eave to-morrow, for he won't be able to abide the sight of me
after that."

"But how will you live, Nurse, till I can help you?"

"Lord bless you, dear, that's all right. I've been a careful woman all
my life, and have hard on L500 put away in the Savings Bank, to say
nothing of a bit of Stock. Also, my old brother, who was a builder,
died last year and left me with a nice little house down in Hampstead,
which he built to live in himself, but never did, poor man, bit by bit
when he was short of business, very comfortable and in a good
neighbourhood, with first-rate furniture and real silver plate, to say
nothing of some more Stock, yes, for L1,000 or more. I let it furnished
by the month, but the tenant is going away, so I shall just move into
it myself, and perhaps take in a lodger or two to keep me from being
idle."

"That's capital!" said Godfrey, delighted.

"Yes, and I tell you what would be capitaller. Mayhap you will have to
live in London for a bit, and, if so, you are just the kind of lodger I
should like, and I don't think we should quarrel about terms. I'll
write you down the address of that house, the Grove as it is called,
though why, I don't know, seeing there isn't a tree within half a mile,
which I don't mind, as there are too many about here, making so much
damp. And you'll write and let me know what you are going to do, won't
you?"

"Of course I will."

"And now, look here. Likely you will want a little money till you
square up things with your trustee people that the master hates so
much."

"Well, I had forgotten it, but, as a matter of fact, I have only ten
shillings left, and that isn't much when one is going to London,"
confessed Godfrey.

"I thought so; you never were one to think much of such things, and so
it's probable that you'll get plenty of them, for it's what we care
about we are starved in, just to make it hot for us poor humans. Take
your father, for instance; he loves power, he does; he'd like to be a
bishop of the old Roman sort what could torture people who didn't agree
with them. And what is he? The parson of a potty parish of a couple of
hundred people, counting the babies and the softies, and half of them
Dissenters or Salvation Army. Moreover, they can't be bullied, because
if they were they'd just walk into the next chapel door. Of course,
there's the young gentlemen, and he takes it out of them, but, Lord
bless us! that's like kicking a wool sack, of which any man of