"Here is the money in full," said Effie. "Will you give me a receipt?" "Oh, with pleasure, miss. Won't you sit down? I hope, Miss Staunton, nothing will induce your good mother to move from here. I will do everything in my power to make her comfortable." "You must understand," said Effie, "that in future she only pays fifteen shillings a week without extras. My sisters Agnes and Katie are quite old enough to do all the waiting which my mother requires. In fact they must do so, for we can't afford to pay a penny more." "Am I to understand, miss, that there's no late dinner?" "Certainly not." "Very well; I am sure I'll do all in my power to oblige." Effie left her, putting her receipt carefully in her pocket as she did so. She went upstairs and entered the little sitting-room where her mother was now pacing quickly and restlessly up and down. There was a deep flush on her cheeks, and a look of despair in her eyes. "Oh, Effie, you've come!" she exclaimed, the moment she saw her daughter. "George has been in. There's something wrong, I know--I know there is. He came in just for a minute and he kissed me, and said he wasn't coming home to-night, and he--he looked _wild_. He stuffed a few things into a bag, and said I wasn't to expect him back to-night. I didn't dare ask him about the money. What--what can be the matter, Effie?" CHAPTER XXI. Effie did all in her power to soothe her mother. It was past the hour for her return to St. Joseph's, but under the present circumstances she could not give this matter a thought. Mrs. Staunton was strung up to a terrible condition of nervousness. She walked faster and faster about the room; she scarcely spoke aloud, but muttered words under her breath which no one could hear. At every footfall on the stairs she started. Sometimes she went to the door and flung it open--sometimes she went to the window and pressed her face against the glass. Darkness set in, and the lamps were lit in the street. Katie went to the window to pull down the blinds. "No, don't touch them," said Mrs. Staunton fretfully--she still kept staring out into the street. Presently she called Effie to her. "Doesn't that man turning the corner look something like George?" she exclaimed. Effie looked eagerly. "No, that's not George," she said. "Agnes, you have better sight," called Mrs. Staunton to her next daughter; "come and watch with me--we are sure to see him soon. It can't be that he has gone away for the night--for the whole night. Isn't that him? Look at that man,--that one crossing the road--that one in the waterproof. Oh, how hard it is raining! If George is out much longer, he'll be drenched to the skin. Aggie, look; and you, Katie, can't you watch? Now, _that_ man, isn't that George?" "No, no, mother!" answered the poor children, in affright.