But now, regarding their treasures in the clear morning light, and without Aunt Azraella, the Greys wondered if their decision had been wrong, and it was their duty to give up those precious belongings which seemed more really kin to them than many of the animate connections transmitted to them through dead-and-gone ancestors. Two alternatives stared them in the face: to sell the furniture, or mortgage the little grey house. Thus far the dear little old home had been as free from burden as in its first building, when a Grey had hewn its walls from the forest with his own hands, and dug its cellar, and piled its stone foundations from the rocks of its own meadows, helped only by the friendly hands of other pioneers. It was not possible to regard a mortgage upon it calmly; for sentiment's sake in the first place, and then because its interest would be a continual burden long after the ready money it had given them would have been changed into the necessities of life. "Still, Mardy," Rob began, speaking out of the thoughts they were silently exchanging, after the fashion of people who live in loving sympathetic intimacy--"still, Mardy, the mortgage could be paid off when the bricquette machine is sold, but if we gave up the furniture it would be gone forever. The mortgage is dreadful, but it gives us another chance, while the sale would not. We shall need money only a little while longer, you know, if everything goes right." "Oh, Rob, Rob, and if everything goes wrong?" cried Mrs. Grey, the cry wrung from her by the sudden sharp realization that her lares and penates, her home, her husband himself, threatened to slip from her forever. "Then I will take the bricquettes' place--I am sure I am combustible enough!" cried Rob, but neither her mother nor Oswyth could smile. Aunt Azraella came over again after dinner to renew her appeals to common-sense and for the fulfilment of her own desires. There was another conclave of elders, and Wythie and Rob, feeling the strain too great upon their nerves, escaped into the October sunshine. They came upon Frances Silsby under escort of Battalion B, coming to seek them, and half-heartedly consented to a short row on the river in the boys' long-boat, which they had christened "The Graces," because, they pointed out, it was equally appropriate to "the trio of owners and the most frequent and honored guests." "You don't look cheerful to-day, you Grey sisters," said Basil, shipping rowlocks and oars and pushing off. "No; even Rob is downly," said Bruce, coining a new adverb. "Is it anything we could help?" "Not unless you are bankers," said Rob, disregarding Wythie's signals for silence. "What's the use, Wythie? France has known us ever since we were here to be known, and these new friends are just as true ones. We're having grey days without gold--that's all."