One day when they were at dinner, Alice came in. Perhaps the little pinched faces around the scanty board--and both Kate's and Robert's looked pinched--struck unpleasantly upon Alice, for she was evidently in less good spirits than usual. She had come down by the omnibus, and taken them by surprise. An idea, like a fear, flashed into the mind of Mrs. Raynor. It was so very unusual for Alice to come down in this unexpected manner. "You have brought bad news, child!" she faintly said. "What is it?" And, for answer, Alice burst into tears. The knowledge of their home privations was to her as a very nightmare, for she had a warm heart. What with that and other thoughts, her spirits were always more or less subdued. "I don't know how to tell you," she cried; "but it is what I have come to do. Mamma, I am going to leave Mrs. Preen's." Mrs. Raynor sank back in her chair. "Oh, child! For what reason?" Alice explained as she dried her eyes. Mrs. Preen, who had not been in strong health lately, was ordered for a lengthened term to her native place, Devonshire, where she would stay with her mother. She could not take her two elder children with her, neither did she care to leave them at home during her absence. So they were to be placed at school, and Alice had received notice to leave at the end of a month. "If I were sure of getting another situation at once, I would not mind it so much," she said. "But it is the uncertainty that frightens me. I cannot afford to be out of a situation." "Misfortunes never come alone," sighed Mrs. Raynor. "Let us hope for the best," said Edina. "A whole month is a good while, Alice, and we can make inquiries for you at once. Perhaps Mr. Jones at the library can hear of something. I will speak to him: he is very kind and obliging." "Do you ever come across that Bill Stane now, Alice?" cried Alfred, as he picked up his cap to go off to school. "We saw in the paper that Sir Philip was dead. That is, we saw something about his will." "He comes now and then to Mrs. Preen's," replied Alice, blushing vividly, for she could not hear William Stane's name without emotion. "What did you see about Sir Philip's will?" she added, as carelessly as she could speak. "Oh, I don't know--how his money was left, I think Charley reckoned up that Bill Stane would have ten thousand pounds to his share. Charley says he is getting on at the Bar like a house on fire." "Shall you not be late, Alfred?" "I am off now. Good-bye; Alice. It will be jolly, you know, if you come home." "Not jolly for the dinners," put in poor Katie, who had learnt by sad experience what a difference an extra one made. "Oh, bother the dinners!" cried Alfred, with all a schoolboy's improvidence. "I'll eat bread-and-cheese. Goodbye, Alice." "Did you chance to hear what Sir Philip died of, Alice?" questioned Mrs. Raynor, when the doors had done banging after Alfred. "No, mamma." "But you see William Stane sometimes, don't you?"