"No, indeed!" the little girl agreed readily, with a mournful shake of her head. "We have always been poor," she proceeded with a sudden burst of confidence, "always! And it is not nice to be poor, and owe people money! Mother used to say our debts haunted her; she thought of them the first thing in the morning and the last thing at night! Oh, I ought not to tell you this, but—" And Angel broke off suddenly, a burning blush dying her face from brow to chin, whilst her grey eyes were suffused with tears. Mr. Bailey laid a kind hand on her shoulder, and gave her a sympathetic pat; his ruddy face evinced much concern, but no surprise. "Never mind, my dear," he said, and his voice sounded deeper than ever, "you're a brave little maid, and there are brighter days coming, I hope." "I'm not brave at all," Angel responded, with a rather tearful smile, "but mother was. She never let father see when she was worried, because it troubled him if she was unhappy, and she never bothered him about things more than she could help." "I should have liked to have known your mother," Mr. Bailey remarked thoughtfully, "I believe she and I would have been friends. I wish I had returned to England sooner; perhaps I might have made things easier for her, but as it is—" He paused abruptly for a moment, then asked, "Did you ever hear of a place called Wreyford, Angel?" "No—yes—I am not certain. I seem to know the name." "Wreyford is the town where your grandfather and I were born and bred, a quiet country town it was then; it may be altered now. Our home was called 'Haresdown House'; once it was our own property, but it was sold at my father's death. I've a mind to see the old place once again, and so I've determined to go and have a look at it, and ascertain if it is as desirable a residence as I used to consider it in my early years. What do you say to going with me, my dear?" "Oh!" cried Angel in great astonishment, "do you mean it, Uncle Edward? Oh, I should like it! Is Wreyford near London?" "No; it is a good distance away, in the west of England—in Somerset. I should like to have a look around the district, so we should be away several days. It would be a nice little trip for you, eh?" "It would be delightful! Oh, I hope father will let me go! How kind of you, Uncle Edward! I have never been away from London all my life." "Is that really so, Angel? Yes, you poor child! Well, I will tell your father what I propose doing, and hear what he has to say. I suppose he and your brother will be able to get on without you for a short while?" He spoke banteringly, but Angel took his remark seriously, and answered with great gravity— "I don't know, but I should think they might. What will Gerald say when he knows where I am going? He will want to go instead of me." And a slight shadow dimmed the happiness of her face.