The week that passes after her mother's funeral is by no means an unhappy one for Lily. A familiar voice and a familiar presence are gone, and she grieves naturally. But she derives much comfort from the restfulness and peacefulness of everything about her. The lodgers in the house make as little noise as possible, and Jim Podmore, as he goes down-stairs to his work in the early morning, treads as softly as his heavy boots will allow him, so that he shall not disturb her. She derives comfort also from Alfred's happier mood. The night after the funeral he comes home with a bright look in his face, and greets her with a kiss. With his arm round her waist, he draws her into her bedroom, and tells her that she mustn't mind if he has not been so affectionate to her lately as he ought to have been. "I have had some troubles," he says, "and have been very unhappy, Lily. But now things look brighter. I'm going to love you more than ever. I'm going to do something grand by-and-by. You'll see! I'm not going to let you work much longer." "O, but I don't mind it, Alf," she replies, with her arm round his neck. "Ah, but it isn't right. I'm going to work for you. I know a way! You let me alone for knowing a thing or two. We'll have a better place than, this soon, and we'll go about a bit." She listens to him with pleasure, in her innocence and trustfulness, and kisses him softly. Alfred is proud of her--proud of her beauty, proud of her gentleness and modesty--proud because she loves him and thinks all the world of him. "I have made," he continues, "the best friend that any man ever had--the noblest-hearted fellow I had ever seen or heard of." "O, I am glad of that, Alfred--I am glad of that! Who is it? He must be my friend too. Do I know him?" Her thoughts turn to Felix as she asks the question, and an innocent joy warms her young heart. "Do you know him!" he repeats gaily. "Do you know him, Puss! Why, of course you do! You don't need me to tell you who it is. You can guess--you do guess. There's only one--although he's only a new friend after all, now I come to think of it. But he's a man every inch of him. He gave a hundred and twenty pounds to a poor widow-woman who was left penniless! The week before last he paid a poor man's debts--the poor fellow had got into trouble somehow--and set him up in business again, and made him comfortable--all because he had a wife and children. What do you think of that, Lily?" "A noble nature, indeed!" says Lily softly, sharing Alfred's enthusiasm, and wondering whether she shall ever see Felix again. "And he thinks himself so wise" (Alfred says this with a light laugh) "that he's always being taken in." "That's a pity, Alfred." "O, but he don't mind; he can afford it, and likes it. If you knew what a friend he is to me! And I shouldn't wonder if it was for Somebody's sake----why, how you are trembling, Lily!"