"And doing well?" Paul asked. "Affairs are prospering, I hope?"—the fortunes of the Le Mesuriers were ever an open secret. "No," Hazel admitted, frankly and without reserve, "things are rather bad, and we are dreadfully poor just now—especially myself. You would hardly believe it," she went on confidentially, "but if it had not been for one and sixpence that Hugh gave me last Wednesday—already it has come down to eightpence—I should not possess a halfpenny. See," and the girl held out a limp little silken purse. Paul took it from her. "What a quaint little thing! May I look inside?" he asked. "Of course," Hazel said. "But I have told you exactly what is in it: eightpence." And sure enough, two threepenny pieces and four halfpennies rolled out upon Paul’s open palm. "It is partly owing to the fact of Hugh and Teddie being out of work," Hazel went on, when the purse had been restored to her, and safely bestowed in her pocket. "They are in town to-day looking for something. But I am very much afraid they won’t find anything. You know," she added, unconsciously moving a little nearer to him as they walked, "the main difficulty is, I believe, that they don’t look ’clerky,’ and their name is not a ’clerky’ one, is it? These trifles make a difference, don’t you think?" And she looked up at him with considering, brown eyes. "I am sure they must," Paul assented. "It only struck me lately," Hazel, following her own train of thought, presently resumed, "quite lately, how exactly like the portrait of Hugo Le Mesurier Teddie is. Of course Hugo has long hair and a lace collar—he was a Cavalier in the days of Cromwell, you know—but if he changed his clothes and cut his hair, the face alone would be enough to make people say they did not require a clerk"—and she sighed. "I can well believe it," Paul agreed, sympathetically. "I have been consulting the boys as to how I might earn a little money, if it were only five shillings a week," the girl continued. "They say I don’t look like a typewriter. What do you think?" "Great Heavens, no!" Paul ejaculated vehemently, horrified at the bare suggestion. "That is how they feel," Hazel returned resignedly. "Only, they are a little calmer about it: they have seen so many, you know, poor things," she added, ingenuously. "Next," she began again, after a slight pause, "we considered letting lodgings, without mother’s knowledge. But Teddie says a ’cute lodger would take me in horribly. He says I am no more cut out for a landlady than for a typewriter. Do you agree with that?" "Most emphatically," Paul replied, unable to restrain a smile, which, however, escaped the girl’s notice.