“She says I am always to say Mr. Bertie is very kind,” says Jock. “That’s Russell, you know: the fellows all call him Russell. She says, when you ask, I am to say he takes great pains with me.” Lucy was perplexed, but it was not right to show her perplexity, she thought. “And does he?” she said. “I don’t know what it means, he never says anything at all. Do you think, if we were to ride long enough, we could ride, ride, right into the sun, Lucy? there where it touches the heath--look! The sky _must_ touch somewhere, if we could only ride as far.” “Let us try,” said Lucy. Jock’s revelations were very unsatisfactory. It was just as sensible, she thought to pursue the sunshine, and follow the point where the sky must touch, as to get any light thrown upon the one point which she was anxious to investigate. Lucy’s mind had been greatly exercised upon this subject. It was impossible to mistake the signs of growing poverty and squalor in the house, and she, who felt that she had in her hand the power of turning anxiety and trouble into ease, was greatly disturbed, not knowing what to do. Mrs. Russell’s eyes were generally red now; but then they were weak, she said; and the house got to look more and more untidy. It was a begrimed little maid who opened the door, and the red-haired boy was gone, and the one who squinted, and the little fellow with the curls. Lucy went in with her brother, when they had finished their ride, and was met by the mistress of the house, all tremulous, clasping and unclasping her hands, with a nervous smile. “You must rest a little, Miss Trevor,” she said, “after your long ride, and take something; won’t you take something? I have made a little space in the drawing-room,” she added, seeing, with the quick instinct of the unfortunate, that Lucy’s eye had been caught by the big vacancy in the room, which had never been too full of furniture; “my poor piano, it was too big, much too big. I did not like to part with it, it was a relic of the days when--my rooms were not so small,” she said, with a pretense at a smile. “But you will be glad to hear, Miss Trevor, we have heard of a much better house, when-- I mean as soon as--we are quite sure about the book.” “It will not be long now?” said Lucy. “Mr. Bertie told me the printing was very nearly done.”