.

"He lent me the money," continued Effie, looking straight at her friend
with her bright eyes. "I know he never wants it back again, but he must
have it back."

"Oh, yes! he must have it back," exclaimed Dorothy.

"Well, he lent it to me," continued Effie, with a sigh; "and I thought,
of course, that George would be all right after that, and I arranged
that the Squire should have his interest regularly. I thought my own
salary would nearly cover that."

"It can't be done," interrupted Dorothy. "Your salary barely pays for
your washing and your few out-of-pocket expenses. It's absolutely
impossible that you can live here without a penny; the little you earn
must go to yourself."

"Then there's nothing for it," said Effie; "I must go where I can earn
more. I hate the thought beyond all words, but I must--I must do it!"

"You don't mean to tell me that you would give up your life as a nurse?"

"Do you think for a moment, Dorothy, that I'd give it up willingly? It
makes me sick to think of relinquishing what has been my dream ever
since I was a little girl; but I see plainly that I must do something to
earn money to help mother; and then, if George does keep straight,
perhaps we may all be happy some day."

Tears choked Effie's voice, her eyes grew dim.

"What do you think of doing, dear?" said Dorothy in a gentle voice.

"I'll go to the Harveys and ask them to take me as a governess for
Freda. I fancy, somehow, that they might be induced to give me a good
salary--something like fifty or sixty pounds a year, and I can teach a
child like Freda very well indeed, for her father saw that I was well
educated. There's nothing else for it, I can see that; but it breaks my
heart all the same."

CHAPTER XIX.

Dorothy talked a little longer to Effie. When at last she left her, the
poor girl felt soothed and strengthened. She dropped off to sleep, to
dream of the old days when she was living in the pretty little cottage
in Whittington, and when she longed so earnestly to go out into the wide
world. Effie woke long before it was time to get up. She thought of her
dream, and sighed heavily to herself. She was in the wide world now with
a vengeance. Did it look as fair, as rose-colored, as fascinating, as it
used to look in her early dreams? No; the reality was bitter enough. She
would have given a great deal at that heavy moment of her life to turn
back the page and be a child at home again.

The nurses' bell r