illah pressed around him,
with cries of "Papa!" Their mother rose and looked at him with concern.

When the greetings were over, Mr. Denyer seated himself and wiped his
forehead with a silk handkerchief. He was ominously grave. His eyes
avoided the faces before him, as if in shame. He looked at his boots,
which had just been blacked, but were shabby, and then glanced at the
elegant skirts of his wife and daughters; he looked at his shirt-cuffs,
which were clean but frayed, and then gathered courage to lift his eyes
as far as the dainty hands folded upon laps in show of patience.

"Madeline," he began, in a voice which was naturally harsh, but could
express much tenderness, as now, "what news of Clifford?"

"He's still here, papa," was the answer, in a very low voice.

"I am glad of that. Girls, I've got something to tell you. I wish it
was something pleasant."

His parchment cheek showed a distinct flush. The attempt to keep his
eyes on the girls was a failure; he seemed to be about to confess a
crime.

"I've brought you bad news, the worst I ever brought you yet. My dears,
I can hold out no longer; I'm at the end of my means. If I could have
kept this from you, Heaven knows I would have done, but it is better to
tell you all plainly."

Mrs. Denyer's brows were knitted; her lips were compressed in angry
obstinacy; she would not look up from the floor. The girls glanced at
her, then at one another. Barbara tried to put on a sceptical
expression, but failed; Madeline was sunk in trouble; Zillah showed
signs of tearfulness.

"I can only hope," Mr. Denyer continued, "that you don't owe very much
here. I thought, after my last letter"--he seemed more abashed than
ever--"you might have looked round for something a little--" He glanced
at the ornaments of the room, but at the same time chanced to catch his
wife's eye, and did not finish the sentence. "But never mind that; time
enough now that the necessity has come. You know me well enough,
Barbara, and you Maddy, and you, Zillah, my child, to be sure that I
wouldn't deny you anything it was in my power to give. But fortune's
gone against me this long time. I shall have to make a new start, new
efforts. I'm going out to Vera Cruz again."

He once more wiped his forehead, and took the opportunity to look
askance at Mrs. Denyer, dubiously, half reproachfully.

"And what are _we_ to do?" asked his wife, with resentful helplessness.

"I am afraid you must go to Englan