Roland felt in his pockets, and found three shillings and twopence. It was all _he_ possessed. This he put on the table, wishing it was fifty times as much. His heart was good to help all the world. "I'm ashamed of its being such a trifle," said he, pulling at his whiskers in mortification. "If I were rich I should be glad to help everybody. Perhaps it'll buy a quarter of butter and a bit of tea and half a hundred of coals." "And for him to deny our going there!" repeated Winny, getting up to take the money, and then rocking herself violently. "You know the state we were in all the summer: Gerald next door to penniless and going about in fear of the bum-bailies," she continued, adhering in moments of agitation to her provincial expressions. "We wanted everything; rent, and clothes, and food; and if it had not been for a friend who continually helped us we might have just starved." "It was your mother," said Roland. "But it was not my mother," answered Mrs. Yorke, ceasing her rocking to lean forward, and her cheeks and her eyes looked alike bright in the flashing firelight. "It was Mr. Chaining." "What?" She could not be reticent, and explained all. How Hamish, or his wife for him, had helped them, even to the paying of boot-bills for Gerald. Roland sat amazed. Things that had somewhat puzzled even his careless nature were becoming clear. "And Gerald not know of this?" "As if I should dare to tell him! He thinks it all comes from my mother. Oh, Roland, you don't know how good and kind Hamish Channing is! he is more like one of Heaven's angels. I think, I do really think, I must have died, or come to a bad end, but for him. He is the least selfish man I ever knew in the world; the most thoughtful and generous." "_I_ know what Hamish is," assented Roland, with energy. "And to think that he has got to bear all this awful sorrow about his best brother--Arthur!" "Oh, Arthur is found. He is all right," said Mrs. Yorke, quietly. "What!" shouted Roland, starting from his chair. "Arthur has been at Marseilles all the while. Hamish had a letter from him this morning." A prolonged stare; a rubbing of the amazed face that had turned to a white heat; and Roland caught up his hat, and went out with a bang. Half a moment, and he was back again, sweeping his parcels from the table to the children on the carpet. "It's cakes and toys from Fanny," said he. "Go into them, you chickens. That other's a shirt, Mrs. Yorke: I can't stay for it now." On the stairs, as he was leaping down, Roland unfortunately encountered the servant maid carrying up a scuttle of coals. It was not a moment to consider maids and scuttles. Down went the coals, down went the maid. Roland took a flying leap over the _débris_, and was half way on his road to Hamish Channing's before the bewildered landlady, arriving on the scene, could understand what the matter was.