"What ought I to do? May I burn them?" "Don't do anything in a hurry. Put them in a sealed packet, with a direction outside that they are to be burnt after your death. Then lock the packet up, and do not let yourself dwell upon it. You can do no good to him; and remember that he would wish you to be happy." Pattie murmured a faint assent. Neither of the two moved at once. It was a still and mild evening. Now and again a soft twitter showed that not all the birds had gone to roost. Sometimes a sound of voices came from the town. "Mr. Cragg!" "Yes, my dear." "I want to find something to do." "What sort of thing?" "I want to get my livelihood. Will you help me?" "There's no hurry. Some day, perhaps." "I want it now." "Are you anxious to leave us? To leave Dot?" "Not Dot. I shall feel that dreadfully. And you—you are so good to me. But I cannot go on like this. I want to be independent—to make my own way; and if you would help me to find something—I don't mind what—" "Pattie, I must ask one question. Has my wife tried to bring this about?" "No," Pattie said at once; "I don't think so. She has not said anything lately about wishing me to go. It is my own thought." "Not because of anything she has said or done?" That put the question differently, and Pattie could not reply with a negative. "It is my own wish," she repeated. "I want to be independent." "But your father wished you to be with us. I promised him when he was dying." "Yes, I know. I went in directly after, and he said something to me before he became unconscious. He said you had promised; but I could not agree to that, you know. I could not be a burden on you, except for a little while. Now I have been long enough; and I must find something else. Perhaps I might take care of children, as a nursery governess. Would not that do?" "We must think about it. I am not in a hurry to get rid of you, though you are in a hurry to go. It is pleasant to have you in the house." Then he stood up. "I'm afraid we ought to move; it is growing damp." Not much more passed between them on the way home. Mr. Cragg was thinking what a difference Pattie's absence would make. Now he could always look upon one face not clouded by ill-temper. He dreaded a return to the old condition of things. Pattie, wondering over his silence, feared that she had said something to vex him. "It isn't that I am ungrateful," she pleaded, presently. "If I wished you to go, I should be ungrateful," he answered. "You don't know how much you have done to brighten life for little Dot and me, since you came." "Have I? No, I didn't know it. My mother always said one could do a good deal in that way, if one would take the trouble; and I do try. But it isn't easy. It is very good of you to speak so to me. But still—I think I ought to work for myself." "Well, we must consider. No need to settle hastily. There's time enough—by-and-by."