“No, Kate; we have mutually agreed as to the terms of the contract. I am to do it at so much a yard, and as each cutting is done, I am to be paid the profit, and in the meantime I am to draw two pounds a week.” “Two pounds! that seems very little, Frank?” “Well, it can hardly be termed wealth, Katie, but our expenses here are very small, and I dare say we shall manage well enough. Besides, as each cutting is finished, there will be the profit.” “It is only a pound a week to live on, Frank. The rent and Hannah and nurse come to the other pound.” “Well, we must try, Katie, and if we can’t make it do, I must ask Fred to let me draw a little more. I did not wish to press matters the first time, you see. He will soon see how useful I shall be, and then no doubt there will be no difficulty about arranging to draw more each week. At any rate, thank God, Katie, I am going to earn something at last.” ------------------------------------------------------------------------ CHAPTER V FINDING A CLUE. And so Frank set to work. He was not a man to do things by halves, and threw himself with all his energies into it. Every morning soon after half-past four he was up; after he was out of bed he lit a small spirit-lamp, made his coffee, and had his early breakfast when he was dressed. Then, at a little after five he started for his three mile walk to his work, at which he always arrived before six. Then a turn along the line and back again to his starting-point by half-past eight, when the men stopped work for half an hour to breakfast. Then Frank would go into a little turf hut by the side of the cutting and eat, with an appetite sharpened by the keen morning air, the breakfast he had brought with him. Another turn up and down the line, and then, at twelve o’clock, he would have a fire lit in his hut and warm up his dinner; then up and down again until six, or, if the men were working overtime, until eight, and then three miles home again. It was very hard work, and Frank had sometimes to sit down by the roadside of that last steep pull up to his cottage. Once there, however, he was strong and cheery again, for the bright face was always on the look out for him, and his slippers, and his easy coat, and his hot water, and his tea, and the cheerful smile, better than all, were sure to be ready for him. Few of his old London friends would have known Frank now, in his rough shooting-coat, his gaiters and navvy boots, and the beard which he had allowed to grow since he came down to Yorkshire. During this time Frank and his wife suffered far more for each other than for themselves. Kate, bright and cheerful as she was when Frank was with her, fretted much when he was away. More especially of an evening she would picture him to herself, toiling along the dark road, so tired, that as she well knew he could hardly drag himself along. Frank, too, worried about his wife; for