"You are mistaken, my dear. Poor Mirlees had saved a few hundreds, and having noted how rapidly some people managed to turn hundreds into thousands, he unfortunately invested them in a bubble company, and lost every penny. Some of the shareholders were more fortunate. You Will remember the company," and Mr. Evans named one of which his wife's father had been a director, and by which he had netted a large sum. Mrs. Evans' face flushed, but she answered— "It requires business men to deal with business matters, and clergymen ought to content themselves with what they understand." "True; poor Mirlees paid with his life for his meddling. But after all, it is by these poor, foolish, unbusiness-like men that the clever ones make their money." "At any rate, we shall be expected to do something for this girl, though why prudent people should pay for the folly and rashness of others is more than I can understand. My children shall not be impoverished for such a purpose. It would not be scriptural to encourage improvidence, and in a clergyman, too. I thought that sermon last Sunday on the text, 'If any provide not for his own house, he hath denied the faith, and is worse than an infidel,' was thoroughly to the purpose. I never heard one that touched me more. It was so appropriate to present circumstances." Mrs. Evans was like many others who, when wishing to justify what conscience tells them is wrong, fly to the Bible to see if they can find a text to justify the course they are taking. She wanted to cheat conscience into expressing approval, and thought she had succeeded when she shook her head in pious horror over Mr. Mirlees' misdoings. She would not see, or at any rate own, that in the man's very anxiety to do what she blamed him for not having done, he had lost the poor pittance hoarded by years of close economy, and his life as well. When Mr. Evans named these facts, his wife interrupted him by asking— "Where was the use of saving and pinching if the man must throw it all away at last?" "His was an error of judgment," replied Mr. Evans. "An error of judgment! If my poor papa had committed such errors, I wonder where I should be now." Mrs. Evans said "I," but the look at her husband meant "you," and was intended to remind him of his indebtedness. Mr. Evans' face flushed. Often as he had heard similar words, he could never become indifferent to such, and winced at each repetition. Sometimes there would be a scene, or he occasionally retorted sharply, but Mrs. Evans conquered by her persistent ill temper, and after days of discomfort, sullenness, and either taunts or silence, peace would be made, and last for a little while.