ith his whole face, but he had kept silence until now.

Amy had looked up also; startled by the news, and waiting to hear
more. The young people were both too really interested, from their
intimate knowledge of the first misfortune, to reply with any common
"Is it possible?" to this.

"The will, I am afraid, is only a magnificent 'might have been,'"
said Mr. Sherrett. "There may be something secured; there ought to
be. Mrs. Argenter had a small property, I believe. Otherwise, as
such things turn out, I should suppose there would be less than
nothing."

"What will they do?" The question came from Aunt Euphrasia, again.
"Can't somebody help them? There is so much money in the world."

"Yes, Effie. And there is gold in the mines. And there are plenty of
kind affections in the world, too; but there's loneliness and broken
heartedness, for all that. The difficulty always is to bring things
together."

"I suppose that is just what _people_ were made for."

"It will be one more family of precisely that sort whom nobody can
help, directly, and who scarcely know how to help themselves. The
hardest kind of cases."

"It's an awful spill-out, this time," Rodney said to Amy, as she
followed him, after her usual fashion, to the piazza, when dinner
was over. "And no mistake!"

Rodney had brought a cigar with him, but he had forgotten his match,
and he stood crumbling the end of it, frowning his brows together in
a way they were not often used to.

"Will they have to go away?" asked Amy.

"Out of that house? Of course. They'll be just tipped out of
everything."

"How dreadful it will be for Sylvie!"

"She won't stand round lamenting. I've seen her tipped out before.
Amy, I'll tell you what; you ought to stick by. Maybe she won't
want you, at first; but you ought to do it. Father,"--as Mr.
Sherrett came out with his evening paper to his cane reclining
chair,--"you'll go and see Mrs. Argenter, shall you not?"

"Why, yes, if I could be of any service. But one wouldn't like to
intrude. There are executors to the will. I don't know that it is
quite my place."

"I don't believe there will be much intruding--of _your_ sort. And
the executors have got nothing to do now. Who are they?"

"Jobling and Cardwell, I believe. Men down town. Perhaps she might
like to see a neighbor. Yes, I think I will go. You can drive me
round, Rodney, some evening soon. Whom has she, of her own people, I
wonder?"

"Only her sister, Mrs. Lownd