"Oh, my dear, the things my kind husband bought for me? But say no more; I know you have always had them as your own, and it was stupid of me to—" "No, no; I only spoke lest Mr. Pitman might think I had known it before." The business was soon settled, and a van carried off all the Rayburns' share of the furniture. Very bare the parlour looked, and Fred cried for his "pitty cot," when laid to sleep in his mother's bed. Frank, old enough to be frightened at his mother's sad face, made no plaint about anything, but ran with messages and helped her with all his might. Their few belongings were soon packed, and all, save one box, sent off to Liverpool by goods train. Janet paid up her household bills for the last week, and then everything was done. She had no one to say farewell to save Mrs. Rayburn; her own father and mother had died since her marriage, and her only brother had emigrated. Janet had always been a home-keeping woman, and had no very intimate friends. "What shall you do, grandma?" she asked. "Where will you live till you hear of a place?" "I shall stay here, dear, until I'm turned out; then my sister-in-law will take me in for a few days." "You'll write and tell me what you hear from Lord Beaucourt, won't you? Indeed I hope he will be kind to you. I have been so hurried that I hardly seem to feel things yet; but indeed I am very, very sorry for you. It is so hard on you." "It is indeed. But Lord Beaucourt is one who never forgets them who have served him well, and my mother was his confidential housekeeper—no common servant; more like a friend, you know—for many years, and his lordship was always most kind to me. Of course, I shall write, and you must write to me. How I shall miss you, dear, and my darling boys! There's some one at the door, Janet." "Come in," Janet called out wearily. And in came Mr. Frank Hopper. "Good evening, Mrs. Rayburn," he said, as she rose to meet him. The elder woman was sitting in the shadow of the window curtain, and he did not see her. "This is a sad business, Mrs. Rayburn. I am sorry to hear that Rayburn has gone away. It struck me that you might be in difficulties, and that I had better see you." "Of course we are in difficulties, Mr. Frank." "Yes—but I want—I meant—in a word, Mrs. Rayburn, do you know where your husband has gone, and—are you to join him?" "Why, certainly I am," Janet said angrily. "Oh, Mr. Frank, how could you think that Fred would desert me and the children?" "It looked so bad, his going off in this way. I was afraid there might be—debts, you know. I wished, if possible, to help you." "No, Mr. Hopper, you cannot help me. I have money to keep us until we go out to Fred; I could not take help from you. I think you have been very hard on my husband. I am an ignorant woman, and perhaps ought not to say this; but it seems to me that you have been very, very hard on him."