On a foggy morning in the beginning of the following January, Ted Morton strolled out of his bedroom shortly before eight o'clock, and rang the bell for breakfast. He yawned as though he were only half awake, and swore gently at the weather as he stirred up the fire to make a blaze. "What an infernal day!" he muttered, and pulled down the blind and lighted the gas. The housekeeper brought in his breakfast and his letters, and wisely withdrew without saying anything. Ted took the lid off the teapot, and examined the three envelopes in turn. His face brightened a little as he came to the third, and he buttered some toast and ate it standing. "Well, I'm hanged! Not a single bill, and one from Kit, good old Kit! That'll wait, and that. Well, I can stand hers; it's sure to be funny, at all events." He put on one boot, and then stood up again and read her letter, with a large cup of tea in his right hand. The smile on his face faded gradually as he read, and he looked almost thoughtful when he folded it up again and placed it in his breast-pocket. He was staunch in his belief that Katharine could do no wrong, but her latest idea went far to shake his conviction. "You see, it is like this," her letter ran. "There is plenty of money, really, but we have to behave as though there were none; so the effect is the same, it seems to me. I never thought about it before; I only found it out by accident, when I overheard Aunt Esther abusing daddy for buying some old architectural books. It seems as though he really does spend a good lot, without knowing it; but then, why shouldn't he? I won't have daddy bullied, so that I should have enough bread and butter to eat; it is sordid and horrible. They don't say a word about my earning my own living, but that is what they are driving me to do; it seems ridiculous that I should make other people uncomfortable by being here, when there is plenty of money in the world waiting to be earned by some one. Don't you think so? But when I said I would come up to London and give lessons, Aunt Esther had heroics, and said I should kill her. She didn't say how, and I'm sure I did not feel particularly murderous; I only wanted to laugh, while she lay on the sofa and said I was undutiful for trying to save her anxiety! I don't understand parents. They hide everything from you, and behave as if they were wealthy; then they abuse you for costing so much to keep; and then, when you say you will keep yourself, they call you undutiful. There is no doubt that if we were to send away one of the servants, I should be able to stay at home; but Aunt Esther would have a fit at the idea. It seems to me that we spend half our income in trying to persuade people of the existence of the other half. Anyhow, I am coming up at once to look for work. I haven't told daddy yet, and don't know how I