he mantel-shelf. How was a
woman to know what to do? Was not he that was most helpless and had most
need of her the one to devote her time to? There was not a thought in
her that was disloyal to Sir Tom. But what if he were to form the habit
of doing without her society? This was an idea that filled her with a
vague dread. Some one came in through the great drawing-room as she
stood thinking, and she turned round eagerly, supposing that it was her
husband; but it was only Jock, who had been on the watch to hear Lady
Randolph go upstairs.

"I never see you at all now, Lucy," cried Jock. "I never have a chance
but in the holidays, and now they're half over, and we have not had one
good talk. And what about poor Mr. Churchill, Lucy? I thought he was the
very man for you. He has got about a dozen children and no money.
Somebody else pays for Churchill, that's the fellow I told you of that's
on the foundation. I shouldn't have found out all that, and gone and
asked questions and got myself thought an inquisitive beggar, if it
hadn't been for your sake."

"Oh, Jock, I'm sure I am much obliged to you," said Lucy, dolefully;
"and I am so sorry for the poor gentleman. It must be dreadful to have
so many children and not to be able to give them everything they
require."

At this speech, which was uttered with something between impatience and
despair, and which made no promise of any help or succour, her brother
regarded her with a mixture of anger and disappointment.

"Is that all about it, Lucy?" he said.

"Oh, no, Jock! I am sure you are right, dear. I know I ought to bestir
myself and do something, but only---- How much do you think it would take
to make them comfortable? Oh, Jock, I wish that papa had put it all into
somebody's hands, to be done like business--somebody that had nothing
else to think of!"

"What have you to think of, Lucy?" said the boy, seriously, in the
superiority of his youth. "I suppose, you know, you are just too well
off. You can't understand what it is to be like that. You get angry at
people for not being happy, you don't want to be disturbed." He paused
remorsefully, and cast a glance at her, melting in spite of himself, for
Lucy did not look too well off. Her soft brow was contracted a little;
there was a faint quiver upon her lip. "If you really want to know,"
Jock said, "people can live and get along when they have about five
hundred a year. That is, as far as I can make out. If you gave th