Naturally a career of this kind cost much, and soon Lady Harriet was driven to her wits' end to find her son the means he demanded, and at the same time to hide his extravagance from his father. The old man was growing stupid, but not on the side of lavishness. On the contrary, he clung to his money the more tenaciously, the more he felt that, and all other earthly goods slipping from him, and woke to snappish inquisitiveness when his name was wanted at the bottom of a cheque. For a time Cecil's mother smuggled considerable sums for her boy through the household accounts, and by pinching herself in the matter of new clothes and jewels, managed to keep him afloat. But soon his wastefulness went far beyond the range of such petty expedients. From hundreds his losses grew to thousands, and she was in despair. Again and again did she beseech her darling to be careful, to restrain himself, to have pity on her grey hairs. She might as well have prayed to the church steeple. Cecil abused her, and told her that he would have money, get it how he might; if she did not give it him the Jews would, and it would be the worse for her. Sometimes she thought she must tell his father, but the courage and truth of heart were alike wanting for a course so open. Once she threatened Cecil with this dreaded alternative, and he wrote back that he did not see why she could not put his father's name to a cheque, and be done with it. And he spoke of the old man's grasping tendencies in terms unfit for transcription. Verily, Nemesis was overtaking this poor woman, and bitter care had become her familiar friend, though she knew hardly the fringe of her son's iniquity. He weltered in a pool of corruption, caring for nobody, loving no one but himself, despising natural affection, trampling it under his feet with the unconsciousness of a demon, and crying for money, money, as a horse leech seeks for blood. Such are some of the characteristics of the family under whose roof the daughter of Thomas Wanless now found herself, a stranger, bewildered with the splendour around her, and the signs of a wealth greater than her imagination had ever conceived. CHAPTER IX. TELLS AN OLD, OLD STORY. Sarah Wanless did not quite suit the housekeeper, Mrs. Weaver, as still-room maid. She was not sufficiently acquainted with the work, and got flurried when the deputy tyrant of the household scolded her, which, after the first few days, was many times a-day. So, after a month of this purgatory, she was transferred to the nursery as under-nurse to the children of Lady Harriet's daughter, Mrs. Morgan. There her position was in some respects improved, though the head nurse was a woman of vulgar instincts, and given to nagging, as women verging on forty, face to face with old maidhood, often are. Doubtless she had had her sorrows and disappointments, and felt that the world had been unkind to her--a feeling which justifies much unloveliness here below in other folks than old maids.