ell, in any case I should have to earn my living," said Effie. "I
could not possibly afford to do nothing at home. As well earn it as a
nurse as in any other way, and I love nursing beyond anything else in
the world."

"You always were an obstinate dear little girl, was she not, George?
But, after all, Effie----" Here Mrs. Staunton paused and looked at her
son. "I think I might tell Effie?" she said, giving him a bright nod.

"Oh, I don't suppose there is anything to make a fuss over," replied
George. He colored as he spoke, and looked out of the window. He could
easily hoodwink his mother, but it was difficult to meet Effie's clear
eyes and not to feel sure that she was reading him through, and seeing
him as he really was.

Agnes jumped up, saying it was full time to go to Sunday school; she
carried off the children with her, and George, his mother, and Effie
were alone.

"Sit down in your usual chair, George," said his mother. He did so,
bringing up the port wine as he spoke, and pouring out a glass, which he
insisted on his mother drinking. He tossed off one or two glasses
himself, after which his eyes grew bright and steady, and a color came
into his cheeks.

"Yes, tell Effie," he said.

"I think you might do so, George; I am so proud of you."

"No, mother. I like to hear you describing me; you make me feel such an
awfully fine fellow."

George laughed as he spoke.

"Well, then, Effie," said his mother, "you will in future learn to
appreciate our dear George as he deserves. The fact is this: he has just
got a rise in his salary of a whole hundred a year. George is now
earning two hundred a year; and he has arranged, dear fellow, to give me
one hundred a year, in order that I may have those little comforts which
he thinks I require."

"Is that really true?" said Effie, coloring. "Oh, what splendid news!"
She looked eagerly at George as she spoke. She longed to jump up, throw
her arms round his neck, and kiss him.

"Is this true?" she repeated. "Oh, I am so glad! We do want the money so
badly."

George stooped to flick off a speck of dust which had settled on his
immaculate shirt-cuff; his eyes would not meet Effie's.

"Of course it is true," he said in a bravado sort of voice. "You don't
suppose I would tell mother a lie, do you?"

"Oh, Effie! how could you doubt him?" said Mrs. Staunton, almost crying.

"No, mother, I don't doubt him," Effie replied. She walked to the
window. Her momentary pleasu