"Did they try you for it?" questioned Mrs. Gerald, who had suspended her tea to listen, full of interest. "Good gracious, no! They let me out. Oh, but I could tell you of worse fixes than that. _You_ take heart, I say; and never trouble your thoughts about workhouses. Things are safe to turn round when they seem at the worst." The tea over, Mrs. Yorke said she must take her departure: the children were weary; she scarcely knew how she should get them back. Hamish had a cab called: when it came he went out and lifted the little ones into it. Winny looked at it dubiously. "You'll not tell Gerald that I said he was in a temper about your book, Mr. Channing?" she said pleadingly, as she took her seat. "I'll not tell Gerald tales of any sort," answered Hamish with his gay smile. "Take heart, as Roland tells you to do, and look forward to better days both for you and your husband. Perhaps there is a little glimmer of their dawn already showing itself, though you cannot yet see it." "Do you mean through Gerald's book?" she asked half crossly. "Oh dear no. What I mean has nothing to do with Gerald's book. Who has the paper of cakes?--Fredy. All right. Good night. The cab's paid, Mrs. Yorke." Mrs. Yorke burst into tears, leaned forward, and clasped Hamish's hand. The intimation, as to the cab, had solved a difficulty running through her mind. It was a great relief. "God bless you, Mr. Channing! You are always kind." "Only trust in God," he whispered gravely. "Trust Him ever, and He will take care of you." The cab drove off, and Hamish turned away, to encounter Roland Yorke. That gentleman, making his opportunity, had followed Hamish out; and now poured into his ear the tale he had to tell about himself and Annabel. Hamish did not hear it with altogether the stately dignity that might be expected to attend the reception of an offer of marriage for one's sister. On the contrary, he burst out laughing in Roland's face. "Come now! be honest," cried Roland, deeply offended. "Is it me you despise, Mr. Channing, or the small prospect I can offer her?" "Neither," said Hamish, laughing still. "As to yourself, old fellow, if Annabel and the mother approve, _I_ should not object. I never gave a heartier handshake to any man than I would to you as my brother-in-law. I like you better than I do the other one, William Yorke; and there's the truth." "Oh--him! you easily might," answered Roland, jerking his nose into the air, with his usual depreciation of the Reverend William Yorke's merits. "Then why do you laugh at me?" "I laughed at the idea of your making two hundred a year at copying deeds." "I didn't say I should. You couldn't have been listening to me, Hamish--I wish, then, you'd not laugh so, as if you only made game of a fellow! What I said was, that I was putting my shoulder to the wheel in earnest, and had begun with copying, not to waste time. I have been thinking I'd try young Dick Yorke." "Try him for what?"