"Come up here, girls, come up here," she said, in a stage-whisper, gesticulating wildly. "Where have you been? Come; I'm half dead." Prue's cheeks were tear-stained and her voice husky; Oswyth and Rob hastened to her. "What has happened?" Rob demanded. Prue threw her arms around Wythie--her favorite sister--and dropped her golden head on her breast. "They're mortgaging the little grey house--oh dear, oh dear!" she sobbed. Wythie drew Prue into her room, Rob following, very pale, and shut the door. "Already?" Wythie said. "This moment," said Prue, tragically. "When I came home Aunt Azraella was here, and still talking about our selling the furniture. Then papa seemed to lose all patience, and to want to have it over with. He said: 'Mr. Barker told me he was ready to take the mortgage and give me the money any moment I would call him over. Prue, go tell him now that I am ready to mortgage the house--that I'm waiting for him. And then go fetch lawyer Dinsmore. I must get it done, and stop discussing it; it takes too much nervous strain, and too much time from my work.' I looked at Mardy, and she looked miserable, but she only said: 'Go, Prue; hurry, child.' So I went. And they've been mortgaging down there for half an hour. They ought to be done soon, I should think: how long does it take to put on a mortgage?" "Oh, I don't know, I do not know," moaned Rob, throwing herself face downward on the bed. "How long does it take to get one off, you'd better ask." Prue looked hurt. "You can't care more than I do, Rob Grey," she said. "I've cried and cried, and I thought I'd die when I told Mr. Barker and Mr. Dinsmore to come." Oswyth had sunk into her rocking-chair, the tears raining down her white cheeks. She held out her arms to Prue, who fled to them, very ready to be petted. "Poor little Prue!" said Wythie. "And you were all alone to bear it. Poor, pretty little Prudy!" Kiku, who was the most loving of little creatures, jumped up to rub his face against Rob's, not minding its wetness, and making soft, cooing sounds to her as if she were a kitten and he her cat-mother. The gentle, dumb, little creature comforted Rob more than spoken love could have done. She rolled over and kissed the cat between his pink-lined ears, and, seeing Wythie looking so grief-stricken, characteristically began to surmount her own trouble. "Now, doen't, doen't, my dear," she said, in the words of Ham Pegotty. "It's a blow that knocked me down for a minute, but I'm not going to lie prostrate long. We'll clear off the mortgage--Patergrey, the machine, and I--in a twinkling, and the little grey house shall be Greyer than ever." Wythie shook her head, and at that moment they heard the front door shut and footsteps go down the walk. And in the hall their mother was saying: "There are those poor children upstairs alone; we must go comfort them, Sylvester."