for two
hundred and forty fruitless letters.

"And pray," said Alick, who had ridden on to call at the Homestead, "how
do you reconcile yourself to the temptation to the postmen?"

"They don't see what my letters are about?"

"They must be dull postmen if they don't remark on the shower of
envelopes that pass through their hands--ominous money-letters, all with
the same address, and no detection remember. You don't know who will
answer and who will not."

"I never thought of that," said Rachel; "but risks must be run when any
great purpose is in hand."

"The corruption of one postman versus the rescue of--how many children
make a postman?" asked Captain Keith, with his grave, considering look.

"The postman would be corrupt already," said Grace, as Rachel thought
the last speech too mocking to be worthy of reply, and went on picking
up her letters.

"There is another objection," added Captain Keith, as he watched her
busy fingers. "Have you considered how you are frightening people out of
the society? It is enough to make one only subscribe as Michael Miserly
or as Simon Skinflint, or something equally uninviting to applications."

"I shall ask you to subscribe by both names!" said Rachel, readily. "How
much for Simon Skinflint?"

"Ten pounds. Stop--when Mr. Mauleverer gives him a reference."

"That's ungenerous. Will Michael Miserly make up for it?"

"Yes, when the first year's accounts have been audited."

"Ah! those who have no faith to make a venture can never effect any
good."

"You evidently build on a great amount of faith from the public. How do
you induce them to believe--do you write in your own name?"

"No, it makes mamma unhappy. I was going to put R. C., but Grace said
people would think it meant Roman Catholic. Your sister thought I had
better put the initials of Female Union for Lacemaker's Employment."

"You don't mean that Bessie persuaded you to put that?" exclaimed Alick
Keith, more nearly starting up than Rachel had ever seen him.

"Yes. There is no objection, is there?"

"Oh, Rachel, Rachel, how could we have helped thinking of it?" cried
Grace, nearly in a state of suffocation.

Rachel held up her printed appeal, where subscriptions were invited to
the address of F. U. L. E., the Homestead, Avonmouth.

"Miss Curtis, though you are not Scottish, you ought to be well read in
Walter Scott."

"I have thought it waste of time to read incorrect pictures of
pseudo-chivalry since