"But, Mr. Clayton, you must listen to me, please. I have no such grand prospects before me; a junior teacher in a school cannot command a high salary. If I went back to Carlisle it would only be drudgery over again, with no Emmie. No; you must hear me," silencing him as he attempted to speak: "this is a wiser plan than you think. I have forty pounds a-year of my own, it is nothing very great, but it all helps; and then I might give French lessons to Mrs. Morris's children in the evening. Cathy says Mrs. Morris is so anxious for them to have lessons; she and I were awake half the night planning it, and Cathy said--" "Well, what did she say?" as Queenie paused. "That I must speak to you and Mr. Logan, and that you would be sure to help me. There is that little cottage of Captain Fawcett's to be let; we were looking at it yesterday. Do you think it would be very dear?" asked Queenie anxiously. "It would do so nicely for Emmie and me, if the rent were not too high." "Do you mean that ramshackle wilderness of a cottage just fronting the lane?" "Yes; it would be very pretty if it were only freshened up a little, and the garden put in order." "Well, it might not be so bad," returned Garth reluctantly. "Rents are not very high here; I dare say Fawcett would let you have it for about fifteen pounds a-year, and do it up properly besides. Let me see, there was some furniture belonging to it, that will go for a mere song." "I forgot about the furniture," owned Queenie candidly. "We must be content with very little at first, just a table and a few chairs or so. I have only a few pounds to spare, but Caleb would advance me the rest. Fifteen pounds a-year! do you really think that Captain Fawcett will let the cottage to us for that?" "I can answer for it, certainly he will. You can leave that part to me; you need not distress yourself about that little matter of detail; as far as that goes I can promise to secure your election to-morrow. All I want to know is, if you be serious in this matter?" "Mr. Clayton, how can you ask me such a question?" "I call it a monstrous notion." "Then we will not argue about it at all." "Impracticable and absurd to the last degree. Good heavens, Miss Marriott!" flinging back his head with a gesture of mingled excitement and wrath, "have you no friend or relative to stand by you, and prevent you from throwing yourself away on this miserable pittance?" "I have one very good friend, but he is poor," returned the girl, and then she sighed. Something in Garth's manner--his assumed roughness, his suppressed wrath, the sudden break and softening of his voice as he uttered his short remonstrance--touched and yet pained her. What would it be to have a brother to work for her when she needed support, a strong arm that could protect her in times of emergency!