f it had depended upon me, the
concern would have fallen to pieces years ago, like so many others.
House after house has gone down; our turn must have come very soon. As
it is, we shall clear out with credit, and start afresh gloriously. By
the bye, don't get any but Applegarth's jams in future."

"That depends," said Jane laughing, "if we like them."

In their simple and wholesome way of living, the Warburtons of course
dined at midday, and Will, who rarely ate without appetite, surpassed
himself as trencherman; nowhere had food such a savour for him as under
this roof. The homemade bread and home-grown vegetables he was never
tired of praising; such fragrant and toothsome loaves, he loudly
protested, were to be eaten nowhere else in England. He began to talk
of his holiday abroad, when all at once his countenance fell, his lips
closed; in the pleasure of being "at home," he had forgotten all about
Norbert Franks, and very unwelcome were the thoughts which attached
themselves to this recollection of his days at Trient.

"What's the matter?" asked Jane, noticing his change of look.

"Oh, nothing--a stupid affair. I wrote to you about the Pomfrets and
their niece. I'm afraid that girl is an idiot. She used the opportunity
of her absence, I find, to break with Franks. No excuse whatever;
simply sent him about his business."

"Oh!" exclaimed both the ladies, who had been interested in the
artist's love story, as narrated to them, rather badly, by Will on
former occasions.

"Of course, I don't know much about it. But it looks bad. Perhaps it's
the best thing that could have happened to Franks, for it may mean that
he hasn't made money fast enough to please her."

"But you gave us quite another idea of Miss Elvan," said his mother.

"Yes, I daresay I did. Who knows? I don't pretend to understand such
things."

A little before sunset came Mr. Turnbull, who took supper at The Haws,
and was fetched away by his coachman at ten o'clock. With this old
friend, who in Will's eyes looked no older now than when he first knew
him in early childhood, they talked freely of the Applegarth business,
and Mr. Turnbull promised to make inquiries at once. Of course, he took
a despondent view of jam. Jam, he inclined to think, was being
overdone; after all, the country could consume only a certain quantity
of even the most wholesome preserves, and a glut of jam already
threatened the market. Applegarth? By the bye, did he not remember