“So am I,” said Mr. Yorke. “I would rather you went to Lady Augusta’s than to a stranger’s. And do, Constance, try and make those poor girls more what they ought to be.” “That I shall try, you may be sure, William. Are you not coming in?” “No,” said Mr. Yorke, who had held out his hand on reaching the door. He was pretty constant in his evening visits to the Channings, but he had made an engagement for this one with a brother clergyman. Constance entered. She looked in the study for her brothers, but only Arthur was there. He was leaning his elbow upon the table in a thoughtful mood. “Where are they all?” inquired Constance. “Tom and Charles have gone to the cricket match. I don’t think Hamish has come in.” “Why did you not go to cricket also?” “I don’t know,” said Arthur. “I did not feel much inclination for cricket this evening.” “You looked depressed, Arthur, but I have some good news for you,” Constance said, bending over him with a bright smile. “It is settled about my going out, and I am to have forty guineas a year. Guess where it is to?” Arthur threw his arm round Constance, and they stood together, looking at the trailing honeysuckle just outside the window. “Tell me, darling.” “It is to Lady Augusta’s. William has been talking to her, and she would like to have me. Does it not seem lucky to find it so soon?” “_Lucky_, Constance?” “Ah, well! you know what I think, Arthur, though I did say ‘lucky,’” returned Constance. “I know it is God who is helping us.” Very beautiful, very touching, was the simple trustfulness reposed in God, by Constance and Arthur Channing. The good seed had been sown on good ground, and was bringing forth its fruit. “I was deep in a reverie when you interrupted me, Constance,” Arthur resumed. “Something seems to whisper to me that this loss, which we regard as a great misfortune, may turn out for good in the end.” “In the end! It may have come for our good now,” said Constance. “Perhaps I wanted my pride lowered,” she laughed; “and this has come to do it, and is despatching me out, a meek governess.” “Perhaps we all wanted it,” cried Arthur, meaningly. “There are other bad habits it may stop, besides pride.” He was thinking of Hamish and his propensity for spending. “Forty guineas you are to have?” “Yes,” said Constance. “Arthur, do you know a scheme that I have in my head? I have been thinking of it all day.” “What is it? Stay! here is some one coming in. It is Hamish.” Hamish entered with the account-books under his arm, preparatory to going over them with his father. Constance drew him to her. “Hamish, I have a plan in my head, if we can only carry it out. I am going to tell it you.” “One that will set the river on fire?” cried gay, laughing Hamish. “If we--you and I, and Arthur--can only manage to earn enough money, and if we can observe strict economy at home, who knows but we may send papa to the German baths yet?”