“My dear,” said Mr. Abbott, rising as he spoke, and standing with his back to the fire, “I may as well tell you plainly. It is what I came this afternoon to do. There is very little money for you to live on. Your father’s affairs were—well, were somewhat involved. An investment which he thought very highly of, and in which he put about all he owned, has gone to pieces since his death. I am glad he never knew it. There is all this real estate, to be sure; but that means nothing in the present state of the market. You have,—I must speak plainly, my dear children,—you have practically nothing to live upon at present. Your aunt is very good to offer you a home and your education. I went to see her a week ago, to tell her the state of affairs, and since then I have been thinking over how it was best to tell you, and what had better be done. I could not put it off any longer.” “Do you mean that we are really poor?” asked Honor, in a quiet voice, when he had finished speaking. “Very poor, indeed. You have scarcely anything.” “Exactly what do you mean by ‘scarcely anything’?” “You have the place, which is an expensive one to keep up, and a very few hundred dollars a year, upon which to live and be educated and clothed. Your aunt’s offer is a relief to me. I am glad she made it, but, as I say, I thought she would. Sophia Ward may be peculiar, and perhaps a trifle aggravating, but she is certainly conscientious.” The Starrs gazed at one another blankly. An unkind fate appeared to be descending upon them, in a great black cloud. They did not realize yet the fact that they were poor. This knowledge was entirely swallowed up by the deplorable prospect of carrying out the views of their Aunt Sophia, by going to live with her. They had counted upon their guardian’s support in declining her invitation, and now to their surprise he declared that they were fortunate to have received it. They were too ignorant of poverty to know what other significance his words might have. It was Victoria who reverted to this part of the subject. “Do you really mean,” said she, “that we haven’t got enough money to live on? That if we stay here, we—it really seems absurd to say it, but I want to know exactly, Mr. Abbott—we shan’t have enough to eat, perhaps?” “I really mean it,” replied her guardian. He did not tell them that there was actually no money which they could call their own. The “few hundreds” of which he had vaguely spoken, he intended to give them from his own income, and he was far from being a rich man. CHAPTER III. A DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE. IT was evening, and Mr. Abbott had returned to Boston. He had declined staying to dinner, but had promised to come again early in the week. By that time the Starrs would have more fully realized the situation, and would be able to talk more rationally, he thought. He must give them time to accustom themselves to the great change in their prospects. At present they seemed to be stunned, and no wonder.