Martha compressed her lips till they grew white; she did not answer. After the first outburst, not even the cruel injustice of this received a reply. She had herself to subdue before she could again approach him. And the two peacemakers, hovering between them, endeavoured, with anxious pains, to heal the breach again. The young wife whispered deprecatory words in Harry’s ear, while she laid her hand on Martha: but pitiful looks were all the artillery of Rose; they softened both the belligerents. “I don’t care what happens to us out of the house, Martha,” said Rose at last; “but surely we may be at peace within. There are not so many of us in the world; we should be always friends.” And Martha’s anger was shortlived. “I spoke rashly,” she said, with strange humility; “let us say no more of this now.” And there was little more said that night. But Harry would not go to the office again to see Mr. Buchanan; and, poor as they were, none of them desired to subject him to this humiliation. So he went out instead the next morning to make bootless inquiries and write bootless letters--exertions in which there was no hope and little spirit; went out gloomily, and in gloom returned, seeking comfort which they had not to bestow. But while poor Harry was idle perforce, a spasmodic industry had fallen upon the rest. They scarcely paused to take the simple meals of necessary life; and the pleasant hour of family talk at tea was abridged to-night to ten minutes, sadly grudged by the eager labourers, on whose toil alone depended now the maintenance of the family. Little Violet stood by the table with a clean towel in her hand, preparing, with some importance, to wash the cups and saucers when they had finished. But Harry lingered over the table, leaning his head on his hand, and trifling with something which lay by him. Violet, in housewifely impatience, moved about among the cups, and rung them against each other to rouse his attention, and let him see he retarded her; but Harry’s mind was too much occupied to notice that. “Harry,” cried Agnes, rather tremulously from the inner room, “I see Mr. Gilchrist on the road. He is coming here. What can it be?” Harry started and put away his cup. They all became anxious and nervous; and Agnes hastily drew her seat close to the door of the room, that she might hear what the visitor said, though her baby, half dressed, lay on her knee, very sleepy and impatient, and she could not make her appearance till she had laid him in his little crib for the night.