"She spoke so loud," said Gertrude, pressing her hand to her head. "I never felt so labelled and docketed in my life," cried Phyllis; "_This is a poor person_, seemed to be written all over my clothes. Poor Fred's chuckles and 'By Joves' were much more comfortable." Kettle came into the room with a letter addressed to Miss G. Lorimer. "It is from Mr. Russel," she said, examining the postmark, and broke the seal with anxious fingers. Mr. Russel was the friend of their father to whom she had applied for advice the day before. He carried on a large and world-famed business as a photographer in the north of England; to the disgust of a family that had starved respectably on scholarship for several generations. Gertrude's mobile face brightened as she read the letter. "Mr. Russel is most encouraging," she said; "and very kind. He is actually coming to London to talk it over with us, and examine our work. And he even hints that one of us should go back with him to learn about things; but perhaps that will not be necessary." Every one seized on the kind letter, and the air was filled with the praises of its writer, Fanny even going so far as to call him a darling. Gertrude, walking up and down the room, stopped suddenly and said: "Let us make some good resolutions!" "Yes," cried Phyllis, with her usual frankness; "let us pave the way to hell a little!" "Firstly, we won't be cynical." The motion was carried unanimously. "Secondly, we will be happy." This motion was carried, with even greater enthusiasm than the preceding one. "Thirdly," put in Phyllis, coming up behind her sister, laying her nut-brown head on her shoulder, and speaking in tones of mock pathos: "Thirdly, we will never, never mention that we have seen better days!" Thus, with laughing faces, they stood up and defied the Fates. [Illustration: Decoration] [Illustration: Decoration] CHAPTER III. WAYS AND MEANS. _O 'tis not joy and 'tis not bliss, Only it is precisely this That keeps us all alive._ A. H. CLOUGH. "So you are really, really going to do it, Gerty?" "Yes, really, Con." It was the day before the sale, and the two girls, Gertrude Lorimer and Constance Devonshire were walking round the garden together for the last time. It had been a day of farewells. Only an hour ago the unfortunate Fan had rolled off to Lancaster Gate in a brougham belonging to the house of Pratt. Lucy was now steaming on her way to the north with Mr. Russel; and upstairs Phyllis was packing her boxes before setting out for Queen's Gate with Constance and her sister. "If it hadn't been for Mr. Russel," went on Gertrude, with enthusiasm, "the whole thing would have fallen through. Of course, all the kind, common-sense people opposed the scheme tooth and nail; Mr. Russel told me in confidence that he had no belief in common sense; that I was to remember that, before trusting myself to him in any respect."