Mr. Stockleigh, the father, lived at Sydenham. She, the new wife, had taken him off there from his residence in Pimlico as soon as might be after the marriage; and the daughter had never been invited inside the house. But she resolved to go there now. Saying nothing to her husband, Mrs. Marks started for Sydenham the day after he was brought home ill, and found the place without trouble. The wife, formerly the cook, was a big brawny woman with a cheek and a tongue of her own. When Mrs. Marks was shown in, she forgot herself in the surprise; old habits prevailed, and she half dropped a curtsey. "I wish to see papa, Mrs. Stockleigh." "Mr. Stockleigh's out, ma'am." "Then I must wait until he returns." Mrs. Stockleigh did not see her way clear to turn this lady from the house, though she would have liked to do it. She made a show of hospitality, and ordered wine and cake to be put on the table. Of which wine, Mrs. Marks noticed with surprise, she drank _four_ glasses. "Now and then we used to suspect her of drinking in the kitchen!" ran through Mrs. Marks's thoughts. "Has it grown upon her?" The garden gate opened, and Mr. Stockleigh came through it. He was so bowed and broken that his daughter scarcely knew him. She hastened out and met him in the path. "Caroline!" he exclaimed in amazement. "Is it really you? How much you have changed?" "I came down to speak to you, papa. May we stay and talk here in the garden?" He seemed glad to see her, rather than not, and sat down with her on the garden bench in the sun. In a quiet voice she told him all: and asked him to help her. Mrs. Stockleigh had come out and stood listening to the treason, somewhat unsteady in her walk. "I--I would help you if I could, Caroline," he said, in hesitation, glancing at his wife. "Yes, but you can't, Stockleigh," she put in. "Our own expenses is as much as iver we can manage, Mrs. Marks. It's a orful cost, living out here, and our two servants is the very deuce for extravigance. I've changed 'em both ten times for others, and the last lot is always worse than the first." "Papa, do you see our position?" resumed Mrs. Marks, after hearing the lady patiently. "It will be a long time before James is able to do anything again--if he ever is--and we have not been able to save money. What are we to do? Go to the workhouse? I have four little children." "You know that you can't help, Stockleigh," insisted Mr. Stockleigh's lady, taking up the answer, her face growing more inflamed. "You've not got the means to do anything: and there's an end on't." "It is true, Caroline; I'm afraid I have not," he said--and his daughter saw with pain how tremblingly subject he was to his wife. "I seem short of money always. How did you come down, my dear?" "By the train, papa. Third class." "Oh dear!" cried Mr. Stockleigh. "My health's broken, Caroline. It is, indeed, and my spirit too. I am sure I am very sorry for you. Will you come in and take some dinner?"