mother had been hard put to it to make both ends
meet. Even with this augmented pay it might still have been beyond
accomplishment had not their income been still further improved in a
manner which Horace little suspected, and which, had he known, would
have sorely distressed him.

Mrs Cruden, between whom and the bright Miss Crisp a pleasant
friendship had sprung up, had, almost the first time the two ladies
found themselves together, inquired of her new acquaintance as to the
possibility of finding any light employment for herself during the hours
when she was alone. Miss Crisp, as it happened, did know of some work,
though hardly to be called light work, which she herself, having just at
present other duties on hand, had been obliged to decline. This was the
transcribing of the manuscript of a novel, written by a lady, in a
handwriting so enigmatical that the publishers would not look at it
unless presented in a legible form. The lady was, therefore, anxious to
get it copied out, and had offered Miss Crisp a small sum for the
service. Mrs Cruden clutched eagerly at the opportunity thus
presented. The work was laborious and dreary in the extreme, for the
story was long and insipid, and the wretched handwriting danced under
her eyes till they ached and grew weak. But she persevered boldly, and
for three hours a day pored over her self-imposed task. When Horace
returned at evening no trace of it was to be seen, only the pale face
and weary eyes of his mother, who yet was ready with a smile to read
aloud as long as the boy wished, and pretend that she only enjoyed a
labour which was really taxing her both in health and eyesight.

Reginald had written home once or twice since his departure, but none of
his letters had contained much news. He said very little either about
his work or his employers, but from the dismal tone in which he drew
comparisons between London and Liverpool, and between his present
loneliness and days before their separation, it was evident enough he
was homesick. In a letter to Horace he said,--

"I get precious little time just now for anything but work, and what I
do get I don't know a soul here to spend it with. There's a football
club here, but of course I can't join it. I go walks occasionally,
though I can't get far, as I cannot be away from here for long at a
time, and never of an evening. You might send me a _Rocket_ now and
then, or something to read. What about young Gedge?