pounded whilst enjoying a refreshing slumber, woke with an oath, and flung both the guilty and the innocent pincushion across the room, vowing not to suffer their re-erection above his head any more. After this they were banished to the spare bedroom, and, though not under Mrs. Trampleasure’s daily observation, they did not cease to be dear to her soul. These precious pincushions, through inadvertence, were doomed to fall into strange, perhaps inappreciative, hands. The thought made her weep and sniff. ’Mother,’ said Orange, ’everything is packed. All is ready for us to start. We must decide now whither we will go.’ ’There was Charity on one, with a feeding-bottle in her hand—I believe a Florence flask, and a backie-pipe stem stuck through the cork—as nat’ral as nat’ral; and on the other was Hope with her anchor, and a serpent twined round it, as I thought; but your dear father would insist it was a rope. "But," said I, "look: it has an eye." However, your father maintained that was only a loop in the cord.’ Mrs. Trampleasure was thinking of the pincushions. ’Whither are we to go, mother?’ asked Orange. ’I am sure I don’t know,’ answered Mrs. Trampleasure, ’without my Blair, and my Rollin, and my pinkies.’ Mirelle was sitting at the window. The day was passing, and no signs were seen of John Herring. ’I wonder how them pinkies have sold,’ mused the old woman; ’I shouldn’t wonder if they’ve fetched a lot of money. I should say they were cheap at five pounds. If I get a chance I’ll buy them back at that figure.’ ’We have no money,’ said Orange, ’except a trifle which will be consumed in inn expenses; we must go to one, as we have seen nothing about lodgings. Mirelle, are you awake?’ ’Yes, Orange.’ ’You will have to give French lessons, and I will do the housework at home and take in sewing. So perhaps we shall be able to keep body and soul together.’ ’I am waiting,’ answered Mirelle. ’What nonsense!’ said Orange, impatiently. ’Do you suppose that Mr. Herring will trouble himself about us?’ ’I am sure he will.’ ’He has not come, and he must have received your letter.’ ’Please, ma’am’—it was the servant who spoke from the doorway—’the mistress hev sent to say, shall I go and fetch a coach?’ Orange looked at her mother. Mrs. Trampleasure wept. ’Yes,’ said Orange; ’we will go at once. Yes, girl: go and fetch one.’ ’It is unnecessary,’ said Mirelle, rising. ’A coach has come. John Herring is here.’ A rap at the door, and in another moment John Herring was ushered into the room. ’Thank you! thank you for coming,’ said Mirelle, advancing to meet him, and holding out both her hands. Herring was not looking strong. His fall, and a hard ride during the night from West Wyke to Launceston, had made him look pale and worn and unwell. But Orange, her mother, and Mirelle were too engaged in their own troubles to notice the change in him. ’You have come to take us away from this house?’ asked Mirelle.