use in your care, Jane. We shall be back _some
time_ to-morrow night, but goodness knows when. Don't you sit up for
us.'

'You know where to wire to if there's a fire breaks out in the back
kitchen,' observed Samuel facetiously. 'If you hear footsteps in the
passage at half-past two to-morrow morning don't trouble to come down;
wait till daylight to see whether they've carried off the dresser.'

Bessie screamed with laughter.

'What a fool you are, Sam! If you don't mind, you'll be making Jane
laugh. You're sure you'll be home before dark to-morrow, Jane?'

'Oh, quite sure. Mr. Kirkwood says there's a train gets to Liverpool
Street about seven, and grandfather thought that would suit us.'

'You'll be here before eight then. Do see that your fire's out before
you leave. And you'll be sure to pull the door to? And see that the
area-gate's fastened.'

'Can't you find a few more orders?' observed Samuel.

'Hold your tongue! Jane doesn't mind; do you, Jane? Now, Sam, are you
ready? Bless the man, if he hasn't got a great piece of bread sticking
in his whiskers! How _did_ it get there? Off you go!'

Jane followed them, and stood at the front door for a moment, watching
them as they departed.

Then she went upstairs. On the first floor the doors of the two rooms
stood open, and the rooms were bare. The lodgers who had occupied this
part of the house had recently left; a card was again hanging in the
window of Bessie's parlour. Jane passed up the succeeding flight and
entered the chamber which looked out upon Hanover Street. The
truckle-bed on which her grandfather slept had been arranged for the
day some two hours ago; Snowdon rose at six, and everything was orderly
in the room when Jane came to prepare breakfast an hour later. At
present the old man was sitting by the open window, smoking a pipe. He
spoke a few words with reference to the Byasses, then seemed to resume
a train of thought, and for a long time there was unbroken silence.
Jane seated herself at a table, on which were a few books and writing
materials. She began to copy something, using the pen with difficulty,
and taking extreme pains. Occasionally her eyes wandered, and once they
rested upon her grandfather's face for several minutes. But for the cry
of a milkman or a paper-boy in the street, no sound broke the quietness
of the summer morning. The blessed sunshine, so rarely shed from a
London sky--sunshine, the source of all solace to mind and
body-