Mr. Cragg had had that thought in his mind, but he wisely held his tongue, and ventured on no further remarks. Pattie spent a happy hour with Dot. As she had said, she dearly loved children, and Dot, though not pretty, was clever and winning and lovable. Few children, indeed, fail to be lovable, and Dot was not one of those few. Pattie had been feeling very sore at heart and desolate; and nothing could well have comforted her more than Dot's soft arms round her neck, and Dot's smiling face close to her own. Before ten minutes were over the two had become fast friends; and Pattie knew that, though life in this house might mean divers rubs, and perhaps a great many harsh words, it would also mean a dear little friend and companion. When Dot went to bed, Pattie had to go to tea with Mr. and Mrs. Cragg, and that event she had been dreading. Still, it could not be escaped, and she was quietly brave in meeting the duties of life, one after another, without needless fears and complainings. At the sight of her placid face, Cragg was aware of a satisfied feeling. Tête-à-tête meals with a person of Mrs. Cragg's temperament were apt to flag, since five times in six she was sure to be offended at something said or not said. Pattie's presence made a change. Mrs. Cragg seemed to be under some slight restraint, and she was not quite so tart as usual; while Cragg had one to whom he could make remarks, which he found to be an advantage. But when tea was ended, somebody called Cragg away, and Pattie was left alone with Mrs. Cragg. Mrs. Cragg eyed her curiously, expecting to see signs of embarrassment. There were not any, however. Pattie looked tired and sad, but not embarrassed. "Shall I help to clear away the tea things?" she asked. "I always did at home." "Well, yes, you may as well, I suppose." Pattie at once set to work, with light, dexterous hands which made no noise, and Mrs. Cragg idly watched her. "What made you and your father come to this place?" she demanded. A faint flush rose in answer. "We were leaving our old home, and father wanted to live in a country place." "What made you leave your home? Where was it? How long did you live there?" "A great many years. Ever since I was a little child." "Then why should you have come away?" "Father wished it." "What for?" Mrs. Cragg was not troubled by delicate scruples when she wished to gain information. "He had lost the work he used to do. There was no need for us to stay there any longer." "What sort of work was it?" "He was an accountant in a small bank—a branch bank." "Where? And what was the name of the bank?" Pattie was silent. "Where was it, I say?" "I don't think I ought to tell you, Mrs. Cragg. Father wished me not to talk of those days to anybody. He told me so when first we came." "What for?"