Sister Kate made no objection, and Effie hurried home in a state of excitement which she could scarcely restrain. Mrs. Staunton did not expect her, and the poor girl felt her heart sink low in her breast when she saw that her unexpected arrival scarcely gave satisfaction. There was a nice white cloth on the table, and a large bunch of flowers in a pretty cut-glass jug stood in the center. An attempt at dessert again graced the board, and Effie noticed that a bottle of sherry and a bottle of port stood on the little sideboard.

She felt a sense of dismay.

"Even mother is beginning to keep things from me," she said to herself. "It is all George, of course! They did not expect me home to-day, so they are having a particularly good dinner. Is it possible that even mother would try to deceive me? Oh, dear, dear! how changed all our life is, now that father is no longer here!"

There had never been the faintest shadow of concealment about the honest doctor, and while with her husband Mrs. Staunton was the most straightforward woman imaginable; but, alas! her character was a weak one—she was now completely under George's influence, and George had learned to walk in those crooked paths which those who begin to do wrong are always tempted to follow.

He came in presently, looking particularly handsome and manly. He had on a nice new coat; and his beautifully got-up collar showed off his fresh young face to the best possible advantage.124

Mrs. Staunton called him up at once for Effie to criticise.

"Doesn't he look well in a white silk tie?" she said. "I like white ties better than colored ones for him, and they are not so expensive either, for I can wash them myself."

"I wonder all that washing does not fag you, mother," said Effie.

Before Mrs. Staunton could reply, Mrs. Robinson appeared with the dinner, and the family sat down to an excellent meal.

Effie saw quite plainly that it would be useless for her to attempt to expostulate. Mrs. Staunton, after her first start of unconcealed dismay, was very affectionate to her daughter. She told Effie that she thought she looked a little pale, and wondered whether all that nursing was not too much for her.

"No, mother, I love the work," said Effie.

"But that is not the question, my love," said Mrs. Staunton, shaking her head. "The question is this: is it undermining your health?"

"Well, in any case I should have to earn my living," said Effie. "I could not possibly afford to do nothing at home. As well earn it as a nurse as in any other way, and I love nursing beyond anything else in the world."

"You always were an obstinate dear little girl, was she not, George? But, after all, Effie——" Here Mrs. Staunton paused and looked at her son. "I think I might tell Effie?" she said, giving him a bright nod.

"Oh, I don't suppose there is anything to make a fuss over," replied George. He colored as he spoke, and looked out of the window. He could easily hoodwink his mother, but it was difficult to meet Effie's clear eyes and not to feel sure that she was125 reading him through, and seeing him as he really was.

Agnes jumped up, saying it was full time to go to Sunday school; she carried off the children with her, and George, his mother, and Effie were alone.

"Sit down in your usual chair, George," said his mother. He did so, bringing up the port wine as he spoke, and pouring out a glass, which he insisted on his mother drinking. He tossed off one or two glasses himself, after which his eyes grew bright and steady, and a color came into his cheeks.

"Yes, tell Effie," he said.

"I think you might do so, George; I am so proud of you."

"No, mother. I like to hear you describing me; you make me feel such an awfully fine fellow."

George laughed as he spoke.

"Well, then, Effie," said his mother, "you will in future learn to appreciate our dear George as he deserves. The fact is this: he has just got a rise in his salary of a whole hundred a year. George is now earning two hundred a year; and he has arranged, dear fellow, to give me one hundred a year, in order that I may have those little comforts which he thinks I require."

"Is that really true?" said Effie, coloring. "Oh, what splendid news!" She looked eagerly at George as she spoke. She longed to jump up, throw her arms round his neck, and kiss him.

"Is this true?" she repeated. "Oh, I am so glad! We do want the money so badly."

George stooped to flick off a speck of dust which had settled on his immaculate shirt-cuff; his eyes would not meet Effie's.

"Of course it is true," he said in a bravado sort of voice. "You don't suppose I would tell mother a lie, do you?"126

"Oh, Effie! how could you doubt him?" said Mrs. Staunton, almost crying.

"No, mother, I don't doubt him," Effie replied. She walked to the window. Her momentary pleasure was over; she knew, just as well as if George had told her, that the whole thing was a fabrication. If he had more money, he was not getting it in his situation. His look, his attitude, joined to the few words Lawson had said to her, made Effie quite certain on that point. Burning words half rose to her lips, but she checked them. She did not doubt George. She read the truth in his eyes; what fell from his lips was nothing.

Mrs. Staunton kept on talking. "We shall have real comforts at home now," she said. "I am, as my boy says, a wonderful manager."

"The best in all the world," interrupted George; "there never was such a mother."

Mrs. Staunton's eyes quite shone with pleasure.

"What I was thinking was this, Effie," she continued, "that if you really are not strong enough to go on with your work, we can now afford to keep you at home."

"Of course we can," said George.

He had scarcely said these words, half turning his back on Effie as he spoke, when the room door was opened by Mrs. Robinson, and Lawson was announced.

When he saw his friend, George suddenly turned pale. He recovered himself in a moment, however, and went forward to meet him, speaking in a loud and bragging voice.

"Is that you, Lawson? Welcome, old chap. We did not expect you to-day, but we are right glad to see you, of course."

"You will stay and have tea with us, won't you,127 Mr. Lawson?" said Mrs. Staunton in her sweet voice.

"Yes, certainly," said Lawson.

He had given Effie his hand when he came into the room, but he scarcely looked at her.

He sat down near Mrs. Staunton, and began to talk to her in his usual bright way. She yielded after a moment to his charm. Lawson was a young fellow with a great amount of general information; he had also abundance of tact, and he knew how to suit his words to Mrs. Staunton's requirements.

When George saw his friend talking to his mother, he went up to Effie and stood near her.

"Come to this end of the room," he said abruptly.

Effie followed him.

"I am likely to make quite a pile of money," he said, speaking in a low voice and glancing toward his mother. "I know you think badly of me,—it's awfully hard on a fellow when his sister thinks badly of him,—but, nevertheless, I am likely to be in a real good way of business soon. And what I want to say now is this, Effie. I am anxious to pay back that ￡250 which you borrowed for me."

"I wish you would," said Effie.

"Well, I dare say I can give you fifty pounds toward it this week. Squire Harvey won't require the whole of the money back at once."

"Oh, he doesn't require it at all," said Effie. "It is I who require it. It is my honor and the honor of my dead father that demands it. It ought to be paid back, and you ought to do it."

"Don't speak so loudly—you do get so excited about things," said George.

Effie lowered her voice. Lawson, as he talked to Mrs. Staunton, glanced sharply at her.

Tea was brought in, and Effie had to take her place128 at the tea-tray. George's words had made her feel more uncomfortable than ever. It was absolute nonsense to suppose that he could be earning money at this rate.

After tea, Effie had to go back to the hospital.

"Good-by mother," she said. "I won't see you now for a fortnight."

Mrs. Staunton got up and put her feeble old arms round her daughter's neck. "Good-by, my darling," she said. "Take care of yourself; don't overwork yourself. Remember it is unnecessary. You have got a home, and a dear, noble, faithful brother to provide for you."

"Yes, Effie, you are heartily welcome to all that I can give you," said George in a lofty tone.

Effie pressed her lips to her mother's, kept her arms for one moment round her neck, and then turned away with tears in her eyes.

"Good-by, George," she said, holding out her hand.

"I'll see you back to the hospital," said George.

"Don't do that. It is a beautiful evening; mother would like you to take a walk with her."

"And I'd have the greatest pleasure in seeing Miss Effie home, if she would let me," said Lawson.

George hesitated for a moment. For some reason, which was more than evident, he did not want Effie to be alone with his friend.

He looked at his mother. She did not catch his eye, or she would have read his wish by instinct. The evening was really very fine, and she liked to walk round the square leaning on George's arm. When well enough, too, she liked him to take her to church.

"I think I'd enjoy a little walk with you, George," she said. "The evening is quite like spring—Wonderful weather for so near Christmas; the air is as129 mild and soft as milk; and as Mr. Lawson has so kindly promised to see Effie back, perhaps you'd come?"

"All right," said George. "By-by, Effie; you'll hear from me, perhaps, in the course of the week."

Effie went downstairs, followed by Lawson. As soon as ever they got out, he looked her full in the face.

"You must be greatly amazed," he said, "at my presuming to bother you about your family affairs."

"Oh, no!" she replied. "I think you are kind, but your words have made me very anxious."

"Then," said Lawson, "you see for yourself that things are not all right."

"I have known that for some time."
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