"Oh, I think it's first-rate," answered Charley, half seriously, half mockingly. "You and Alice will be making a fortune by-and-by." The remark did not please Alice. _She_, at least, was not reconciled to the new home and its duties. "_You_ may think it first-rate," she retorted. "It is widely different from Eagles' Nest. We were gentlepeople there; we are poor governesses here." Charley made no response. The very name of Eagles' Nest would give him an unpleasant turn. "And it is nothing but work all day," went on Alice. "Lessons this hour, music that, writing the next. Oh, it is wearisome!" "Don't grumble, my dears," interposed Mrs. Raynor. "It might have been so much worse. After the strange turn our affairs took, we might now be without a roof over our heads or a morsel of bread to eat. So far as I can see, we should have been, but for Edina." The tears were raining down Mrs. Raynor's cheeks. Alice started up and threw her arms round her in repentance. "Forgive me, dear mamma, forgive me! I was wrong to speak so repiningly." "You were wrong, dear Alice. In dwelling so much upon the advantages we have lost, you overlook the mercies remaining to us. And they are mercies. We are together under one roof; we have the prospect of making a fair living." "Yes," acquiesced Charley, throwing regrets behind him. "It is a very nice home indeed, compared with what might have been." "And I think we may yet be very happy in it," said Mrs. Raynor. Alice strove to think so too, and put on a cheerful face. But the old days were ever present with her; and she never recalled the past hopes connected with William Stane, but her heart turned sick and faint in its despair. "It will be your turn next, Charles," observed Edina, taking the opportunity of speaking to him the following morning, when they were alone. "My turn?" repeated Charles, vaguely: conscious that he knew what she meant, but not choosing to acknowledge it. "To do something for yourself," added Edina. "You cannot intend to live upon your mother." "Of course I do not, Edina. How stupid you are." "And the question is, what is that something to be?" she continued, passing over his compliment to herself. "I should like to go into the army, Edina." Edina shook her head. Her longer experience of life, her habits of forethought, enabled her to see obstacles that younger people did not see. "Even if you had the money to purchase a commission, Charley----" "But I did not think of purchasing. I should like to get one given to me." "Is there a chance of it?" Charles did not reply. He was standing before the window, gazing abstractedly at a young butcher boy, dashing about in a light cart for his morning orders. There was not very much chance of it, he feared, but there might be a little. "Let us suppose that you had the commission, Charley, that it arrived here for you this very day direct from the Horse Guards--or whatever place may issue them," pursued Edina. "Would it benefit you?"