not think how ever you came to dream of such an unheard-of thing.'

'But it is not a castle in the air, and it does get a living!' said
Ethelberta, her lip quivering.

'Well, yes, while it is just a new thing; but I am afraid it cannot
last--that's what I fear. People will find you out as one of a family of
servants, and their pride will be stung at having gone to hear your
romancing; then they will go no more, and what will happen to us and the
poor little ones?'

'We must all scatter again!'

'If we could get as we were once, I wouldn't mind that. But we shall
have lost our character as simple country folk who know nothing, which
are the only class of poor people that squires will give any help to; and
I much doubt if the girls would get places after such a discovery--it
would be so awkward and unheard-of.'

'Well, all I can say is,' replied Ethelberta, 'that I will do my best.
All that I have is theirs and yours as much as mine, and these
arrangements are simply on their account. I don't like my relations
being my servants; but if they did not work for me, they would have to
work for others, and my service is much lighter and pleasanter than any
other lady's would be for them, so the advantages are worth the risk. If
I stood alone, I would go and hide my head in any hole, and care no more
about the world and its ways. I wish I was well out of it, and at the
bottom of a quiet grave--anybody might have the world for me then! But
don't let me disturb you longer; it is getting late.'

Ethelberta then wished her mother good-night, and went away. To attempt
confidences on such an ethereal matter as love was now absurd; her hermit
spirit was doomed to dwell apart as usual; and she applied herself to
deep thinking without aid and alone. Not only was there Picotee's misery
to disperse; it became imperative to consider how best to overpass a more
general catastrophe.

24. ETHELBERTA'S HOUSE (continued)--THE BRITISH MUSEUM

Mrs. Chickerel, in deploring the risks of their present speculative mode
of life, was far from imagining that signs of the foul future so much
dreaded were actually apparent to Ethelberta at the time the lament was
spoken. Hence the daughter's uncommon sensitiveness to prophecy. It was
as if a dead-reckoner poring over his chart should predict breakers ahead
to one who already beheld them.

That her story-telling would prove so attractive Ethelberta had not
ventured to expect for