them stay where they
are, for the present, and that they won't be actually houseless. But
they propose now to give up the money that their father left for their
support till he could carry out the crazy schemes for retrieving himself
that he speaks of in his letter; and then they will have nothing to live
on."

"I _knew_ Suzette would do that!" said Louise. "Before that letter came
out she always said that her father never did what the papers said. But
that cut the ground from under her feet, and such a girl could have no
peace till she had given up everything--everything!"

"Something must be done," said Mrs. Hilary. "Have they--has Suzette--any
plans?"

"None, but that of giving up the little money they have left in the
bank," said Matt, forlornly.

"Well," Mrs. Hilary commented with a sort of magisterial authority,
"they've all managed as badly as they could."

"Well, mother, they hadn't a very hopeful case, to begin with," said
Matt, and Louise smiled.

"I suppose your poor father is worried almost to death about it," Mrs.
Hilary pursued.

"He was annoyed, but I couldn't see that he had lost his appetite. I
don't think that even his worriment is the first thing to be considered,
though."

"No; of course not, Matt. I was merely trying to think. I don't know
just what we can offer to do; but we must find out. Yes, we must go and
see them. They don't seem to have any one else. It is very strange that
they should have no relations they can go to!" Mrs. Hilary meditated
upon a hardship which she seemed to find personal. "Well, we must try
what we can do," she said relentingly, after a moment's pause.

They talked the question of what she could do futilely over, and at the
end Mrs. Hilary said, "I will go there in the morning. And I think I
shall go from there to Boston, and try to get your father off to the
shore."

"Oh!" said Louise.

"Yes; I don't like his being in town so late."

"Poor papa! Did he look very much wasted away, Matt? Why don't you get
him to come up here?"

"He's been asked," said Matt.

"Yes, I know he hates the country," Louise assented. She rose and went
to the glass door standing open on the piazza, where a syringa bush was
filling the dull, warm air with its breath. "We must all try to think
what we can do for Suzette."

Her mother looked at the doorway after she had vanished through it; and
listened a moment to her voice in talk with some one outside. The two
voices retreate