n going at them so long that I daresay I've muddled it. It mayn't
be quite so hopeless as I've made out."

"The books! My dear Mary----" Mrs. Bethel looked at her daughter
pathetically. "You know that I've no head for figures. Why, when
mother died at home--we were in Chertsey then, Frank and Doris and
I--and I tried to manage things, you know, it was really too absurd. I
used to make the most ridiculous mistakes and Frank said that the
village people did just what they liked with me, and I remember old
Mrs. Blenkinsop charging me for eggs after the first month at quite an
outrageous rate because----"

"Yes, mother, I know. But two heads are better than one, and I am
really hopelessly puzzled to know what to do." Mary got up and went
over to her mother and put her arm round her. "You see, dear, it is
serious. There's no money at all--less than none; and I don't know
where we are to turn. There's no outlook at all. I'm afraid that it's
no use appealing to father--no use--and so it's simply left for us two
to do what we can. It's frightening always doing it alone, and I
thought you would help me."

"Well, of course, Mary dear, I'll do what I can. No, I'm afraid that
it would be no good appealing to your father. It's strange how very
little sense he's ever had of money--of the value of it. I remember in
the first week that we were married he bought some book or other and we
had to go without quite a lot of things. I was angry then, but I've
learnt since. It was our first quarrel."

She sighed. It was always Mrs. Bethel's method of dealing with any
present problem to flee into the happy land of reminiscence and to stay
there until the matter had, comfortably or otherwise, settled itself.

"But I shouldn't worry," she said, looking up at her daughter. "Things
always turn up, and besides," she added, "you might marry, dear."

"Marry!" Mary looked up at her mother sharply. Mrs. Bethel looked a
little frightened.

"Well, you will, you know, dear, probably--and perhaps--well, if he had
money----"

"Mother!" She sprang up from her chair and faced her with flaming
cheeks. "Do you mean to say that they are talking about it?"

"They? Who? It was only Mrs. Morrison the other day, at tea-time,
said--that she thought----"

"Mrs. Morrison? That hateful woman discussing me? Mother, how could
you let her? What did she say?"

"Why, only--I wish you wouldn't look so cross, dear. It was nothing
rea