"Yes, in trouble. Don't shout about it and frighten the poor girl more." "But what does it mean?" "Oh, some trouble over old Walker's affairs. Sage says she is sure he is innocent. Heaven knows I hope he is." "But what made her come down?" "What made her come down, old lady? Why, what was the poor wench to do, a woman with a couple of little children? There, it seems a sin to say so, but it's a blessing the others died." "Oh, for shame, Joseph!" cried Mrs Portlock, whose trembling old fingers were in great trouble over various strings. "I don't care," said the Churchwarden, whose hair was white now, but who looked as sturdy and well as ever; "I wish she had never seen the scoundrel." "Joseph, if you talk like that, you'll break the poor girl's heart." "I'm not going to talk to her like that, but I suppose I may to you. Here have they been married close upon twelve years, and what have they been but twelve years of misery?" "There has been a deal of trouble certainly," sighed Mrs Portlock. "What time is it now?" "Half-past six. Make haste. He was held to be all that was steady and right at that Government appointment, and six months after his marriage they kicked him out." "But Sage always said, dear, that they behaved very ill to Cyril." "Of course she did, and she believed it, poor lass; but if half that I heard of him was true, I'd have kicked him out at the end of three months instead of six." "It's very, very shocking," sighed Mrs Portlock, getting something in a knot. "Then he gets his mother's money; poor soul, she'd have sold herself for that boy." "Yes; she's very, very fond of him." "There was enough for them to have lived in comfort to the end of their days, if he hadn't bet and squandered the property all away." "I'm afraid he was a little reckless," sighed Mrs Portlock. "Reckless? He was mad. Then, when it was gone, it was money, money, money: never a month passing but there was a letter from poor Sage, begging for money." "But she couldn't help it, dear." "Think I don't know that," cried the Churchwarden, striding to and fro. "He forced her to write, of course; and we sent it, but not for him. If it hadn't been for her and the bairns, not a penny of my hard savings would he ever have seen." "But he has been better lately." "Better? Ha, ha, ha! So it seems. Wait till we know all. Five thousand pounds gone in that wine merchant's business." "Well, but, Joseph, dear, you would have left it to them after we were dead. Wasn't it better to give it to them at once?" "Yes, if it was for their good," said the Churchwarden. "What is it? Four years ago, and Mallow said, `No,'--I remember his words as well as if it were only yesterday--`No,' he said, `I think we've done enough. My wife's money has all gone to him, and I will not impoverish myself further. I think it is your turn, now.'"