“Mary can get another place. Her mother will not let her stay, and she can get another place, she says; but here are two of us, Law and I, and we are good for nothing!” cried Lottie. How her thoughts were altered from the time when she thought it necessary to stay at home, to do no visible work, for the credit of the family! Lottie was not young enough to feel that it was necessary to be consistent. “We are young and strong and able to work, but we are good for nothing!” she said. And they both looked at her blankly, not knowing what to say. By-and-by Lottie escaped again into the open air, notwithstanding their anxious invitation that she should stay with them. She was too wretched to stay, and there had come upon her a longing to see another face in which there might be comfort. As she went out she almost walked into Captain Temple’s arms, who was walking slowly along looking up at her window. The old man took both her hands into his. “My poor child!” he said. He was not so frankly inquisitive as the good people she had just left, but he drew her hand through his arm and walked with her, bending over her. “I do not want to tempt you from your duty, my dear; you’ll do what is right, I am sure you will do what is right. But I can’t bear to think you are in trouble, and we so near. And my wife,” said the old man slightly faltering, “my wife thinks so, too.” He was not quite so sure of his wife. She had the restraining effect upon her husband which a more reserved and uncommunicative mind has over an impulsive one. He knew what he would like to do, but he was not sure of her, and this put hesitation into his speech. “Oh! Captain Temple,” cried Lottie, moved at last to tears, “what am I to do? If I cannot bear it, what am I to do?” “Come and speak to my wife,” he said; “come, dear, and see my wife. She can’t talk about everything as I do, but she has more sense than anyone, and knows the world. Come with me, Lottie, and see what Mrs. Temple says.”