The quartette was too full of dismay to correct the maternal grammar, and listened in gloomy silence. "We never had to work for our living," pursued Mrs. Grosgrain, "but the girls' marmer had to, and she was a master-hand at tailoring. And they've all took after her. Mary can make as handsome a bonnet as any milliner, and so can Flora; and the others can cut and fit beautifully." "But there was a deal of money spent on your education," said Mrs. Grey, turning to the young ladies; "could you not open a school?" She knew they could not, but thought it best to make them face the situation for themselves. "They never took to their books," said Mrs. Grosgrain. "And they never thought to come to this. But they're all handy, like their marmer." "Then the hands must come to the rescue," said Mrs. Grey, looking brightly into the sad faces around her. "What a disgrace!" cried Miss Grosgrain. "We who were born to so much better things!" "I think we were all born to the lot in which we find ourselves," said Mrs. Grey, kindly. "Poverty is no disgrace, nor is work; I would rather see one of my daughters employed as a housemaid, than living a life of ease and luxury and pleasure. In the one case I should hope to see her forming a useful character; in the other I should expect to see her a mere cumberer of the ground. Now, you have asked me to advise you, and I will try to do it. Have you any friends who will aid you until you begin to support yourselves?" They shook their heads mournfully. Their money had plenty of friends; personally, they had none. "We have to leave this house in a week," said Mrs. Grosgrain. "The party that owns it is going to pull it all to pieces." "I would as lief die, as to work for my living!" cried Miss Grosgrain. "Providence has not given you the choice," said Mrs. Grey, gravely. "And all that looks so distressing now, may, through Him, become a benediction." "I had a little money hid away," said Mrs. Grosgrain, brightening up. "I always mistrusted that our luck wouldn't always last, and now and then I hid gold pieces away. But my memory has failed of late years, and I don't remember exactly where I put it. 'Twa'n't all in one place, and when we sold out I forgot all about it. If we could stay in the house long enough, I guess I could find some of it." "To whom did you sell out?" "To James J. Sheldon." "Ah! He is a friend of mine. I can easily persuade him to allow you to stay. He could do nothing to the house in this cold weather." "Still, it isn't likely if we find the money that it will amount to anything; and, for my part, I wish I was dead." Hereupon ensued fresh bursts of tears all around. "My dear," asked Mrs. Grey, seriously, "where should you be if you were dead?" "I could not be worse off than I am now," was the sullen answer.