Everyone in the Randall family became interested in the fortunes of the Mulvaneys. Even the hired man offered his services in getting the house ready for the new tenants.
"Like enough a little fresh paint'd be a good thing," he remarked.
"Fresh paint," repeated Tom, "yes, sir, that's just the thing to furnish a house with. If I couldn't have but one piece of furniture, I'd take fresh paint. I wouldn't say give me a bed, or a table, or a chair, or a small article like a kitchen stove; no, sir, I'd say, fresh paint for me, if you please, fresh paint or nothing."
"Tom, you are the most consoling mortal," interrupted Cornelia Mary. "We completely forgot about the furniture."
"Jake didn't, though; he knew that aslong as the Mulvaneys had fresh paint they'd be all right. Now, who'll give the paint? Corny, you ought to do it, because think of the salary you'll earn teaching that school."
"Hold on, young man," said Mr. Randall, "Jake's idea is good, and I'll donate all the paint he'll put on."
"Father has a lot left from painting the barn," Cornelia Mary whispered to Mrs. Brown.
"They may have our old kitchen stove, too," added Mrs. Randall. "It's a nice little stove, but we've had no use for it since we bought the range, and it's in the woodshed covered with rust. I should be glad to get it out of the way."
Without warning Tom stood on his head and waved his feet in the air.
"Tom Randall, what possesses you?" asked his mother, giving the pillows on the sitting-room couch a vigorous shake.
"I wish to speak in meeting," explained Tom. "It's no circus performance. Cheer up, Corny, I'll teach the Mulvaneys how to raise their feet instead of their hands when they have to ask questions in school."
"I'll give you a new lesson in shingling if you try it," observed his father, laughing with the rest of the family at the change of expression on Tom's face.
"I was about to make a suggestion," Tom continued. "Now don't giggle, Corny and Sally, I'm serious. I say let's go furniture-hunting all through the country."
"Oh, Tom, you dear!" exclaimed Cornelia Mary. "The very thing! I suppose every one of our neighbours has old furniture in their woodsheds and attics they would be glad to get rid of."
Sally clapped her hands and tried to speak. She had barely time to open her mouth before Cornelia Mary had finished a request.
"Oh, Tom, will you go with us? We'll hitch Bess to the lumber wagon and you drive. Will you?"
Tom considered a moment, as became his dignity, before replying. "I'll go on one condition. If mother and father and Mrs. Brown will let us all stay home from school, we'll begin to-morrow morning."
"Oh, let them," begged Cornelia Mary, "do say yes."
Permission was given, to the great surprise of Master Tom.
"But he's such a tease," objected Sally.
"You're only half-acquainted with Tom," declared his sister. "He has streaks of real goodness, and when he says he'll help, he always does it."
Bess must have thought picnics had begun early when Tom, Cornelia Mary, and Sally scrambled into the lumber wagon the following morning. They laughed so much, and acted so generally foolish, the old horse turned her head several times, as if she couldn't understand the occasion for such hilarity.
"We must ask for left over rolls of wall paper," suggested Cornelia Mary. "Jake and father promised to open the house to-day. They are going to put up the stove and build a fire. Mother says that old crazy man was neat as wax, and that the relatives left the house in perfect order after the funeral."
"How many rooms in the shebang?" questioned Tom.
"Let me think; there's a sitting-room, abedroom, a dining-room, and a kitchen downstairs. I think Mr. Hodgkins said there were three rooms upstairs, didn't he, Sally?"
"Yes, three rooms, and kind of an attic over the kitchen. Oh, what will the Mulvaneys think? They have only two little rooms and a place above for the children to sleep, where they live, and the children were never in a decent house in their lives. They are not used to furniture, let me tell you. They didn't own but one real bed."
The first donation was a what-not, given by Mrs. George Saunders.
"That thing'll be a comfort," commented Tom.
"It'll help fix up the sitting-room," commented Cornelia Mary.
"What's it for?" asked Sally.
"To stand in the corner," was the reply. "You're supposed to put pretty things on the shelves."
"Hope nobody'll give us another," faltered Sally.
Deacon Trowbridge happened to be thinking of buying new furniture. He was glad to help load his old lounge, two arm-chairs,and a marble-topped table upon the lumber wagon.
"Furniture's picking up," remarked Tom as he drove on.
Before the day was done the old horse was resting her feet in the barn, while the Randall family, including grandfather and the hired man were examining second-hand furniture in the woodshed.
"I wouldn't have believed it possible," said Mrs. Brown.
"Nor I," Mrs. Randall added. "Do you see the lace curtains! And if there isn't Mrs. Moses Pendleton's old sewing-machine! I didn't suppose she'd give a thing. How did it happen, Cornelia Mary?"
"You see, mamma, I knew that woman had two machines because I was there the day the new one was brought home, and I suppose she guessed what I was thinking about when Sally told the story."
"Oh, but I'm getting sick of telling that old story," laughed Sally. "I'll be glad when we get through collecting furniture."
The hired man kept his word. With a great deal of advice and more or less helpfrom the children, he painted, papered, and got the house in order inside and out. Many of the neighbours assisted with the work of settling, then went home to ransack their attics afresh to supply newly discovered needs.
In the village Mrs. Isaac Turner used her influence. Through her efforts a barrel of flour and a box of groceries found their way to the Mulvaney pantry. Tubs and a wash-boiler were purchased by the future school teacher. Inspired by her example Tom made a wash-bench. It was a good one, too, strong and heavy. Mrs. Brown bought the material and Sally hemmed towels. Mrs. Randall provided sheets while Mr. Randall gave a generous load of wood.
At last, when all was ready, Sally wrote to Mrs. Mulvaney.