"We've got nothing but a bit of 'ashed beef," cried Mrs. Stockleigh, as if to put a damper upon the invitation. "Him and me fails in our appetites dreadful: I can't think what's come to 'em." Mrs. Marks declined dinner: she had to get back to the children. That any sort of pleading would be useless while that woman held sway, she saw well. "Good-bye, papa," she said. "I suppose we must do the best we can alone. Good morning, Mrs. Stockleigh." To her surprise her father kissed her; kissed her with quivering lips. "I will open the gate for you, my dear," he said, hastening on to it. As she was going through, he slipped a sovereign into her hand. "It will pay for your journey, at least, my dear. I am sorry to hear of your travelling third class. Ah, times have changed. It is not that I won't help you, child, but that I can't. She goes up to receive the dividends, and keeps me short. I should not have had that sovereign now, but it is the change out of the spirit bill that she sent me to pay. Hush! the money goes in drink. She drinks like a fish. Ah, Caroline, I was a fool--a fool! Fare you well, my dear." "Fare _you_ well, dear papa, and thank you," she answered, turning away with brimming eyes and an aching heart. After resting for some days and getting no better, James Marks had to give it up as a bad job. He went to the City house, saw Mr. Brown, and told him. "Broken down!" cried old Brown, hitching back his wig, as he always did when put out. "I never heard such nonsense. At your age! The thing's incomprehensible." "The work has been very wearing to the brain, sir; and my application to it was close. During the three-and-twenty years I have been with you I have never had but one week's holiday: the one last spring." "You told me then you felt like a man breaking down, as if you were good for nothing," resentfully spoke old Brown. "Yes, sir. I told you that I believed I was breaking down for want of a rest," replied Marks. "It has proved so." "Why, you had your rest." "One week, sir. I said I feared it would not be of much use. But--it was not convenient for you to allow me more." "Of course it was not convenient; you know it could not be convenient," retorted old Brown. "D'you think I keep my clerks for play, Marks? D'you suppose my business will get done of itself?" "I was aware myself, sir, how inconvenient my absence would be, and therefore I did not press the matter. That one week's rest did me a wonderful amount of service: it enabled me to go on until now." Old Brown looked at him. "See here, Marks--we are sorry to lose you: suppose you take another week's change now, and try what it will do. A fortnight, say. Go to the sea-side, or somewhere." Marks shook his head. "Too late, sir. The doctors tell me it will be twelve months before I am able to work again at calculations." "Oh, my service to you," cried Mr. Brown. "Why, what are you going to do if you cannot work?"