one at that. She patted Eleanor's thin shoulders. "Never mind, cridhe . We'll get by, somehow."
"Will we?" Eleanor's hazel eyes seemed to know too much.
"I'll quit my studies," Ian said suddenly. "We won't need money for a tutor then, and I can get a job, a proper one."
Harriet shook her head. "Ian, no. You love your studies."
"There are more important things now, aren't there?" Ian's eyes blazed with determination. "I'm the man of the family now, at least while Father's abed. It's time I did things."
"But Ian,” Harriet said, trying not be reasonable without hurting him, “what sort of job could you get? You're only fifteen."
"There's plenty of lads my age working already," Ian replied. "I could work at the docks in Tobermory, or even Oban. Or do farm work on one of the bigger farms. They're probably doing well for themselves, the fat pigs!"
The bitterness in his voice was impossible to mistake. Harriet sat back with a sigh. How would Ian, with his slight build and fair skin, manage at a job that required the brawn and stamina of a full grown man? He was used to reading and studying all day, nothing more arduous than putting pen to paper.
Even worse, Harriet knew, the pennies Ian could bring to the household from a labourer's job would do little to cover the debt that threatened to drown them all. Desperate measures were required, and Harriet only wished she knew what they were. Still, she turned to Ian and smiled.
"Thank you, Ian," she said softly, for she knew he had pride. "You've become a man. I can see that now."
"Bring him in, bring him in, man!" Sandy's face was suffused with helpless anger and worry as Archie and Neville Dunmore stumbled in with an unconscious Allan between them.
Agnes Dunmore gazed at Allan for a moment before turning briskly to the fire. "We'll need hot water... and whiskey. Lay him on the bed, Neville. But don't take his boots off... not yet. It needs a woman's touch, that."
Betty clutched at Agnes' arm. "What can I do? Will he be all right?"
"Help me with the water," Agnes commanded. Her stern voice belied the gentleness in her eyes. "I know it's hard, but we all need clear heads now, Betty."
Allan lay on the bed, his face white and dusted with frost, his eyes still closed, his breathing slight. Neville stood up. "It was a foolish notion he had, to go out after dark," he said with a shake of his head. "With the snow still falling, you could get lost going to the privy! Didn't he realise?"
Agnes shot him a quelling look. "Pay him no mind. Of course he didn't realise, Neville. Now let's do the best for him we can. Pray God he doesn't lose any toes... or worse."
"Toes," Betty whispered, and leaned gratefully into Sandy's arms. "Oh, please, no..."
Sandy turned fiercely to Agnes. "What do you mean by worse?"
Neville put a hand on Sandy's shoulder. "Easy, man. There's no saying what it is. Wait and see."
Agnes gently eased off Allan's boots and cut away the frozen socks from his feet. Sandy stared at the frozen, grey flesh in horror.
"Fill the tub, Neville," Agnes commanded. "The water shouldn't be too hot. Let's bathe his feet gently, that's the way."
Neville and Sandy supported Allan, who stirred now with faint groans, as Agnes carefully bathed his frozen feet. It seemed an eternity, but to everyone's relief the flesh began to thaw and turn pink. With it Allan began to moan.
"It will pain him some now," Agnes said quietly. "When the feeling comes back..." Allan thrashed on the bed. "You can see it's not pleasant. Archie, bring him some whiskey."
"Why did he storm out of here like that?" Betty whispered, near tears. "So unlike Allan, to give into temper. And I don't even know why!"
"Don't you?" Agnes glanced at her, her expression shrewd. "It must have been something someone said."
Although he wouldn't lose any toes, Allan had to remain in bed for several days for the spell in the cold had thoroughly weakened him. It gave him time to think, and realise the extent of his
"Will we?" Eleanor's hazel eyes seemed to know too much.
"I'll quit my studies," Ian said suddenly. "We won't need money for a tutor then, and I can get a job, a proper one."
Harriet shook her head. "Ian, no. You love your studies."
"There are more important things now, aren't there?" Ian's eyes blazed with determination. "I'm the man of the family now, at least while Father's abed. It's time I did things."
"But Ian,” Harriet said, trying not be reasonable without hurting him, “what sort of job could you get? You're only fifteen."
"There's plenty of lads my age working already," Ian replied. "I could work at the docks in Tobermory, or even Oban. Or do farm work on one of the bigger farms. They're probably doing well for themselves, the fat pigs!"
The bitterness in his voice was impossible to mistake. Harriet sat back with a sigh. How would Ian, with his slight build and fair skin, manage at a job that required the brawn and stamina of a full grown man? He was used to reading and studying all day, nothing more arduous than putting pen to paper.
Even worse, Harriet knew, the pennies Ian could bring to the household from a labourer's job would do little to cover the debt that threatened to drown them all. Desperate measures were required, and Harriet only wished she knew what they were. Still, she turned to Ian and smiled.
"Thank you, Ian," she said softly, for she knew he had pride. "You've become a man. I can see that now."
"Bring him in, bring him in, man!" Sandy's face was suffused with helpless anger and worry as Archie and Neville Dunmore stumbled in with an unconscious Allan between them.
Agnes Dunmore gazed at Allan for a moment before turning briskly to the fire. "We'll need hot water... and whiskey. Lay him on the bed, Neville. But don't take his boots off... not yet. It needs a woman's touch, that."
Betty clutched at Agnes' arm. "What can I do? Will he be all right?"
"Help me with the water," Agnes commanded. Her stern voice belied the gentleness in her eyes. "I know it's hard, but we all need clear heads now, Betty."
Allan lay on the bed, his face white and dusted with frost, his eyes still closed, his breathing slight. Neville stood up. "It was a foolish notion he had, to go out after dark," he said with a shake of his head. "With the snow still falling, you could get lost going to the privy! Didn't he realise?"
Agnes shot him a quelling look. "Pay him no mind. Of course he didn't realise, Neville. Now let's do the best for him we can. Pray God he doesn't lose any toes... or worse."
"Toes," Betty whispered, and leaned gratefully into Sandy's arms. "Oh, please, no..."
Sandy turned fiercely to Agnes. "What do you mean by worse?"
Neville put a hand on Sandy's shoulder. "Easy, man. There's no saying what it is. Wait and see."
Agnes gently eased off Allan's boots and cut away the frozen socks from his feet. Sandy stared at the frozen, grey flesh in horror.
"Fill the tub, Neville," Agnes commanded. "The water shouldn't be too hot. Let's bathe his feet gently, that's the way."
Neville and Sandy supported Allan, who stirred now with faint groans, as Agnes carefully bathed his frozen feet. It seemed an eternity, but to everyone's relief the flesh began to thaw and turn pink. With it Allan began to moan.
"It will pain him some now," Agnes said quietly. "When the feeling comes back..." Allan thrashed on the bed. "You can see it's not pleasant. Archie, bring him some whiskey."
"Why did he storm out of here like that?" Betty whispered, near tears. "So unlike Allan, to give into temper. And I don't even know why!"
"Don't you?" Agnes glanced at her, her expression shrewd. "It must have been something someone said."
Although he wouldn't lose any toes, Allan had to remain in bed for several days for the spell in the cold had thoroughly weakened him. It gave him time to think, and realise the extent of his
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