“Hale & Hale?” she read. “I never heard of them!” “No, nor anyone else, I dare say,” answered Hector. “Let us see the address at the top,” said Annie. “There it is--Philpot Lane.” “Where is that? I don’t believe there is such a place!” “Oh, yes, there is; I’ve seen it--somewhere in the City, I believe. But let us read the letter. I saw only the figures. I confess I was foolish enough at first to fancy somebody had sent us five hundred pounds!” “And why not?” cried Annie. “I am sure there’s no one more in want of it.” “That’s just why not,” answered Hector. “Did you ever know a rich man leave his money to a poor relation? Oh, I hope it does not mean that my father is gone. He may have left us a trifle. Only he could not have had so much to leave to anybody. I know he loved you, Annie.” In the meantime Annie had been doing the one sensible thing--reading the letter, and now she stood pondering it. “I have it, Hector. He always uses good people to do his kindnesses. Don’t you remember me telling you about the little old lady in Graham’s shop the time your book came out?” “Yes, Annie; I wasn’t likely to forget that; it was my love for you that made me able to write the poem. Ah, but how soon was the twenty pounds I got for it spent, though I thought it riches then!” “So it was--and so it is!” cried Annie, half laughing, but crying outright. “It’s just that same little old lady. She was so delighted with the book, and with you for writing it, that she put you down at once in her will for five hundred pounds, believing it would help people to trust in God.” “And here was I distrusting so much that I was nearly ready to kill myself. Only I thought it would be such a terrible shock to you, my precious! It would have been to tell God to his face that I knew he would not help me. I am sure now that he is never forgetting, though he seems to have forgotten. There was that letter lying in the dark through all the hours of the long night, while we slept in the weariness of sorrow and fear, not knowing what the light was bringing us. God is good!” “Let us go and see these people and make sure,” said Annie. “‘Hale and Hearty,’ do they call themselves? But I’m going with you myself this time! I’m not going to have such another day as I had yesterday--waiting for you till the sun was down, and all was dark, you bad man!--and fancying all manner of terrible things! I wonder--I wonder, if--” “Well, what do you wonder, Annie?” “Only whether, if now we were to find out it was indeed all a mistake, I should yet be able to hope on through all the rest. I doubt it; I doubt it! Oh, Hector, you have taught me everything!” “More, it seems, than I have myself learned. Your mother had already taught you far more than ever I had to give you!”