"Yes, I am sure she can: and will," replied William. "There'll be the expenses of travelling, and sundry other little things," went on Frank. "Wall says it will cost each of us about fifteen pounds a year. We have dinner and supper free. Of course, I should never think of tea, and for breakfast I would take milk and plain bread. There'd be living at home between terms--unless I found something to do--and my clothes." "It can be managed. Frank, you'll drop those tongs." "What we shall have to do as servitors neither I nor Wall can precisely tell," continued Frank, paying no attention to the warning. "Wall says, brushing clothes, and setting tables for meals, and waiting on the other students at dinner, will be amongst the refreshing exercises. However it may be, my mind is made up _to do_. If they put me to black shoes, I shall only sing over it, and sit down to my studies with a better will when the shoes have come to an end." William smiled. "Blacking shoes will be no new employment to you, Frank." "No. And if ever I catch myself coveting the ease and dignity of the lordly hats, I shall just cast my thoughts back again to our early privations; to what my mother struggled through for us; and that will bring me down again. We owe all to her; and I hope she will owe something to us in the shape of comforts before she dies," warmly added Frank, the tears rising to his eyes. "It is what I have hoped for years," replied William, in a low tone. "It is coming, Frank." "Well, I think I do now see one step before me. You remember papa's dream, William?" William simply bowed his head. "Lately I have not even seen that step. Between ourselves, I was losing some of my hopefulness; and you know that is what I never lost, whatever the rest of you may have done." "We none of us lost hope, Frank. It was hope that enabled us to bear on. You were over-sanguine." "It comes to the same thing. The step I see before me now is to go to Oxford as a servitor. To St. John's if I can, for I should like to be with Wall. He is a good, plodding fellow, though I don't know that he is over-burthened with brains." "Not with the quick brains of Frank Halliburton." Frank laughed. "You know Perry, the minor canon? He also went to St. John's as a servitor. I shall get him to tell me----" Frank stopped. The tongs had gone down with a clatter. CHAPTER XVI. MRS. DARE'S GOVERNESS. "There's such a row at our place!" suddenly announced Cyril Dare, at the Pomeranian Knoll dinner-table, one Monday evening. "What about?" asked Mr. Dare. "Some money's missing. At least, a cheque; which amounts to the same thing." "Not quite the same," dissented Mr. Dare. "Unless it has been cashed." "I mean the same as regards noise," continued Cyril. "There's as much fuss being made over it as if it had been fourteen pounds' weight of solid gold. It was a cheque of Dunns'; and the master put it into his desk, or says he did so. When he came to look for it, it was gone."