board, it would take eight hundred and thirty-two; almost the whole of it.  But perhaps we could find a place for less; and our clothes would last a good while, I suppose.”

Sylvie went through her little calculation, just as she had made it over and over before, all by herself; she did not stop to think that she was doing the small sum now for the enlightenment of the great Mr. Sherrett, who calculated in millions for himself and others, every day.

“You would hardly be comfortable in a house which you could rent for less than—­say, four hundred dollars, and that would leave very little for your living.  Perhaps I should advise you to board.”

“But we could do things, maybe, if we lived by ourselves, amongst other people in small houses.  We can’t be two things, Mr. Sherrett, rich and poor; and it seems to me that is what we should be trying for, if we got into a boarding-house.  We should have to be idle and ashamed.  I want to take right hold.  I’d like to earn something and make it do.”

Sylvie’s eyes really shone.  The spirit that had worked in her as a little child, to make her think it would be nice to be a “kitchen girl, and have a few things in boxes, and Sundays out,” threw a charm of independence and enterprise and cosy thrift over her changed position, and the chance it gave her.  Mr. Sherrett wondered at the child, and admired her very much.