Annie was the first to spring up and begin to dress herself, pondering in her mind as she did so whether to go first to the pawnbroker’s or to the baker, to ask him to recommend her as a charwoman. She would tell him just the truth--that she must in future work for her daily bread. Then Hector rose and dressed himself. “Oh, Annie!” he said, as he did so, “is it gone, that awful misery of last night in the omnibus? It seemed, as I jolted along, as if God had forgotten one of the creatures he had made, and that one was me; or, worse, that he thought of me, and would not move to help me! And why do I feel now as if He had help for me somewhere near waiting for me? I think I will go and see a man who lives somewhere close by, and find out if he is the same I used to know at St. Andrews; if he be the same, he may know of something I could try for.” “Do,” replied Annie. “I will go with you, and on the way call at the grocer’s--I think he will be the best to ask if he knows of any family that wants a charwoman or could give me any sort of work. There’s more than one kind of thing I could turn my hand to--needle-work, for instance. I could make a child’s frock as well, I believe, as a second-rate dressmaker. Can you tell me who was the first tailor, Hector? It was God himself. He made coats of skins for Adam and his wife.” “Quite right, dear. You may well try your hand--as I know you have done many a time already. And, if I can get hold of ever so young a pupil, I shall be glad even to teach him his letters. We must try anything and everything. We are long past being fastidious, I hope.” He turned and went on with his toilet. “Oh, Hector,” said Annie suddenly, and walked to the mantelpiece, “I am so sorry! Here is a letter that came for you yesterday. I did not care to open it, though you have often told me to open any letters I pleased. The fact is, I forgot all about it, I believe, because I was so unhappy at your going away without breakfast. Or perhaps it was that I was frightened at its black border. I really can’t tell now why I did not open it.” With little interest and less hope, Hector took the letter,--black-bordered and black-sealed,--opened it, and glanced carelessly at the signature, while Annie stood looking at him, in the hope merely that he would find in it no fresh trouble--some forgotten bill perhaps! She saw his face change, and his eyes grow fixed. A moment more and the letter dropped in the fender. He stood an instant, then fell on his knees, and threw up his hands. “What is it, darling?” she cried, beginning to tremble. “Only five hundred pounds!” he answered, and burst into an hysterical laugh. “Impossible!” cried Annie. “Who _can_ have played us such a cruel trick?” said Hector feebly. “It’s no trick, Hector!” exclaimed Annie. “There’s nobody would have the heart to do it. Let _me_ see the letter.” She almost caught it from his hands as he picked it from the fender, and looked at the signature.