Sally, without any understanding of her mother's meaning, kissed the ring, and then kissed her mother, whose tears bathed her neck. "Don't cry, mother," said Sally; "it ain't your fault." "Heaven knows it ain't, my sweet," replied the mother; and with a heart made lighter by Sally's embrace, ran out, and soon returned with wood and coals. That night Sally, lying awake, but supposed to be asleep, overheard a full account of her mother's troubles, as they were related to the brother who had brought this trouble upon them. Mrs. Chester did not reproach her boy, being indeed utterly blind to his faults; and she confided to him only because she yearned for sympathy and counsel. He was ready enough with both--with heartless sympathy and empty counsel--devouring a great part of the loaf of bread as he bestowed them after the fashion of his nature, and greedily drinking the tea which his mother poured out for him with ready hand and loving heart. "And you think I had better accept the situation, Ned, if I can get it?" "I don't see what else is to be done. _I've_ got nothing." "I know that, I know that," interrupted the mother tenderly. "Or you would never see us want." "Of course I wouldn't," replied the lovely lad, in a whining tone; "but luck's against me--it's been against me all my life!" "It'll turn one day, Ned, you see if it won't," said the mother, gazing, from force of habit, with infatuation, at the mole on his temple; "and then when you're a rich man you'll take care of your poor mother, whose heart is almost broken at the thought of parting from her children, won't you, Ned?" The piteous words and the more piteous tone in which they were uttered elicited from the vagabond son nothing but a sulky promise--as intangible as the air into which it was breathed--that when he was a rich man, he wouldn't forget the mother that bore him. "It _must_ be done, then," sighed Mrs. Chester; "there's no help for it. But where am I to put Sally? Who's to look after her? Eighteen pounds a year is seven shillings a week. I could give half of that, three-and-sixpence a week, for her keep. It might be managed that way." "Half of eighteen pound," grumbled Ned, "is nine pound. If I had nine pound, I could make my fortune." "Whatever I can spare, you shall have, Ned. But Sally comes first. She's not old enough to look after herself, and she's a girl, remember." Which had no other effect upon Ned than to make him wish _he_ was a girl, for girls always had the best of everything, and he couldn't be worse off than he was--an unconsciously-uttered truism, of which he did not see the point. They stopped up talking for an hour longer, and by midnight the room was quiet and dark. Mrs. Chester did not sleep; she lay awake all the night, thinking of the sad change in her fortunes which was about to take place. CHAPTER IX.