"The 'King William,'" said Austen. "The boat never paid for itself, and the mortgage was foreclosed and the boat sold." The girl's eyes narrowed with curious intentness. As she listened she pushed her hair back with the hand propping her head as if its weight oppressed her. "And then?" she asked. "Here are more entries." "I bought the boat in at a figure a little over the mortgage; river affairs were down. Later, a couple of years--you'll find it there--the boat sold for double the price." She closed the book. "That's enough, I believe," she said, "for one evening." But it is doubtful if he was at all aware of anything strange in her tone. She tripped on her skirts, so impetuous was her flight up the stairs, and, in her room, flung herself upon the bed. Her hands even beat fiercely as she cried, but there was no doll Sally Ann to be gathered in for comfort now. They had loved her, they had been good to her. Mrs. Leroy had rocked her, the Captain had held her on his knee. She sprang up and went to bathe her eyes. If she knew where they were, or how to find them, she would go-- She wondered if Emily or her mother had known about this. She went to the Carringfords' the next afternoon. She liked to go over to the little brown house and she liked Emily's strong-featured, outspoken mother; there was a certain homely charm even in the clear-starched fresh calico dresses she wore. Mrs. Carringford was drawing large loaves of golden-brown bread from the oven as Alexina came in by way of the kitchen door. The smell of it was good. "Wait a moment, Alexina," she said, as she rose and turned the loaves out onto a clean crash towel spread upon the table. "I want a word with you before you go up-stairs. It's about Emily; you know, I suppose, that your uncle is coming over right often to see her?--That big hat looks well on your yellow hair, Alexina--And I'm going to be plain: it's bad for Emily; she's discontented with things now, she always has been." Alexina's eyes dilated. "Coming to see Emily? Does--does Emily want him to come?" "Alexina," called Emily down the stairs; "aren't you coming up?" Alexina went up to the room which Emily shared with her two little sisters. It was hard on her. There were various attempts to have it as a girl fancies her room. The airiness of Swiss muslins, however cheap, the sheen of the colour over which the airiness lies, the fluttering of ruffled edges--these seem to be expressions of girlhood. But Emily's little sisters shared the room with her. They were there when Alexina entered. "Now go out," Emily told them; "we want to be alone." The little girls looked up. Miss Alexina was tall and fair and friendly, she wore lovely dresses, she went to balls, and they adored her. She felt the flattery and liked it too. "Oh," she interceded, "no, don't, Emily." "Yes," said Emily; "we want to talk. Go on, Nan--Nell; don't you hear?"