ysterics. Billy-boy was small enough to require a
good deal of attention at dinner, especially as he was more disposed to
open big blue eyes at the stranger, than to make use of his spoon, and
Annaple seemed chiefly engrossed with him, though a quick keen word at
the right moment showed that she was aware of all that was going on, as
Mark and Mr. Dutton discussed the present situation and future measures.

It was quite true that a man concerned in a failure was in great danger
of being left out of the race for employment, and Mr. Dutton did not
think it needful to mention the force of the arguments he was using to
back his recommendation of Mark Egremont. The possibilities he had
heard of were a clerkship at a shipping agent's, another at a warehouse
in their own line, and a desk at an insurance office. This sounded
best, but had the smallest salary to begin with, and locality had to be
taken into account. Mr. Dutton's plan was, that as soon as Mark was no
longer necessary for what Annaple was pleased to call the fall of the
sere and withered leaf, the pair should come to stay with him, so that
Mark could see his possible employers, and Annaple consider of the
situations. They accepted this gratefully, Mark only proposing that
she should go either to his stepmother or her own relations to avoid
the final crisis.

'As if I would!' she exclaimed. 'What sort of a little recreant goose
do you take me for?'

'I take you for a gallant little woman, ready to stand in the breach,'
said Mark.

'Ah, don't flatter yourself! There is a thing I have not got courage
to face--without necessity, and that's Janet's triumphant pity. Mr.
Dutton lives rather too near your uncle, but he is a man, and he can't
be so bad.'

This of course did not pass till Mr. Dutton had gone in to greet the
ladies next door, to promise to tell them of their child at length when
the business hours of the day should be over.

Shall it be told? There was something in his tone--perfectly
indefinable, with which he spoke of 'Miss Egremont,' that was like the
old wistfully reverential voice in which he used to mention 'Mrs.
Egremont.' It smote Mary Nugent's quiet heart with a pang. Was it
that the alteration from the old kindly fatherliness of regard to
'little Nuttie' revealed that any dim undefined hope of Mary's own must
be extinguished for ever; or was it that she grieved that he should
again be wasting his heart upon the impracticable?

A