I got up, arranged my hair, washed my face and hands, dressed myself in the first evening dress I came across, and went downstairs. The beautiful little silver gong sounded, and we all trooped down to the dining-room. There were pleased smiles among the guests. The room was crowded. Every seat at the long table had its occupant. Several fresh paying guests had arrived, and there was the little man in livery helping Emma to wait. How pleased the old paying guests were to see him. The new paying guests took him as a matter of course. Mrs. Armstrong, in particular, nodded to Miss Armstrong, and bent across to Mr. Fanning and said-- "I am so pleased to see that poor Emma is getting a little help at last." And Mr. Fanning looked at me and gave me a broad, perceptible wink. I almost felt as if I must go under the table, but I kept up my courage as people do sometimes when they are at the stake, for truly it was like that to me. But mother was there, looking so sweet and fragile, and a little puzzled by the new waiter's appearance. "What is your name?" I heard her say to him as he brought her some vegetables, and he replied in a smug, comfortable voice, "Robert, ma'am." And then she asked him to do one or two things, just as she would have asked our dear little page in the old days which had receded, oh! so far, into the background of my life. That evening, in the drawing-room, Mrs. Fanning came up to me. "They are all talking about Robert," she said. She sat down, shading me by her own portly figure from the gaze of any more curious people. "You shan't sing to-night," she said; "you're not fit for it, and I for one won't allow it. I told Albert I'd look after you. We'll have to make excuses to-morrow when _he's_ not here." "When who is not here?" I asked. "The man they call Robert, who waited at dinner to-night." "But he'll be here to-morrow," I said; "you know he will; you know it, don't you?" She bent a little closer, and took my hand. "Ah, dearie, my dearie," she said. "I have been low down once. It was before Albert the first made his fortune. I have been through tight times, and I know all about it. There, my dearie, take heart, don't you be fretting; but he won't be here to-morrow, my love." "But he will," I said. "He won't, darling. I know what I'm talking about. We must make excuses when he goes. We must say that he wasn't _exactly_ the sort of servant Jane Mullins wanted, and that she is looking out for a smarter sort of man. Don't you fret yourself over it, my darling." "Oh! I feel very sick and very tired," I cried. "Mrs. Fanning, will you make some excuse for me to mother? I must go upstairs and lie down."