The story of her husband’s bravery filled Mrs. Hartland with honest pride; but, unfortunately it extinguished the last spark of hope that, almost unknown, had lurked in the recesses of her mind. However, she faced the matter bravely, and talked over her plans with Jim. "We shall have to leave this house," she said, "and find a cheaper one. Then I must get some kind of work to do." "What about Susie?" asked Jim. "Ah, that’s the trouble! I can’t very well go out and leave her alone. Perhaps I can get some plain sewing." "Haven’t we any money at all, mother?" the boy asked presently. "Only what is due from your father’s wages, and that won’t keep us long." Susie had gone to bed, and there was no one in the room but mother and son. Mrs. Hartland sat by the window with some needlework in her hand, though it was too dark to sew; Jim stood by the mantelpiece, fumbling nervously with a button on his jacket. Presently he said bravely, "I must leave school and get a place somewhere. I daresay I can earn something, if only a little." It cost him an effort to say this without breaking down, for he was very ambitious, and had mapped out a great career for himself. In the first place he had made up his mind to win the Gayton Scholarship, which was to be a stepping-stone to fortune. This was all done with now, for even in the event of being successful he could not accept the scholarship. Mrs. Hartland guessed a part of his thoughts, and, calling him to her side, said,— "We’ll talk about that another time, Jim. There’s no need to give up your school at present; I wouldn’t like you to do that. I daresay we shall be able to rub along somehow till the next examination." "But there’s no good in trying for the ’Gayton.’" "Not for yourself, but it would be an honour for your school if you won it. You would leave a good name behind you also." So, after some further talk, it was decided that Jim should stay on at school; and the next week the family moved to a little house in a much poorer quarter of the town. Of course Dick went to help, and his bright smile and cheerful humour did much to cheer them. "Isn’t it a poky place?" said Jim, pausing in the work of putting up his sister’s bedstead. "Well, you can’t call it exactly a palace," replied Dick, "but it might be worse, you know. O my aunt!" And the Angel finished with a vigorous howl. "What’s the matter?" "I nipped my hand under that iron bar." And he sucked the tips of his fingers as if they were sticks of sugar-candy. "Just see if you can twist this nut round; I can’t move it." The two friends worked away with a will, making up in zeal what they lacked in experience, and very soon had the room looking quite cozy and comfortable. Then they went downstairs; and before night, as Dick’s mother, who had come over to help, put it, "things were beginning to look a bit straight."