might suffer from no inconvenience
till her child was born. But she had never been used to the management of
money, and was unable to adapt her expenditure to her altered
circumstances. The little she had slipped through her fingers in one way
and another, so that now, when all expenses were paid, not much more than
two thousand pounds remained to support the boy till he was able to earn
his own living. It was impossible to explain all this to Philip and he was
sobbing still.

"You'd better go to Emma," Mr. Carey said, feeling that she could console
the child better than anyone.

Without a word Philip slipped off his uncle's knee, but Mr. Carey stopped
him.

"We must go tomorrow, because on Saturday I've got to prepare my sermon,
and you must tell Emma to get your things ready today. You can bring all
your toys. And if you want anything to remember your father and mother by
you can take one thing for each of them. Everything else is going to be
sold."

The boy slipped out of the room. Mr. Carey was unused to work, and he
turned to his correspondence with resentment. On one side of the desk was
a bundle of bills, and these filled him with irritation. One especially
seemed preposterous. Immediately after Mrs. Carey's death Emma had ordered
from the florist masses of white flowers for the room in which the dead
woman lay. It was sheer waste of money. Emma took far too much upon
herself. Even if there had been no financial necessity, he would have
dismissed her.

But Philip went to her, and hid his face in her bosom, and wept as though
his heart would break. And she, feeling that he was almost her own
son--she had taken him when he was a month old--consoled him with soft
words. She promised that she would come and see him sometimes, and that
she would never forget him; and she told him about the country he was
going to and about her own home in Devonshire--her father kept a turnpike
on the high-road that led to Exeter, and there were pigs in the sty, and
there was a cow, and the cow had just had a calf--till Philip forgot his
tears and grew excited at the thought of his approaching journey.
Presently she put him down, for there was much to be done, and he helped
her to lay out his clothes on the bed. She sent him into the nursery to
gather up his toys, and in a little while he was playing happily.

But at last he grew tired of being alone and went back to the bed-room, in
which Emma was now putting his things into a