f staring about her, and a critical survey of
the pattern of Mrs Cruden's dress, contrived to gather a general idea
of what was required of her.

It was a queer meal, half ludicrous, half despairing, that first little
tea-party in Dull Street. They tried to be gay. Reginald declared that
the tea his mother poured out was far better than any the footman at
Garden Vale used to dispense. Horace tried to make fun of the
heterogeneous cups and saucers. Mrs Cruden tried hard to appear as
though she was taking a hearty meal, while she tasted nothing. But it
was a relief when the girl reappeared and cleared the table.

Then they unpacked their few belongings, and tried to enliven their
dreary lodgings with a few precious mementoes of happier days. Finally,
worn out in mind and body, they took shelter in bed, and for a blessed
season forgot all their misery and forebodings in sleep.

There is no magic equal to that which a night's sleep will sometimes
work. The little party assembled cheerfully at the breakfast-table next
morning, prepared to face the day bravely.

A large letter, in Mr Richmond's handwriting, lay on Mrs Cruden's
plate. It contained three letters--one from the lawyer himself, and one
for each of the boys from Wilderham. Mr Richmond's letter was brief
and business-like.

"Dear Madam,--Enclosed please find two letters, which I found lying at
Garden Vale yesterday. With regard to balance of your late husband's
assets in your favour, I have an opportunity of investing same at an
unusually good rate of interest in sound security. Shall be pleased to
wait on you with particulars. Am also in a position to introduce the
young gentlemen to a business opening, which, if not at first important,
may seem to you a favourable opportunity. On these points I shall have
the honour of waiting on you during to-morrow afternoon, and meanwhile
beg to remain,--

"Your obedient servant,--

"R. Richmond."

"We ought to make sure what the investment is," said Reginald, after
hearing the letter read, "before we hand over all our money to him."

"To be sure, dear," said Mrs Cruden, who hated the sound of the word
investment.

"I wonder what he proposes for us?" said Horace. "Some clerkship, I
suppose."

"Perhaps in his own office," said Reginald. "_What_ an opening that
would be!"

"Never you mind. The law's very respectable; but I know I'd be no good
for that. I might manage to serve tea and raisins behi